It is an adaptation of one of my most successful NewsRevue lyrics, Mad Frogs And Englishmen, which was about the Bosnian War. That will be Ogblogged in the fullness of time.
Anyway, here is the version for Casablanca The Musical:
MAD FROGS AND ENGLISHMEN – WW2 RESISTANCE VERSION
(Song to the Tune of “Mad Dogs and Englishmen”)
VERSE 1
In Moroccan climbs these are torrid times these days,
Where Vichy generals conspire to hang around in strange attire;
This Second World War has the Nazi’s cause affray,
And any wise guy with a bar is not prepared to serve those la-di-das all day.
Ra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-tat – its just machine gun fire, ignore it, dig-a-dig-a-dig-a-dig-a-do;
We make Jerry irate and the Vichy hate our guts, cos we resistance types are definitely nuts.
CHORUS 1
Mad Frogs and Englishmen resist the advancing Hun,
Norwegians didn’t care to, Italians wouldn’t dare to;
The loss via the cross fire cannot be described as fun
But French and English weirdos are heros;
In Marrakesh when getting fresh the Gaullists run amok,
Down in Sofi the Berber’s trophy is a Gestapo troop’s left bollock;
In Rabat, the bureaucrats ensure no more work gets done,
While mad Frogs and Englishmen resist the advancing Hun.
CHORUS 2
Mad Frogs and Englishmen resist the advancing Hun,
Morocco is a posting where Germans get a roasting,
The local blokes sell fancy smokes, so black, red and gold get done,
The Free French all say Oui for a reefer;
In Tangiers the local queers like Nazis in uniform,
In Meknes and also Fes they write code in cuneiform;
In Casablanca,
No Nazi wanker,
Will stop us from having fun,
So mad Frogs and Englishmen resist the advancing, pissed the advancing, hissed the advancing, kissed the advancing, missed the advancing, dissed the advancing, fist the advancing Hun.
Here is a vid of Noel Coward singing Mad Dogs and Englishmen
Not the most politically correct lyrics I have ever written, but Mike Ward especially loves the final verse. Personally, I especially like the couplet:
When you hear the camels farting eight to the bar,
Then you know that Upper Volta ain’t very far;
Anyway, it’s not really about what I like (or what Mike likes)…the number does seem to go down well to close that show. Here are all the lyrics:
THE OUAGADOUGOU CHOO CHOO
(Song to the Tune of “The Chatanooga Choo Choo”)
INTRO
Camel Trains, What’ja say?
Flee Casablanca any day;
Bend an ear and listen to my version,
Of a really whacky African excursion.
CHORUS
PASSENGER: Pardon me, boy,
Is that the Ouagadougou Choo Choo?
MOROCCAN: Track double-o,
There’s just the one place we go;
Can you afford, to board, the Ouagadougou Choo Choo?
PASSENGER: Say fifty francs?
MOROCCAN: Last price, sixty…..
PASSENGER: …..s’a’deal, thanks.
MIDDLE EIGHT 2
You get to Essouira station about quarter to two,
In another week or so you’re in Timbuktu;
Before you get that far, a,
Pit stop in Zagora,
Then you eat your cous cous while in Western Sahara.
When you hear the camels farting eight to the bar,
Then you know that Upper Volta ain’t very far;
One last stop in Kaya,
To get a little higher,
Woo-woo Ouagadougou there you are.
OUTRO
There’s gonna be,
A welcome party at the station;
All tits and spears,
They think their dinner’s appeared.
I’m gonna cry,
Unless we shift our arses we’ll be toast,
So Casablanca Choo Choo, take me back to the coast!!!
Here is a vid with Glenn Miller, his orchestra and his entourage performing Chattanooga Choo Choo:
In this piece, which I upped some time before writing up the show as a whole, I simply wanted to post the lyrics for one of the songs, which was written for the Nazi Officer character, who was portrayed in Mike’s book as an especially enthusiastic fan of Hitler, much like the Nazi character in The Producers.
Janie thought I had gone mad when I first showed her and demonstrated the lyric to her, with suitable heel clicks whenever the character says, “heil”.
Village Cricket At the Turn Of The 21st Century – by Dall-E & Me
We interrupt The History of The Heavy Rollers to cover a related (and soon to be overlapping) activity: Tufty Stackpole v The Children’s Society cricket matches. In the same way that we cannot entirely separate the birth of Z/Yen charity cricket matches…
…several of the people involved in Heavy Rollers outings in the first decade of this century were friends from the Tufty Stackpole matches.
