Eric Idle OnlineMy Life

The Lonely Trout

By , June 1, 2016 4:13 pm

HUDSON So you see Inspector, it is Helena’s piano.
INSPECTOR How very touching. It reminds me of a wee ballad from my childhood called The Lonely Trout
WHOOPSIE Is he going to tell an anecdote?
MAGGIE Worse, I think he’s going to sing.
INSPECTOR Give me a C Chord Miss Schlegel.
WHOOPSIE Oh good grief. Is there to be no end?
MAGGIE No but there might be an intermission shortly.

Song The Lonely Trout

From the heelan hills and rills o bonnie Scotland
Fra the bogs and fogs and soggy lochs and braes
From the moontin tops where lonely jocks drink whiskey
To the dingy pond wherein the lone trout plays.
There was once a laddie wandered wi his lassie
When she told him that her love for him was dead.
As she left this lonely boy
Who’d now lost his only joy
The trout raised his head and this is what he said:

O rum ti tumti
Tickle yer monkey
Tickle di didle doo
Rumpy pumpy
Humpty dumpty
Tickle yer tivey too
Oh hankie pankie
Winkie wankie
Diddle de didle doo
Rinky dinky
Tiddley winky
Nicky nacky noo
the noo the noo the noo the noo the noo

O muckety buckety
Shmackety crackety
Sings the lonely trout
Tiggly wiggly
Higgly piggly
What is life about?
Mickety pickety
Wickety lickety
She was just a slut
Find yourself another lass
A nicer piece of butt.

Two Dancing Trout girls enter as the Words are lowered and the Audience sing along.

Oh packety wackety
Nickety nackety
Sings the lonely trout
Splickety wickety
Pickety nickety
What is life about?
Shackety mackety
Thwackety crackety
She was just a slut
Find yourself another lass
A nicer piece of butt.



By , April 25, 2016 6:39 pm

Here is a partial list of my influences.

