This is the first time that the Knolly Estate has allowed the great man's memoirs to be published. What follows is the first chapter of 'The African Adventure'.

1895

What a glorious summer it was that year. I was staying at my Aunt Lettice's in Marlborough. I'd often stayed here as a lad during the school hols and loved to came back - although I couldn't abide the place in the winter, too damn cold. Aunt Lettice was a good, old-fashioned jolly hockey sticks of a woman who'd once doubled for Queen Victoria when Her Majesty couldn't attend a state visit. Strange really as Auntie - tall and stick-like - looks nothing like Our Gracious Queen. Theatrical make up eh? A wonder of the modern age.

So...

Here I was once again at Auntie's house - a truly Great place; the rolling lawns, the magnificent architecture - but best of all, I could drink here, safe in the knowledge that I wouldn't get arrested. It had been a very heavy session that night before. Bertie and I had come to stay for a well-earned after having saved the world and on arrival proceeded to raise merry hell in Auntie's wine cellar. Oh the stuff we drank! Auntie joined in, but was soon under the table with the dogs. Her loyal manservant Sol-Tan eventually put her to bed muttering something
about 'a very busy day tomorrow' and 'what time would the young
gentlemen require breakfast in the morning?' Bertie and I gave some
ribald remark and sent him off with a cheery wave.

I have no recollection as to how I got up all the flights of stairs nor even who put me to bed . However, when I came to couldn't find my
underwear amongst the heap of clothes, after searching high and low
in the darkened room, I decided to part the curtains. 'Swish' went the
curtains. I went 'Ow!' as the shaft of sunlight hit me full in the eyes.
By Jupiter, it was bright! Should be able to find them now I thought.

Down below on the veranda, Auntie's Sewing Circle guests all looked up and swooned - apart from one or two who, seeming to look up in a knowing way, started to applaud. Underwear! No bally underwear! I hastily backed away from the window and caught sight of Auntie rushing to the aid of her Gels. She looked up saw me closed her eyes and shook her head as if to say 'not again'. There was a knock at the door and in
came Sol-Tan.

'Ah! Sol-Tan. Have you seen my underwear?'

Before he had a chance to answer, there came a voice from next door. Bertie's.
'Are they red?' he asked.

'Why yes!' I replied.
'They're in here' said Bertie.

As he as walking out of the room, Sol-Tan closed his eyes and shook his head as if to say 'not again'. Strangely, the 'Straying Undergarment Phenomenon' seemed to strike only after serious Quaff-Quests, and poor old Sol-Tan was often sent to track-down the errant items.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that same day, Bertie and I were sitting in the lounge when we heard the door bell.
'Must be one of your Aunt's sewing-girls - come for a closer look!' Bertie smirked.

I didn't find this particularly amusing. It had taken Auntie hours to calm the lasses down with the eventual excuse that I was a leader of some outlandish religious sect. This did not prevent some of the Gels asking if they could join me and my faithful acolytes in our 'sterling work'. One or two doe-eyed beauties asked if I'd call on them at home for some one-on-one conversion work.

After a few minutes the door opened and Sol-Tan announced:
'A Mr Smith to see you, sir.'
'Smith? I don't know any one by that name', I replied. Bertie just shrugged.
'That is the name the gentleman asked me to announce, sir. Oh... and he instructed me to do this...'

With a flourish, Sol-Tan tapped the side of his nose and gave a theatrical wink.

'Are you all right old feller?'

Sol-tan was then shoved aside as the door was flung open.
'For God's sake Knolly! It's me! I'm keeping a low profile!'
roared a large voice that boomed from the large body of Biggfat, the walrus-moustachioed head of the British Secret Service (Colonial Section). His idea of keeping a low-profile was to wear a disguise of a hat and a pair of spectacles. Quite stunning in its complete lack of originality and its sheer uselesness.

'What are you doing here Sir?' I asked as I helped pick Sol-Tan from where he lay.

Instructing the bemused and dizzy Sol-Tan to fetch tea, I ushered
my sometimes paymaster to a chair. He sat down, nodded to Bertie and then proceeded to tell us what had brought him down from London with such a useless disguise.
'Knolly. Bertie. We have a problem.'

I gave him a hard stare. Bertie gave him a hard stare. When Biggfat said 'we have a problem', Bertie and I usually translate that as 'I have a problem that I'm about to dump on you two'.

