Monty, his part in my victory - Spike Milligan [25]
Date Place Band Leader Tune Payment
£ - s - d
1st Ja. “38 Scrabble
Rupture Appliances Ltd. Tom Danger Sweet Sue (2 chor.)
Little Dutch 0 - 10 - 1½
Annual Hernia Dance Time Bomb Tick-Toch Boom 0 - 14 - 3
May 6 ‘39 Dagenham District Rambles Club Eric Knotts. Honeysuckle Rose. 0 - 3 - 6
Aug. 23 ‘39 Leeds Cat Crematorium Social. Sir Henry Wood. God Save the King gratis
June 6 ‘40 Dunkirk Gen. Alexander. The Retreat gratis
Total £1 - 7 - 10½
July 1943
The heat; 115 degrees! The African sky, lost in the reflected glare of the sun, appears like a distant white mist. It is empty save for one lone kite circling high. Work has stopped for the day, I’m on my bed re-reading old news-papers, there is a picture of the Queen inspecting runner beans on a bombed site allotment in Bethnal Green, another of Dorothy Paget watching her horse Straight Deal training for the Derby, and a hundred year-old villager in Tadworth ringing the bell for Victory in Tunisia. Would it be more newsworthy if we saw the Queen, on Straight Deal, eating the runner beans while Dorothy Paget pulls the 100 year old villager’s Tadworth as he rings the bell for the start of the Derby, or the old man training 100 year old runner beans to climb up Dorothy Paget’s legs as the Queen pulls a rope attached to Straight Deal as it trains for the Victory in Tunis, or the Queen pulling Runner Beans as 100 year old Dorothy Paget inspects an old villager’s Victory bell for the Derby winner’s legs?
A tent is speaking. “I have a feeling, we should be home by Christmas.”
Christmas! I recalled my last one in England in 1942.
An OP on the coast of Bewhill. It was very cold, and I peered into the black of the English Channel — the bastards; they were only 20 miles away. Possibly, at that very moment Hitler was chasing Eva Braun with a sprig of holly. “Kom mein darlink — let us do it under zer miseltoe — It is Christmas. I’ll be Ping Crosby, dreaming on a white mattress.”
General Montgomery wondering why he is surrounded by Chinese generals — as he neither drinks nor smokes
The telephone buzzed.
“OP,” I answered. There was stifled laughter from the other end, then a voice disguised as a ruptured Etonian said, “Hell-o, who is that.”
“Gunner Milligan sir — who is that sir.”
“It’s Lt Shagadog.” A burst of hysterical laughter then — click. It rang again. “If that’s Lt Shagadog he can piss off.”
“This is Captain Martin — have you been drinking Milligan?”
At which moment there was a terrific explosion from the mined field to my right — “What was that, man?”
“I don’t know sir.”
“Go and see what it was.” How do you go and look for a bang that’s finished?
I ran down the hill — the grass in the mine field is on fire. A police constable on a bike said, “Ello, wot’s this then?”
I pointed. “I think a mine went off.” He shone his torch.
A butcher’s van arrived pulling a fire appliance — the Bexhill ARP Fire Brigade — a lot of little old men in pyjamas fell off it and started pulling a hose towards the fire.
“Put it out — ‘urry — afore the bloody Germans see it --—”
Just in time, we stop them walking into the mine field.
“We’ll have to use high pressure,” said one who was doing nothing, and was therefore in charge, “Where’s the nearest fire hydrant?”
The policeman thought and said, “Sea Road a mile away.”
“Hoses won’t reach that far — ahh,” he held one finger in the air — “Get the suction end in the sea lads.” Two little men throw their hose over the cliff. The tide’s out. “We must hurry,” shouted the leader, “before it goes out.”
It started to rain, and the fire fizzled out. I returned to the OP to the sound of a midget voice playing at high speed.
My God! Captain Martin! I grabbed the phone.
“Where the hell have you been, I’ve missed six rounds.”
Did he mean boxing or drinks? I explained the story.
“Be more careful in future,” was his final command.
Peace settled on the land.
“Is anyone in the Sentry Box.” It was an old lady.
“What is it, madam, this is a military area, civilians aren