Mussolini_ His Part in My Downfall - Spike Milligan [87]
Two Signallers: (Gnr. J. White)
(Gnr J. Kearns)
FINALE—The Whole Shower. “Jogging along to the Regimental Gallop’ (tune of ‘Whistling Rufus”).
FINIS
Note: Blokes attending Concert will be searched at door for hand grenades, bad fruit or packets of ‘Veees’. If M & V is thrown, please retain tin for salvage.
* * *
The Show
The ‘artistes’ are hidden from view behind a screen of blankets that have run the length of the hall. Behind it all the secrets of showbiz are poised to hurl on an unsuspecting audience. The building reverberates to the buzz of conversation. We open with a chord behind the curtains, then I shout:
“Ladies and Gentlemen! the 19 Battery Christmas Show!” The Band swings into ‘We’re the Boys from Battery D’, then switch to our two ocarinas for the Rocamanfina Rhumba. In the absence of a good finish the band all shout HOI! Curtain down, we dash off to change. We hear Gunner Joe Slater in his strangled tenor singing As Time Goes By. Edgington is left behind to accompany him on piano. We keep an ear on the song:
Moonlight and love songs
Never out of date
Songs full of passion
Jealousy and hate…
Joe Slater, out of his tiny mind with bullshit
“I should be singing this,” said Kidgell, as he stuck his stringy beard on.
“Harry will have to be quick,” said Fildes. “He’s only got ‘The Green Eye of the Little Yellow God’ to change in.”
Edgington rushes in while Slater is still taking his applause. “Where’s me beard?” he gabbled. We help him into his gear and soon he looks like Zeke MacCoy of Coon County. Sgt. King is on and getting a hard time from the lads.
“He was worshipped by the ranks.”
“Was he fuck!’” came an authoritative cockney voice from the back.
“You’re on,” says Jam-Jar.
Fildes, White and Kidgell set themselves up on the stage. Edgington and I wait in the wings.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Royal Horse Hillbillies.”
Boos, etc. Curtain up. The scene, three hillbillies, seated, drinking Racoon Juice and ‘Barr’s Sweat’ from our rum-ration jugs. Gales of uncontrollable laughter. Why? Gunner White is showing a pair of testicles hanging in full view from under his nightshirt. Fildes is paring his toenails with a jack-knife; in his hands he holds a dozen three-inch bolts that he drops as his toenails are pared. Kidgell swigs his ‘Racoon’s Piss’, spits, and from the back of the hall comes a Danggggggggg! as BSM Griffin hits an empty 25-pounder shell-case. BANGGG! BANGGG! Edgington and I let off our blank cartridge muskets. We had never tried them before, so loud was the explosion that a great gasp of ‘Corrr bloody hell’ ran through the audience. At the same time two tin plates dislodged from the roof and covered us in a patina of rust.
“Don’t fire any more,” said a terrified Sloggit, who was working the curtains.
Enter Edgington and Milligan.
Kidgell:
“War yew tew bin?” (SPIT AND DANGGGGGG).
Spike:
“We dun just kilt a barrrr” (SPIT AND DANG).
Edgington:
“Beegest Barrrr I ever seed” (SPIT…LONG PAUSE SMALL TING!!!).
Spike:
“That barr, when I seed him he dun growl, so Ahhh growls back, he leans ter the laift, so Ahh leans to the laift, he scratches his balls, so Ahh scratch ma balls…then that barrrrr dun a shit, and I said Barrrr yew got me there…I dun that when I fust seed yew…”
A few more gags like that, then we all sing ‘Ah Like Mountain Music’, Fildes on the guitar, me and Edgington on ocarinas, Kidgell on the ‘Racoon’s Piss’ Jar. The music was interspersed with rhythmic spits and distant Dangsssss!!! in tempo, and we went off a treat.
“Gunner Shipman will now sing ‘Shipmate of Mine’,” announces Jam-Jar. “‘Ees never seen a bleedin’ ship,” heckles a voice.
The curtain goes back to reveal Edgington at the piano in bare feet, dressed as a hillbilly. Shipman has a pleasant baritone voice inaudible in the low register; he insists on walking about as he sings, causing numerous clink-clanks from the stage. His song is frequently interrupted by hissed whispers from the wings, “Keep still.” He stops in mid song to ask the voice what it is saying. “Keep still, the