'Look Sir, the pair of us are having a rest from the last lunatic
mission you sent us on. And the cricket season is just about to
start.'

He sighed and went on. He rummaged around in his briefcase and took out a pipe the size of a saxophone and rammed half a pound of Whiskey-matured rough shag into the bulb. Bertie started to fold his hankie into an impromptu face mask in preparation for the impending
impenetrable fug. I was doing the same with the antimaccassar when we were all stopped in our tracks.

Fortunately, Aunt Lettice was on the verandah and saw that Biggfat was about to stink out her beloved lounge. She tapped furiously on the window and shouted 'NOT IN THERE YOU DON'T!' Suitably chided, Biggfat replaced his pipe, harrumphed a bit and then continued.
'Cecil Rhodes. Prime Minister of the Cape. Knew him at school didn't
you? What was he like?'

'Well, by the time I was at Oxford, he'd gone back to his diamonds. But he'd left enough of a legacy there I can tell you. From what was said, he was always out to impress the lads by playing hard at polo and riding to the hounds with the Drag rather then trying to impress the Dons. In some ways I think he's never really grown up. He always said he wanted to change the world and seems to be trying at this very hard. Do you remember that day when he was visiting Addlie and Stanner, Bertie?'

Bertie nodded slowly.
'Why of course I do, Knolly. Quite an impression he made on some of the chaps - especially that rousing bit about painting the map red. And the other one... um how did it go? Oh yes... I remember. "Ask any man what nationality he would prefer to be and ninty-nine out of a hundred will tell you that they would prefer to be an Englishman". Rousing stuff.'

'Quite. Now Sir, suffice to say I know of him and whilst I don't exactly approve of his methods, I do have some admiration for him. What has he done now to upset the PM and Her Majesty's Government that you have to come and see me here?'

Biggfat sat back in his chair and stared at the ornate ceiling as he began to relate the horrific story.
'Well, the details are very sketchy but it seems he's gone and started some sort of Secret Society composed of fanatics and modelled on the Jesuits. It's aim, as far as we can make out, is to extend British Rule throughout the world. To occupy the whole continent of Africa, the Holy Land, the whole of South America and, if that doesn't sound bad enough, the ultimate recovery of the United States!'
'Good Gracious!!' exclaimed Bertie leaping up from his chair. 'He must be stopped! It took long enough for us to give America away in the first place... '

There was a knock at the door and Sol-Tan entered.

'Ah! Tea... good. Put it down there on the side Sol-Tan, would you? When you have a moment, start packing Mr Harrison-Harrison's and my bags; I feel that the cricket whites may not be needed after all.'

With that he gave me a knowing look and shuffled away. I turned back to the somewhat over-stuffed armchair.

'So Sir, you want us to stop Rhodes' global domination attempt - is that it?'
'Well Knolly, we don't really want to curtail his African activities. I mean it's great for us and costs us very little out of the Treasury as most of it is financed by Rhodes and his cronies. We just need to show him that he's being watched.'

'Fine. So what does our glorious Colonial Office suggest?'
'Bally obvious, isn't it? Send in a Gun Boat. It's what we always
do.'
'Oh my! That would certainly make him sit up and notice!' said Bertie with a grin.

'I... er... I think we'll leave the Navy out of the picture for the moment.' I took a sip of tea and continued. 'The plan I have in mind concerns the Boers in Transvaal. Quite friendly with the Kaiser, I believe... '

Tea spluttered out from Biggfat's nose.
'Bloody Hell, man! That's top secret! How do you know that?' he
blustered, cheeks reddening, eyes watering. He was not happy. Bertie handed him a napkin.

'Oh, we have our sources as you are well aware of. And I tell you this... Pretty soon, we are going to have to be far more involved in South Africa than we would like.'


Biggfat seemed to pooh-pooh that thought and bade me continue while he wiped his tea-soaked face.


'Bertie? Who was that Doctor chappie we met in town last year? One of Rhodes' chums. Friendly with the natives. Funny name. Remember him?'
'Yes indeed. Leander Starr Jameson. "Doctor Jim" he asked us to call
him.' said Bertie.


'That's the fella. Do you remember in that public house after his talk? Well and truly steamed, he was - but he did mention that Rhodes wanted to take on the Dutch make Transvaal the next stepping stone in his conquest of Africa.'
'Hmmmm... Rings some vague bells, Knolly. We'd all had a few too many and I'm still not sure how we got home. Wasn't that the time that Big Edward got his collar felt by the Peelers for taking the pewter ale-mugs?'