Much like the early Heavy Rollers outings, there is precious little actual evidence from the events. The odd e-mail but no photos and no contemporaneous match reports. Only memories, which might be flawed or partial. Strangely, I have very strong memories of the first Tufty match and almost none of the second. Hopefully others who participated can chime in with comments and help me to improve the pieces.
The initial shout out for the first Tufty Stackpole match came from Charles Bartlett on 29 May:
Game against ‘Tuffty Stackpole’ (I met members of this team on the TCS trek’s in China and Peru). They are a village side and take their cricket very seriously. So experience will be useful. The match is arranged to be played on Sunday 15 July at their ground at North Crawley which is near Milton Keynes
Students of historical research based on e-mail trawling will realise why this e-mail was hard to find in my archive 20+ years later – note Chas’s spelling of “Tufty”.
It was quite a late night for us on the Saturday night in Halifax. Mike and Lottie sure know how to make guests welcome. I’m sure some especially juicy red wine will have flowed to accompany excellent beef and other culinary delights late in the evening after the show.
But that didn’t really matter, as we knew that we had time in the morning to take a breakfast at the Imperial Crown and get most of the way back down the M1 in plenty of time.
Actually we half expected to be stopping only briefly on our way home, as the weather was poor and the forecast, on Saturday, for the next day, yet poorer.
But in the morning, when I turned on the Ceefax (this was back in the days before smart phones and internet access on the fly), the simple weather chart suggested that the shoddy weather was at its worst in the North of England…and in the South of England, with the Midlands, including Beds/Bucks/Northants borders villages such as North Crawley, spared the rain and expecting sunshine.
We motored through driving rain until just after Sheffield – thereafter the weather looked promising to the point of looking like cricket weather. When we got there, we learnt that those travelling from the south had experienced similar poor weather until they got a few miles north of the M25.
Lovely village. Lovely cricket ground in the village. Great bunch of local people too. Tufty Stackpole was basically the veterans side of a “proper” village team. These people could play.
The Children’s Society team had its own weapons for that first fixture. Nigel “Father Barry” Hinks was with us, along with his uber-enthusiastic brother Martin. “Big Papa Zambezi” Jeff Tye brought his mate Biff with him:
Probably the best batsman in the county never to have played for Northamptonshire…
…said Jeff…and you don’t argue with Jeff when he’s talking up his mate.
The Children’s Society also had Charley “The Gent Malloy” Bartlett, me and a few other enthusiasts of no fixed ability.
My abiding memories of the cricket that day are quite strong.
Most of the enduring Tufty folk were there that first time: Geoff Young, Glenn Young (I think), Ian Cooper, Trevor Cooper, Nick Cooper, Trevor Stapleton, Mike Archer, Nick Church (I think) plus the gentleman who sometimes kept wicket whose name I never learnt but whom we nicknamed “Builder’s Bum” because of his appearance when wicket-keeping.
With thanks to Dall-E, which couldn’t quite bring the troos down to builders’ level
We didn’t really have the bowling depth to put the Tufty batting line up under too much pressure. Nigel bowled well and took a couple of wickets, but in a 40 over match each bowler can only bowl 8 overs. Martin was quite useful with the ball too, but there were still 24 other overs to try and escape from;
It didn’t help to have several fielders of my “quality” in the long grass. I think it was at that first Tufty match that I juggled a couple of would-be catches but basically spilled them, much to the chagrin of my skipper and team mates – not that I was the only fielder to spill catches;
Martin kept encouraging his older brother, Nigel, to field closer and closer in the hope of snaffling a catch off his bowling. Frankly Martin’s bowling wasn’t really good enough to justify insanely close fielding. Eventually one came straight to Nigel at high speed, which he took, partly in self-defence but a clean catch. The bruise was visible at the back as well as the front of Nigel’s hand within seconds. Barely a wince. Brave lad;
Tufty Stackpole made plenty. Still, we had some weaponry in the batting department, so preserved an element of hope while everyone tucked in to one of the quintessentially English summer village cricket match teas, provided by, I’m pretty sure, the Merry Wives Of Tufty Stackpole. Derry Young was almost certainly involved in that aspect;
I asked Dall-E to help me reproduce the look of such a cricket tea – indeed there I am enjoying a cuppa in a virtual village hall before a lavish spread:
I was scheduled to bat 7 or 8, so I umpired at the start of the resumption;
