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Authors: Spike Milligan
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‘I’ve had to stop my
groping.’ A farmer helped me out of the shop window. He put me in my stable
that night, but he went off and continued groping.
29
COCKNEYS
Some people like to drive us like a steam train
They make us eat lumps of coal again and again
Eating coal we were fit to bust
Eventually it shot out the back as dust
My best master was Farmer Cray
Even he turned out to be gay
He carried a pot of Vaseline
You couldn’t tell where he was, but you could smell where
he had been.
There is a steam engine
style of driving, and these drivers keep shouting ‘choo-choo-choo-choo.’ People
never think of getting out to walk up a steep hill, yet we have to.
Another thing, however
steep the downhill may be, they scarcely ever put on drag; one or two men put
on the top and skirts and stockings and go looking for sailors.
These Cockneys, instead of
starting at an easy pace, generally set off at full speed from the stable yard,
some at 100 miles per hour. Some go so fast, we go past where we are going, and
have to start all over again. And some of them, they call that pulling up with
a dash. We call it fucking awful. And when they turn a corner, they do so so
sharply, we end up facing the other way.
As we were near the corner,
I heard a horse and two wheels coming rapidly down the hill towards us. We had
no time to pull up. The whole shock came upon Rory. The gig shaft ran right
through his chest making him stagger back with a cry. It was a long time before
the wound healed — five years. He was sold for coal carting; and what that is,
is up and down those steep hills; they were delivering in the Himalayas.
I went in the carriage with
a mare named Peggy. She was a strong, well-made animal, of a bright dun colour,
beautifully dappled, and with a dark brown mane and tail. She was very pretty,
remarkably sweet-tempered and willing — so I screwed her. Still, there was an
anxious look about her eye. She had some trouble; it was me. The first time we
went out to dinner together, I thought she had a very odd pace; she seemed to
go partly in a trot, partly in a canter — three or four paces, and then to make
a little jump forward. It threw the food all over us.
‘How is it,’ I asked, ‘you
are so strong and good tempered and willing?’
‘I was sold to a farmer,’
she said, ‘and I think this one was a low sort of man. One dark night, he was
galloping home as usual, when all of a sudden the wheel came against some great
heavy thing in the road — it was an elephant — and turned the gig over in a
minute. He was thrown out and his arm was broken, and some of his ribs.’
After she left us, another
horse came in. He was young, and had a bad name for shying and starting. I
asked him why.
‘Well, I hardly know,’ he
said; ‘I was timid when I was young, and was a good deal frightened several
times, and if I saw anything strange, like a rhino or water buffalo, I used to
turn and look at it. You see, with our blinkers on, one can’t see or understand
what a thing is unless one looks round; so my head was back to front and I was
crashing into buildings. I am very frightened of lions and wolves. I know Mrs
Brown, and I am not frightened of her.’
One morning, I was put in a
light gig and taken to a house in Pulteney Street. Two gentlemen came out, one
short and one tall, as is often the case in England.
‘Do you consider this horse
wants a curb?’ he said to the ostler.
I was eventually sold to Mr
Barry.
30
A THIEF
One day a friend said to my master
‘Can’t he go any faster?
The reason is, standing still
He looks quite ill’
Truth was, my groom was selling my corn and giving me
grass
So my master kicked his arse.
My new master was an
unmarried man. His doctor advised him to take horse exercise, so for miles he
galloped along like a horse, and finally exhausted, he bought me. He hired a
man called Filcher to work as a groom, or a man called Groom to work as a filcher.
He
groping.’ A farmer helped me out of the shop window. He put me in my stable
that night, but he went off and continued groping.
29
COCKNEYS
Some people like to drive us like a steam train
They make us eat lumps of coal again and again
Eating coal we were fit to bust
Eventually it shot out the back as dust
My best master was Farmer Cray
Even he turned out to be gay
He carried a pot of Vaseline
You couldn’t tell where he was, but you could smell where
he had been.
There is a steam engine
style of driving, and these drivers keep shouting ‘choo-choo-choo-choo.’ People
never think of getting out to walk up a steep hill, yet we have to.
Another thing, however
steep the downhill may be, they scarcely ever put on drag; one or two men put
on the top and skirts and stockings and go looking for sailors.
These Cockneys, instead of
starting at an easy pace, generally set off at full speed from the stable yard,
some at 100 miles per hour. Some go so fast, we go past where we are going, and
have to start all over again. And some of them, they call that pulling up with
a dash. We call it fucking awful. And when they turn a corner, they do so so
sharply, we end up facing the other way.
As we were near the corner,
I heard a horse and two wheels coming rapidly down the hill towards us. We had
no time to pull up. The whole shock came upon Rory. The gig shaft ran right
through his chest making him stagger back with a cry. It was a long time before
the wound healed — five years. He was sold for coal carting; and what that is,
is up and down those steep hills; they were delivering in the Himalayas.
I went in the carriage with
a mare named Peggy. She was a strong, well-made animal, of a bright dun colour,
beautifully dappled, and with a dark brown mane and tail. She was very pretty,
remarkably sweet-tempered and willing — so I screwed her. Still, there was an
anxious look about her eye. She had some trouble; it was me. The first time we
went out to dinner together, I thought she had a very odd pace; she seemed to
go partly in a trot, partly in a canter — three or four paces, and then to make
a little jump forward. It threw the food all over us.
‘How is it,’ I asked, ‘you
are so strong and good tempered and willing?’
‘I was sold to a farmer,’
she said, ‘and I think this one was a low sort of man. One dark night, he was
galloping home as usual, when all of a sudden the wheel came against some great
heavy thing in the road — it was an elephant — and turned the gig over in a
minute. He was thrown out and his arm was broken, and some of his ribs.’
After she left us, another
horse came in. He was young, and had a bad name for shying and starting. I
asked him why.
‘Well, I hardly know,’ he
said; ‘I was timid when I was young, and was a good deal frightened several
times, and if I saw anything strange, like a rhino or water buffalo, I used to
turn and look at it. You see, with our blinkers on, one can’t see or understand
what a thing is unless one looks round; so my head was back to front and I was
crashing into buildings. I am very frightened of lions and wolves. I know Mrs
Brown, and I am not frightened of her.’
One morning, I was put in a
light gig and taken to a house in Pulteney Street. Two gentlemen came out, one
short and one tall, as is often the case in England.
‘Do you consider this horse
wants a curb?’ he said to the ostler.
I was eventually sold to Mr
Barry.
30
A THIEF
One day a friend said to my master
‘Can’t he go any faster?
The reason is, standing still
He looks quite ill’
Truth was, my groom was selling my corn and giving me
grass
So my master kicked his arse.
My new master was an
unmarried man. His doctor advised him to take horse exercise, so for miles he
galloped along like a horse, and finally exhausted, he bought me. He hired a
man called Filcher to work as a groom, or a man called Groom to work as a filcher.
He
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