A similar contrast in my fortune occurred the
following year, when I got a job as Matt Monro’s
musical director. I’ve only ever signed on once in
my life, and it was February. I remember standing
in a long dole queue in Poole that stretched all
the way outside the labour exchange. It was
freezing and miserable, and I remember thinking
has it really come to this? And then Matt called,
‘and I found myself in Bangkok, on the opening
night beautiful girls came up to the stage and put
garlands over our heads. In Kuala Lumpur we
were even invited to dine with the King of Malaya.
Chauffeur driven to the golf club, the table was
virtually on a stage, we were watched by the other
diners as if we were in some kind of posh play.
The MC announced something along the lines of
‘please welcome Major Montmorency UrsquithHackenback of Moldavia’ (huge applause)...please
welcome Princess Rupalla of Moldavia... (equally
huge applause)... please welcome the King of
Malaya (even huger applause)... please welcome
international singing star Mr Matt Monro
(you’ve guessed it, even huger applause)... please
welcome... erm... Mike Hatchard... (tumultuous
ripple of indifference).
I was afraid that music would not be a subject
about which I’d have little to say. I could continue,
describing how I once toured as Pamela
He left this note.
www.thecartoonistsclub.com
Stephenson’s musical director with two dwarves,
a box of explosives and a seven foot python
called Fred. When stopped by a police officer in
Worcester at two in the morning he said, ‘just a
routine check, sir, do you mind me asking what
you’ve got in the back?’ I replied that sleeping
under the blanket on the back seat were two
dwarves, and in the boot I had a box of explosives
and a large python. ‘Oh yes, sir,’ he replied, ‘mind
if I take a look?’ So I opened up the boot and
he pointed to a suitcase and asked me to open
it. This particular case held my dirty underwear,
and he hastily asked me to close it. I thought, if
he asks to open the case with the snake he’ll get
a shock, but he didn’t. To this day I don’t know if
he was the coolest constable in the world. Or
merely an idiot.
And I could relate how I co-wrote a song with
Frankie Howerd entitled the Primeval Scream.
Or how I once serenaded a crying Bobby Davro
on the violin whilst, with his head trapped in a
magician’s guillotine, Freddie Starr rammed a
banana up his backside. But I guess I’d better leave
all that for another time...
“Stereo!”
“Forget whalesong, I’m giving
them some thrash metal!!
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