Biff was clearly a proper batsman, but he hadn’t played for ages and kept complaining to me bitterly, whenever he got down to my end, that he wasn’t timing it properly and that he was finding it all very difficult after all this time. I tried to boost Biff’s confidence by telling him, truthfully, that he was, relatively speaking, in the context of our game, batting extremely well. Also that he would get back into the swing of it as the innings progressed;
Chas was one of the earlier wickets to fall and took over from me umpiring when the third or fourth wicket fell;
Nigel batted one place ahead of me. Biff was still batting well and keeping us just about in the game when Nigel joined him at the crease. Nigel himself can tell you the extent to which he was able to bat normally with such a badly bruised hand. I do recall Nigel getting his eye in and then launching at least one big straight six. At that point, just for a very short while, some of us perhaps dreamt of victory. But Nigel’s attempt to replicate the six resulted in a clattering noise behind him and it was my turn to bat;
I joined Biff and again tried to boost his confidence, which, given that he had by then scored well north of 50 and might even have been thinking of 100, he was still chastising himself for not batting as well as he used to decades earlier when he batted regularly. “Problem is”, he said, “I’m completely exhausted now. Do we have to keep running ones and twos?” My problem, of course, is that I don’t really have shots at all, so ones is probably the best you can hope for unless I take absurd risks. Biff was by now so tired that his scoring shots were not quite making it to the boundary so we did run a few twos;
Eventually Biff played a tired shot and was out. It was an honour for me to have shared the crease with him for a while. We were still some way from the Tufty’s score and frankly we knew we didn’t have the batting to score at the requisite rate, which might have been something like 80 runs needed off 8 or 9 overs at that stage. Big Papa Zambezi Jeff joined me at the crease with the instruction, “we’re to bat for the draw”;
This instruction was playing to my extremely limited skills as a batsman – i.e. to prevent a competent but tiring bowling attack from getting me out. It transpired that Jeff had similar skills. We frustrated the Tufty Stackpole bowlers and managed to extract some honour from that first match by not being bowled out.
…North Crawley has two pubs and the cricket club is honour bound to divide its business between the two. Over the years we certainly tried both.
We enjoyed the post-match conviviality for quite a while and revelled in raising a goodly sum for the charity. I remember that Janie and I got home quite late, ahead of punishingly early starts the next morning. We only made that mistake the once, opting to take the morning or even the whole Monday off after subsequent Tufty matches.
Sandwiched between a short break at The White Swan in Pickering and the first Children’s Society v Tufty Stackpole cricket match, Janie and I spent an evening and night in Halifax seeing this show and then dining with Mike & Lottie Ward.
I had written the programme notes for Mike’s play – click here for said notes – and jolly good were the programme notes too…also the play, of course, also the play.
Actually I also wrote a review of the play/production, which I can reproduce in full below:
I thought this production was very good and an advance on The Elland Affair in several respects. The play itself was very interesting, with lots of character development and (almost too much) plot and intrigue. The casting and performances were good pretty much without exception. It was a most ambitious production in many respects and a great credit to cast and crew that they pulled it all off with such aplomb.
The programme notes were, once again, insurmountable and without question the highlight of the whole production!!?
Seriously, if I have any criticism of the play, it is too long and a little short on modern relevance. I know Mike Ward’s brain is already grappling with these issues for his next one. And I hope his next play arrives soon, because these Actors’ Workshop home-grown play/productions are getting stronger year on year and are a rare achievement in a small theatre such as The Actors’ Workshop.
All involved in this production should be commended and the people of Calderdale should be fighting now to get the hot tickets for the next home-grown production.
Not especially coincidentally, we saw The Elland Affair (Mike’s previous year’s piece) while on a tour which also included The White Swan in Pickering plus my first ever book signing:
Yes, the big fuss is for that little urn. Do you have a problem with this?
In November 2000, there will have been an outbreak of joy in several households, not least mine, when we received the following missive from Nigel Hinks:
Just to confirm that despite “unprecedented interest” (Warwickshire CC) TICKETS have been secured in usual places (Priory Stand Row A 12-17) for the above.
Cost of £67 (32 Thursday+35 Friday). Payable as soon as you like………
Haven’t yet spoken with David. No assumptions about Wadderton or indeed David as ‘catering manager’. Just book it in the diaries and look at it throughout the winter months!!!
Nigel
Needless to say, Wadderton & David Steed’s catering management came through.
Nick “The Boy Malloy” Bartlett (like me, a 1999 initiate);
Me “Ged Ladd”.
