Exploding babies, bishops and orchestras

The latest piece of correspondence I’ve received from an ex-BBC staffer who worked on the Flying Circus are some recollections from Peter Logan, who was assigned by BBC Visual Effects Designer John Horton to work on several filmed items for the show in 1970 and 1971 as a Visual Effects Assistant.  Here, he kindly takes time to share some memories of his contributions to the sketches

‘The Bishop’ (Series 2, Show 5)

I was assigned by John Horton to make a bishop’s crozier light up and become a telephone for the Bishop sketch.  The brief for the crozier was to produce a realistic staff which would stand up to knocks and still be able to detach to make it look like he was on a phone, this was my first job as an assistant on a proper programme so I had to make an impression.

The head of the crozier was constructed from sections of a cheap standard lamp and lamp bracket purchased in Shepherds Bush Market (where most of our props were bought) and glued together with a wire running through to the bulb at the tip and joined by a PO plug at the other end.  A socket connected to a battery and push switch in the staff completed the whole effect but with only one prop it had to be repaired a few times!  The exploding pulpit and baby doll were down to John Horton.  The baby was my mutilation of a doll from the market with a spring clip and 'gubbings' inside.

‘Man Powered Flight’ (Series 2, Show 2)

I will never forget the cyclist sketch, going down the cliff face of Beachy Head on the Birling Gap.  Wearing a harness I was fixed to a cable that stretched back from the cliff face the same distance down, you get the idea, it was a hot day and I was in shorts and the stinging nettles had to be endured.  When all was set up (on the beach) I had to run back across the top, warning walkers to avoid the wire, then on a cue from the walkie talkie (which I was also carrying) I had to run as fast as I could to the cliff edge and hope I could stop in time.  The bike and dummy were fixed to two parallel wires hanging off a scaffold and pulley vertically down the cliff.  Having proved my competence on the previous sketch, John Horton basically left me to it while he sat on the beach and enjoyed the results.

‘How Not To Be Seen’ (Series 2, Show 11)

The actual explosions were 'soft' flashes where artists were in close proximity otherwise it was a cut shot with the explosion in place of the artist.  In those days loud explosions were tolerated by the nearby residents – not like the action taken when I did my bit on Brainiac at Pinewood!  At that time, I was not allowed to wire up pyrotechnics but I was in charge of the firing box and laying out the firing lines.  I think the explosions with the bushes were done in the woods behind Pinewood but I can’t be certain.

‘The Exploding Version of the Blue Danube’ (Series 2, Show 13)

The exploding blue Danube was another wonderful experience, a very hot day after a field had been cut, and photographic 'cut-outs' of ourselves with instruments mounted on plywood with moving arms, were wired up to with explosives on the back and cables attached to the arms to make them move back and forward.  On the start of the music over a loudspeaker several of us tugged at the numerous cables to start a rocking motion then John H fired off the explosions in time to the music, the downside of this was at the finish everyone on the team was then in a panic as the pyrotechnics had set fire to the stubble and was in danger of spreading out of control so an emergency beating session began.

‘Sam Peckinpah’s Salad Days’ (Series 3, Show 10).

I don’t remember being on the location for the Salad Days sketch but I was involved in making some of the pumps and rigging for the blood.  Quite often the major blood effects were fire extinguishers filled with blood and then pressurised with a foot pump, polythene tubes fed to false limbs etc.  Lots of these were used as you can guess!

I may have been involved in other locations at later dates but I had been assigned to other designers for other shows after this so I was shared out so to speak.  Unfortunately I only have a couple of snapshots but not of printable quality.

AJ 'Mitch' Mitchell on a typical day in the life of Python in the studio...

AJ 'Mitch' Mitchell of BBC Electronic Effects worked on Monty Python's last series in 1974, kindly elaborated on a typical day in TV Centre based upon the duty sheet for Michael Ellis* which gives a good eye-view of how a typical studio session would run.  *''Michael Ellis' was recorded on Saturday October 19, 1974, in TC8, while 'Parkinson', 'Warhead' and 'Dick Emery' were being taped and the Doctor Who episode The Ark In Space was being rehearsed elsewhere in TVC that evening....

I worked on 5 episodes of Monty Python in 1974 – this was on video effects which was probably called "electronic effects" at that time...

I was part of the studio crew in TVC so had nothing to do with the exterior sequences which would have been done on film.  I do remember that the director Ian MacNaughton was on a pretty short fuse because of all their ad-libbing and messing about, although the audience thought it was hysterical.  Mind you my memory is particularly confused because i also worked with Ian on Spike Milligan’s Q9 and that was the same thing - he was incapable of ever doing a scene the same twice, making it worse to shoot than a football match, especially since they all played to the live audience who lapped it up!

Overnight the previous days set will be removed and the one for Monty Python brought in - this is done by overnight crews...

Once the previous day’s set had been removed the night before, the lights would all be adjusted according to the plan on their respective scaffold barrels according to the plan (e.g. each light could be made soft (fresel end) or hard (spot end), they could be pointed in the correct direction and they might have coloured or diffusing gels put over the faces).  Once the rig was all correct the entire rig would be taken up (sky'd) to the grid (roof).  The new set (in this case monty python) would then be moved in (they were all prefabricated previously) and erected according the set designers plans... once this was done the entire lighting rig would be dropped to just above this set.

Set and light: 9.00 - 9.30

The day crew of sparks (electricians) come in & start adjusting the lights to point more precisely at the set according to the plan - vaguely adjust barn doors and height using the pantographs (spring loaded extensions which give a bit more vertical accomodation).  At the same time the scene crew (chippies and prop men) start adjusting and properly dressing the set - like hanging up pictures and so on.

Technical Lighting and rigging: 9.30-10.30

The camera crew pull all the cameras out from their stores and cable them up according to the Technical Manager's floor plan - they then point them all at a chart for the engineers and vision operator to line them up - line up was from ten to ten thirty. The camera crew go for breakfast during this half hour.

At the same time the lighting supervisor (TM1) will go round with the chargehand spark (lighting/electrical chargehand) and fine light the sets one at a time starting with the first to be rehearsed - here they adjust the

barn doors acurately, the focus of spots and exact angles they are pointed at - on this style of shooting the TM1 would go stand where he thought the actor would be and looked directly at the light and new from experience how it and the barn doors should be adjusted - this is the opposite of a film

lighting cameraman or director of photography who would have a stand in (or the actual actor) stand in position whilst he (or she) would stand by the camera - since TV used multi cameras the lights needed to be adjusted in a different way and much more quickly...

Camera rehearsal 10.30 - 12.30

During this time the scenes would be "blocked" - they would all have been created and rehearsed during the week in a hall somewhere with just tape on the floor representing the sets - then on the last day they'd have a "technical run through" where the senior cameraman and both TMs (there was a TM2 who looked after general technical stuff such as vt and sound liaison since the TM1 though in theory in charge of everybody would not have the time due to his lighting activities), sound supervisor, etc. would come and see a walk-through of each sketch - this is when the TM1 would plot his lighting and ultimately create the plan used to set the lights in place.

So now for the first time the artistes and director get to see the show in the actual set and with the real props - thus the action would have to be adjusted to accommodate the real location and indeed the feeling of the set and props would inspire the artistes and director into perhaps changing the business or even be inspired to ad lib some new ideas...

