He made me laugh so many times. Today he had me brushing away a tear. Spike Milligan had looked very frail and ill for a long time, and his death at the age of 83 may have been a merciful release from pain. But it deprives us of one of the truly great imaginations of our times; a man who transformed modern comedy.

In the wake of Spike's death, people have been queuing up to say that without Milligan and The Goons, there could have been no Monty Python and no alternative comedy. It's almost become a cliché - but the reason why so many people are saying that is that it's true. I'm too young to remember The Goon Show being broadcast, but hearing the shows years later and comparing them to some of the other comedy that was around in the 1950s and 1960s, it's easy to imagine what a liberating shock to the British psyche they must have been. Nothing this surreal and anarchic had ever made it into the showbiz mainstream before.

The Goons turned the limitations of radio to their advantage, just as Douglas Adams would do years later with the Hitch-Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy radio series. Anything could happen in a Goon Show. Working in a medium without pictures, The Goons could use words, sound effects and their own brilliant voice talents to conjure up bizarre and hilarious visions in their listeners' imaginations. The flights of fancy conjured up by Milligan's scripts were almost limitless.

They were also delightfully subversive. The Goon Show often made fun of authority figures. The echoes of this in Monty Python are obvious, and The Goons' inherent anarchism made them a big hit. At the time the shows were first broadcast, The Goons' young fans included Prince Charles - who remained a lifelong fan of the show.

He also became friends with Milligan; and so, when Spike was given a lifetime achievement award at the British Comedy Awards in 1994, the Prince sent Spike a congratulatory letter. At the awards ceremony, Milligan replied by jokingly calling the prince a 'grovelling little bastard' , but there were no real hard feelings. After the incident, Spike sent Charles a fax reading:
'I suppose a knighthood is out of the question now?'

Another of The Goons' young fans was John Lennon. If you want to hear The Goons' influence on The Beatles, just listen to the background voices and noises on 'Yellow Submarine', or the use of sound effects on the Sergeant Pepper album¹.

But on a personal level, Milligan's greatest impact on me came with the marvellous series of books he wrote about his experiences in the Second World War, beginning with Adolf Hitler: My Part In His Downfall. I went to a school that preached traditional values, and was very proud of its military cadet corps. War, we were taught, was a noble pursuit.

Spike's books told me the truth. They were often hilarious, but the picture they painted was of young men trying to stay sane and derive some pleasure from their lives in horrific, hideous circumstances. Milligan didn't hold back on the bawdy hilarity of the barracks, but nor did he leave out any of the horror of seeing your friends killed. The books confirmed what I'd always suspected; that in fact, war was absolute hell. Milligan conveyed the random, grotesque madness of it all with his customary inspired wit, and left me certain that no-one should ever again have to go through what Milligan's generation had suffered.

Very understandably, Spike suffered from depression during the war - but The Goon Show took a greater toll on his mental health. He had to come up with new scripts week after week, and the pressure of maintaining the soaring standard of wild wit that he'd set for himself proved unbearable. Milligan suffered a nervous breakdown because of the stress, and went through several more breakdowns and episodes of manic depression throughout the rest of his life.

And, just as he'd shared his glorious sense of humour with the world, he shared his pain. He wrote about his mental problems in books and poems, and talked openly about his struggles with depression. Given that he came from a generation which regarded mental illness as shameful, and in which men in particular were expected to 'pull themselves together' and keep a stiff upper lip, that took some courage.

Today, I'm able to come on h2g2 and tell you all that I once had a nervous breakdown and that I'm currently being treated for depression (quite successfully, thank you). There are fora here where I can discuss my experiences with other Researchers who have, or have had, similar problems. In the wider world, one can now usually talk about suffering from stress without being regarded as some sort of shameful weakling. We owe that to brave people like Spike Milligan who helped to break down the old taboos.

Spike described himself as a clown, but he also had his serious side. He campaigned for various causes, particularly animal rights and the environment. Even then, his surreal sense of humour often shone through. In 1986, he was thrown out of the London department store Harrods after trying to stuff 28 pounds of spaghetti down the mouth of the food hall manager. Afterwards, Spike explained:
'I told him it might give him some idea of how a goose feels being force-fed maize to make pate de fois gras.'

I suspect that Spike, with his eternal irreverence, wouldn't have wanted too many gushing tributes over his passing. He let it be known that when he died, he wanted his gravestone to read: 'There, I told you I was ill.' But he was one of the true visionaries of comedy. He brought laughter to so many lives, and often the laughter came from the way that he showed us just how ridiculously human beings so often behave.

As The Goon Show might have put it: Spike Milligan is deaded. But he certainly will not be forgotten by anyone who was touched by the power of his amazing imagination.

Thank you, Mr Milligan.

Meanwhile, bad news in the case of Tracy Housel, the Briton who's currently in danger of being poisoned to death by the state of Georgia. (See the February 7 edition of 'Notes' for details of this disturbing case). After Housel's appeal was turned down by the US Supreme Court, officials in Georgia have signed a death warrant which could lead to the judicial killing of Housel next month.

In response, Foreign Secretary Jack Straw telephoned Georgia governor Roy Barnes to try to stop the execution, but was told that only the Georgia parole board could change the sentence. Mr Straw had previously written to the parole board, pleading: 'The British government fully shares Georgia's desire to punish violent criminals and recognises the need for severe penalties. We are not, however, persuaded that the death penalty is an appropriate punishment or deterrent.'

I am very pleased to hear that the UK government makes such an unequivocal stand against the barbarity of judicial killing. But frankly, Mr Straw's efforts just aren't enough.

What's at stake here is the life of a man who committed an admittedly awful crime, but did so when in the grip of a medical condition that would have rendered him unable even to remember his actions, let alone control them. With that in the balance, Tony Blair should intervene personally. He may be worried about damaging Britain's relationship with the United States; but part of being a good friend is to tell your friends when they're doing something dreadfully wrong. In the past, interventions from national leaders have stopped executions. Blair really must speak out now, before it's too late.

You may spend many happy hours here. You may enjoy the chance h2g2 offers to give yourself another identity. But would you want to change your name legally to Mr or Ms h2g2?

Me neither. And that's because we're not quite as obsessive as the mail order manager formerly known as Dan Holmes, from Banbury in Oxfordshire, who has changed his name by deed poll to PlayStation2.

Mr Playstation2 - who is a bachelor, surprisingly enough - has £7,000 worth of PlayStation games. He says that he plays the games for around four hours every day.

He also says that he actually wanted to get married to his computer console, but couldn't find a priest willing to do the job.

'None were keen,'

he has said.
'So I took its name instead.'

A spokesperson for PlayStation2 manufacturers Sony has diplomatically commented:
This shows enormous loyalty.'

Well, it certainly shows enormous something...

Ormondroyd

28.02.02. Front Page

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