'Yes it was!'

We began to laugh.
'What a hoot that was! He was nearly transported for that wasn't
he?'

We laughed harder. Biggfat looked at his pocket watch and started to
fume.
'If we can return to the matter in hand gentlemen... '

Through tears and giggles, I carried on.

'Yes. Doctor Jim and all that. See, we know where Rhodes intends to strike next. If we could get a message to, for the sake of argument President Kruger, that this is going to happen very soon - he can intercept any forces Rhodes sends which should bugger him up him no end. It would be even better if we could anticipate the move and stir up a false trail for Rhodes to follow.'
'Now look here Knolly. Her Majesty's Government could never sanction
such an idea. If we did and we were found out, there'd be an outcry the world over.'

'Quite so, Sir. That's why I alluded to the Boers and the Kaiser being on friendly terms. What if the idea of intercepting Rhodes' forces came from them? Come on Bertie! Finish your tea. I can feel a new scrape coming on!'

I rang for Sol-Tan who appeared before I'd even finished pulling on the cord.
'Your bags are packed and I have informed your Aunt that you will not be staying for the evening meal. There is a train for London in half an hour and your carriage awaits. Will there be anything else?'
'Actually - yes, Sol-Tan, there is.' piped in Bertie. 'Have you packed my Elephant gun? May as well try to bag one of the beasts
while we're over there.'
'I beg to differ, sir. There are no elephants in Germany save in
their zoos.'

Bertie froze in mid-sip horror and Biggfat spat tea once again. Damn good job I hadn't offered any of Aunties wine cellar.

I chuckled.

'Well anticipated as usual, my friend. Bertie? Pick your chin off the floor. It's off to the Black Forest to cross swords with our old arch enemy.'
'Bloody hell, no! Not that pair again? Not the Count and Countess Von Kronenburg? Please let me pack my elephant gun. You know what they threatened last time we sorted them out.'

'Bertie, old bean, you worry too much. Now come on. London first, then Paris and then onto Berlin. We'll finalise the tactics on the way. Make yourself at home Sir. Auntie and Sol-Tan will look after you - but I'd keep the pipe locked away if I were you. Pip pip!'

His final words that day still hang in my ever-retentive memory.
'It's crazy, but it might just work... '

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The journey back to London and then on to Dover was uneventful save
for the fact that Bertie kept pleading with me to leave him behind due to various maladies such as 'I've got this bone in my leg'. However, by the time we were setting sail for France, he'd cheered no end. I seem to recall him chatting over cocktails to a pair of young fillies who just happened to let slip that the cabin next to theirs was empty. I was hardly surprised when we eventually followed them down to discover that the berth in question was number 13. An omen?

By the time we reached Calais the fog was lifting and we made our way
to the railway station for the next train to Paris. The train was there
ready and waiting and we found ourselves seats without any problem at
all. In fact as soon as we entered the five local types upped sticks
leaving the whole compartment to us. Could they have known we wanted
privacy, or that we just looked English. Maybe they could not cope with one of Bertie's kedgeree-induced thunderous farts ? We'll never know.

'Ahhhhh, Paris! City of Lights.' waxed Bertie. 'Food, drink, women and more drink. Are we in a rush, Knolly? Do you think we should stay for a few days? Familiarisation and acclimatisation. That sort of thing.'

I pondered on this.

'I don't see why not. By now the Count's men will know that we have left the safety of England therefore fair game. Besides I promised Aunt Lettice the next time I was here that I would pay a call on Georges' family.'
'Georges?' quizzed Bertie.

'Ah - maybe I never told you. Auntie had a bit of a scene with Bizet. She was the model for Carmen.'
'Doesn't surprise me. Kind of explains why it was booed of the stage
here when it first opened a few years ago. Have you seen it?'

Wrenched from my daydreaming about wild eyed gypsies I replied

'What? No... no. Music's very good though!' and I whistled a few bars of the March of the Toreadors.
'If you haven't seen it, how do you know the tunes? Oh well, never
mind here we are. La Guerre.'

'The war? What war? Oh... the station. Gare.'
'Sorry Knolly. Never was much good at the old Frog lingo except the
necessaries; food, wine, women, camping-sites, etc.'

Oh! The gay time we had in Paris! But we were soon brought back to earth with a bump once we set off for the Franco-German border.

To Be Continued...

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