Where Have All The Bullets Gone? Part 3

Do you know much about wine, Milligan?

MILLIGAN:.

Yes sir, I get p.i.s.sed every night.

The club is open from midday till the wee hours. It closes when either the guests or the staff collapse. A 'Gypsy' band plays for dancing; the leader is Enrico Spoleto, who turns out to be the Town Major's batman, Eric Collins. In his black trousers, white shirt and red bandanna, he looked as much like a gypsy as Mel Brooks looked like Tarzan.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

Lieutenant Oliver s.m.u.tts...

Ruler of a marbled drinking palace Ruler of a marbled drinking palace Corporal Tom Ross An untreated Scots Eunuch An untreated Scots Eunuch Gunner Milligan b.u.t.tons b.u.t.tons Maria Virgin in Waiting Virgin in Waiting Rosa Virgin not waiting too long Virgin not waiting too long Carlo Barman/Mafia Barman/Mafia Bianca Hand maiden to Pasha s.m.u.tts Hand maiden to Pasha s.m.u.tts Franco Cook and resident s.e.x Maniac Cook and resident s.e.x Maniac Various gardeners, scrubbers, dustmen.

The job is bliss, except! Pasha s.m.u.tts is jealous. Bianca, his fancy, fancies b.u.t.tons. Was it my fault that I was lovely? Lots of fun and games with Maria and Rosa. Breakfast is in bed! Brought by Rosa or Maria. Maria made a point of whipping the bedclothes off to examine my condition. I never failed her. It was a good Rabelaisian start to the day.

My duties are to make out the menus, check the wine stocks, and release anyone imprisoned in them. Apart from the gypsy orchestra, there's still a lot of fiddling. Tom balances the books so well we all pocket five hundred lire a week. The evil cook will do anything for f.a.gs except his wife. Rosa lays the tables and Tom lays Rosa. I sit at the door and book the officers in. It was a paid membership club, with a tendency to not remembership to pay. Like Groucho Marx said: "Never lend people money, it gives 'em amnesia..."

The Dancing Officers The terrace is cleared for these gyrations. Most of the partners are WREN or ATS Officers and the occasional upper cla.s.s Iti scrubber. Spoleto and his 'Gypsies' make woeful attempts to play 'Moonlight Serenade', 'One o'clock Jump', and 'Chattanooga Choo Choo'. The trouble is the partially deaf Italian drummer of seventy who has no damper on his ba.s.s drum so that it booms round the room like a cannon; but we are grateful for it when Spoleto takes a vocal in an appalling nanny-goat voice: "There'll be BOOM BOOM over the BOOM BOOM of Dover To BOOM BOOM just you wait and BOOM BOOM."

Thank G.o.d they never played the Warsaw Concerto.

Dancing. There are none worse than those swaying pump-handled Hooray Henrys. I watched the agonized gyrations of the two dancers' feet, neither pair knowing what instructions it was supposed to be receiving. The male feet getting vague messages, the female feet immediately having to adjust to their bidding. The female is being backed up like a coal lorry. To vary this the male suddenly tries to revolve her round him, ending up with Barley Twist legs and shattered knees. The female legs are now at the rear of the male legs, the male unwinds his Barley Twist legs bringing the poor female's legs back again, and the coal lorry style continues.

There can be no enjoyment in it at all, but it has to be done.

Through the warm night Spoleto and his 'Gypsies' batter through 'Little Brown Jug'. I tell Tom, "He thinks he's Glenn Miller." Tom says he's more like 'Max f.u.c.kin' Miller'. It had to be done.

Wow! Gentry! General Alexander and his retinue breeze in for an after-dinner drink. Immaculate in starched KDs, he was in a, shall-we-say, "flushed' mood; he had just seen the Anzio breakout, the fall of Rome and the news of D-Day. This was a celebration. I admired him until he too started barley twisting his legs on the floor. His laughing retinue was last to leave. As I handed him his hat, he said 'What do you do?"

"I hand hats to departing officers," I replied.

He smiled and barley twisted his way out. A great soldier, a terrible dancer.

