And De Fun Don't Done (64 page)

‘She might have,' shrugged Millwood. ‘But get a copy of Edith Nettleford's book. Fair enough, she did romanticise a bit. But it's all there. Warts, trees, forests, the lot. Sorry it turned out like this for you and your family, Les. But…'

‘Yeah, Millwood. But.'

‘There is something else I can tell you about Father Eduardo, Les. And this is a hundred per cent true.'

‘What? He was making porn videos as well?'

‘He had a reputation as a man that would bonk a barber's floor.'

‘A barber's floor?'

‘Yes, Les. Anything with hair on it.'

Norton shook his head again. ‘I think it must be my shout.'

Millwood grinned boozily and held up his empty glass. ‘I'm ready to go again.'

Les caught Manuel's attention and fresh drinks arrived at their table shortly after.

They both took another hefty slurp while Les continued to study Millwood. He was getting good and drunk and had this impish kind of smile on his face. Not as if he was laughing at Les finding a couple of skeletons in the family closet. It was more like Millwood had played a harmless trick on a friend; pulled his leg, so to speak. Not that Les gave a stuff in that respect. The Jamaican Nortons had been dead for hundreds of years and if he hadn't left Australia Les wouldn't have known about them anyway. Yet at the same time Millwood had proved to Les that for a schoolteacher he had almost an expert knowledge of Jamaican history and knew what he was talking about. Norton didn't mind the little schoolteacher having a bit of a laugh at his expense; Millwood was still one of the most likeable people Les had ever come across. But the schoolteacher was definitely mistaken about something. Les wasn't quite sure what. But something he'd seen somewhere and something Millwood had said had set a loose cannon crashing around inside Norton's head. Millwood was wrong. He was right about one thing. But he was wrong about something else. Les was firmly convinced.

‘So how long have you been a schoolteacher and an historian, Millwood?' he asked carefully.

‘How long? Too bloody long. And too long at that golf club putting up with them honky chucky boys too.' Millwood leant across the table and fixed Les with a boozy, inimical leer. ‘You know what I always wanted to be, Les?'

Hello. Here it comes, thought Les. The drunken, belligerent abo with a chip on his shoulder is finally coming out. Only this one'll have five hundred years of rape and torture. At least he can't accuse me of stealing his fuckin' country.

‘Yeah, what, Millwood?'

‘A stand-up comedian.'

‘You? A stand-up comic? Get the fuck out of here.'

‘That's it, Les. Exactly. A Jamaican Eddie Murphy.'

‘A black Eddie Murphy? Shit!' said Les. ‘I never thought of that.'

‘Not as filthy as him, a bit more class. But in the same genre.'

‘So what happened, Eddie? Why aren't I seeing you on Jamrite TV with your own show?'

‘Ahh, how can I working two jobs?' wailed Millwood, taking another slurp of bourbon. ‘I got up a few times, but all these hard cards and boopsies in the audience talkin' dread mon. I'm giving them the best patter ever gone down, all in perfect English, and the dumb hicks couldn't understand a word I was saying. I went over like a dead rat in a wedding cake.'

‘That bad, eh?'

‘The papers gave me a rap. They said my performances were very refreshing. The audience always felt better when they woke up. They said if I'd been a ventriloquist even my dummy would have quit and got a new partner. One gig was a success, though, they screamed for me to come back. But I was able to outrun the bastards.'

Les shook his head sagely. ‘So it was back to Spring Water Primary while you still had your good looks?'

‘Yeah. A brilliant career nipped in the bud.' Millwood seemed to brood for a second then he rose up in his seat and pointed a finger at Les. ‘Les Norton. Tuan of Rose Hill Great House and heir apparent to the Norton Dynasty. Did you, or did you not, say I was your guest tonight?'

‘My bloody oath I did, Millwood,' declared Les. ‘And an honoured one at that, I might add.'

‘Then in that case I will give you my genius routine. The one these peasants round here didn't appreciate.'

Ohh shit no, thought Norton. I'd rather he got drunk and wanted to fight me than bombard me with corny jokes. ‘You don't have to, Mill. I'm quite happy just to sit here and have a drink.'

‘No. I insist, Massah Les. So sit back and relax as Down Town Downie, AKA Mill the Thrill, takes the stage. And, before we start, I think it's my shout.' Millwood caught Manuel's eye and made a gesture with his fingers for the same again on Norton's tab then took a solid slurp on the one he still had. ‘Okay, Les, here we go.'

