Milligan - Goodbye Soldier

Maria Antoinetta Fontana

The charabanc, with its precious cargo of bisexual soldier artistes, see-saws through the narrow Neapolitan streets. It is a day of high summer. We pull up at our destination, the Albergo Rabacino. The sunlight plays on its golden baroque chiselled faade. Lieutenant Ronnie Priest hurries into its mahogany portals, only to return downcast of visage. The bloody girls will be a while; theyve just got back from mass. He lights up a cigarette. Bloody females, he adds. We all debouch to stretch our legs and other parts. Immediately, we are set on by street vendors. I was taken up with a tray of chrome and gilt watches I needed a watch badly, a good heavy one that would stop me being blown away. As we barter, the Italian Corps de Ballet usher forth with their luggage. Our balding driver, Luigi, is rupturing himself stowing the bulging cases into the rear locker all this while I have just clinched a deal for a watch that looks like a burnished gold Aztec altar, a huge lump of a thing. On me, it made my wrist look like an Oxfam appeal for food. I had bargained the price down from ten million lire to seven thousand and the vendor was running away at full speed while counting the money. I was winding it when a female voice diverted me: Ow much you payer for that? I turned to see a petite, mousy-haired, blue-eyed, doll-like girl.

The first clash of eyes was enough. It was, no, not love at first sight that came later but it most certainly was something at first sight. (Darling, I feel in something at first sight.)

I paid seven thousand lire.

She tsu-tsu-tsued and shook her head. You know all watch stolen. No, I didnt know that. Let me see, she said, in a semi-commanding voice. She examined the watch. Maybe, yes, she said, returning it.

I said it was a very good watch, it told the time in Italian as well as English. What was her name?

My namer is Maria Antoinetta Fontana, but everyone call me Toni.

Im Spike, sometimes known as stop thief or hey you!

Yeser, I know. She had found my name on the programme and had obviously set her sights on me. I would make good target practice. Maria Antoinetta Fontana was understudy for the premire ballerina at the Royal Opera House in Rome. From now on, it was goodbye Bing Crosby, lead soldiers and Mars bars. She was so petite! Five feet four inches! We are all aboarding the Charabong, I notice that Toni has lovely legs and the right amount, two. I tried to sit next to her, but in the mle I ended up in the seat behind her as Riccy Trowler, our crooner, had fancied her and beat me to it. If he looked at her, I would kill. Do you hear me? KILL! Didnt he know with me around he hadnt a chance! Me, the Brockley Adonis? Poor blind little fool. Me, the Harry James of St Cyprians Hall, SE 26! Hold very tight and fares please, says Lieutenant Priest in mock cockney bus conductor tones as we set off for the Holy City.