William Shakespeare, Beyond the Fringe, Arthur Askey, Peter Broadbent (Inside Left for the Wolves) Alan Smith (Warwickshire opener and wicket keeper), MJK Smith, Tom Graveney, PBH May, Statham and Truman, Morecambe and Wise, Gower and Graveney, Greene and Waugh, Tommy Cooper, Tony Hancock, Johnny Hancocks (Outside right for the Wolves), Billy Wright, the Beverley Sisters, Round the Horne, Marty Feldman, Bobby Charlton, Elvis Presley, the Everly brothers, Buddy Holly, The Beatles, The Hollies, Mick and Keith, Steven Stills, Randy Newman, Ry Cooder, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Bellini, Friday Night is Music Night, Radio Luxembourg, DH Lawrence, Gerard Manley Hopkins, Wilfred Owen, The Wolves (not Virginia or Leonard but the whole team from the mid fifties to the Cup Winning side of 1960), Alan Hudson, Peter Osgood, and Charlie Cooke, Johnny Haynes Arthur Haynes (with Dermot Kelly and Nicholas Parsons), Jimmy Edwards, Frankie Howerd, Peter Cook, Peter Sellers, Spike Milligan, Charlie Drake, Norman Wisdom and Jerry Desmond, Flanagan and Allen, Bridget Bardot, Ava Gardner, Noel Coward, Flanders and Swan, Paddy Roberts, Mrs. Shufflewick, Antonioni, Truffaut, Richie Benaud, Norman Gunston, Barry Humphries, Billy Connolly, French and Saunders, Steve Coogan, Jonathan Miller, Alan Bennet, Mike Nicholls, Elaine May, Buck Henry, Chico Marx, Bilko, Dick van Dyke, Roger Hancock, Viv Stanshall, Neil Innes, Roger Ruskin Spear, Rodney Slater, (the incomparable Bonzos), Harry Neilson, Harry Worth, Alec Guinness, Denholm Elliott, TS Elliot, WH Auden, Stephen Spender, The Kinks, Robin Williams, Billy Crystal, Steve Martin, Stanley Matthews, Paul Simon, Wilfred Hyde White, Rex Harrison, Ralph Richardson, Timothy Leary, Earl Thompson, Pele, Keith Moon, Basil D’Oliveira, Kenneth Horne, Max Miller, Al Read, Billy Cotton, Gerard Hoffnung, Syd Owen, Stanley Baxter, Steven Fry and Hugh Laurie, Stan Laurel, Oliver Hardy, Buster Keaton, Freddie Starr, Gary Sobers, Everton Weekes, Worel, Walcott, Ramadhin and Valentine, Griffiths and Hall, Curtly Ambrose, Johnny Ray, Big Bird Joel Garner, Jimmy Cliff, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Ronnie Wood, The Stones, Joni Mitchell, Woody Allen, Horace Walpole, Hazlitt, Jane Austen, Dave Brubeck, Jerry Mulligan, Johnny Hodges, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, John Coltrane, Charlie Parker, Tom Scott, Brian Moore, Julian Barnes, Salman Rushdie, Edward Lear, Gilbert Harding, George Melly, Spinal tap, Gazza, Cindi Crawford, Bill Oddie, Tim Brooke-Taylor, Humphrey Barclay, Father Guido Sarducci, Pamela Stephenson, Not the 9 oclock News, Frank Muir and Denis Nordern, Does the Team Think?, Ted Ray, Down Your Way, Willie Rushton, John Fortune, Eleanor Bron, Roy Kinnear, Anthony Newley in The Small World of Gurney Slade, Look Back in Anger, The Royal Court Theater, The Royal Variety Show, The old New Statesman, the old Spectator, Joan Armatrading, Bob Dylan, Garrison Keiller, Fyffe Robertson, Huw Weldon, Tom Stoppard, the singing Nun, the singing Postman, Ivor Biggun, Brian Johnstone, John Arlott, Derek Taylor, Dylan Thomas, Jack Benny, Syd Caesar, Charles Dickens, John Belushi, Danny Aykroyd, Gilda Radnor, Sunday Night at the London Palladium, Frank Loesser, Sydney Greenstreet, Carousel, Geoffrey Boycott, Harry Dean Stanton, Gene Hackman, Citroen cars, Anthony Buffery, Ivor Cutler, Stephen Jay Greenblatt, John Cleese, the late Graham Chapman, the middle period of Michael Palin, most of Terry Gilliam, nearly all of Terry Jones, all of Carol Cleveland, Jonathan Lynn, Alan Knott, Godfrey Evans, Sonny Terry and Brownie McGhee, Lonnie Donnegan, Bill Haley and his Comets, John, Paul, George and Ringo.

If it be a curse to be smiled at by strangers may you all be blessed in such a fashion…

The Needy Bastard Diary.   Episode 27.

By , March 28, 2016 12:42 pm

The Final Night.

Well there it is, we’re done and dusted. Another ending, another show.

The Wellington crowd was great in a beautiful theatre at the Michael Fowler Centre. They came in a good Bank Holiday mood and left happy. We were as relaxed as we have ever been, going into several digressions and loopholes and even returning on track. In particular John was totally surprised and delighted when I played him the video I made of me climbing Mt. Cleese which I shot on the way down the day before. It was definitely worth the detour to see his face, and he didn’t see it coming when I read several audience questions out about Palmerston North. I was then able to explain to him that Fred Dagg, whose name appears on the plaque, was a local boy and is a huge comedic name in the Antipodes, so it is a comedian’s response to a comedian’s remark. His real name is John Clark, and he lives in Australia and is still on TV there. And for a Recycling Centre Mt. Cleese and its environs is well worth the visit because it is in a beautiful park. So take your recycling, your garbage, and your old cars and then have a picnic. It should definitely be on the map, and a sign or two would be helpful. Come on Palmerston North: the irony centre of New Zealand. I am attempting to put the photo on Twitter and I shall try and post the clip somewhere, somehow, but forgive the audio…the wind was whipping up and it was shot by Sev my driver on my Samsung. Talking of which The Selfie song goes great guns and makes a nice change in my repertoire as it isn’t completely filthy. Well it is filthy but it isn’t about sex, or death which makes a nice change for me.

