Diaries 1969-1979_ The Python Years - Michael Palin [303]
No rushes tonight as the projector has broken down, so avoid the rather cloying atmosphere of the unit-filled bar at the Sidi and go out to the Coq with the two Terrys and Anne and Rachel Henshaw.
The quiet shattered by the arrival of Spike Milligan! Spike is staying at the Skanes Palace for a two-week holiday, revisiting Second World War battlefields.
Relaxed a little by the wine, he starts to treat the assembled throng – Chris Langham,1 Carol Cleveland, Andrew McLachlan, Anne H, Rachel and myself – to Milligan’s potted précis of’Tomkinson’s Schooldays’ (he’s another fan of the school leopard line – which must be one of the most enduring last-minute ad-libs I ever came up with!), and the Yorkshire tale, and then ‘Parrot Sketch’ (the Norwegian Blue becomes the Arctic Grey, as Spike tells it).
Wednesday, October 4th, Monastir
A long and arduous morning in Matthias’ house. John Stanier is strapped into his Steadicam harness, which makes him look like a walking dentist’s console.
John C takes Reg at a frenetic pitch, which loses all the nuances that had us rolling about in rehearsal. John becomes hot, tired and rather touchy as he tries to relax into the performance.
We slog on for three hours solid. There are no tea breaks as such out here, but Cristina and other unit ladies regularly do the rounds of crew and actors with water, Coca-Colas, coffees, etc, rather like the WVS or Meals on Wheels. By lunchtime it’s finished and John stays on to do the Centurion and Matthias in the afternoon.
Helen rang later, but the line can be so indistinct I really can’t wait to see her and talk without crackles.
Thursday, October 5th
A rather touching reminder from Kim H Johnson2 in my pigeonhole at the hotel this morning – a card showing the Ribat and reminding us it’s nine years to the day when the first Python show was transmitted.
Out to the location in Sousse. Clouds hamper progress today. On the slopes outside the impressive city walls, a huge, nude statue of me as Pilate is hauled towards the city on an oxen-drawn cart.
Almost every hour, on the hour, one of the donkeys has sexual intercourse – which entertains the unit, extras and citizens of Sousse marvellously.
At one point I find myself standing beside the lady donkey with Eric.
‘How many times do you think she’s been banged today?’ I asked …
‘Including the crew?’ says El. The wag.
The BBC crew are still at work. They do seem to favour John, and John, who’s been strangely ill at ease performing, laps it up and is constantly to be found giving interviews behind caravans.
Spike Milligan turns up to do a part. He over-plays thoroughly and becomes very testy when asked to wait for the clouds to pass for a retake. Mind you, I rather feel for anyone who arrives to help out and is asked to do a role which involves saying ‘Let us pray1 before being trampled by 300 Tunisian extras.
Sunday, October 8th, Monastir
Take a long walk up the beach and, feeling well fatigued, get back to my room and enjoy the incomparable sensation of being quite mentally adjusted to doing nothing more than putting my feet up and steeping myself in Paul Scott’s The Raj Quartet.
The phone rings. It’s JC.’Have you got a couple of minutes, Mikey … ?’
So I find myself spending the next hour or so rewriting the legendary, oft-written Scene 62 again.1 Actually it turns out rather well, and we make each other laugh – and it is a lot better than what was there before.
John and I eat together at the Skanes Palace (international wine list and waiter syndrome) with John’s secretary, Joan Pakenham-Walsh. Joan’s cheery, extrovert company together with two bottles of very good red wine make for a happy evening.
Spike Milligan, white suit matching his fine, close-cropped white beard, wanders rather morosely into the dining room to ask us if Eric is usually more than five minutes late picking people up. He’s evidently eating out with them.
John is rather short-tempered about Spike. His self-righteousness is what irks JC. The self-righteousness of a man