by John Cleese
And Eric . . . just put the reunion together.
The first two problems he had to solve were, firstly, that with only four main performers, how was he going to give us time to make costume changes between our appearances, and, secondly, how would he be able to create a show that would fill the huge O2 stage, when a procession of two- and three-handed sketches were clearly not going to cut the mustard?
It was lucky for all of us that he’d been working for years on various productions of Spamalot, because he’d acquired enough experience of musical comedy to be able to add to the mix of sketches (and film) . . . the vital and magical ingredient – song and dance!
Song and dance?! In the first three Python TV series I can’t recall a single song or dance. So Eric turned his back brilliantly on a long-established Flying Circus tradition. Had he faltered, the reunion wouldn’t have worked. Thank you, Eric.
Another vast difference between the TV series and the O2 shows: bad language. On television we were very constrained by the mood of the times. The BBC allowed us the occasional ‘bloody’, ‘damn’ and ‘bastard’, but that was about as far as we could go. The most extreme word to appear in Python came at the end of the ‘Spanish Inquisition’ episode, when, as one of the three cardinals trying to reach the Old Bailey but failing because the show ended before they could get there, Michael Palin exclaimed, ‘Oh, bugger!’ To our delight and surprise, Michael Mills allowed it. ‘I would never have believed I would OK it,’ he said, ‘but when I actually saw it, it was so funny, I’m going to.’ However, when Graham listed one of his hobbies as ‘masturbation’ in the ‘Summarising Proust Contest’, there was a real rumpus, and it had to be removed at the editing stage.
I was never much bothered by this, because I had a rather unusual attitude to foul language: generally, I was opposed to it. My reasons, though, were not puritanical but purist comedic ones. Quite simply, I regarded swearing as a form of cheating, a lazy way of getting a laugh out of material that wasn’t intrinsically funny enough. But as general standards have fallen, so have mine. The best advice I was ever given came from David Attenborough in the early seventies: he said, ‘Use shock sparingly.’ So I now permit myself a ‘fucking’ here and there: maybe four in a two-hour show. But, deep down, I sense the best comedy should not rely on artificial stimulants.
This may seem a bit rich coming from someone who has recently performed in the Python reunion, and I must take responsibility for my part in this: after all, Michael, the Terrys and I all encouraged Eric to assemble and direct a show that, at the end of the production process, could accurately be described as an ‘Evening of Sketches and Musical Filth’. Imagine sending his lyrics for approval by the BBC’s first Director General, Lord Reith. Martial law would have been declared.
But while attitudes to swearing and vulgarity have shifted in one direction in the past forty years, another set of values seems to be threatening comedy by moving in the opposite direction. I refer to the life-denying force called political correctness. This may have started as a kind intention, but was soon hijacked and taken ad absurdum by a few individuals without any sense of proportion – which means, by definition, that they are without any sense of humour either. Fortunately, the TV series were made at a time before this half-witted posturing had taken hold; equally luckily, by 2014 we were so doddery and addled that we seemed to be given a free pass in this area. (Or perhaps our audiences agreed with us. After all, Python fans tend to be rather intelligent.)
One final, rather odd, contrast between 1969 and 2014.
The Flying Circus was always, despite its love of breaking comic conventions, and the originality of some of its content, recognisably a TV comedy show. The reunion at the O2 was not a television show on stage, but then neither was it a recognisable theatrical event. I’m not just referring to the audience knowing so much of the material, or the wonderfully affectionate reception we received throughout. For a start, what other comedy group has done a pop concert?
At the press conference back in November 2013, I’d tried to suggest something along these lines. The journalists’ questions indicated that they were viewing it as a big theatrical production, so I ventured that it would be more of an interaction with the audience, a celebration, or even a party.