Music Maestro Please Spoleto had given me the address of a Professor Fabrizzi. He lived in a seedy villa in Resina, a town built over the city of Herculaneum. He was about seventy and used to play the harp in the San Carlo Orchestra and I could see that it wouldn't be long before he would be playing it again. He had long white snowy hair, a gaunt shrunken smiling face and two deep-set brown eyes. Harmony and counterpoint? Of course, 500 lire an hour. "Harmony is not easy," he said. At 500 lire a go I agreed. His 'study' was lined with books on music and gardening. Perhaps I could learn harmony and tree growing. "Professor Milligan will now play his tree! The compostion is in A Minor, the tree is in A garden."

The lessons start. "You see dis black a notes." Can I see it? I ask him is he an optician or a music teacher? That is the note of C. I knew that. "The notes on the line-a above is E." I knew that. He told me how the scales went. I knew that as well. Something else I knew, I was being conned. I went away richer in life's experience and he richer by two thousand lire. I watched as he counted every single lire. It's the little things that count and he was one of them.

One night after closing I hie me to the city of Herculaneum. The dead city lies sightless in the bay light of a Neapolitan moon. I walk through the unattended entrance: 'Vietato ingresso'. The city is like Catford, after dark. Dead. I walk along the sea front from which the seas have departed that day in AD 79. This was Bournemouth to Pompeii's Blackpool. Here people sat on summer's nights drinking wine and eating figs from water-filled bowls. Now all gone. Ghosts, ghosts, ghosts.

Ohhh, Herculaneum City Ohhh, Herculaneum City Ohhh what a terrible pity Ohhh what a terrible pity All of you had gone All of you had gone Except a little tiny bitty. Except a little tiny bitty.

Back at the billet I awake Tom.

"Who's that?" he snuffled.

"Errol Flynn."

"You silly b.u.g.g.e.r."

"A man can dream, can't he?"

Where had I been, and did I get it? "Nay, I'm as pure as the driven snow. I've been to Herculaneum."

COURT FOR THE IGNORANT COURT FOR THE IGNORANT JUDGE: JUDGE: What is a Herculaneum? What is a Herculaneum? QC TARLO: QC TARLO: Herculaneum my lord is a place where any free-born slave can go and Hercu-his-laneum. Herculaneum my lord is a place where any free-born slave can go and Hercu-his-laneum. JUDGE: JUDGE: Oh, and in Hercuing-his-laneum, what benefits are derived? Oh, and in Hercuing-his-laneum, what benefits are derived? QC TARLO: QC TARLO: The swelling on the Blurzon is much reduced. The swelling on the Blurzon is much reduced. JUDGE: JUDGE: What is a Blurzon. What is a Blurzon. QC TARLO: QC TARLO: It is a small hairy area at the back of the knee where Armenian shepherds crack their nuts. It is a small hairy area at the back of the knee where Armenian shepherds crack their nuts.

Oh, what's Herculaneum? By day I have quite a lot of time on my hands; I also have it on my legs, elbows and shins. There was a lot of it about.

A Colonel Intervenes Yes! One evening as I sat at the reception desk varnishing walnuts and cracking them behind my knee, a man in a jeep approached. He was to be instrumental in changing my life. By instrumental I don't mean he was playing the trombone, no. The man is Colonel Startling Grope, a reddish middle-aged man, portly, used to good living, hair cuts, Horlicks, thin legs and suede desert boots. He had a body that appeared to have been inflated, and the air was escaping. When he signed in he shot me a glance full of meaning that I knew not the meaning of.

Later that night, as he and his cronies are departing, all so p.i.s.sed you could hear the cistern flushing, he enquires: "What do you do here?" I tell him on a good day I give General Alexander his hat. Otherwise I try not to whistle the Warsaw Concerto. He is intrigued; as he should be. I am quite lovely. Seriously, I'm a wine steward and resident manic depressive. "How would you like to come and work for me as a wine steward and resident manic depressive?" I say yes. Why? Because I have been brought up to feel inferior to everybody: priests, doctors, bank managers and officers were all G.o.ds. To say no to them was a mortal sin punishable by 500 Hail Marys and an overdraft.

Within a week a jeep arrives and takes me away. The girls all cried and the men cheered. Looking through my diary I found the note I made at the time.

[image]

Translation: "Posted O2E Maddaloni on 8/8/44. Very depressed, same feeling as before."

So! I was feeling myself like I had before, a duty that until recently had been performed by Maria.

What was happening to me? I didn't want to be a Manic Depressive Wine Waiter in Italy! I wanted to be a Manic Depressive Harry James in Catford. Why did a poofy Colonel need a wine waiter???