During this time the various shots would be decided and marked up by all and sundry and TM1 would "fine light" as everything else was happening because now of course he'd see the real heights and adjusted positions of the various players...

12.30-1.30 Lunch will be taken during this period

During this time all the cameras would usually be pointed at the charts again for the engineers to have a quick "tweak" - the EMI2001 cameras though amazing for their time did drift a bit and needed constant attention!

1.30-6.30 Rehearsal

Either finish blocking if not already - then run through the show at least a coupla' times to make sure everything worked at speed and in sequence…

6.30 - 7.30 Camera line-up

At end of rehearsals the cameras would be pointed at the charts when we all went off to dinner until 7.30

7.30 - 8.00 Sound and vision lineup

This was still the line up being finished but with all the tech ops back to help in any way necessary - this really was for live shows and didn't apply to these recorded types of shows – in fact the camera and sound crews would go to the directors gallery for notes - this was last minute changes based on the final run-through just before dinner and maybe other things that had been thought of during the break – e.g. last minute script alterations...

8.00 - 10.00 Videorecording on tape

A lot of these recordings were infact 1930-2200 rather than starting at 8.00: they would let the audience in at 7.30 and we'd pull all the cameras into position in that time so that the actual recording could start exactly at 8 o'clock...

10.00-10.30 Strike lighting practicals and studio lighting

Camera clearance, technical de-rig and property movement.   This is all the technical equipment such as the cameras and floor standing lamps and props to be moved out again.

NIGHT STRIKE - OVERNIGHT LIGHT RIGGING AND SCENERY SETTING

First the Monty Python set is removed immediately the show is finished - usually around about ten in the evening - by 1974 they didn't tend to over run...  When the set is cleared the entire lighting rig was lowered to the floor - then using the floorplan supplied by the lighting supervisor (in those days

called the TM1 for "technical manger one" - he was sort of equivalent to the director of photography on a movie - did the lighting and had ultimate responsibility for all technical services - infact apart from the producer he was the only person with the power to shut down a production - say if it were over running or the director was incompetent - i worked on a show where the TM1 did it for the latter reason - seriously amazing i can tell you!

That was the procedure for a studio recording session back in that period...  it was all done very quickly and efficiently - different world – different era!

'Sorry!' Ian Davidson's Python connections

"Can I butt in at this point and say this is in fact the very first time I've appeared on television?"

I met Terry and Mike at Oxford, they were both a year behind me.  The Oxford University Experimental Theatre Club put on an annual revue and I can remember Terry performing 'Custard Pies' in the revue in 1962, which we then took to the Edinburgh Fringe in 1963. Mike had been working with Robert Hewison while he was in the University.  Our ‘63 revue went to the West End where ‘Cambridge Circus’ – which was much better! – was on. We met Bill Oddie and John Cleese at this point. 

After Oxford I worked in television, at Granada - where I met Barry Took - and in the States.  Mike and Terry at that time worked on The Frost Report.  In 1966 I made contact with them again. I was working at the BBC and I got them to write short film scripts for 'The Late Show'.  Terry and Mike’s stuff always had an element of the absurd, whimsical or plain silly. Their strength was being able to give it a satisfying form. Then I worked for the Frost show and we all wrote scripts for him.  Eric did too.

I actually produced the second series of 'Do Not Adjust Your Set'. It was a childrens' programme which adults liked as well. I didn't have a lot to do - the production was running well by then.

When Python started I was working at the BBC as a Script Editor. Because it had such a small cast and was recorded in front of an audience, the boys often got themselves into a situation where, for the sake of speed, they needed an extra bod. So they'd ring me and get me down to the studio. My fee was a 'special low' - which I've lived to regret!

I did go to rehearsals, up the road from TV Centre, but only to pop in.  One or two appearances must have been virtually unrehearsed (as a Welsh miner, I seem to recall). My oddest appearance was as a dead Indian - carried in the studio by John Cleese but also filmed on a bit of motorway with T Jones driving a car straight at me. I should have got danger money - his brakes might have failed!

I was in The Secret Policeman's Ball when we did 'Custard Pies'.  They wanted me to be in The Life of Brian but I think I was busy with The Two Ronnies and had to say no. Blast!  I've stayed in touch with Mike and Terry throughout, Mike particularly - our families even went on holidays together.

A Classical Dish... Python's David Ballantyne speaks!

One of the more recognisable supporting actors in Python, David Ballantyne appeared in several episodes recorded in 1969 and 1970.  He already had quite a varied career – in the Swinging Sixties he appeared in the BBC’s childrens’ series ‘Quick Before They Catch Us’ and starred in Thames TV’s ‘The Tinagree Affair’ as Martin Ferrera in May 1969, as well as pursuing fame as a budding pop star.  His first single, ‘I Can’t Express It’ outperformed David Bowie’s ‘Can’t Help Thinking About Me’ – Ballantyne’s single peaked at Number 2 on the Melody Maker chart while Bowie’s disc slummed it at Number 34.  David’s second single, ‘Love Around The World’, was heavily promoted by Radio London.

“I did several promotional appearances with Bowie for Radio London. The release of my first single coincided with his second as David Bowie and my second came out at the same time as his next single so I used to see him quite often at Radio London promotional events. The thing I remember most about him was his sense of humour.  I always thought he was a very charismatic performer, even in the days of the beehive hairdo and the outrageously large flares made of lining material – more like a flamenco dancer's skirt than a pair of trousers.”

Later singles included ‘Crazy Crazy’ in 1971, as part of Just Plain Jones, ‘Roof Above My Head’, credited to David Ballantyne & Solitude and released by Regal Zonophone in 1972 to support the homeless charity Shelter, and 1972’s ‘If’ by Esprit De Corps, now considered a freakbeat classic.

In 1974, David studied English, French, German, Music and Psychology at Ealing College of Higher Education (now Thames Valley University) and made a sideways move into computing in the early days of the IT revolution, developing software for Comtec in the ‘80s. Later TV credits included appearing in the BBC’s 1981 historical drama ‘The Borgias’ and alongside Michael Gambon in ‘De Profundis’, part of the BBC’s 1985 trilogy of Oscar Wilde plays.  David then travelled around the world and for the last eleven years has been the morning voice of classical music radio station WPCE-FM Radio, hosting ‘Rise and Shine’.

"When Monty Python's Flying Circus first started I had just finished making a little-known series for Thames TV called The Tingaree Affair, in which I played the leading role.  The Pythons kind of adopted me and sheltered me from the storms of life, temporarily.

"I worked with Katya Wyeth well before either of us appeared in Monty Python’s Flying Circus and I was a personal friend of Ian MacNaughton and his wife, Rita Davies, who also appeared in several episodes. I also did the 'studio warm-up', armed only with a guitar and a few songs.

"I was on reasonably friendly terms with Eric Idle and Michael Palin by the time I had worked with them on a couple of programmes. Eric was a music fan and Michael was the most gregarious of the team.  I suspect Michael Palin might have known me from several things – he introduced a pop music show early in his career and he was also working on Do Not Adjust Your Set at Thames TV while I was there making The Tingaree Affair.  Sadly, the Tingaree Affair seems to have vanished into the mists of time.