Norton sucked in some more rum. So this is what Jerry Lewis has been holding back? He's a frustrated bloody comedian. And to think this has cost me a feed. Among other things.

‘Why don't cannibals eat clowns?'

‘You got me, Mill.'

‘Because they taste funny.'

‘Keep goin'.'

‘Did I tell you about my dog that ate all the Christmas decorations?'

‘No.'

‘He finished up with tinselitis. How do you start a bear and a cat race?'

‘How?'

‘Ready Teddy. Go cat go.'

‘I don't know what to say, Millwood.'

‘Hey. I ain't even started yet.'

The drinks arrived and Millwood got going again. Norton wished there was some music.

‘Two poofs in a lift, Les. One says to the other, “How's your bum?” The other says, “Shut up.” The first poof says, “Yeah, so's mine. It must be the cold weather.” I went to a doctor's the other day. He said, “Take off all your clothes.” I said, “Where will I put them?” He said, “Just put them over there on top of mine.” Two poof judges met in a bar, so they got drunk and tried each other. Hollywood are making a movie about a gay gangster. It's going to be called the Fairy Godfather. Personally, I've never screwed a poof. But I've screwed a guy that has. How am I going so far, Les?'

‘Not enough Ts in terrific to describe you, Mill.' Christ, thought Les. I hope the bloke that's picking him up doesn't have to work back.

‘I knew you'd like it.' Millwood took another monstrous slurp of Jack Daniel's. ‘What about my girl, Les? I entered her in a contest on the weekend and she took out first prize. That was okay, but I'd have been happier if my dog had won it. I'm not saying she's ugly, Les. But I took her to the zoo and people starting feeding her broken biscuits. We walked past the gorilla cage and a zoo keeper ran out and shot her with a tranquilliser dart. When she takes her dog for a walk, people talk to the dog and pat her on the head. She was sitting in a bus the other day and said to the kid next to her, “Why don't you get up and give one of those old ladies a seat?” And the kid said, “Why don't you get up and the three of them can sit down?” She caught a jumbo jet to Miami and the plane had to stop at Cuba for a hernia operation. But I love her, Les. She found an ear at a soccer game and took it to a psychiatrist's. I said, “Why did you do that?” She said, “Because it was off its head.” I bought her an electric toothbrush for her birthday but she took it back. She didn't know whether her teeth were AC or DC. She woke up the other morning with a headache and I told her she had a bad hangover. So she went and bought herself a bigger bra. I'm telling you, Les. She bought a parrot at an auction last week and paid five thousand dollars for it. It wasn't till she got home she found out the parrot was bidding against her. Even her canary hates her. It tried to commit suicide the other night. It broke out of its cage and threw itself in front of the cat. How good am I, Les?'

‘Electrifying, Millwood,' said Les expressionlessly. Shocking would be fuckin' more like it.

‘I told you I was good.' Millwood tipped some more bourbon down his throat. ‘Did I tell you she was into drugs? She used to take Lo-Cal LSD. She wanted to expand her consciousness. But not too much. She's never been in trouble with the police. But she did get picked up by the fuzz once. She reckons it didn't half make her eyes water. Her uncle's a cop over in Kingston. He arrested an acid bath murderer then burnt both his arms off trying to pull the plug out of the bath. Her young brother was a
haemophiliac. He died trying to cure himself with acupuncture. One of her sisters went mad. She worked in a brothel for five years before she found out the other girls got paid. She was working up near the park the other night, a priest walked past and said, “What would your mother do if she saw you working here?” And she said, “Probably kill me. It's her corner.” Her father was killed by a posse over in Kingston. Six hundred times they shot him. He had that much lead in him when he died they didn't bury him. They took him out and had him smelted. Her young brother…'

‘Righto, Millwood. That's fuckin' it,' cut in Norton.

The schoolteacher blinked. ‘Les, what's the matter?'

‘Nothing's the matter, Millwood. I've just had enough. I don't want to hear any more gags.'

‘You didn't like them?'

‘No. They were great, Millwood. It's just…'

‘I noticed you weren't laughing all that much.'

‘Yeah, well…'

‘Alright then. Let's hear you have a go.'

‘Me?'

‘Yeah you. Come on. What have you got to offer?' ‘I'm not a fuckin' comedian.'

‘I gathered that. But you must know something. You Australians are supposed to have a good sense of humour. Show me what you can do. Go on, massah 'orton mon. Strut your stuff, big dude from down under.'

