Puckoon by Spike Milligan

the
Major. 'True, sir, very true,' said Feeley, closing the partition.
    Turning away in a fury, the Major
fell heavily over a box. The darkness was filled with clucking chickens and
swearing. 'What bloody idiot left that crate there ?'
    ' I did,'
said a voice.
    He struck a match. It was a nun. This
was all getting intolerable.
    He thought of London and Penelope, he
thought of London and his wife, finally he thought of London and himself. A proud man.
    A blow to Major Clarke's vanity had
been going bald at the tender age of twenty-six while serving in Southern
Command India. He had tried a remedy suggested by a doctor, Chanditje Lalkaka.
    Wagging his head, in a Welsh
chee-chee accent, the Hindu physician had explained, ' I t is made from a
secret Punjabi formula, captured by Shivaji from the Rajputs during the
Marhatta wars.' A bald man is a desperate man; but a bald vain man is a
hairless Greek Tragedy.
    The Major paid Lalkaka one hundred
rupees. For five days and nights he sat in a darkened room, his head covered in
a mixture of saffron cowdung and a curry-soaked handkerchief. Issuing forth on
the sixth day, he discovered that what little hair he had had disappeared and
so had Dr Lalkaka.
    For years after that he habitually
and suddenly hit unsuspecting passing wogs and pointed to his head. Meanwhile,
he took another pull at his flask and peered up the track into the sightless
night.
    Four miles up the line, showing no
signs of life, was the six-thirty train for Puckoon. The carriage lights,
strung like amber beads, hung lustreless in the squalling rain. A weak trickle
of steam hissed from the outlet valve.
    On the foot-plate, O'Malley, the
ginger-haired fireman, looked at the dead furnace.
    ' I can't
understand it! Dat coal bunker was full on Thursday.'
    'Well, it's Friday and empty,' said Driver Murtagh.
    'Don't lose yer temper, Murtagh, all
we need is somethin' to burn.'
    ' Oh ! Wid a
fine mind like that you're wasting yer time as fireman, and you're also wastin'
mineV Murtagh drummed his fingers in the throttle and spat into the dark.
    'Now den! you listen to meWe passed a cottage a few yards back. Go and see if they've got a
couple of buckets o' coal or peat.'
    'O.K.' said O'Malley, and he climbed
down and 'Aw, come on,' she said, pushing him back into a chair. 'That train's
never been on time.'
    She kept looking at him in a way. He
sipped his cup of tea. She was looking at him in that way again . . . he
finished his cup of tea .. . .
    Dear reader, it's a wonder how one bed
can take so much punishment. The springs groaned under the combined assault of
two activated bodies. It was an age-old story but neither of them seemed to
have heard it before, and, they did it all on one cup of tea. Dear friends, a
quarter of a pound of tea can be bought for as little as two shillings, and
think of the fun you can have in the privacy of your own home.
    From outside came an angry knocking
on the door, from inside came an agonized coitus
interruptus.' Oh God,' gasped O'Malley, rolling off, 'who can it be?'
    'How the hell do I know?' She was
pulling on skirt, petticoat, stockings, but no drawers - after all this could
be a false alarm.
    O'Malley wrestled frantically to tuck
an unruly member into his trousers. 'Anybody in ? '
came the voice. Relief showed on O'Malley's face.' It's all right, it's me
mate.'
    The door opened on a wet engine
driver. 'What the blazes has -'
    He saw the girl.' Oh,' he said.
    Carrying the buckets of coal back up
the line O'Malley confided,
    'Hey, you know why I was so long?'
    ' Sure,' grinned the driver,' I was
watching through the window, My , you've got a spotty
bum.'
    Saturday. Pay day! Ha, ha, Milligan rubbed his hands. Six days grass cutting at three
shillings a day, six multiplied by three – 12 shillings! Ha! Ha! He looked at
the church clock. 4.32. Time for lunch! He unwrapped brown bread, cheese, boiled potatoes and a bottle of stout. He took a long
drink on the bottle and a long eat on the bread. By