"I appeared with Flanagan in one episode.  That was the 'mad psychiatrist' episode with Carol Cleveland, Flanagan and others. I rehearsed it at a church hall in Hammersmith, top of Fulham Palace Road. I remember it well because it was the start of a new year (1970) and I didn't dare ask for the time off to attend my brother's wedding, which was taking place about a mile up the road at Kensington Registry Office.  Several bits of this episode were later cut – one of the scenes I remember clearly was a whole preamble about the police using magic to detect crime. (A very Cleesian notion, if I may say so). I was sitting at a desk in a police uniform with my ridiculously long hair staring into a crystal ball. My line was something along the lines of: "I see a cyclist proceeding along the Balls Pond Road without a rear light", which was more Terry Jones-ish. Parts of this sketch survive in the episode available on DVD, but I can assure you that all the original material was included in the first showing.

"I appeared several times in the ‘Timmy Williams’ episode – two roles in the same sketch, obviously quite a quick-change artiste!  Curiously enough, my name does not appear on the credits like it did for other Monty Python appearances. No repeat fees, either.  My gripe about repeat fees was with the BBC, not with the Pythons themselves. They, unashamedly, 'did a Dave Clark' and bought the world rights, for which they paid me a small blanket fee. I certainly never imagined it would take off anywhere other than England. The BBC, however, made numerous edits to the original episodes and refused to pay me and others legitimate UK repeat fees.

"I was one of the gasmen, part of the episode known to the BBC accounts department as Silly Walks. This episode was originally aired "as was" but was heavily edited before it was aired again.  I was in the 'original' Gasmen sketch, it was remade for the Montreux special.  By the time the Montreux special came around I was in the musical Canterbury Tales at the Phoenix Theatre. The Python office called my agent and asked for me to take part in the 'new, improved' version. Obeying professional etiquette, I asked the company manager if it would be OK to fulfil their request. Permission was denied, not for any good reason I could work out. It would have been a very simple shoot and I'm sure I would have got to the theatre in time for the evening performance. Shafted again!"

Monty Python vision mixer Bill Morton remembers...

My first meeting with the Pythons took place in the main lift at Television Centre.  I was waiting on the fourth floor when the doors opened onto a lift full of people, so I stepped back to wait for the next one.  Then I recognised John Howard Davies, the producer for whom I’d been working and who had booked me for Python, and he said “Come in, I want you to meet the people you’ll be working with.”  Presumably they were on their way down from a sixth floor meeting.  So I squeezed in and was introduced to the Python cast, which was a bit awkward in the compressed confines of a crowded lift, particularly with other people in there who were nothing to do with it.  Some of the team I recognised from their work on ITV, especially John Cleese, but others I didn’t know.  By the time JHD had got round all the names, the doors opened and we all spilled out on the ground floor.  They all set off in one direction and me in another and I didn’t see them again until the first day in the studio.

Vision Mixers don’t attend outside rehearsals, or filming, so the first I knew of the show was walking into the studio and picking up the camera script.  John Howard Davies had warned me that it was quite complicated and a bit off-the-wall, but I was fairly new to vision mixing, having only been doing the job for just over a year, and I found it a bit scary.  However, I liked the show from the start, it chimed with my sense of humour and I enjoyed the challenge.  I don’t remember a great deal about individual studio days as the nature of the job is to forget everything as soon as the day is over, as the next day you could be doing Grandstand, Blue Peter, Z-Cars or whatever.  I do remember always looking forward to the Python studios, they were fun shows to work on, with wonderfully inventive sketches and situations and all carefully scripted and rehearsed – nothing was ad-libbed.  There was not much VT editing in those days so there was strong incentive to get things right first time – especially as it was recorded in front of a live audience.  We always recorded in sequence, playing in the Gilliam cartoon links and film inserts in the right place.  Sometimes we had to have two telecine machines for the film, as Terry Gilliam was always up against the clock and sometimes his inserts were not ready soon enough to be spliced into the main film.  There had to be a number of recording breaks, for with a small cast playing all the parts, costume and set changes were necessary.  We started with cameras at 10.30am and the aim was to have staggered through by lunchtime, then in the afternoon have a run-through at pace, then a dress-run with costumes.  Sometimes there would be a pre-record sequence to do in the morning, for if you have, say, someone in full Viking regalia who only says one word, like “Stop!” or “What?” then to save costume change time in the evening in front of the audience we would record it in the morning and play it in.  Pre-records would inevitably eat into camera rehearsal time and there were some days when we didn’t even have time for a dress-run, which would be an added strain when it came to the evening recording.  There were often technical difficulties to overcome; I remember the problem we had in getting the roller caption with the end credits (in those days a black paper roll with white letteraset) to run at the right speed.  It was a notoriously fickle machine and the credits had to fit exactly the film over which it was superimposed, because that was the joke – but it did finally work on the night.  It was for the end of the ‘Spanish Inquisition’ sketch, which finished with the Cardinals on top of a London bus, trying to reach their destination before the credits got to the end.  Of course they run out and I cut to black, or to a caption saying ‘The End’, I can’t remember which, and you hear Michael Palin’s voice saying “Oh, bugger!”, which was very daring in those days.  Python was known for pushing the comedy envelope and it is to the credit of the BBC that they allowed it.  Where else would they have been able to make a comedy show like this?  I think the Pythons were the first show to hijack the BBC Network symbol, at that time a revolving globe, to put comedy voice-overs on, much to the confusion of the continuity announcers.  We had to finish camera rehearsals by 6.30pm and the recording would be from 8.00 till 10.00pm. It was always a very full day.

John Howard Davies was the first Producer/Director on the series, which is why I came to be doing it.  I had been working with John on a comedy series called ‘All Gas and Gaiters’ and he had asked for me to do Monty Python when it came to the studio.  I didn’t realise at the time, but John was only filling in for a Producer called Ian MacNaughton, who I think was the Pythons’ choice, and John only did the first four or five shows.  Ian’s arrival was rather a surprise, because John was a calm and thoughtful director and Ian was the opposite, loud, flamboyant and restlessly energetic – so it was quite a culture shock.  Fortunately, I got on well with Ian and remained with him for the rest of the various series.  Both he and John brought a great deal of expertise and control to the show, and made a major contribution to it’s success, a fact that does not seem to me to be fully recognised in what I’ve read in the Python autobiography.  John is briefly referred to there as rather too gentlemanly and old-fashioned, while Ian is painted as a wild alcoholic who was quite often missing during filming.  This drinking was never apparent to me during the studio days, Ian was always in control and had done his homework – there was always a camera script ready for each studio.  The drinking didn’t become evident to me until the later series, then not so much Ian but Graham Chapman.

I never really got to know the Pythons themselves very well, the nature of a VM’s job is that you are up in the gallery all the time, never getting to the studio floor except perhaps for camera notes after a run, so didn’t often get to mingle with the cast.  After the show there was always a coterie of friends and admirers around them in the Club, so I seldom chatted to them.  Michael Palin was the most approachable, the others I found a bit distant.  John Cleese I got to know much better at a later date when I was doing ‘Fawlty Towers’.  Once, he was talking to me about Vision Mixing and asked me if VMs got credits at the end of the show.  At that time we did not, so he said he would give me a verbal credit and there it is, in the ‘Hotel Inspectors’ episode – but that’s another story. 