I told the audience the amazing fact that on Saturday when England beat Germany at soccer in Berlin 3-2, the German audience sang Always Look on The Bright Side of Life. Our audience went nuts at that and appreciated it with a big round of applause. So that’s definitely one up to Germany, and of course at the end our audience all sang along with me. It’s bucket list time that one.

Bret McKenzie from Flight of the Conchords, his wife Hannah and his father Peter came back after the show and we drank the champagne sent by the very generous Ugly Butler, although he must be persuaded that if he is to continue with such extravagance the first night is better as we have to abandon so much brilliant liquor because we are all leaving on planes this morning… So thanks Kev, but not at the end please. It was lovely to see Bret. I once went to their concert at The Orpheum in LA and we met briefly at some trendy eatery in Silverlake, but it was nice to sit and have a chat. I can’t reveal what he told me of his plans, so I shall have to remain a tease, but it’s good news.

Our little show has grown and changed and I really like Act One. It’s an unusual hybrid of a conversation, a sketch show, and an autobiography.

Act Two becomes cabaret and in a couple of quick meetings, in breaks, over breakfasts and between acts John and I have resolved to change it for our tour of India. No I’m not serious. The cricket will be over by then….but yes we are going to change it.

The audience laughs in Act Two but the thru-line is absent and that’s the unusual part of the show and we are resolved to improve it, should we survive to do another tour. We exchange a few ideas and I am struck by how easily and effortlessly we still collaborate. Python has the reputation of disagreeing but it is amazing how swiftly we came to editorial conclusions and that ability still remains. We are good critics of our own work. At least collectively.

Anyway I shall not tease you further…Oh please come to Wolverhampton it is gorgeous in the dark…. Cleveland can be lovely in the winter….how about Manitoba….

And talking of the dark it is still early and I have to begin the packing thing as I fly off to Tahiti this morning to get a bit of rest. The speedos are pressed and the amusing T shirts, Nazis for Trump, Let’s build a wall round America, are all waiting to be folded. I can’t wait to see the missus, and I shaved specially as she really doesn’t like the beard. So thank you all for bearing with me as I bash out these random thoughts first thing in the morning. Michael can rest happy that his diary is now the only one, and this Needy Bastard can move on to writing other things.

It was a terrific experience touring the Antipodes, with many wonderful moments and I’d like to thank Adrian Bohm for his kindness and constant support. He didn’t miss a show. Also the indefatigable Simon Garner, our Tour Manager extraordinaire, who made our lives easy and comfortable and anticipated every need, and our huge crew of Simon and Surfer. Hard at this stage to think we’ll return, but ya never know. And of course I have to thank John, without whom none of this fun for the last 53 years would have been possible. He has been a dear man to travel with, a considerate pal at all times and a fabulous performer to play with. Just don’t tell the Daily Mail.

Oh and I realised sitting in my bath that it’s my birthday, so Happy Birthday to me, and oddly it will continue for 48 hours as I cross the International Date Line. And my International Date is already en route to the airport in Sydney….

The Needy Bastard Diary.  Episode 26

By , March 27, 2016 1:35 pm

On the road again.
There should be a special corner of hell reserved for those who leave hotel room alarms set to go off at 6 a.m. Yes I know I don’t believe in hell, but I am prepared to make an exception for one or two people.

I seem to be in Wellington, at the South of the North Island watching the ferry leave for the North of the South Island. Must get confusing. Couldn’t they just call them A and B. Or 1 and 2. The sun eventually shines through and I find I am in a deserted downtown on a Bank Holiday. Nothing much to do today except packing and preparing for our final show. The hotel has given me a little chocolate Easter egg and a rubber duckie. I’m not even going to speculate.