So what was it? I don’t really know. I do know that on the second night, the orchestra played a silly intro to the ‘Spanish Loonies’ sketch, and at the end they all stood up and shouted, ‘Olé!’, which broke me up, and the audience went with me, and the whole arena laughed for ten seconds, before a word had been said. And I know that during the interval of the third night, when I was annoyed that I’d fluffed a line in the ‘Michelangelo’ sketch, and confided this to Eddie Izzard, whom I bumped into backstage, he said, ‘John, they’ve seen you do these sketches right many times. It’s more special for them when you get them wrong.’ What an insight! And . . . the opposite of the way I’d always worked on the TV shows.
In the last analysis, all I know is that the O2 provided the most fun audiences I have encountered in fifty years, and that they turned the evening into a joyous and touching melange of laughter, affection and mindless goodwill. No wonder the Daily Mail hated it.
The day after the final show, we all had lunch together. We agreed unanimously that we felt no regret of any kind. As Eric said, it had been a ‘sweet goodbye’. We’ll meet together now and again for a meal, but otherwise we’ll all go off happily in our different directions: Michael travelling, Eric writing songs, Terry G raising money for another plotless extravaganza, Terry J to the anger management classes that are beginning to transform him, and me to puzzle out an experience I’d had at the O2.
On only our second night, while I was waiting to start a sketch, in the few seconds before the spotlights were turned on me, when I could therefore still see the whole, huge, packed arena stretching in front of me . . . I found myself thinking: ‘How is it possible that I’m not feeling the slightest bit excited?’
Perhaps I should stick to writing from now on.
Me (left) aged nearly one, and (over) a bit more than one.
(Above) Me at a different age, and (over) with Mother and best friend.
Dad had a kind face.
I had lots.
Details from the 1949 St Peter’s school photograph showing (anti-clockwise from left): me, Captain Lancaster, Mr and Mrs Tolson, Mr Bartlett and Rev. Dolman.
The St Peter’s cricket XI, 1952.
Emerging from Clifton after the scholarship exam, summer 1953.
A pretty picture of Clifton College.
Clifton, with me in First XI blazer highlighting the humourless gnome below me.
Me as Lucifer, terrifying Faustus.
Return to St Peter’s as a teacher. Happy days.
St Peter’s teacher (with beard).
I was late for this Downing College photograph, taken in the summer of 1961. I had forgotten my gown, too.
An uninspired photograph for the 1962 Footlights revue.
The programme for the 1963 revue.
Two of the cast of Cambridge Circus.
Cambridge Circus cast members as photographed by me: David Hatch ...
... Tim Brooke-Taylor ...
... and Jonathan Lynn.
Other members of the cast: Humphrey Barclay ...
... Bill Oddie ...
... David and me, fooling around.
Cambridge Circus sketches: (above) Jo Kendall and me in a take-off of Somerset Maugham ...
... My withering cross-examination of a terrified Graham Chapman. David Hatch is the judge.
The ‘Chinese Song’: unforgivably racist now but deemed acceptable in 1963.
Tommy Steele and Polly James in Half a Sixpence.
A pointless production still with me and a dancer.
The Frost Report: (from left to right) Nicholas Smith, Julie Felix, Tom Lehrer, Ronnie Barker, me, Ronnie Corbett, Nicky Henson and David Frost.
Pretending to be coppers.
The
‘Class’ sketch. Ronnie Corbett has just made me laugh.
Connie.
Gra.
The cast of At Last the 1948 Show: (anti-clockwise from top) Aimi MacDonald, Marty Feldman, me, Tim Brooke-Taylor and Graham Chapman.
Recording the ‘Rhubarb Tart’ song.
The 1948 Show team trying to amuse ourselves.
With Peter Cook on the set of The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer.
Peter Sellers, Ringo Starr and me, enjoying a joke.
The Goon Show team and a bit of me.
The Pythons.
‘And now for something completely different.’
‘Upper Class Twit of the Year.’
Taking a break from ‘Hell’s Grannies’.
A choice of uniforms.
Terry Jones and me impersonating Alan Whicker.
Inspecting a parrot.
Guess who.
Index
The page references in this index correspond to the printed edition from which this ebook was created. To find a specific word or phrase from the index, please use the search feature of your ebook reader.
Italic page numbers indicate illustrations.
