Frankenstein

by Spike Milligan

  “When I reflect, my dear cousin,” said Elizabeth, “I no longer see the world and its works as they before appeared to me. Before I looked upon the accounts of vice and injustice.”

  “Don’t worry, I will look up these accounts,” I said. I did, and there was a deficit of £50 10s 6d so we closed the books on that company.

  “Yes,” I said, “I felt she was innocent before she died. I felt her after she died and she felt innocent after she died. William and Justine were assassinated and the monster walks free, smoking fifty fags a day and God help the man who doesn’t give them to him.”

  “I would not change places with such a wretch,” she said.

  “Well you certainly couldn’t change places with him. You would need to be five feet taller and ten stone heavier.”

  Elizabeth read my anguish in my countenance and kindly taking my hand threw it on the floor. She was so elegant it abolished any thought of using that one-eyed trouser snake.

  Ah, the wounded deer dragging its fainting limbs to some untrodden brake, there to gaze upon the arrow which had pierced it and left it to die. Ah, if only a bowman would shoot an arrow into my leg, I could find an untrodden brake and, gazing at the arrow, die. [What a lot of bollocks! Ed.]

  The high and snowy mountains were its immediate boundaries; but I saw no more ruined castles and fertile fields – only quite a few McDonald’s. Immense glaciers approached the road from which I ran like fuck. I heard the rumbling thunder of the falling avalanche as it moved our house five hundred yards down the hill.

  A tingling, long-lost sense of pleasure often came across me during the journey, as did some young woman who also came across. The very winds whispered in soothing accents – French, Italian, German and, believe it or not, Swahili. I spurred on my mule, striving to forget the world, my fears and my overdraft. Suddenly, as I was forgetting the world, my mule threw me and kicked me in the balls which swelled up like water melons and I had to carry them around in a wheelbarrow. The animal was trying to tell me something. Listening to the rushing of the Arve, which pursued its noisy way beneath, the same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby. I felt it as sleep crept over me as I, the mule and my swollen balls were down by the raging torrent.

  We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.

  We rise; one wand’ring though pollutes the day.

  We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep.

  Three cheers, hip hip hooray.

  It is the same for be it joy or sorrow,

  The path of its departure still is free.

  Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow;

  Hi diddle diddle dee.

  CHAPTER II

  I spent the following day roaming through the valley. I stood beside the source of the Arveiron. The glacier with the slow pace is advancing down from the summit to barricade the valley and cut all the poor buggers off from the other side. The abrupt sides of the mountains were before me, but turning round suddenly they ended up behind me. The glorious Nature was broken only by the brawling waves, and from somewhere there came the sound of someone being sick. The thunder of the sound of a million tons of avalanche afforded me the greatest consolation. All I needed to cheer me up was a million tons of ice crashing down. The unstained snowy mountain top, the giant Alps – indeed all I need to make me sleep was the Swiss Alps and Mont Blancmange.

  Where had they fled when the next morning I awoke? They had not fled anywhere. They were all still mere. In fact, I need not have gone to sleep at all.

  The next day my mule had its back legs shackled together to protect my balls. I resolved to ascend to the summit of Montanvert. I said to my groom, “I resolve to ascend to the summit of Montanvert.”

  He said, “What you do is your business.”

  The ascent revealed a scene terrifically desolate. In a thousand spots the traces of the winter avalanche may be perceived. Actually, I myself came out in a thousand spots and I was treated for youth’s acne. The path, as you ascend higher, is intersected by ravines of snow, down which stones continually roll from above, crashing down on people’s heads below. In fact, there was a whole generation of people with lumps on their heads. Apparently the lumps went through the families. The rain poured down from a dark sky and added to the melancholy impression. I myself could do a melancholy impression – the Hunchback of Notre Catford and the Hunchback of Marie Antoinette on the Gallows.