The jeep driver is an ex-paratrooper. Ted Noffs gives me the first warning: "Yew wanna watch yer arsole wiv 'im." My G.o.d, a Brown Hatter! We drive in silence. Speedo says 33 mph, petrol half full, all exciting stuff. Right now my last exciting stuff, Rosa, was back at Portici. An hour's dusty drive with night approaching. A sign: MADDALONI.

[image]

Maddaloni on a Good Day "Not far now," said Noffs. "We korls it Mad'n'lonely, ha ha." He was such a merry fellow, a fellow of infinte jest and a c.u.n.t. We enter a town and slow down outside a faceless three-storeyed munic.i.p.al school. Turning left by its side we come to a rear back lot with a line of tents and parked vehicles. Noffs stops outside a ten-man tent. "This is yourn." I thank him and lug my kit into the tent which has an electric light, brighter than the three slobs lying on their beds, smoking and staring. These are khaki skivvies, the playthings of the commissioned cla.s.ses. One is Corporal Rossi, London Italian c.o.c.kney. "You the new wine steward?" Yes. He's the head barman. I'll be working under him. That's my bed. I ask all the leading questions: 1. Where's the cook house?

2. The NAAFI?

3. The Karzi?

4. What day was free issue?

5. Any ATS?

Romance So far Sergeant Hallam has always carried the files to the Colonel. But I'm lovelier. So now it's me.

Announcement over the interphone. "Send Milligan in with File X." The Colonel is 'getting to know me'. I was going through what girls go through with in the initial chatting-up process.

"What is your - er - do sit down, Milligan, you can dispense with rank."

"I haven't any rank to dispense with, sir."

"You can call me Stanley."

"Yes sir, Stanley."

"What's your first name?"

"Spike, Stanley, sir."

"Spike? That's not your real name."

"No, my real name is Terence."

At the mention of the name his eyes lit up with love.

"Terence," he lisped. "Yes, that's better, Terence, that's what I'll call you." Like Private Noffs said: "Watch yer arsole."

I had not forgotten my trumpet. In the evening I'd practise in the office. Those notes that echoed round Maddaloni's fair streets were to lead me to fame, fortune, overdraft, VAT, Income Tax, mortgages, accountants, solicitors, house agents, nervous breakdown and divorce.

[image]

O2E Dance Band, August-September 1944, each man a master of posing Dance Band, August-September 1944, each man a master of posing. Piano: Sgt. S. Britton; Sgt. S. Britton; Ba.s.s: Ba.s.s: L/Bdr. L. Prosser; L/Bdr. L. Prosser; Drums: Drums: Pte. 'Chick' Chitty; Pte. 'Chick' Chitty; Guitar: Guitar: Phil Phillips; Phil Phillips; 1st Trumpet: 1st Trumpet: Gnr. S. Milligan; Gnr. S. Milligan; 2nd Trumpet: 2nd Trumpet: Pte. G. Wilson; Pte. G. Wilson; 1st Alto: 1st Alto: Sgt. H. Carr; Sgt. H. Carr; 2nd Alto: 2nd Alto: Pte. J. Manning; Pte. J. Manning; Tenor: Tenor: Pte. J. Buchanan Pte. J. Buchanan It starts with a tall thin, bald, moustachioed Sergeant Phil Phillips. He leads the O2E band. Will I play for them? Yes, yes, yes, yes. Here is a recollection of those days by the ba.s.s player L/Bdr Len Prosser, who is now, according to his psychiatrist, the President of the United States.

LEN PROSSER'S RANDOM REMINISCENES OF ITALY - 1944 -1946

The O2E Dance Orchestra started out playing for dancing in the hall at Maddaloni Barracks, later playing 'in the pit' for variety show each Sat.u.r.day night and on occasion during the week. For some shows the band would be on stage in the tradition of 'show bands', set up in tiers. Recalled is one particular Sat.u.r.day evening when several of the band members had been celebrating some promotions in the cellar bistro know as 'Aldo's' 'Aldo's' in the village of Maddaloni Inferiors (very), partaking of the local, very stickly and thick version of Vermouth, imbibed from cut-down beer and wine bottles. I was one of them; I am not certain that you, Spike, were there, but it was possible, since I recall that at some time in your career you were awarded the stripes in the village of Maddaloni Inferiors (very), partaking of the local, very stickly and thick version of Vermouth, imbibed from cut-down beer and wine bottles. I was one of them; I am not certain that you, Spike, were there, but it was possible, since I recall that at some time in your career you were awarded the stripes of a sergeant of a sergeant, and that was most likely the time. When it cam to near curtain time for the show, which the band was to open from behind the tabs with Dorsey's Song of India Song of India, we left Aldo's and wended our way up to the hall feeling rather worse for the wine.