One sketch from the fourth series stays in my mind because it was so fast.  I think Ian was testing me as he had a good laugh about my discomfort afterwards.  It was called ‘Finishing the Sentences’ with Terry Jones and Eric Idle in a conversation that involved each of them finishing each other’s sentences.  The cutting got faster and faster, until they were down to two words, then one word, then half a word.  The line “No, round the bend” had 5 shots in it alone:  “No, R.. / ound the b.. / en.. / d.. / Yes.”  It was a sketch which ran just under two minutes, but had 33 shots in it, something like a change of shot every 3 seconds.  I actually have the camera script of that show to remind me of that day!

When the series started, I don’t think I realised what a hugely popular programme it was going to become.  I had been a keen ‘Goon Show’ listener and had enjoyed Spike Milligan’s Q-5 series, so the Python humour was right up my street and I found it a great show to work on.  So I am quite proud of being in on the ground floor and contributing in a small way to what was to become the Monty Python phenomenon. 

Dr. Paul Baker on Monty Python and homosexual characters

 I canvassed the opinion on  how Python used gay stereotypes in their sketches. to an old friend of mine, Dr. Paul Baker of Lancaster University, whose specialist areas include linguistics and gender. Oftentimes it was simply nothing more beyond laughing at campness and effeminacy, just occasionally there was a more liberal agenda - such as in 'The Mouse Problem', a sketch which was an asburd parody of a genuine documentary ('Man Alive: Consenting Adults', from 1967) - and sometimes they had baiting the attitudes of the older generation by  'queering' establishment or traditionally masculine preoccupations, but by the same token there's no escaping that, whereas their sending-up other social types derived from exaggerating certain attributes (greed, pretentiousness, obsessive behaviours, pedantry, etc.), the 'joke' in using stereotypical gay characters is that effeminacy is funny - something common to humour of the 60s and 70s in particular, when PC stood for Police Constable.   Python's use of homosexual stereotypes is something you could contextualise and analyse all day, and there is certainly an argument for both sides but it is quite contentious all the same.

A few years ago, Paul published 'Fantabulosa!', a Polari dictionary, and his knowledge and understanding on Polari and the gay subculture in the early to middle part of the last century have appeared in everything from The One Show to The Guardian.  I passed YouTube links of various Flying Circus sketches that featured gay or camp characters and invited him to share his reflections on the material, as part of my research.

I think it makes for interesting reading, and would be very interested if anyone wants to post their own responses.  Over to you, Paul...

When it comes to interpreting these clips, it’s worth bearing in mind that there are multiple interpretations – and it’s difficult to privilege any single interpretation as being the ‘right’ one. The writers obviously wanted to be funny, and clearly audiences did (and do) find the sketches funny, but they may be seen as funny for different reasons, or not funny at all. The sketches were written decades ago, when views of homosexuality were different to how they are now – what counted as humorous in those days is likely to have changed for some people.

So from an early 21st century ‘gay rights’ perspective, many of the sketches look old-fashioned, and key in to stereotypes about gay men as effeminate/camp. There stereotypes were popular at the time (also found in the Julian and Sandy sketches on Round the Horne, or Mr Humphries in Are You Being Served), and they are still around today (although tend to be less based on ‘characters’ but more embodied by real comedians like Alan Carr and Paul O’Grady. Society (both then and now) finds camp men funny – although now I think it’s more to do with camp men having a witty and outré sense of humour. Back then, I think camp men were seen as funny more because of their camp mannerisms, rather than their humour.

Some of these stereotypes rely on the idea that a man with a camp-sounding voice or feminine mannerisms is funny. In a notable number of cases, camp mannerisms, feminine tastes, gossipy conversations, cross-dressing etc. are attributed to men who are normally seen as butch (e.g. boxers, knights, mountaineers, judges, soldiers or lumberjacks), and the humour is further derived from the discrepancy between the outer appearance and the unexpected behaviour. This could be interpreted as shocking and even subversive . However, the sketches still equate homosexuality with camp behaviour – so there are less subversive elements to them, depending on your point of view.

Camp mannerisms are not the only aspect of these gay characters though – sexual desire for other men (which is perhaps the only generalisable trait associated with being gay), is also shown. The camp newsreader character is seen reading Physique magazine, while the boxers in the Magic Christian kiss rather than fight (although this scene was based on the book by Terry Southern). The man who successfully picks up a policeman after reporting his wallet is stolen, is meant to be funny because the sexual turn of the sketch is unexpected – yet this requires the two men not to be ‘obvious’ (e.g. camp) so also has the potential to be subversive, even homoerotic. Such sketches are perhaps the most subversive types and could even be educational to some members of the audience – a teenage boy who was starting to experience attraction to other males, might have found the existence of Physique magazine to be extremely interesting, for example. However, there is still the ‘problem’ that anything gay is seen as automatically funny.

However, the writers show that they are aware of prejudice, and in some sketches they make fun of it – the gameshow, Prejudice, makes fun of bigoted people who are against “stinking homosexuals” and has a section called “shoot the puff”, while another sketch parodies a serious documentary about homosexuals, instead focussing on men who want to be mice. While some audience members will have interpreted these sketches as progressive, others may focussed more on the use of a phrase like ‘stinking homosexuals’ as reaffirming their own views. 

Any comments gratefully received.

Focus pulling - memories of filming Python

More lovely new quotes on Python, this time from a member of the film crew on the first series...

I worked with Jimmy Balfour who was the film cameraman on a lot of Python in ‘69 & ‘70. I do remember lots of the individual sketches we did on film. We did a lot near Batley and Ilkley Moor.  Ian MacNaughton as director was a hoot, he was probably responsible for letting them do what they wanted and thus a lot of the success.  Ian was a dream to work for, laidback and relatively undemanding.

The filmed sketches were generally set up quickly and looking back were very staid, in that Jimmy et al lit it with huge "brutes" and shadows reigned, especially as the afternoon went on and the light dimmed. Shot very much to a formula, tableau-like with all the action happening within a generally static frame.

If I remember correctly we started the shooting the series in 35mm, which probably accounts for the static nature of a lot of the shooting. The crews were small then and 35mm made it bloody hard work, especially lugging the stuff up and down lIkley Moor. The four undertakers sketch involved a lot of shifting… like turning 90 degrees for a shot and a further 90 degrees for the next, etc.

I don’t remember the boys getting involved in the look of the film. I think Jimmy, being old school, would've thrown a fit anyway.  What we did were usually standalone sketches that would be inserted throughout the series.  One of my best of all time was the one (shot in Skipton I think) where Michael played a slightly camp victim of a robbery, with John as the gruff cop Michael approached for help.  It was so funny.  On take one, Mike broke down into a fit of giggles at the punchline.  Take two and John corpsed, then Ian on three, and someone else on four.  For take five I was stood with a hankie rammed into my mouth by this time, ribs aching and managing to hold it in until I thought Ian said "cut" and I let it all out - but he hadn't and we went into take six.