  The field of ice is almost a league in width, but I spent nearly two hours falling down and getting up it. [Dear reader, I have a feeling he’s going to meet the monster! Ed.] My heart which was before sorrowful, now swelled with something like joy. Actually, it was a mild coronary.

  Suddenly nothing happened, but it happened suddenly. Mark you, I beheld the figure of a man advancing towards me with super-human speed; roughly, I would say he was doing 150 miles per hour. He bounded over the crevices over which I had walked with caution. His stature, as he approached, seemed to exceed that of man. I was troubled: a mist came over my eyes, nose and teeth and I felt a faintness seize me; but I was quickly restored by a bottle of 1909 brandy. I perceived as the shape came nearer (sight tremendous and abhorred!) that it was the wretch whom I had created. [God, he was slow recognising him! Ed.] Argggah! Yes folks, argggah! I trembled with rage and horror, resolving to wait his approach, and then close with him in mortal combat [for Christ’s sake, don’t!]. Again, his trousers were round his ankles.

  “Ello, ave you got a fag?” he said. “Devil!” I exclaimed, “do you dare approach me? And do not you fear the fierce vengeance of my arm?”

  “Oh don’t be like dat, I only want a fag.”

  It was the monster, argggah

  He said, “ave you got a fag?”

  “No, I’ve only got an argggah”

  “Alright, I’ll have an argggah.”

  “Be gone, vile insect [Eh?], or rather, stay that I may trample you to dust! And, oh! that I could, with the extinction of your miserable existence, restore those victims whom you have so diabolically murdered!

  “Oh steady on, mate, I only done one. Now will you help me with my trousers.”

  My rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all the feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another. He hurled me 100 feet down a chasm and then he came down and helped me to my feet.

  “Upsy daisy,” he said. “Remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself, my height is superior to thine, my joints more supple, etc., etc. I could beat the shit out of you if I wanted. Now have you got a fag?”

  “Here,” I said, “here is a packet of twenty. That will be £2 and I sincerely hope you die of lung cancer.”

  I hope you die of cancer

  I will if I can sir

  Personally I don’t give a damn sir

  I will smoke one hundred fags a day

  Until the cancer goes away.

  So saying I helped his trousers up.

  “Now remember that I am thy creature; I am thy Adam – but I am better dressed.”

  “Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community between you and me; we are enemies.”

  Suddenly he pulled my trousers down. “There, how do you like it?” he said. “Let me turn up your trousers; one good turn deserves another.”

  “I don’t think it’s a very good turn – if it was, it should be in the music hall.”

  CHAPTER III

  The Monster’s Tale

  “It was with considerable difficulty that I remember the original era of my being. By degrees, I remember, a stronger light pressed upon my nerves, so that I was obliged to shut my eyes. I walked over a cliff. By opening my eyes I found myself at the bottom of a cliff. Then I walked and I sought a place in the shade. This was the forest near Ingolstadt; and here I lay peacefully by the side of a brook, resting from my fatigue. A tree fell on me and I felt tormented by hunger and thirst. I ate some berries which I found hanging on the trees or lying on the ground. I slaked my thirst at the brook and then, lying
down, I was overcome by sleep during which another tree fell on me. While I was under it some villagers asked for my autograph. A feeling of pain invaded me on all sides and I sat down and wept.

  “Soon a gentle light stole over the heavens, and gave me a sensation of pleasure. I started up and beheld a radiant form rise from among the trees.*

  ≡ The moon [author’s footnote].

  “Of course, it was the moon! How silly of me not to recognise it. I was still cold when under the trees I found a huge cloak; it had a ticket on it, ‘Made in Taiwan’, and I covered myself with it and became Chinese.

  “My eyes became accustomed to the light and to perceive objects in their right forms; I could distinguish herbs from animals. I could tell the difference between a nettle and an elephant. One gave you a sting, the other killed you. I could tell hot from cold. One day I found a fire which had been left by wandering beggars and was overcome with delight at the warmth I experienced from it. In my joy I thrust my hand into the life embers [What a bloody fool! Ed.]. Food, however, became scarce and I often spent the whole day searching in vain for a few acorns, sausages or a leg of lamb.