Adams, Douglas, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy 149
‘Airline Pilots’ sketch 354–5
Aldwych farces 258
Amis, Sir Kingsley, Lucky Jim 254
Amnesty International benefit shows 220–21, 310, 346
‘Amos and Andy’ 78
anger: and humour 48–50, 137
Apter, Michael 65
Army Game, The (television series) 279
artists’ materials, retailing of 201
Arts Theatre, London 173, 174–5
Asch, Solomon 71
astronomy sketch (‘Regella’) 149, 196
At Last the 1948 Show (television series) 207, 280–81, 297–301, 302–19, 329–34, 348, 355
Atkins, Robert 147, 151
Atkinson, Rowan 310
Attenborough, Sir David 402
Auckland, New Zealand 191–3
Australian cricket team 37–8
Avengers, The (television series): JC’s cameo in 374
Ayckbourn, Sir Alan 367
Baker, Word 213, 215, 216
Banks, Gordon 287
Barbados 301–2
Barclay, Humphrey: at Cambridge 147, 151, 152–3; Cambridge Circus revue 167, 188, 189, 190, 196, 207; BBC Radio Light Entertainment Department 171, 254; I’m Sorry I’ll Read That Again 184, 254, 261, 273; visits JC in Ibiza 281; Doctor in the House 381
Barker, Ronnie 350, 379; The Frost Report 257, 258, 274, 319–21
Bartlett, Geoffrey (schoolmaster) 1, 47–8, 50–52, 54, 57, 96, 98–9, 105–10, 120, 144, 368
Basil Street, Knightsbridge 346–7
Bassey, Dame Shirley 293
Baynes, Mr (schoolmaster) 89–90
BBC 135, 138, 338, 383–4; Radio Light Entertainment Department 171, 181–2, 184–7
Beachcroft, Sammy (schoolmaster) 68–9
Beatles, version of ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ 196, 207
Beecham, Sir Thomas 74
Belgium 322–3
Bellwood, Peter 239, 240, 242
Bennett, Alan 316, 367; Beyond the Fringe 149–51; On the Margin 303
Bennett, Cyril 298, 301
Benny, Jack 78
Bergman, Ingrid 231
Bergson, Henri, Laughter 202
Berman, Shelley 266
Best House in London, The (film) 375
Beyond the Fringe (revue) 149–51, 164, 266
Beyond Our Ken (radio serial) 182, 279
bicycle-riding 285–6
Bierce, Ambrose 6
Billington, Kevin 327, 377, 378
Bliss of Mrs Blossom, The (film) 374–5
‘Bookshop’ sketch 332–4
Booth, Connie: JC first meets 201–3; first sees JC perform 202–3; early stage career 203, 232; relationship with JC 203, 232, 237, 238, 242; remains in US when JC returns to England 246, 248–9; joins JC for holidays 281–6, 301–2; marriage to JC 250, 335–9, 341; early married life in London 341–2, 346–8, 349–50, 367; How to Irritate People 13, 350, 355–6, 358–9; Fawlty Towers 49, 382
Bootsie and Snudge (television series) 279
bores, being cornered by 285, 342–3, 344–5
Borge, Victor 266
Bosch, Hieronymus 231
Boston 217, 223–7
Boston Consulting Group 200
Bowfinger (film) 137
Bragg, Melvyn, Lord 296
Braithewood, Martin (spoons player) 296
Branagh, Sir Kenneth 76
Brand (Ibsen): Edinburgh Festival production 157–8
Brando, Marlon 99, 231
Brent Knoll, Somerset 2–3, 4, 14; railway station 18; Red Cow Inn 5
Brightwell, George 303–4
Bristol 25, 31; Redland 60–61; see also Clifton College
Bristol Hippodrome: Python stage show 358
Brooke-Taylor, Christine 324