The boys themselves were very responsive to suggestions on visuals, and I do remember them being very open to suggestions that might make a gag better.  I've known lots of comedians that were bloody impossible if anyone tried to get involved or indeed cracked a joke on set.  Not the boys.

I have very fond memories of Terry, Eric, and Michael.  Terry was especially generous in spirit as was Eric. Mike as we all know was a gent.

Off-camera, John was intense, and sometime aloof – and sometimes hilarious. One day way up on the moors in a dead moment he saw two old dears driving slowly along the road below. He borrowed a magaphone from the PA and in his best "official" voice broadcast "If you see the lion…".  I swear the car nearly left the road.

Graham was very distant.  At one point we were shooting in London and I'd gone to the location in my pride & joy – my red MGB.  I foolishly allowed it to be used in a sketch and Graham plonked an old-fashioned gramophone on the bonnet and scratched it.  Never forgave him for that.

Flanagan

I had a lovely letter today from 'Flanagan' aka Maureen Flanagan, where she shared her memories of her brief appearances in early episodes of Monty Python's Flying Circus, and thought it would be nice to preview it for anyone interested as it was a delightful letter.  It should make a nice little entry in the bok!

Dear James, how nice to receive your letter and to remind myself, I was a part of TV history!

I first went for an audition at BBC Shepherds Bush and met five crazy men.  I think I hit it off at once with John Cleese, I’m a bit gobby and like a laugh.  He asked me why I was known as just ‘Flanagan’ and I told him I’d married into a crazy Irish family in 1961 and their lives would have made some terrific sketches, not what they usually heard from a glamorous blonde model!

They took me to Southend to do the Hell’s Grannies sketch, people walking along thought they were ‘old thugs’ riding and roaring on bikes, the police were out and about and watching.  I chewed gum in my leathers, great fun!  The following month I was asked by my agent if I’d do a bed scene with Michael Palin, I said yes straight away.  I knew all the boys and the crew and Palin was much more embarassed than me!  I did have a sheet over my boobs as I hadn’t done Page 3 of The Sun till 1972!  No topless girls had appeared on TV in 1969.

They booked me for a sexy nurse, which we did in front of a live audience at TV Centre, afterwards Cleese brought us all out and introduced us as three sexy models who made them look good.

I met Terry Gilliam and always thought he was the brains behind Monty Python.  When they wanted six glam girls for a beauty paegant line-up, I was booked as one and knew then I was one of their favourites.  Being upfront and a Cockney I asked Cleese if I could possibly say “and now for something completely different”.  He spoke to the director and I got my wish, I have it on video and now DVD.

We drank in the BBC bar where they introduced me to Dave Allen. I think he liked my looks, but really liked my name, so three months later my agent said I’d been booked for a bed scene with Dave Allen for a sketch on his show.  Remember, he was very handsome and full of blarney, I got on so well he booked me for six more shows!  I went on to do six Benny Hill shows after Benny saw my Monty Pythons so really, the crazy lads started me on another career, on top of modelling!

Good luck with your book!

Love, Flanagan x

The 25th Anniversary Sweepstake - Who'll Snuff It This Year?

In the run-up to Monty Python's 25th Anniversary celebrations in 1994, Alan Jones penned this article in Issue 10 of 'And Now For Something Completely Different', dismissed by journalist Mark Paytess as being "not as controversial as it thinks it is, and not entirely in the spirit of the original shows."  Did rather spoil the joke for all the chaps up at BALPA House.  Fortunately for all involved the five remaining Pythons are all too lively, many years on.

The 25th Anniversary Sweepstake - Who'll Snuff It This Year?

When Graham Chapman died one day before the 20th Anniversary, the cause was recorded as cancer.  Rubbish.  He died 'cos it was FUNNY.  To keep the joke running along one of the Pythons is undoubtedly going to take out his mortal coil on the 4th October, 1994, but WHICH ONE?  Well, the one for whom it'll be funnier...

ERIC IDLE (16-1)

As far as anyone knows, Eric Idle is currently doing bugger all.  The only people who liked Splitting Heirs were all French.  He was in Missing Pieces.  He was in Too Much Son.  He was in Mom & Dad Save The World.  He's hardly riding on the crest of a wave, in fact a recent Deadpan article on Monty Python described him as 'the other one'.  Since his finest half-hour was sixteen years ago, he can be compared unfavourably to Orson Welles.  Since his death won't result in an uncompleted yet brilliant film, nor would it destroy a career that is being carried along at a frenetic rate, his death just would not be funny, although he was the one that said that after the 25th it would "just be a matter of attending each other's funerals."

TERRY JONES (14-1)

Terry Jones is currently working on a major four part documentary on the Crusades for the BBC, and it would be fairly amusing if he suddenly dropped dead with no warning, leaving the series unfinished.  However, since it's a history programme, no one would care except rather dull people.  Apart from that, the likelihood is that the series will be completed by October 4, so instead of being funny, his death would be poignant.

Despite this, a lot of people would remember that he recently stated "Hamer's make the world's best pork and game pies.  It would be an honour to be put in one of their meaty delights when I go."  It would certainly cause giggling and guffawing if someone tried to do this.

MICHAEL PALIN (10-1)

'Mellow Mike' (vive le tabloid journalisme) is currently mother's favourite - my mother, your mother, Tarquin's mother, everyone's mother.  They love him for his charm, his niceness, his friendly wit, his niceness, his optimistic confidence, his niceness, his clean cut image, his niceness and the eager way he takes an interest in other people's problems.  It would therefore be absolutely hilarious if he died of a sexually transmitted disease after being caught naked at an orgy in Soho, in the company of six call girls, three Nicaraguan sailors, an Anglican vicar and Frank Bough.  But it ain't gonna happen.  I hear he's working on a novel though, so it'd be funny if he died just before the last and vitally important page was written.

TERRY GILLIAM (6-1)

Vance has been desperately trying to get at least one of his films off the ground for some time now.  However, since none are past the development stage it would not be particularly funny if he died now.  But if, on October 3 1994, he gets confirmation that Universal are giving him $50million to make A Connecticut Yankee In King Arthur's Court, MGM/UA are giving him $60million to make The Defective Detective and that Warners are giving him $70million to make Don Quixote and then, the next day, he stands in the middle of Highgate dancing in jubilation, and then a bus knocks him down killing him stone dead, then I'd laugh myself silly.

JOHN CLEESE (3-1)

As everybody knows, John Cleese is currently wriring 'Death Fish II' and 'III'.  The incredible success of A Fish Called Wanda means that exorbitant amounts of money are riding on it, people's careers may came or go on the success of it, and already a repulsive number of critics have their hands down their trousers and up Cleese's arse. It would therefore be side-splittingly hilarious if he suddenly decided that pushing up the daisies was a far more viable vocation.

GRAHAM CHAPMAN (2-1)

Let's take a few moments to analyse the humour of Python.  What virtually all Python hinges on is the unexpected - a Viking in a cafe, an announcer in the sea, an old lady tripping up a bus, a hairdresser who wants to be a lumberjack, etc.  A vast number of Python sketches are not based on being clever or incisive or witty or sardonic or satirical, they're based on presenting the viewer with an image or an idea that he or she is no expecting.  Now, all things considered, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'd say that if Graham Chapman were to be suddenly reincarnated and then somehow killed again, that would be fairly unexpected...