  CHAPTER IV

  “I lay on my straw, but I could not sleep. I didn’t know how to. I thought of the occurrences of the day. I remembered too well the treatment I had suffered the night before from the barbarous villagers who had driven me out. I remained quietly in my hovel, watching, and endeavouring to discover the motives which influenced their actions.

  “The cottagers arose the next morning before the sun. A young woman arranged the cottage and prepared the food; the youth departed after the first meal, the greedy bugger.

  “The young man was constantly employed out of doors, and the girl in various laborious occupations within. The old man I soon perceived to be blind as he kept walking into walls.

  “A considerable period elapsed before I discovered one of the causes of the uneasiness of this amiable family – it was poverty. I discovered that because at dinner time they had no food on their plates. The two children suffered the pangs of hunger, for several times they placed food before the old man. They reserved none for themselves. He ate the lot, the greedy bugger.

  “This trait of kindness moved me sensibly. I had been accustomed, during the night, to steal a part of their store for my own consumption [The shit! Ed.].

  “I learned the names of the cottagers themselves. The girl was called ‘Agatha’, the youth ‘Felix’ and the man ‘Father’. I cannot describe the delight I felt when I learned the ideas appropriated to each of these sounds, so I won’t. I distinguished several other words without being able yet to understand, though I repeated them; such as ‘fire’, ‘milk’, ‘bread’, ‘wood’, ‘shit’.

  “Felix carried with pleasure to his sister the first little white flower that peeped out from beneath the snowy ground – she ate it.

  CHAPTER V

  “I shall relate events that impressed me with feelings which, from what I had been, have made me what I am. [Frankenstein made him what he am. Ed.]

  “Spring advanced rapidly; the weather became fine but I did not. It was a surprise to me that what before was a desert was now a Kentucky Fried Chicken. I was refreshed by a thousand scenes of delight with a little crushed garlic. One night, mad with hunger, I killed all the staff and ate all the chickens. Colonel Sanders came along so I killed him as well.

  “The old man played on his guitar. There was a tap on the door. Why any one would want to put a tap on a front door is hard to explain.

  “It was a lady on horseback, accompanied by a countryman as a guide. The lady was dressed in a black suit, and covered with a thick black veil. Agatha asked a question, ‘Are you a nigger?’ The stranger only repeated the name of Felix. She held out her hand to Felix who kissed it and then spat on the floor. I could distinguish she was an Arabian so she was, in fact, a wog.

  “She took the old man’s guitar and sang delightful medleys:

  “All nice girls like a sailor

  All nice girls like a guitar

  For there is something about a sailor

  For you know what sailors are.”

  “The wog’s name was Safie but her entrance into my story and continuance is not important. Let me go to the day that all the children and Safie were out and the blind father was in the cottage.

  CHAPTER VI

  “I knocked on the cottage door.

  “‘Who’s there?’ said the old man.

  “‘Some one else,’ I said.

  “I entered. ‘Pardon this intrusion,’ said I; ‘I am a traveller in want of a cigarette.’

  “‘Enter,’ said De Lacey, ‘You will find some on the mantelpiece. Unfortunately, my children are away from home and, as I am blind, I am afraid I shall find it difficult to procure food for you.’

  “‘Do not trouble yourself. I only need that and fire, milk, bread, wood and shit. Your children are kind – they are the most excellent creatures in the world; but unfortunately, they are prejudiced against me.’

  “‘That is indeed unfortunate; but if you are blameless, can you not do something about it?’

  “‘I am ugly.’

  “‘Can’t you have plastic surgery? Barbara Cartland is going to have it.’

