Monty, his part in my victory - Spike Milligan [3]
Shooting at my mother for breakfast — India 1922
Protective underwear — Burma
Fleet Street about to shoot the Editor of J.P.
Fleet Street 1935, having killed his editor, now after Lord Beaverbrook
Jock strap to be worn in the shower
Shooting a few wogs before breakfast
Killing one of his NCO’s for being late on parade — England 1940
I was lucky to have lived through peace unwounded.
The letter from Louise left me gasping, I rolled on the ground to beat out the flames.
“What’s the matter oh son of khaki?” said Edgington.
“It’s the one-eyed trouser snake,” I groaned.
Arggg!! Louise! that night I went to bed, a virile 25 year old Adonis, I awoke next morning a 90 years old, broken-down, onanistic wreck.
May 11th 1943
“Get up, you dirty little devil,” said a prematurely aged Edgington, breaking his blankets over his knee. May the 11th was exactly the same as the 8th, only worse, much worse, exactly much worse.
Hitlergram No. 091546
The scene:
A mixed NAAFI. Tunis.
HITLER:
For vy are zer British Tommy Atkins always making mit zer moaning?
TOMMY ATKINS:
It’s this bleedin’ crappy war.
HITLER:
How dare you say zat mein war is crappy! Zis is zer best var you have had for twenty years! Soon it will be as good as World War One, und I vill be in zer Guinness Book of Records! You little Tommy Atkins Creep! Vot did your life consist of pefore eh? Porridge, half pint warm sticky beer, Anton Walbrook in Dangerous Moonlight mit zer bloody awful Varsaw Concerto. Two pounds ten shillings unt one shag a veek! Vid zat vife vid a face like ein chickens arse!
TOMMY ATKINS:
You started it all.
HITLER:
Me? You declared var on us! you cock-a-nee creep.
TOMMY ATKINS:
That’s because you kicked the shit out of the Poles.
HITLER:
Everybody kicks shit out of zer Poles, zat is what zey are zere for.
May 12 1943
Driver Fildes’ War Diary:
Lazy day at Camp.
The lads were preparing for visits to Tunis.
“Conquerors! that’s what we are,” said Gunner Patrick Devine in thick Liverpudlian tones. A strange Conqueror he looked standing in a tin of hot water, with muscular arms, powerful shoulders, thin white legs and knees that seemed to range up and down his shins when he coughed. Edgington is crouched over Devine’s bath, waiting to boil eggs in it.
Swearing (soldiers for the use of) is coming from under a bonnet. “This truck’s had it!” said Fildes. “When I press the brake pedal the headlights go on and a voice speaks from the steering wheel.”
Sherwood is ‘ironing’ his KD’s, he places them inside two boards, and drives his Bren Carrier on top.
In Chater Jack’s tent the telephone rang. “Hello, CO. 19. Battery. AHHHH!” He put his hand over the mouthpiece.
“It’s all over, Von Arnheim has surrendered and he’s very angry.”
“This could mean war,” said Lt Budden, who was really in the middle of Beethoven’s 5th.
Chater Jack called a general parade. “It’s officially over,” he said with a huge satisfied grin.
“At last we’re safe,” said Gunner Forrest, and for the first time in months removed his tin hat, Gunner Woods is puzzled. “I don’t understand, we’re fighting Germany yet we’re in Africa bloody miles from Germany.”
“That’s because the weather’s better ‘ere,” says Fildes, “if you’re killed when sun tanned you don’t look too bad. Mind you,” he said, “up North on the Russian front, the cold preserves the body so good, they post ‘em back to the elatives.”
A repeat performance by Major Chater Jack who made his debut in ‘Adolf Hitler: My part in his Downfall’
May 12th 1943
Bright. sunny. Warm. Breeze:
Some Gunners go with Chater Jack to see the results of our counter battery work. A conducted tour of shell holes?? Not for me! We bagged a scout