Adolf Hitler: My Part in His Downfall by Spike Milligan

Author:Spike Milligan
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9789085241522
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 1970-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

20 ELIMINATION BOUTS!!

PROCEEDS TO THE ARMY BENEVOLENT FUND

SEATS 6d, 2⁄6, 3⁄-, 5⁄-.

The notice was pinned below the ticket office window in the foyer of the De La Warr Pavillion. “Hurry-a-long, first fight starts in minutes five – minutes five,” said Sergeant Balcon in his best voice. He was a strange-looking fellow, his eyes very close together, his nose and ears so large they appeared to be trying to outgrow each other. He spoke with that sound peculiar to the cockney larynx, when it tries to speak posh. To obtain this metallic sound, you press the chin down on to the throat, applying slight pressure to the Adam’s apple, you purse the lips, the lower one slightly protruding, tense the tongue lay it flat in the well between the lower teeth and say ‘Yew’.

Troops were rolling in; I sat thirteen rows back, between Gunners Devine and White, Devine being no mean brawler himself. “Why aren’t you fightin’ tonight, Devine?” asked Captain Martin. “They won’t let you use your head sir,” said Devine, going through the motion of nutting an opponent. The hall was packed, and a great carillon of voices filled the ear. Cigarette smoke wafted upwards from two thousand throats, and hung like a pall in the still air. Old scores were being settled with balls of paper flicked at the backs of unsuspecting N.C.O.s’ necks. Men were standing shouting to men in other rows. Bombardier Rossi was taking bets in the tense region of two shillings. The last of the officers were sauntering in, flushed with hurried whiskies. They were greeted with cheers or raspberries according to their popularity rating.

Now came guest of honour, Lieutenant-Colonel Harding. No sooner had we all sat down, when came the National Anthem, and very strangely. It was being played by Gunner Edgington on a piano from the stage behind vast heavy velvet curtains that acted as a baffle. As the first tinklings of the Anthem permeated the babble, it was a rare sight to see 2,000 soldiers in various stages of patriotic uncertainty, those nearest could hear and were at attention, those in the middle were somewhere in between sitting and hovering in the half upright, while those farthest away heard nothing and sat looking puzzled at the confusion around them.

“Wot’s going on?”

“Stand up, it’s the Nash-i-nole Anfem!”

“I can’t ‘ear it.”

“It’s behind the curtain!”

“What’s behind the curtains?”

“The Nash-i-nole fuckin’ Anfem!”

To try and weld the confused mass into one coherent whole, Colonel Harding started to sing ‘Send him vic-tor-rious, happy’ etc., etc. He was joined by a few promotion-seeking officers. At the end, the small band of brave singers were given a tremendous ovation with shouts of encore enriched with farts. Edgington, thinking the applause was for him, appeared grinning through the curtain, a waste of time, as the house lights went off, blacking him out.

The ring now stood candescent in the floods, the light bouncing off the taut white ropes. Two miserable looking boxers sat in their corners, with towels draped over their shoulders.

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