The mists of time have left a mystery, nay even controversy, surrounding the absence of Nick Bartlett in 2000. I’ll leave that debate for others to argue out in articles other than this one…or possibly in court if the debate gets too adversarial.
Differently controversially, my team of mascots, which had included Henry The Duck & Hippity the Green Bunny in 2000, was increased by the addition of Bananarama Monkey-Face in 2001.
Bananarama Monkey-face in 2004, no doubt “in care” having been rescued from Jeff’s clutchesDaisy & I were adopted by Bananarama Monkey-Face in Pickering in July 2000. This image from his post trauma writing phase in 2014.
I don’t suppose that Nigel’s 1995 vision included duck, bunny & monkey mascots, but that simply shows that revelations of that kind only reveal part of the future story. It also shows that, to some extent, you should always beware what you wish for, even if it is something as wonderful and enduring as The Heavy Rollers.
Actually it was Jeff Tye who seemed least pleased with the mascot contingent and took some pains over the forthcoming years to ease them out of the picture.
Many of us had a sense of foreboding about the 2001 Ashes, despite the seeming opposite from some of us in the November 2000 e-mail bants:
Jeff: What a prospect – the tide has turned – England 480 for 8 after 2days in Pakistan – just imagine the score after 2 days against Australia at Edgbaston – the book is already open Charles !!!!
Me: I just hope those Aussies can last two whole days.
Chas: I do not wish to sound unpatriotic, but the Aussies will give us the most extreme test of our cricketing abilities!
Our sense of foreboding was more than justified. Here is the match scorecard. The sense that England might somehow be in with a shout dissipated soon after lunch on Day One.
I’m pretty sure this was the match at which Charles managed to persuade some autograph-hunting youngsters that Nick was Andrew Flintoff, watching with us from the front row of the Priory Stand.
Nick BartlettFreddie Flintoff
You can see for yourselves above that this must have been an easy scam to pull off, especially with Nick ‘s poker face showing no sign whatsoever that this was a lark.
Nevertheless, a few dopey kids lined up and collected Nick’s forgery of Freddie Flintoff’s autograph.
Frankly, I think Charles might easily have passed himself off as Freddie Flintoff at that time. Again, judge for yourselves.
Freddie Flintoff setting a fieldCharles Bartlett setting a field
Joking apart, and despite the fact that the memories of these matches, writing them up more than 20 years later, are quite faded, I do recall that we had a superb time yet again.
I also recall that, on the Friday afternoon, I popped out to the loo, anticipating an hour or so more of play, but when I came out of the loo the heavens had opened and everyone was pouring out of the stands. Nigel very kindly gathered up my things, rescuing Henry, Hippity and Bananarama-Monkey-Face from what could have been a very soggy demise.
As well as rescuing “my boys”, Nigel must also have rescued Jeff Tye’s “betting sheets” for the prediction game, which ended up in my hands for computation that year – perhaps for the first time but certainly not the last. Those relics remain with me to this day – here they are:
Unmistakably you can see Jeff’s templates with Jeff’s writing all over them…until you get to the computations which are in my trademark scrawl. I note that the going rate at that time was just 20p per punter per line.
I think several people had brought cars with them to the church grounds near Edgbaston Stadium with a view to driving home from the ground on the second day. Nigel kindly took me to the railway station on his way out of town. Our correspondence that weekend (I peppered his e-mail with comments):
Nigel: Hope you got home ok. Friday. We experienced the most amazing flooding in suburban Harborne after we dropped you off.
Me: Hope it didn’t hold you up too much – I got home c20.40
Nigel: Ah well we got the best couple of days and possibly the day of the series.
Me: almost certainly
Nigel: Shame about the collapse today again. But what a knock from Gilchrist who you fancied….just as well he didn’t get in on Friday!
Me: Yup
By November 2001, though, we were lining up for a breach of tradition in 2002. Nigel again:
Dear Jeff, Ian, David, Charles and Nick,
We agreed, I think, unanimously that we won’t resume our traditional places at Edgbaston this coming year given that it is taking place in May.
However some mutterings abound for us to up sticks and try Trent Bridge.
This would be for 8th and 9th August, in Nottingham, against India (2nd Test) and it would mean adding in some accommodation costs if we do the 2 days.
So, before I do anything, could you let me know if you are interested.
How did that all pan out? Well, unless you can remember, you’ll simply have to await the next exciting episode to find out.