Drummer Chick Chitty and I were on the top tier, setting uo our gear, when I staggered and fell, ba.s.s and all, down the tiers. Chick tried to grab me but managed to tumble down also. We ended up among the saxophones; were not hurt, but my ba.s.s was punctured in the side by Harry Carr's sax-stand.

The uniforms the band wore, I recall were the result of your initiative your initiative. The trousers were khaki drill dyed drill dyed black; the jackets were of white duck and made by a Napolitan tailor, I believe, although somewhere in my memory I remember visiting a laundry in Naples for a 'fitting'. Anyway, we all felt and looked better for being able to wear this approximation of a civilian band uniform, and soon after we started wearing it our bookings began to come in thick and fast. black; the jackets were of white duck and made by a Napolitan tailor, I believe, although somewhere in my memory I remember visiting a laundry in Naples for a 'fitting'. Anyway, we all felt and looked better for being able to wear this approximation of a civilian band uniform, and soon after we started wearing it our bookings began to come in thick and fast. We played for the We played for the American Red Cross in Caserta American Red Cross in Caserta and elsewhere (enjoying some great food such as meat b.a.l.l.s and rice; a welcome change from our diet in the barracks). We also played at the and elsewhere (enjoying some great food such as meat b.a.l.l.s and rice; a welcome change from our diet in the barracks). We also played at the Palace in Caserta Palace in Caserta for dances, and for the same purpose at the for dances, and for the same purpose at the Palace in Naples, Palace in Naples, which you will recall was a huge NAAFI when we were there. Gracie Fields was then living on Capri, and she would be a regular visitor to the Naples NAAFI, performing on every visit and eventuall(y) becoming something of a bore to the fellows regularly visiting the place. The band played each Thursday evening for an open-air dance in the orange grove in the centre of Maddaloni; many American officers would be there, some of them were musicians who liked to sit in with the band. which you will recall was a huge NAAFI when we were there. Gracie Fields was then living on Capri, and she would be a regular visitor to the Naples NAAFI, performing on every visit and eventuall(y) becoming something of a bore to the fellows regularly visiting the place. The band played each Thursday evening for an open-air dance in the orange grove in the centre of Maddaloni; many American officers would be there, some of them were musicians who liked to sit in with the band. We also travelled to other places and performed for American and British units in concert. These included a two-week trip to Rome to play in the NAAFI there, which in normal times was a most modern department store. I remember you being in this place, Spike, up in one of the rooms trying out material on a piano. The band played in the evenings for dancing at that place, and in the daytime we roamed about the city. You and I billeted together on that occasion and bith of us were very upset at finding some small children rummaging for food in a garbage can (not that this was at all unusual). We managed to 'steal' some sandwiches for them and you gave them some cigarettes, also, that they presumable could trade for something edible. We also travelled to other places and performed for American and British units in concert. These included a two-week trip to Rome to play in the NAAFI there, which in normal times was a most modern department store. I remember you being in this place, Spike, up in one of the rooms trying out material on a piano. The band played in the evenings for dancing at that place, and in the daytime we roamed about the city. You and I billeted together on that occasion and bith of us were very upset at finding some small children rummaging for food in a garbage can (not that this was at all unusual). We managed to 'steal' some sandwiches for them and you gave them some cigarettes, also, that they presumable could trade for something edible.