Les had to think for a moment. ‘Okay. Just a couple.'

‘Many as you like, Les. If they're any good I'll steal them and start up a new act.'

It couldn't be any worse than your old one, thought Les. ‘Righto Millwood, here we go.' Les took a giant slurp of rum, caught Manuel's eye and ordered another shout. ‘What's black and white and red all over?'

‘What?'

‘A nun with stab wounds.'

‘Not bad, Les. Not bad. What else have you got to offer?'

‘You like that, Mill? Alright. How many Jamaicans does it take to eat a goat?'

‘How many?'

‘Three. One to eat the goat, and two to watch out for cars.'

‘Hey. You're not bad on your feet, Les. Keep going.'

‘What happens when a Vulcan woman's tampon fails?'

‘What?'

‘She gets Toxic Spock Syndrome.'

‘Reasonable.'

‘What's the difference between Rock Hudson and Saddam Hussein?' Millwood shook his head. ‘Saddam's aides haven't killed him yet. What's brown and squishy and likes leather? A gay rights movement. How many poofs does it take to rape a lesbian? Four. Three to hold her down and one to gel her hair.'

‘Oh go, Les, go,' said Millwood, taking another slurp as the next drinks arrived.

‘You like me so far?' Norton slurped some more rum. ‘Okay, Mill baby. What's a seventy-one?'

‘You got me again.'

‘A sixty-nine with two fingers stuck in your arse. What do you get when you cross an elephant with a prostitute? A hooker that fucks for peanuts and never forgets your name. How can you tell if a Jamaican woman's having her period? She's only wearing one sock. Why don't American negroes have to wear seat-belts? Because it's easier to put velcro on the headrests. Did you hear about the Jamaican abortionist who went broke? The piece of string split and somebody ate his rat. How many United States Marines does it take to change a light bulb? Fifty. One to change the bulb and the other forty-nine to guard him.'

‘Oh beautiful, Les. Beautiful.'

‘Thanks, Mill.'

‘Alright, my turn. My turn!' cried Millwood.

‘Ohh shit! Alright then.'

‘Knock knock.'

‘No. I refuse.' Norton shook his head. ‘Definitely no knock knock jokes.'

‘Come on, Les. Just a couple.'

Norton slurped some more rum and reluctantly nodded his head. ‘Alright. Just a couple.'

‘Knock knock.'

‘Who's bloody there?'

‘Sahara.'

‘Sahara who?'

‘Sahara ya goin', mate?'

‘Ohh, Millwood. Gimme a fuckin' break.'

The little schoolteacher chortled with glee, spilling almost as much bourbon down his shirt as he got in his mouth. ‘Knock knock.'

‘Who's there?'

‘Isobel.'

‘Isobel who?'

‘Isobel out of order?'

‘Ohh, for Christ's sake.'

‘Knock knock.'

‘Who's there?'

‘Sony.'

‘Sony who?'

‘Sony me.'

‘God almighty.'

‘Knock knock.'

‘Yeah, who's there?'

‘Mia.'

‘Mia bloody who?'

‘Mia again.'

Norton was about to reach across the table. ‘Fair dinkum, I'll kill you. You little prick.'

Millwood ignored the threat. ‘Knock knock.'

‘Yeah, who's bloody there?'

‘Hassan.'

‘Hassan fuckin' who?'

‘Hassan been that long since I seen you.'

‘Alright,' roared Norton. ‘Now it's my turn. Knock fuckin' knock.'

‘Who's fuckin' there?'

‘Howard.'

‘Howard who?'

‘Howard you like to go and get fucked?'

‘Ahh, you're beautiful, Les. I love you.' Millwood gargled down more Jack Daniel's. ‘Okay, Les. Doctor jokes.'

‘Ohh, Millwood. For Christ's sake!'

The teacher ignored Les. ‘I went to my doctor, Les. I said, “Can you give me something for wind?”'

‘Yeah? What did he give you?' grunted Norton.

‘A kite. I said to him, “Doctor, doctor. I've just swallowed a frog. Will it make me sick?” He said, “Sick? You could croak at any moment.” I said, “Doctor, doctor. My brother the invisible man's waiting outside.” He said, “I'm sorry, I can't see him right now.” I said, “Doctor, doctor. My wife reckons I smell like a goat.” He said, “Yeah. What about the kids?”'