© Alan Jones, 1994.

Python Rarities Round-up

As I've been researching the bok, a wealth of rare and exciting Python-related clips have escaped onto the internet; it's almost like the magic porridge pot lately.  We haven't even got time to mention the alternate edits of the German Shows!  Here's a round-up of some recent material that's been kindly outsourced for fanatics' enjoyment, courtesy of The Monty Python Museum

Friday Night Saturday Morning: The Life Of Brian (1979)

Funny Haha: Commander Badman (1974)

The Do It Yourself Animation Show: Terry Gilliam (1974)

Aquarius: Football (1971)

The Frost Report On Education (1966)

The Complete & Utter History of Britain: Episode 1a (1969)

Out Of The Trees Footage (1976)

Monty Python Live! by Kim "Howard" Johnson

In issue three of my Monty Python fanzine 'And Now For Something Completely Different' (printed 1992), Monty Python historian Kim "Howard" Johnson shared his memories of the Python live experience. Although the Python live shows are largely out of the remit of 'Flogging A Dead Parrot', this firsthand account of the stage shows is of obvious interest. Happy reading!

When I went out to New York to see the City Center show in 1976, I was already a Python fanatic (as I did have a 16 hour drive!) but hadn’t become friends with any of the group.  I’d met Terry Jones and Graham Chapman the previous year, and in a subsequent letter, Terry invited me to the New York show – so with an invitation like that, how could I refuse?

I drove out with a friend of mine and we picked up our tickets (fourth row centre – thanks, Terry!) then we went round to the stage door and asked for Terry.  He came out a minute later, and took us around backstage, introducing us to the rest of the group (except for John Cleese, who was resting between the two Saturday night shows).  Eric was in a room with Neil Innes as some others, offering to sell us autographs; Michael Palin was as genial as always, and happy to pose for photographs, as was Carol Cleveland.  Graham was still drinking in those days, and wandered around shirtless; while we were talking to Terry Jones, Graham burst in, emitting the occasional squawk.  I was a wide-eyed Python fan, quite star-struck I’m sure and I undoubtedly made as much a fool of myself as possible in the ten minutes or so I was back there.  Nevertheless, everybody was extremely nice, and so, fired by that experience, we left and went out front to watch the show.

Maybe I’m a little jaded when I say the show itself was a typical Python stage show, but it was pretty much the way it was captured in Monty Python Live At The Hollywood Bowl and the Drury Lane and City Center albums, but with the Pythons occasionally wandering through the audience!  Needless to say, it was terrific and very exciting, and the audience was very supportive.

When the Hollywood Bowl shows came along a few years later, I was fortunate enough to be more of an insider, having lived and worked alongside the team in Tunisia on Life Of Brian.  The Pythons themselves seemed to be more excited about this four-night stand and even did a bit of rehearsing for the event.  I arrived the afternoon before opening night, and hung out while the guys went through their paces.  That evening was a dress rehearsal, which was necessary because the shows were being filmed.  They ran late, however, and since the Hollywood Bowl neighbourhood imposed a curfew, they couldn’t run through every sketch that night before they had to quit.

The shows themselves were quite amazing, and the film does a good job of capturing the madness.  By this time, the Pythons had been doing the shows long enough to have them more or less mastered, but the crowds were devoted fans who had the sketches memorised anyway.

During each show there was a short bit called ‘Idioting’ which involved a group all dressed in strange costumes, running around under a strobe light, which equally strange music played.  After the dress rehearsal, Michael Palin decided that the stage needed to be filled out better so John Tomiczek – Graham’s son – and myself were happy to be recruited for this regular bit in the show.  John had already a bit where wearing a Christmas tree costume, he would drag Terry Jones off after he sings ‘Never Be Rude To An Arab’.  I was originally promised the Christmas tree role, but instead became the Pantomime Goose for the ‘Idioting’. 

I would usually watch the show from a seat in the audience until shortly before the idioting then head backstage.  I do recall that the goose head was so large that I usually had to hold on to it with both hands whole I jumped around onstage.  I also remember one night, Terry Gilliam had to roll across the stage.  When he attempted this, he had trouble getting across the stage in time.  One night, I tried to make my way to the opposite side, which wasn’t easy, as my vision was obstructed.  I heard a muffled American voice saying, “Hey you guys!  Get me offa here!”  Terry was having trouble taking it off, but I couldn’t see him well enough to go find him and drag him off.  The idioting didn’t make it into the final cut of the film – I’ve often wondered how the audience reacted to the sight of a nearly blind goose trying to find this pathetic, whimpering human ball…

Neil, Neil, orange peel...

AN INTERVIEW WITH NEIL INNES

A version of this interview with Neil Innes from Summer 1992, conducted with the assistance of Louise Marriott, appeared in issues 3 to 6 of 'And Now For Something Completely Different'.  We think you'll agree that it's an interesting and amusing read...

JG: Hi, Neil.  So, you first met the Pythons on ‘Do Not Adjust Your Set’.  Did you get to know them fairly well on the programme?

NI: Well, yes.  Because we did 26 programmes in all.  We didn’t know too much about each other when we started, but pretty soon we got to be quite chummy.  The Bonzos used to take them out to Indian restaurants and they used to take us out to Chinese restaurants.

JG: And how exactly did you get dragged into Python?

NI: Eric rang me up one day and said “Our warm-up man’s ill so do you want to come and do our warm-up?” at the BBC where they were making ‘Monty Python’s Flying Circus’.  So I said, “I don’t do warm-ups!”  He said, “…it’s 25 quid” and I said “Done!”  So anyway, I went there for the laugh more than anything else and found myself doing music on the albums and tours, scribbling a bit here and there and whatnot…

JG:  So what items did you contribute to the fourth, final series without John Cleese?

NI:  I wrote ‘Appeal on Behalf of Very Rich People’ and I was responsible for the awful family – with Terry Gilliam eating baked beans and Eric ironing the cat.  So I started that one off and worked it through with Graham.  And some of the others contributed memorable ideas, like Palin’s memorable “Dad? Why is Rhodesia called Rhodesia?” but I thought of the awful family.

JG: What were the scripting sessions like when sketches would be chosen for a show?  Were they ruthless over what would go in?

NI: Well, I only had a few meetings.  That was in the very last series.  Before that, Eric had told me that if people laughed at the script meeting it would go in.  You weren’t allowed to say, “Well my wife liked it!” or anything like that.  That meant it was definitely out!  And everyone would try and get Michael Palin to read their sketches, because he was the best reader and had the best chance of making the others laugh.  So yes, they were very tough with each other.

JG: Just before Series Four, you were in “Monty Python And The Holy Grail”.  Was your role as Sir Robin’s Minstrel your sole involvement in the film?

NI: No.  Every time a large object, like a cow or a wooden rabbit, needed to be lobbed at anybody, it was lobbed at me.  I think the boys have always been trying to tell me something…  when we did “The Missionary”, I had a bar stool lobbed at me.

JG: It clearly wasn’t the most glamorous of films to be in!  What was it like for you?  Did the atmosphere affect the cast’s attitudes?

