SPIKE MILLIGAN RIP 1918 - 2002 British comic Spike Milligan sadly passed away on Wednesday 27 February 2002. Spike has been refered to as the father - and even grandfather, of modern humour. He was also a campaigner against injustice, environmental concerns and freedom. He wrote a number of books and short stories, among them this one, that hopefully may bring a smile to older (and younger) offshore radio fans. |
Following from: A Book of Bits, or A Bit of a Book. Spike Milligan 1965
PIRATES ETC
Pirates etc., on the starboard helm ! That cry struck terror into the hearts,
liver and kidneys of all who heard it, especially if said at sea aboard an
unarmed, sinking merchantman with a cowardly crew. To story tellers is conjured
up a picture of uninhibited topical highlands,* with the bones of skeletons
bleached white by New Square Deal Surf! (You get eighteen per cent more bones
with New Deal.) All those romantic salt-flecked days are o'er, at least I
thought they were o'er until I went over to my Evening Paper and what do I see
in it? Chips! Brushing them aside I finally reached the vinegar soaked columns
and what do I see? Are my eyes deceiving me? Are they playing tricks? But no,
there in black and white it is; but is it? It can't be, but again it is! (This
is how to fill in the page folks.)
Yes, there was a pirate ship hove to off unarmed England! On board evil one-eyed
men are saying Yo-ho-ho to each other. This Pirate Ship, the Caroline
(the very name strikes terror), was beaming pop tunes with pin point accuracy at
innocent unsuspecting citizens in the privacy of their own
up-to-the-neck-mortgaged homes. The G.P.O. were quick to act. Within one year
they had issued a statement to the press through one of their nameless
bureaucratic twits. "It is technically illegal to listen to Radio
Caroline." The statement set listeners by the ears. How did one know when
one was listening technically or untechnically? Questions were asked in the
House like: Q: "Who was that Prime Minister I saw you with last
night.'".
A: "That was no Prime -Minister that was Lord Home."
Finally under public pressure the Prime Monster released a statement to the
Press, "No Comment." This brilliant choice of' words convinced the
public he was doomed in the Autumn.
Of a midnight, from Hangman's Wharf at Wapping Broadstairs, long boats with
cargoes of Hit Records and Sacks of Gold, pulled out of the dock with muffled
oars amid muffled drums. The cargo was taken to the Island of Rockall and buried
alive. A carrier pigeon would be posted to the Caroline with the latest
Charts marking the spot with an X, meaning the treasure was for adults only
unless accompanied by a guitar playing child of sixteen. At dawn the skipper of
the Caroline, a fiend called Captain Blackjack Jackson and Conservative
member for Haiti, orders five one-legged men with eighty shovels to "dig
those crazy records!" So much for the buccaneers. Now the public. What
reprisals can we expect from the G.P.O. for those brave souls who dare to listen
to the Caroline? Mr Wedgwood Benn has told me personally that we who
break the law can expect "The knock on the door in the night".
I have tried my best to get the election put forward to defeat this happening,
and as you know, that while the Conservative Party hold a monopoly of the
shareholdings in the Beatles, they will delay the day of reckoning as far as
possible. By the Autumn the Beatles should be washed up, so that's what they're
aiming for. Oh folks, between now and then what horrors await the "pirate
listener".
A month from now the BBC will be begging us to close down
Picture the scene. Midnight in the home of Mr and Mrs Eric Friggs, he a
semi-humble assistant sponge lifter at Fords of Dagenham. Inside the house the
blinds are drawn (but the furniture is real.) The shutters are down, and the
room is lit by a small candle, and a large electric light. At the back door her
ear to the keyhole is the Grandmother who poses for Giles, in her hand she
carries a male sock loaded with marbles. At the front window peering through the
heavy curtains is the Grandfather. He is holding a World War I bayonet in a
World War I hand. "All clear," he says. At this Eric Friggs pulls a
heavy cupboard from the wall. Behind is a small aperture. Into this he inserts a
small brass key, which he keeps on a cord around his neck. A tiny door opens,
revealing a small compartment, inside which is a plain white plastic Japanese
transistor radio. He switches the set on, having first chosen the wavelength.
There is a slight oscillation, then a brave pseudo-American voice says with
great dignity "Hi there!" Here the entire family cross themselves. The
voice continues, "This is the voice of Radio Caroline calling the listening
free people of the World! Now here is the latest news. No. 1 in the charts:
Charlie Frock and the Grovellers with "My My Little Hairy Girl", No. 2
and coming up fast is Grinning Frank Lapock and the Droolers with "Ave
Maria I love you". No. 3 The Nasals with their version of'"Quo Vadis
Means That I Love You". As the records start to play the whole family
twist, rock, and Madison the night away.
But outside, homing in on their illicit musical orgy are the G.P.O. detector
vans. Sure enough within the hour the family are stopped in their tracks by
"The knock on the door in the night". "Quick, that's a knock on
the door in the night," says Gran. "Douse the light!" The
Daughter snuffs the candle, the Father with speed and skill swallows the
transistor set. "Right, let them in;" he says. As the black leather
jacketed G.P.O. men enter a scene of domestic bliss meets their gaze. The
Grandmother is naked in a tin bath in front of the radiator, Grandad is reading
the "Good Book" (Fanny Hill), while the Son is making little
plaster statues of Prince Philip making little plaster statues of the Queen.
Mother is in front of the TV smoking a pipe and knitting tobacco. The G.P.O. man
speaks: "We have reason to believe that you live here." Father lowers
his upsidedown evening paper. "Yes, come in." His words are strangely
mixed with the sound of Gerry and the Potboilers singing!. Fool that he was,
he'd forgotten to switch off the set before swallowing! There, dear reader, you
have the picture of the horrors to come. Let the cry go up "Sink the Caroline!"
*Uninhabited Tropical Islands. Ed.