Diaries 1969-1979_ The Python Years - Michael Palin [86]
‘Er … not really,’ said John.
Thursday, September 13th
The news is of fresh bombings in London yesterday, of the overthrow of the first democratically elected communist government of South America in Chile, of Mr Heath’s rosy optimism in the face of an enormous trade deficit.
In the afternoon Terry came here. He thought of ‘The Monty Python Matching Tie and Handkerchief’ as a title for the new LP. We played squash at 4.30. Just for name-dropping purposes, Al Alvarez1 was there, extolling the beauties of his villa near Lucca in Italy. I felt like a holiday all over again.
In the evening I gave Graham, John and David and Nancy a lift down to Terry’s, where we spent a jolly evening watching old Python shows. I must say, I can’t share Terry’s enthusiasm for re-viewing of the shows. They seem far too ephemeral to me. Interesting imperfections.
Optimistic developments today – it’s rumoured that the BBC will offer us seven Python shows next year.
Wednesday, September 19th
Lunchtime meeting at Methuen’s to discuss promotion of the Brand New Bok. Interesting social differences between the publishing crowd and the B&C Charisma Record crowd. Publishing is white wine and lunches at Rules – Charisma is beer and shorts at the Nellie Dean and afterwards at the Penthouse Club. Today it was all white wine, sandwiches and smiles in the office of David Ross, a small, sharp-faced Scot, who is in charge of their publicity. Advance sales have already totalled 105,000 and the book isn’t out until Nov. 1st. There were copies there for all of us. I was pleased with the way it looked – once again the artefact had exalted the material, and I was relieved that the vast amount of sexual content in the writing was arranged so that the book didn’t appear totally one-track minded.
One of the great satisfactions of the book was the success of the lifelike dirty fingerprints printed on every dust-jacket. Our publisher Geoffrey Strachan told the story of an elderly lady bookseller from Newbury who refused to believe the fingerprints were put there deliberately. ‘In that case I shall sell the books without their jackets,’ she said and slammed the phone down so quickly that Geoffrey was unable to warn her that beneath each dust-cover was a mock soft-core magazine, featuring lots of bare-bottomed ladies beneath the title: ‘Tits and Bums, A Weekly Look at Church Architecture’.
Saturday, September 22nd
Out early to buy breakfast for Pythons. A sunny morning, a crisp autumnal edge to the air in South End Green. It’s funny how autumn seems to have started so punctually. 9.30, Eric arrives – the first time I’ve seen him since we parted company at Los Angeles Airport on June 28th.
John’s here, all smiles – and in fact everyone except Terry G. Orange juice, hot croissants and coffee, then a big read through of material for the new album. A sketch which Graham and I collaborated on yesterday has John and Eric in stitches. But still nothing very exciting. One section of a ‘Phone-In’ type sketch, which Terry and I wrote, is about the only piece that has everyone rolling about.
Tensions flare at the end of the meeting when Terry, in passing, mentions that Mark Forstater will be fulfilling a kind of producer’s function on the film – John reacts strongly, ‘Who is this Mark Forstater?’ etc, etc.1 John has a way of making it sound like a headmaster being crossed by a junior pupil, rather than equal partners in a business disagreeing. Terry quite shaken and retires to the kitchen