  “At that instant the cottage door opened and Felix, Safie and Agatha entered. ‘Quickly,’ he said, ‘I need fire, milk, bread, wood and shit!’ Who can describe their horror and consternation on beholding me? Agatha fainted and Safie, unable to attend to her friend, rushed out of the cottage. Felix darted forward and with supernatural force tore me from his father, to whose knees I clung. In a transport of fury, he dashed me to the ground and attacked me violently with a crowbar. I could have torn him limb from limb as the lion rends the antelope. But my heart sunk within me as with bitter sickness. I quitted the cottage, and in the general tumult escaped unperceived to my hovel.

  CHAPTER VII

  “Cursed, cursed creator! Why did I live? I could with pleasure have destroyed the cottage and its inhabitants, and have glutted myself with their shrieks and misery. All I had to show was a pair of the blind man’s knees.

  “Sleep relieved me from the pain of reflection which was disturbed by the approach of a beautiful child who came running into the recess I had chosen. Suddenly, as I gazed on him, an idea seized me, that this little creature had lived too short a time to have imbibed a horror of deformity.

  “Urged by this impulse, I seized him as he passed and drew him towards me. As soon as he beheld my form, he placed his hands before his eyes and uttered a shrill scream; I drew his hand forcibly from his face and said, ‘Child, what is the meaning of this? I do not intend to hurt you; listen to me.’

  “He struggled violently. ‘Let me go,’ he cried. ‘Monster! Ugly wretch! You wish to eat me and tear me to pieces – You are an ogre – let me go, or I will tell my papa. Hideous monster! Let me go. My papa, M. Frankenstein – he will punish you. You dare not keep me.’

  “‘Frankenstein! you belong then to my enemy – to him towards whom I have sworn eternal revenge; you shall be my first victim.’

  “The child still struggled, and loaded me with epithets which carried despair to my heart; I grasped his throat to silence him, and in a moment he lay dead at my feet.

  “I gazed on my victim, and my heart swelled with exultation and hellish triumph; clapping my hands, I exclaimed, ‘I too can create desolation; my enemy is not invulnerable; this death will carry despair to him, and a thousand other miseries shall torment and destroy him. Heh – heh – heh.’”

  CHAPTER VIII

  “You must create a female for me – I need a shag – with whom I can live in the interchange of those sympathies necessary for my being. This you alone can do; and I demand it of you as a right which you must not refuse to concede. And have you got a fag?”

  “I do refuse it,” I replied, “and no torture shall ever extort a consent or a cigarette from me.”

  “You are in the wrong,” replied the monster, “
and, instead of threatening, I am content to reason with you. I am malicious because I am miserable. Not only that, I am gasping for a fag and a fuck. If you consent, neither you nor any other human being shall ever see us again: I will go to the vast wilds of South America. My food is not that of man; I do not destroy the lamb and the kid to glut my appetite; trees, acorns and berries afford me sufficient nourishment. I am a vegetarian. My companion will be of the same nature as myself, and will be content with the same fare. We shall make our bed of dried leaves; the sun will shine on us as on man, and it will ripen our food while we are screwing on the leaves.”

  “I consent to your demand, on your solemn oath to quit Europe forever.”

  “I swear,” he cried, “by the sun and the blue sky of Heaven, and by the fire of love that burns in my heart [that only left the moon], if you grant my wish you will never behold me again. I shall go to Bexhill-on-Sea; anybody who goes there is never seen again.”

  Suddenly, he quitted me, fearful perhaps of any change in my sentiments. I saw him descend the mountain – with greater speed than the flight of an eagle – at 100 miles per hour, and quickly lost sight of him among the undulations of the sea of ice.

  The labour of winding among the little paths of the mountain and fixing my feet firmly as I advanced perplexed me; still I kept going arse over tip. By the time I had gone 250 arse over tips, night was far advanced. I came to the halfway resting place and seated myself beside the fountain. The wind blew it all over me and I got soaked. The stars shone at intervals, the dark pines rose before me and here and there a broken tree lay on the ground – and I did arse over tips over them. Clasping my hands in agony, I exclaimed, “Oh! stars and clouds and winds, and four Dispirins, do take the pain away.”