Brooke-Taylor, Tim: at Cambridge 147, 151, 153, 157; Cambridge Circus revue 167–8, 170, 174, 175, 179; shares London flat with JC 181; Cambridge Circus New Zealand tour and New York run 188, 190, 196, 204, 207–8, 209; at first night of Half a Sixpence 229; JC stays with on return from US 253–4; I’m Sorry I’ll Read That Again 254, 260, 261, 273; visits JC in Ibiza 281, 284, 286; At Last the 1948 Show 297–301, 305–7, 313, 314–15, 329; interviewed on Dee Time 321–2; driving holiday to Italy with JC 322–4; Marty television series 349, 350; proposed role in Rentadick 379
Brown, Nigel 151
Brueghel, Pieter 231
Brussels 322–3
Buckman, Rob 263
Buffery, Tony 168, 174, 177–8, 179–80
bullfighting 281–3
bullshit, prevalence of 44
Burke, Edmund 342
Burnham-on-Sea 15, 33–4, 38
Burns, George 78
Burrows, James 378
Buse, Bertie 40
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (film) 170
Cambridge Arts Theatre 141, 149
Cambridge Circus (1963 Footlights revue) 165, 167–9, 170–71, 313; West End run 173–81, 179, 183–4; New Zealand tour 187–93, 188; on and off Broadway run 193, 195–9, 202–3, 205, 206–10
Cambridge Footlights 127–8, 134–40, 146–7, 165; annual revues 139, 140, 141, 151–6, 157, 313; see also Cambridge Circus
Cambridge Theatre Company: 1962 Edinburgh Festival show 156–60
Cambridge Union 128–9
Cambridge University: Criminology Department 166–7, 170; Law School 122, 125–6, 161; see also Downing College; Pembroke College
Canada 227–9
Canary Islands 254
caning 34–5
Canton 30–31
Caravaggio 231
Casino Royale (1967 film) 362
cats, intelligence of 96–7
‘Cattle-Train’ sketch 330–31
Cavett, Dick 217
celebrity, problems of 342–3
celery, dislike of 64
Cézanne, Paul 231
Chaplin, Charlie 137
Chaplin, Geraldine 301
Chapman, Graham: appearance and character 141, 148, 181, 329, 369–70, 371, 388–9, 391–3; JC first meets 141–2, 147; writing collaborations with JC at Cambridge 141, 148–9; 1962 Footlights revue (Double Take) 151, 153; Edinburgh Festival show 157, 158, 160; medical training 157, 170, 181, 206, 277, 350, 367; Cambridge Circus West End run 179, 180; shares London flat with JC 181; drinking 181, 388; Cambridge Circus New Zealand tour and New York run 188–9, 188, 190, 196, 206; writing for The Frost Report 266, 273, 274, 277–8, 297, 319–21; rents Ibiza villa with JC 185–6, 280, 281, 284, 286; first film script with JC (The Rise and Rise of Michael Rimmer) 280, 286, 287–8, 290, 321, 361, 377–8; relationship with David Sherlock 290, 328, 329, 367; At Last the 1948 Show 297–301, 307–8, 313, 317–19, 329; interviewed on Dee Time 321–2; holiday in Mykonos 322, 328; comes out 327–9; possible co
mpetitiveness with JC 334–5; writes for Marty television series 348–9; How to Irritate People 350–51, 352–7, 374; screenplay for Rentadick 350, 361, 367, 378–81, 383; writes for Peter Sellers 361–7, 376; developing partnership with JC 367–74, 381–3; Monty Python’s Flying Circus 351, 356–7, 369, 374, 383, 385, 389–404, 394; death 388
Charge of the Light Brigade 55
charities, requests for support from 344
Charlton, Sir Bobby 287
Charlton, Jackie 289
Cheese (original family name) 1, 27, 336
Cheese, Dorothy (JC’s aunt) 31, 60
Cheese, John (JC’s grandfather) 21–2, 24, 31, 60
‘Cheese Shop’ sketch 389–91
Cheney, Dick 19
Chesterton, G. K., Father Brown stories 85
Chicago 241–3
China 30–31
Christchurch, New Zealand 191
Christie, Agatha, The Murder of Roger Ackroyd 85