Free Frankenstein - According to by Spike Milligan Page B

you?’
    I
said, ‘Oui, would you like to book une chambre at the Savoy Hotel
for me?’
    He
replied, ‘I am sorry, the Savoy Hotel don’t take gaol birds.’
    ‘I
mean after the hanging.’
    He
replied, ‘The Savoy Hotel don’t take dead people.’ Mr Kirwin went on to say,
‘Immediately upon your being taken ill, all the papers that were on your person
were brought to me, the Daily Mail, The Times and the News of The
World. I found several letters, all from the Midland Bank asking for you to
clear your overdraft of £100. But you are ill, even now you are trembling; you
are unfit for agitation of any kind.’
    How
many types of agitation are there?
    ‘Your
family is perfectly well,’ said Mr Kirwin, ‘and a friend has come to visit
you.’
    ‘Oh
take him away. I cannot see him, for God’s sake; do not let him enter.’
    ‘I
should have thought, young man, that the presence of your father would have
been welcome!’
    ‘My
father!’ I cried. ‘Why the fuck didn’t you say?’ Nothing at this moment could
have given me greater pleasure than the arrival of my father. I stretched out
my hand to him.
    ‘Are
you, then, safe — and Elizabeth — and Ernest? Did you manage to avoid that big
tax demand?’ I said.
    ‘Why
are you dwelling in this terrible prison?’
    ‘Well,
they will not let me stay at the Savoy.’
    ‘And
poor Clerval, what a terrible end.’
    The
name of my unfortunate friend was too great to be endured and I shed tears.
Soon the cell was ankle deep in tears.
    ‘Alas!
yes, my father, the most horrible things hang over me; a noose for a start. I
should have died on the coffin of Henry.’
    ‘Then
why didn’t you if it would have made you feel better?’
    Mr Kirwin
came in, and insisted that my strength should not be exhausted by too much
exertion. The appearance of my father in flowing white robes was like that of
an angel complete with wings, and he flew away.
    I
sat for hours, motionless and speechless, wishing for some mighty revolution
that might bury me and my destroyer. I sat for three days waiting; still the
mighty revolution did not come.
    I
was obliged to travel nearly a 100 miles to where the court was held — so I had
plenty of time before it arrived. I was spared the disgrace of appearing
publicly as a criminal: I gave evidence from the clothes cupboard, speaking
through the keyhole. The grand jury rejected the bill (I had but one in for
expenses) on it being proved that I was on the Orkney Islands at the hour that
the body of my friend was found; and a fortnight after my removal, I was
liberated from prison.
    My
father was enraptured on finding me freed from the vexations of a criminal
charge. What he meant was, murderer! I was again allowed to breathe the fresh
atmosphere. He had booked a room for me at the Savoy. They took me to an
optician who could find nothing wrong with my eyes so I went to a cobblers. He
said he could find nothing wrong except that I needed a pair of new shoes.
    One
morning, my father awoke me with an electric cattle prod. I was in a deep
depression. At night I put a loaded pistol by my bed but in the morning it was
still there, and so was I.
    My
father was concerned for my health. I was a shattered wreck; I lay in bits all
over the cabin floor. My strength was gone — I think it went to Bexhill-on-Sea.
I was a mere skeleton. I urged our leaving Ireland and we took our passage on
the SS Plassey, a splendid ship with a slight tendency to sink. It was
midnight. I lay on the deck looking at the stars, with the passers-by walking
over me.
    I
repassed my life, the death of my mother and my departure for Ingolstadt where
I became a compulsive onanist. I called to mind the night in which my monster
asked for a cigarette.
    I
had been in the custom of taking every night a small quantity of laudanum —
yeah, man! I now doubled my usual quantity. My dreams presented a thousand
objects that scared me: dentist’s drill, hand grenade, hangman’s rope, a