One big fillip to our enthusiasm at that that time was a gesture on the [x.x.xx] of the Americans for whom we played; they gave us a chance th visit their Post Exchange and choose some new instruments and a number of orchestrations. That was in Caserta. This brought some great band numbers such as Woody Herman's Apple Honey Apple Honey and several Glenn Miller orchestrations. Our first run-trought of and several Glenn Miller orchestrations. Our first run-trought of String of Pearls String of Pearls provided a memory of Jim Manning (2nd alto and a regular Army band musician) coming to a solo part inscribed 'as played by ernie Caceres'. It comprised a series of minin-value chords written in notation. Jim played the top minin in each case and the rest of us dissolved in laughter. Jim took umbrage, saying, "If you don't like it, get f.u.c.kin' Ernie Ca.s.series to play it." And then he walked out of the hall where we were practising. provided a memory of Jim Manning (2nd alto and a regular Army band musician) coming to a solo part inscribed 'as played by ernie Caceres'. It comprised a series of minin-value chords written in notation. Jim played the top minin in each case and the rest of us dissolved in laughter. Jim took umbrage, saying, "If you don't like it, get f.u.c.kin' Ernie Ca.s.series to play it." And then he walked out of the hall where we were practising.

Do you remember our band room in the barracks? It was furnished with rugs and armchairs and suchlike stolen from places where we had been playing, such as officers' clubs in the locality. It was a simple matter to load such items into the truck, with our gear, at the end of the evening. It was this band room that I first realised how great you were with the guitar, finger-style. I can remember your lying on the rug with the guitar on your chest, playing [x.x.xxx] extempre thing that had all of us quiet and listening. Even a young ATS girl named Gay Endars, who was a singer with the band and a girl-friend of Stan Britton's, was completely enraptured by that moment. And I don't suppose you will even remember the incident.

Another Glenn Miller memory: The Welsh lad, Harry Carr, lead alto (he looked like a cadaverous version of Engelbert Humperdinck) playing the chart of Moonlight Serenada Moonlight Serenada for the first time with tears streaming down his face from the sheer emotion of playing the orchestration and its soaring lead alto part. Harry, a carpenter in civilian times was, as I recall, a pretty good musician who also played piano quite brilliantly, but had only one piano piece in his reportoire: the verse of for the first time with tears streaming down his face from the sheer emotion of playing the orchestration and its soaring lead alto part. Harry, a carpenter in civilian times was, as I recall, a pretty good musician who also played piano quite brilliantly, but had only one piano piece in his reportoire: the verse of Stardust Stardust.

Also remembered are other fellows in the band such as guitarist Bert Munday. Nicest fellow you could meet, and pretty well known prewar as a semipro in South London (his home was at the Oval). I saw him a few times after the was; hed died of leukemia in 1949.

Stan Britton, phlegmatic person and rather heavy-handed pianist from North London. Easy to get along with and quite knowledgeable musically. I recall that he put together som 12-bar blues things for the band, calling the chart Maddaloni Madness Maddaloni Madness when we played 'at home', when we played 'at home', Caserta Capers Caserta Capers when played thereat, and so et seq. when played thereat, and so et seq.

Another easy-going chap was tenor saxist Charlie Ward; something of a dry comedian and older than the rest of us. Used to do one vocal, I'm Gonna Get Lit Up When the Lights Go On in London I'm Gonna Get Lit Up When the Lights Go On in London. The there was George Wilson, trumpet man from Huddersfield in Yorkshire, who had but one lung left after being wounded in North Africa. I saw him several times after the war. He was not in the best of health and had not played a note since getting out of the army. When he was with us he had a wonderful look of resignation when you, Spike, would be unable to play lead (he greatly enjoyed playing second to you). There were a few times in the Naples area when we would be playing for dancing, when into the hall would glide a rather attractive ATS girl, who, I remember, would not give you any encouragement at all, and yet you were very keen on her. Maybe she was playing games, but she wouldn't give you a tumble and seemed to take delight in being there, with you sequestered on the bandstand. Anyway, it got to the point where you had 'lip trouble' each time she appeared; George would see her enter the hall and begin to take bets on just how many minutes it would be before he had to take over lead owing to your emotional 'lip'. There were a few times in the Naples area when we would be playing for dancing, when into the hall would glide a rather attractive ATS girl, who, I remember, would not give you any encouragement at all, and yet you were very keen on her. Maybe she was playing games, but she wouldn't give you a tumble and seemed to take delight in being there, with you sequestered on the bandstand. Anyway, it got to the point where you had 'lip trouble' each time she appeared; George would see her enter the hall and begin to take bets on just how many minutes it would be before he had to take over lead owing to your emotional 'lip'.

At one time we had a trumpet player named 'Judy'Garland, from Nottingham. When there were three trumpets he'd play the trombone part on his horn. He was a slight, bespectacled and cheerful lad.