The great news is I climbed Mount Cleese. Took us a little time to find it because we went to the wrong dump, no not Palmerston North, but their Central Transfer Station. There they gave us instructions for the Civic Dump and there indeed we found the legendary sign for Mount Cleese, in the quite pleasant surroundings of a recycling centre. And there of course the joke became clearer. The sign was put up by the legendary New Zealand comedian Fred Dagg, whose hometown this was. Now even I had heard of Fred Dagg because of my Australian wife and mother in law. He is famous throughout the antipodes and beyond. I don’t think John knows this, and I shall tell him tonight on stage when I surprise him with the video of me climbing Mount Cleese. It’s all really rather perfect and the mystery is solved, and if I was really Michael Palin instead of only an occasional travel writer I should devote an entire episode to it. As it is I can’t wait to play this joke on John, and I shall refrain from posting the picture on Twitter until after the show, as he might see it. He does do Twitter, but he doesn’t read this diary and so I feel fairly safe posting this. I’m going to plant a question in the Q and A about Palmerston North and encourage him to talk about it, before surprising him with the Video. It’s our last Q and A and I must say that I am mortified reading the questions night after night to find that more women want to have sex with John than me. Way more. Is it because he has spent so much money on wives? It’s like when I found out that online Graham Chapman is far and away the most popular of the Pythons despite being dead for 27 years. Or maybe because of it. Well I guess I don’t really mind. It’s too late to do anything about it and I’m looking forward to not being a legend and going back to being a husband, which as you know ranks somewhere below the dogs. We used to be babe magnets, but now we’re just fridge magnets, and I suppose we should be grateful that even any woman cares, even if it is only the wife. And with any luck I meet my lovely wife in an airport tomorrow somewhere en route to Tahiti. She’s been having far too much fun in Brisbane and Sydney, and sent me a picture of my son and her holding a large koala bear which she captioned “Your new Grandson.” A funny woman.

She would probably have enjoyed yesterday’s scenery, though it was a long day’s drive, about six and a half hours, and my chauffeuse Sev, the wonderful Sue Everett, stuck to her task womanfully. She drives a lot of comedians around New Zealand, which is somehow funny in itself, and next week she has Dawn French, but I hope one day she drives her namesake Bridgett Everett. Of course our expedition to Palmerston North took us out of our way but it was worth every moment in tracking down this legendary site.

Sulphurous steam was rising around our hotel as we left Lake Taupo, and it was a lovely drive around the Lake, but then we took the Desert Road and all vegetation disappeared except for low scrub and tank tracks. A longish upland region this, of harsh landscape and we were happy to descend into Taihape, whose town insignia is a Gum Boot. I kid you not. There are large Gum Boots everywhere and we were saddened to see a sign which said we had just missed Gum Boot Day, on March 1st. Book early next year. Another town specialised in large corrugated iron animals. There were huge Nissen hut sized sheep and a museum of corrugated iron creatures. There is a gentle irony at work in these towns which is rather wonderful and as you will see the Dump sign is a perfect example.

The quest for Mount Cleese took us through the centre of Palmerston North which was disappointingly pleasant, around a perfectly sweet square and off into the suburbs where we got lost. John must have been in a very bad mood to call it “the suicide capital of New Zealand”, though I think it was Gary his then assistant who actually wrote that insult and put it on line. “Can be kind of bleak in winter though” Sev pointed out, as she once worked here. Amazingly she had “borrowed” one of John’s bits (Word Association Football) and won an Award for it from a Commercial she wrote. She felt so ashamed to be then driving John that she confessed, and he of course immediately said that plagiarism is the highest form of flattery. Or perhaps flattery is the highest form of plagiarism. I forget which. I shall miss travelling with him. He is the most decent company. We give each other lots of room and we are planning another expedition. It’s not for a while yet, but it sounds like it could be fun.

Anyway Sev and I were thrilled to finally find our quest.  The legendary sign was above us, and she held the camera while I posed like Sir Edmund Hilary, the great New Zealander who first climbed Mount Everest.  I agree this was only 45 metres high, but still we all have to start somewhere and I am the first of the Pythons ever to have visited this spot and conquered this dump.  Michael Palin who has been to many dumps cannot claim this one.   I think it deserves a special plaque alongside it commemorating this achievement.   So how about that Fred Dagg?    

Pictures tomorrow on Twitter for now I have to go and shave. This travel beard is to come off. The wife prefers me unshaven and so tonight I shall say goodbye with a clean chin and a bare upper lip. Some tears, but no regrets. I might manage a final Episode but it may take a while. Thanks for being with me all this way. Chin up, eyes forward and bon appetit.