Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

I did something I thought I'd never do: I offended Eric Idle.

After his performance at the Williamsport Community Arts Center on Friday, as part of his Greedy Bastard tour, he held an autograph session, signing copies of his newest two CDs, of a book he's written, The Road to Mars, and of programs for the Greedy Bastard tour.

I had worn my T-shirt from the Penn State Monty Python Society, which fits me again, after losing 45 pounds. He noticed the shirt right away and asked me about it. I told him I was former president of the Penn State Monty Python Society — about 13 years ago — and that a member of our club had drawn the shirt.

Then I raced through the other things I'd hoped to say, fully conscious of the other people lined up behind me. I've met, interviewed and photographed numerous celebrities over the years, but I couldn't remember ever being this nervous and shaky before. Not even when I photographed U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan.

"I brought you a videotape of some things the Monty Python Society did when I was involved," I said. "We did some mock protests on campus, that sort of thing."

He said, "Oh, thank you. That's nice of you." He'd been similarly graceful to a young woman who'd given him some white carnations from the edge of the stage, during his performance. He'd even posed for a picture with her during the signing, despite the sign that said, "No posed pictures."

I surged ahead. "I also am editor of an online literary magazine, Wild Violet. I know you're very busy with your tour, but I've enclosed my business card in case you have time to do a phone interview or an e-mail interview." I knew it was a long-shot, but I would never forgive myself if I didn't at least try.

"Have you heard of Pythonline?" he asked me. I nodded, truthfully. "Do you read my online journal? That's what I've been doing online." He could probably tell from the blankness in my eyes, despite my second nod, that I hadn't been reading it. "You should check it out."

Then, one last thing, while the crew of people behind us waited patiently, trading Python lines with each other excitedly. "Would you pose for a picture with us?" I asked.

"Sure," he said and immediately leaned over the counter to pose.

"Here, Dad," I said, handing him the camera. He gladly took on that duty, to photograph me and The Gryphon with Eric Idle. It had been my dad's idea to come see Eric Idle to begin with, and he should also get credit for instilling in me a love of Python. I vaguely remember toddling through the living room at night in my flannel nightgown, glimpsing on the TV strange, colorful cartoons involving naked ladies, while someone with a British accent rambled high nonsense.

"Hi, Dad," Eric said, smiling broadly. "Hi, Dad!"

Dad snapped the picture.

"He's good for something," I said. Several people in line reacted with shocked calls of "Awww!"

Eric himself said, "Hey! As a father, I'm offended." Or words to that effect. His voice sort of trailed off after the words, "As a father." My face grew bright red, despite the fact that from the joking tone in his voice, I knew he wasn't exactly mortified.

I thanked him again, collected my signed goodies and retrieved the camera from Dad. Around the corner, I managed to get my trembling hands to comply long enough to put everything safely bag in the bag.

As we left the building, I started fretting. "Oh, I made an idiot of myself," I said. The Gryphon and my dad tried to convince me I hadn't.

"I'm sure that Eric Idle has met many nervous fans before," The Gryphon reassured me. "And you even managed to get some coherent sentences out. You were far from a babbling idiot." That was mostly true, except for the crack about Dad.

This didn't stop me from kicking myself awhile longer. I was the same way for days after interviewing Terry Jones, back in 1992 for my undergraduate thesis. I'd come up with several nitpicky flaws in my interview — a stumbled over question here, lack of a follow-up there. The Gryphon tells me I need to be less hard on myself. He's right, of course.

In order to shift my thinking away from this self-destructive bent, I thought back over the night's performance. It had been a gleeful, glorious evening. Eric performed many of the songs he'd written for Monty Python, including favorites such as "The Philosopher's Song," which we in the Monty Python Society used to sing at top speed, daring each other to dizzying new speeds. And of course, "Sit on My Face." For these two favorites, they even provided lyrics so the audience could easily sing along. And he naturally closed out the evening with "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life."

Along with the classic Python material, including the "Nudge Nudge" sketch, he did some newer material, such as "National Anthem," a stinging rebuke of blind nationalism. This anthem, suitable for all nations, contains the lyrics "We're much better than you are / We're much bigger than you / We're much stronger than you are / Our God is much bigger too."

Absolutely brilliant. I bet Bill O'Reilly (of The O'Reilly Factor) sings himself to sleep with it every night. Except without a hint of irony.

The show was structured in two halves, with the first half being what you might consider "The Naughty Half." In this segment, he included such timeless treasures as "Not the Noel Coward Song," a.k.a. "The Penis Song." He even demonstrated to the entire audience how to find the G-spot, which I must say was a nice bit of information and much appreciated by us female audience members (nudge-nudge, wink-wink).

The first half also contained a lot of the aforementioned classic Python material, met with cheers and singing from the audience (who, while it was primarily in the 30-60 range, also included a couple of young punks, presumably from the Williamsport branch of Penn State. One wore a kilt, which was absolutely fabulous with his black dyed mohawk).

Although he performed solo for some of the songs, Eric had some help onstage. Peter Crabbe and Jennifer Julian stepped in to perform sketches with him or to provide extra voices on the songs. Both of them were fantastic. Peter Crabbe is a tall, muscular guy with a shaved head who stepped ably into many of the roles made famous by John Cleese or the other Pythons. Jennifer Julian had a rare blend of beauty, singing ability and comic timing that reminded me of the woman many consider the "seventh" Monty Python, Carol Cleveland.

After the intermission, the second half of the show could be called "Life of Idle." In it, Eric reminisced about his earliest memories, of his dad dying tragically in a car accident on the way home from World War II, and about abuse and rigidity suffered for 12 years at a boarding school. But these experiences, he said, helped form his comic sensibilities. And to prove it, he had Jennifer Julian sing "All Things Dull and Ugly."

We were also treated to sketches from his Cambridge days as a member of the Footlights Club, where he met John Cleese, and even some material from the groundbreaking revue, Beyond the Fringe, which was a source of inspiration for all the Pythons.

Not to mention, at the close of the evening they performed the seminal sketch from At Last the 1948 Show, now wrongly considered a Python sketch: "The Four Yorkshiremen," who try to outdo each other with how bad they had it growing up.

Overall, reminiscing on the evening on the drive home, I realized it had been a special night indeed.

Thanks, Dad.

More Monty Python fandom:

October 24, 2003 - Idle Thoughts

Dedicated Idiocy: A Personal History of the Penn State Monty Python Society

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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