Monty, his part in my victory - Spike Milligan [23]
“I don’t think you’re going to become a second Harry Carney mate,” I said, “a fifteenth or sixteenth maybe, but a second…”
When not in use, Edgington used most of the instrument is a clothes horse and the bell as an ash tray or spittoon. We rehearsed in the evening, and now had Gunner Douggan on double bass; this gave the band a wonderful life. He played a rock-steady two-in-a-bar while reminding me I was a Catholic. After rehearsal we took ourselves to an Arab café for dinner, and ordered eggs and chips. We stood on our balcony. It was midnight, and the moon-lit Mediterranean appeared like burnished black steel, from out to sea came the sound of heavy guns. “Sounds like a Naval Engagement.”
“I hope they’re both very happy,” I said.
Edgington blew a few smoke rings that remained suspended in the still air, slowly he passed his finger through one, bisecting it. Then we all went to bed for a night of traditional sleeping.
Col. Stirling, D.S.O., showing how to stop a vehicle when the brakes have failed
Navy Dance Bougie
6th July 1943
The Navy are holding a dance tomorrow, and they want you to play.”
“How much?” said my Jewish side.
“Sweet FA but all the booze you want.”
“OK.”
“Admiral Cunningham’s coming.”
The ‘do’ was in the huge, school dining hall. The Navy, with a flair for such occasions, put up coloured bunting. We had finished our show by 9.00; the dance started at 10.00.
The top of the piano was lined with whiskey and gin.
“They’re for you,” said a snotty.
“I told you we should have joined the bloody Navy,” said Kidgell.
By 10.30, the hall was packed with dancers, the heat of the African night was unforgettable, it was like a gigantic Sauna bath. We were getting through the grog. By 11.30 our KD’s were black with sweat; still we drove the jazz along. Edgington went into a trance.
“What key are you in?”
“Bb.”
“I’d better come up ½ a tone and join you.”
We’d start a number but he’d have to wait a few bars to realize what it was. “Go on,” he’d say, “I’ll catch you up.” The Wrens looked unbearably attractive in white uniforms and with tanned limbs. Oh the heat! the heat! the limbs! the limbs! By 1.30 I was stoned and making announcements like “Schel-tage you’re parlis for — ha! ha! ha! yes!”
“We’re out of fags,” they’re saying behind me.
“OK.” I approached Admiral Cunningham who was, despite the ¾ tempo, dancing in 5/4.
“Excuse me sir,” I said.
“It’s not an ‘Excuse me’, soldier.”
“Excuse me sailor then, I wonder if you’ve got any fags.”
He was about to have me flogged but, realizing I was the life and soul of the party, produced a packet of ships’ Woodbines.
British officer in N. Africa explaining to a Chinaman that he is lost and should be in Chungking
British officer telling a civilian that he is nowhere near Surbiton
Someone had turned the light out to cool the place — shafts of moonlight lit up the interior.
By 2.00 several WRENS had been molested, several men had been molested, all the booze had been drunk, red whiskey-filled faces staggered past, some with. partners, sailors were dancing together. At 0230 hrs I’ve had enough because there was no more. Leaving Harry, Doug and Al still playing, I pushed through the sweating bodies up the stairs, along the long stone verandah to the classroom where we slept. I’d lost my mozzy net so I emptied my pallaisse and got inside.
Later
THUD! GROAN! It had to be someone with a big head hitting a stone floor. Harry! of course! it was time for his accident, I got up, forgetting I was in a mattress and crashed to the floor. I pushed my feet through the bottom, and made for what was a huge drunken semi-conscious groaning figure — Sgt Hulland and Kidgell appeared, both naked. We stood round the slumped creature.
“It’s Harry,” said Kidgell. “He’s shit himself.”
We dragged him by his lovely legs towards the shower at the end of the corridor.
“Orrgggg Arwagflff,” said the dragee. Standing him on his head, we slid the body from the trousers and reversed same for his shirt; we propped the