NI: Erm…no.  It was quite good fun.  All the chainmail was in fact made out of string sprayed silver but this got soggy halfway up a Scottish mountainside, and we did crosswords and kept ourselves in good spirits.  I invented a game called “Decline the verb: to sheep worry’” – you know, I am sheep worried, you are sheep worried, and Cleese came up with the future pluperfect which was ‘I am about to have been sheep worried’.  He won that one, I think.

JG: You were prominent in the Pythons’ First Farewell Tour.  Was it an early decision that you would be brought in to do songs and sometimes be in sketches?

NI: Well, yeah.  When the tour was first put together I was necessary as a kind of link, really, because sets and costume changes had to be made.  A live thing you can’t do like television with edits and things like that.  So I was built into the design of the live performances.

JG: Having had it both ways, was there any difference between touring with a rock band and a comedy team?

NI: Very little in fact.  The Bonzos as a rock ban d didn’t really inspire the same sort of adulation as other rock bands!  And when we played the City Center in New York fans were literally jumping on the cars and things like that.  Which was quite frightening, actually!  (adopts Colonel voice)  I don’t approve of that sort of behaviour at all.

JG: There must have been some memorable incidents during the various shows, on and off stage.  Can you recall any particularly?

NI: Yes.  I remember Cleese used to be really naughty on stage.  And if you were about to go on, he’d sometimes come up behind you and grab you in a vice-like grip.  And you knew you were supposed to be on.  Your cue was there and you’d be yelling, “John!  John!  What are you doing?” and he would hold it, and hold it, and hold it.  After much struggling, he’d let you go and you’d come on and try and do your line.  So we had a lot of fun, and there was a lot of sabotage going on, in fact we never did the sketch with the bishop on the landing ever properly, ever.  Palin would rush in with his flashing cross on top of his policeman’s helmet, go “Ullo, ‘ullo, ‘ullo, AMEN!”  …We couldn’t possibly do that one properly.

JG: Did you enjoy playing the Hollywood Bowl?

NI:  Not as much as having it both ways!!  Yes it was a demanding role.  First of all, I had to get myself into shape – a bowl is not a very easy character to play…  No, it was fine.  Loved it.  I’ll tell you what, if there had been a shred of hostility in the crowd the answer would be no but everyone was so pleased to be there, you couldn’t help but enjoy yourself.  It was so warm and friendly.

JG: When Eric came up with ‘Rutland Weekend Television’, how involved were you in its conception?

NI: Eric thought it would be a good idea for me to be a part of it.  He wanted to do it with me.  In fact I said I didn’t want to do television.  I remember on the ‘Do Not Adjust Your Set’, with the Bonzos the cameras never pointed in the right place, and he said, “You can tell the cameras where to point.” so I thought, “Yes, why not”.  So I went off and wrote songs, and he went off and wrote sketches and we would meet together and see what we’d got.  And we constructed the shows between us.

JG: ‘Rutland Weekend Television’ was made on a very small budget.  Was it a problem or didn’t you mind much?

NI: It was sometimes a problem but that was in fact the whole raison d’etre of the programme.  It was such a cheap budget programme that it worked in our favour.  You could actually show how cheap and cheerful it was because it was ‘Rutland Weekend Television’.  It was made in a studio at the BBC called Presentation B, which is where they do the weather from.  So you get some idea of how big it was!  And when we had the court of Queen Elizabeth I in there, I think the cameras were out in the corridor somewhere.

JG: What are your favourite bits in RWT, as there were many classic sketches and songs during its two seasons?

NI: Oh, that’s hard.  Erm… Well, I suppose my favourite bits of the thing where when we’d finished filming and going to the bar!  I’ve obviously got fond memories of the Rutles and I liked the “Hawaii Five-O” thing we did – it was sort of a spoof.  I got to play an American policeman.  (Camply) I just LOVED the uniform!  There are too many bits to remember.  I liked it all, really.  I liked doing it.

JG: Would you like to see it re-run?

NI: I’d like to see it first I think!  When you see things that were done all that time ago, you sort of wonder how well they’ve travelled through time!  But I’m sure there must be some highlights they could put out.  We could make a five minute programme I’m sure.   I haven’t seen Eric for ages.  I wonder how he is.  He’s a daddy now, with Tania as his new missus.

JG: When the Rutles clip was shown on NBC’s ‘Saturday Night Live’, were you surprised by the massive interest the clip provoked – two years after it was made, in a country that hadn’t even had RWT?

NI: Yes, I was agreeably surprised, but on the other hand it was very recognisable as a kind of Hard Day’s Night spoof.  As I say, I went off and wrote songs for RWT on my own and I though – again because it was a cheap budget – that a black and white, silly film Beatles parody would be a good visual.  So I wrote a Beatleish song and Eric came up with the name The Rutles.  Eric had close connections with Lorne Michaels, the producer.  It was funny, on one ‘Saturday Night Live’ I did the John Lennon impersonation with the white piano and the big long wig singing “Cheese & Onions”, and the NME rang me up and said, “Did you know one of the Rutles songs is on a Beatles bootleg?”.  I said I didn’t know, I wasn’t told, and what’s it doing on there…  I asked them to play it to me over the phone and it was ME!   On ‘Saturday Night Live’!  And it had ended up on a Beatles bootleg!  So I thought, never underestimate the power of the NME!

JG: When you and Eric were approached with the idea of the Rutles rockumentary, were you a bit wary about having to parallel the all-too-real Beatles story?

NI:  Yes I was (laughs), who wouldn’t be?  I’d done one as a bit of a laugh and they said, “Can we have fourteen more – by Thursday lunch?”  I thought it was a good challenge.  I would have a go, but the annoying part is that I’ve been labelled as a pop parodist ever since.  I think I’ve written some ordinary songs – quite normal, really.
It was fun to do.  The whole project was fun to do.

JG: In 1990 you and some of the Rutles did a one-off gig in Liverpool.  With the Rutles reissue on CD, the tribute album (Rutles Highway Revisited) and everything else, could you foresee a proper Rutles reunion?

NI: No.  I don’t think so.  Ricky (Fataar) is a nice chap.  John Halsey doesn’t live too far away from me in Suffolk.  I can’t imagine what we would do – we could have a reunion socially, in the pub. The Rutles were a media joke of their time.  It’s nice that people linked onto the Beatles legend, because it was an affectionate biography of the Beatles whatever way you looked at it.  It was probably the only way you could tell the Beatles story without it being too sad.  Because it really was sad when it broke up.  If you look at the real footage, which we did, we thought, this is wonderful, wonderful, and then Epstein dies and it all starts to fall apart.  The overall emotion you get is one of depression by watching the real thing.  But you can make fun of it through the Rutles to tell more that way, than by telling the real Beatles story… and George Harrison is always keen to get up there and act his bottom off.

JG: Where would you rate the Rutles on your list of achievements?

NI: What?  Rutland!  That’s where I’d rate it, I’d rate it in Rutland!

JG: You did a cameo for ‘Life Of Brian’.  Were you present for the whole film’s making?

