Diaries 1969-1979_ The Python Years - Michael Palin [46]
In the evening we met Terry and Al for a drink at the Lamb in Lamb’s Conduit Street, and afterwards they took us out for a meal to a hitherto untried restaurant, La Napoule in North Audley Street.
Terry became very excited and emotional about Ireland and the Londonderry march. He totally blamed the government – on the grounds that they are the ones who hold the position of power, and they are the ones who should be held responsible for any trouble. I argued realistically rather than instinctively that, as the government had rightly or wrongly taken the decision to ban marches, this decision had to be enforced, hence the presence of troops. The marchers must have expected some trouble for they are quite well aware that any march attracts groups of people who want a fight and will do anything they can to provoke one. The soldiers must have panicked and fired at random, but the explosive situation was caused by the stubbornness of the government and the anger of the Catholics.
I am very cautious of people who are absolutely right, especially when they are vehemently so – but the inaction of the government and especially Maudling’s statement last night that any yielding to Catholic pressure would be ‘surrender’, smacks of Lyndon Johnson and Vietnam and makes me angry and frustrated with Heath’s unpleasant government.
Thursday, February 3rd
After a morning’s work at Camberwell, we drove over to John’s for lunch and a chat about possible new additions to the cabaret at Nottingham University. We decided to put in ‘Argument’ sketch – a quick-fire Cleese/Chapman piece from the new series, and one or two smaller additions such as the ‘Silly Ministers’ and the ‘Time-Check’ – ‘It’s five past nine and nearly time for six past nine. Later on this evening it will be ten o’clock and at 10.30 we join BBC2 in time for 10.33. And don’t forget tomorrow, when it’ll be 9.20,’ etc, etc.
We caught the 4.50 St Pancras to Nottingham train – spread ourselves over a First Class compartment and rehearsed.
Apparently the demand for tickets had been so great that we had been asked to do an extra performance, with about 700 students at each. They were a very good audience, not drunk, intelligent and appreciative. Our performances were a little edgy, as we were doing new material for the first time, but the second house – at 9.15, was much better. We did about 40 minutes each time, and were paid a little less than £200 each for the evening. In between shows we were visited by interviewers from student papers, rag magazines, Radio Nottingham and the revue group – all of whom were ushered into our presence in a carefully supervised way, making one feel like a visiting Head of State. We then travelled the thirty-odd miles to Lincoln, where we were to do our third cabaret of the evening, at the Aquarius Club.
A little side door next to Woolworths led us into this charmless little club, where two of the first people we saw were police, and the other two were bouncers. There seemed to be a general air of anxiety and unease about the management of the club, but I suppose this was their natural manner, in the best Vercotti1 traditions. We were led upstairs through a very small room so thick with smoke that it felt as though they were doing laboratory tests to see how much humans could take before passing out. As the time for the cabaret drew nearer, we became quite fatalistic about it and decided to tell them from the start that we were unarmed. A minor scuffle broke out nearby, the basins in the gents were full of vomit and there was a general brooding feeling of squalor and suppressed violence. Imagine our great and pleasant surprise when we started the cabaret and, apart from two girls in the very front, they not only listened quietly, but also roared with laughter.
Sunday, February 6th, Southwold
Arrived at Croft Cottage at 9.45. Both parents looked well. It was a dull and rainy day and not one to lure us outside, but I did cycle to Wangford before lunch and afterwards we walked along the sea front at Southwold. It was a heavy sea, with