We had other fellows in the band from time to time, but the ones mentioned above are the musicians best remembered by me.

Of course, at Maddaloni, as things got more organised after the fighting stopped in Italy, there were other activities. One of these was the drama group run by a fellow named Lionel Hamilton. This group did Mary Hayley Bell's play, Men in Shadow Men in Shadow as an early effort, and you wrote a satire on this play, calling it as an early effort, and you wrote a satire on this play, calling it Men-in-Gitis Men-in-Gitis, that was staged a week later for a week's run. It was billed as "The Doons in Men-in-Gites'. I helped you to prepare the script for this show (but didn't provide any creative input, I'm sure) in your little cubby-hole room near the gate of the Maddaloni barracks building. I remember the room well; it had on the walls pictures of all the 'birds' you had known during your Army days, stretching back to Bexhill-on-Sea. That was my first contact with your 'Goons" concept, and I recall the opening scene and offstage spoken line: "As our play opens we find Old Pierre, slowly chopping wood by the mill." This line was in the straight version, and was repeated in yours; but in yours, as the curtain was raised, Old Pierre was chopping wood so franctically the the pieces were flying out into the audience, hitting the backdrop and whizzing into the wings. Great stuff. I'll always remember it.

Also recalled is a gag that was pulled, at your behest, in a concert for a British outfit near Naples. You had the compere announce that as a special treat we had secured the 'San Carlo Trio' from the Opera House - and the tabs went up to reveal three of us in fright wigs, with backs to audience, ready to play some feeble jazz. The audience, that included some straight aficionados of the opera, registered delight at the announcement and absolute dismay when they saw what we really had for them.

I remember some really joyous times with the band, and with you. Ever since those days I have remained convinced that being in the band saved my sanity in the war years, and I guess that you feel similarly. Also, I have always been certain that dance musicians, and jazz musicians more especially, are really the salt of the earth. As a cla.s.s they are blessed with a sense of humour (see how many prominent comedians, British and American, were origionally in the music business), and are warm and friendly human beings.

The comradeship experienced by men during those years was something most difficult to explain or define in ordinary terms, at least for me. It is a feeling, a connection, hardly understood by woman, and I am grateful that I experienced it. But philosophy is not really my line, and so I will not dwell on this aspect of our army days.

I daresay that after this is in the mail to you I will think of other incidents and occasions. However, let this suffice. After all, the things mentioned in this remembrance may be of little use for your biographical purposes. But it is hoped that at least they will provoke your own memories and thus prove of some value.

March 21, 1975 Len Prosser 6907 Strathmore Street Chevy Chase, Maryland USA.

Transcribed typed letter Thank you Len Prosser, a year's subscription to EXIT is on its way.

Now life took on a new meaning. Playing with the band was a bonus. We played from smoky dives to the great Palace of Caserta which housed the Allied Forces Headquarters, though it was so far behind the lines it was referred to as the Hind Quarters. We were given a rehearsal room where we tried to keep up with the very advanced band arrangements we bought from the American PX. Playing Woody Herman's arrangement of 'Apple Honey' nearly did for us - the top F's gave rise to cries of "The truss, bring the truss." After one appalling run-through, Stan Britton turned to us and said, "Gentlemen, I suggest we take an early retirement."

Another disaster was our first attempt at the new-fangled samba, called 'Brazil'. After three tries, Charlie Ward put his sax down and said, "The defence rests." A letter written at the time tells of the good life I was leading.

However, years later I saw a shopping list on the back, showing the penny-pinching life my mother was leading under wartime rationing. "They also serve..." Serves her b.l.o.o.d.y well right. If she had joined the Army, she wouldn't have suffered so!

[image]

Dances! Dances!

Dances meant pretty girls and a burning sensation. At a dance in the Caserta ballroom, I fell for - a ridiculous phrase, "fell for" - no, I didn't pitch forward on my face, but when I saw her I just screamed. She was gliding past the bandstand in another man's arms. I'd only just seen her and she was already being unfaithful to me!! Her name was Sheila Frances, mine was Spike Milligan. Did she come here often, yes, and this was one of them. I try to date her and come up with 1944. I fall for her hook, line and sinker, and several other parts all hanging under the shirt. Blast, she is affianced to a Sergeant: I will try again. Meantime I'll go blind. I climb back on to the bandstand; lots of nudge nudges wink winks.