NI: No, I wasn’t.  I was making the first series of ‘The Innes Book Of Records’.  I was going to be out on location doing a lot more but Bernard Delfont pulled all the money out and it was put back, and by then I was filming.  So I managed to go out there for the last week to a lovely hotel on a beach in Tunisia, and they’d been in the desert with diarrhoea, getting bitten by various things, including camels.  Dr. Graham had been an ace sort of chap to have on location.  I got the luxury bit, and I didn’t even have to do anything till the last day of filming!  So I had more or less a week’s holiday on the beach, and in the evening Eric and I had decided to do an album of unsolicited jingles.  One of which was called ‘For Gitane’, the French cigarette.  “Fumez, fumez Gitane; fumez, fumez Gitane; as many as you can; fumez Gi-ta-ne…”

JG: Being the Pythons’ first collaboration for many years, had the Pythons changed in relation to each other by then?

NI: When we were doing RWT, Eric and I thought we’d write a musical about God, called ‘Good God’ but a lot of those things evolved in to ‘Life Of Brian’.  And I think the Pythons worked really well together on that, and in terms of writing a whole integrated thing, like the ‘Holy Grai’l was an integrated movie.  Whereas ‘The Meaning Of Life’ wasn’t – it was going back to sketches.  So I think ‘Brian’ was the last piece of integrated writing they did.  Very good it was too.

JG: How did the 1974 single ‘Recycled Vinyl Blues’ with Michael Palin come about?

NI: I had done it anyway as a song, and poor old Michael, I talked him into it.  At the time they were talking about getting old records and melting them down because there was a vinyl shortage.  And I thought about the idea that when you melted these old records down, some of the bits would come through.  So I proceeded to write this thing, it was very funny.  We did this wonderful arrangement and the record company loved it, put it out, but then we found that 8 publishers wanted a share for every little bit of quote on it.  It was getting airplay at first until people realised they had to fill out 9 PRS forms – that’s Performing Rights Society – every time it was played.  So it’s a collectors’ piece.  In fact it’s out on the Bonzo CD (‘Cornology’)  - it’s an added track on the Dog Ends one, track number 19.

JG: You’ve also been involved, to varying degrees, in ‘Jabberwocky’, ‘Erik The Viking’ and ‘The Missionary’.  How did your association in these films evolve?

NI: By telephone!  Everybody who has ever done anything with Python has sort of rung up and said, “Do you want to do a bit in this?”  In fact, it was more or less a case of “Come down and do a bit” for ‘Jabberwocky’.  They’d given me this page role and Maggie – Terry Gilliam’s wife – said that everybody has to have this medieval hair cut.  I said, “Come on! You’re not going to see the back of my head, I’m just stood there playing a drum!” but she insisted, “No, everyone has got a have it” – this awful ruddy haircut, like a funny farm haircut.  Actually it’s quite trendy now (laughs), but I didn’t like it at the time!  You didn’t see the back of my head once!  And once again, in the great Python tradition, John Bird lifted up the drum and cracked it over my head.  But what he didn’t know was that I was going to carry on playing the drum.  He nearly corpsed and ruined the whole scene, but no, good times, that’s ‘Jabberwocky’.

‘Erik The Viking’, well, I just did the music for that of course – I forgot how it happened.  Oh, I asked why, always in film-making, does the music get added last?  I thought it would be a good idea if I went along to see how things were going and get some ideas.  So I went out to Malta with them and found myself up to my knees in a huge tank flooded with water and a lot of other extras and Maltese, doing silly things in Hy-Brasil with King Terry J.  There’s an amusing anecdote – when we did the music we had to do it quickly, as we had so little studio time, the leader of the string section asked me to give them all some idea as to what each scene was about.  So I was giving them these little thumbnail sketches and as time as slipping by faster and faster, these were getting shorter and shorter.  We got to this bit, which is supposed to be very sad.  “Well, what is going on in this scene?” they said.  “The King dies”, I replied.  The leader tutted exacerbatedly, “But – do – we – like – him?” and an engineer pointed out that it was the film’s director!  ‘The Missionary’ – Michael came up and asked if I had any old music hall songs, “We need a music hall scene.  Would you like to be our music hall singer?”.  I have got these old music hall songs and I found, ‘Put On Your Tata, Little Girlie’, which we proceeded to record with Mike Moran.  And of course, written into the script was the bar stool flying through the air!

That was swung down from the ceiling on a bit of tungsten wire, which the camera couldn’t really spot.  And there was another piece of tungsten wire which was supposed to pull it up short of my head.  So I was to mime with gusto this very last note, and down would come the bar stool.  So there we were and they said, “OK. Turnover” and I said, “Just, just, just a minute.  Don’t you think we should test this thing?”.  Richard Loncraine (the director) told me not to be a wally, that everything was alright, and really I don’t mind doing anything, as long as it’s tested first.  So Richard stood there, miming.  It came down and snapped.  He got his hand across his face just in time.  So we tried a bit of thicker wire… (sighs) THREE thicknesses of wire later, it was deemed safe, and we did the shot.

JG: What was your involvement with Terry Jones’ ‘East of the Moon’ for Yorkshire TV?

NI: Terry Jones was approached by Joy Whitby – the head of Yorkshire TV Childrens – to adapt his Fairy Tales.  He then said, “Very nice.  But I think I’d like Neil to adapt it”.  So he gave it all over to me to rewrite for television.  Obviously, the pen is mightier than the budget and you can write things in a book that you can’t necessarily film that cheaply.  So I changed a few things like using sneezing powder instead of flames and chopping off dragons’ tails, and things like that.  And I just generally designed the programme.  We spent a lot of time and effort trying to get it done as an independent production.  It took about four years to make it.  It was made as a co-production with Channel 4 Wales for Channel 4, and German money was in it as well.

Terry only did a couple of cameo roles.  I got my own back!  He was an elf and he had to wear these huge glued-on ears, and a beard.  He was miserably uncomfortable for a day… it made up for all the things they’d lobbed at me in the past!

JG: How many series were there?

NI: Well, they commissioned thirteen but they only filmed seven because not
long after that, Michael Grade came and said he didn’t see the point in Channel 4 making childrens’ programmes because they were in competition with the networks.  So he virtually cut out the childrens’ television except for those imported Sesame Street lunchtime kind of things.

JG: Having mentioned these more recent involvements, I assume you’ve still got strong ties with the Pythons.  Do you often see them socially?

NI: I don’t know about strong ties…  Loud ties, revolving bowties… I haven’t spoken to Terry Gilliam lately and I’ve just heard that Terry Jones has got a new film.  I wrote him a cheeky postcard saying, “I’m glad to hear you’ve got a new film.  If I promise not to argue, interfere or put tunes in where you don’t want them, would you consider letting me do the music?”

JG: Being so linked with Python, do you ever regret that many prejudge you as a zany comedy musician in spite of your diversity?

NI: I used to jokingly say to the lads that working with them for another year put my own career back ten years!  But you can’t help it.  Even though I was working on other things at the time, because Python are so much more famous you are linked with them.  And ever since the Bonzos I’d been called wacky, madcap, zany…  ‘Do Not Adjust your Set’ was pre-Python but that’s when we met Mike and Terry, and Terry Gilliam and Eric.  And of course we were sort of winding up as they were more or less getting going as Python.  So that’s how it happened, that’s the whole story, and I’m going to bed now…