her never to speak to him from beyond the grave. The woman, only ill, recovered and "never, never
forgave me" as Butler put it. Ronnie Corbett was born today in 1930. Corbett is an English comedian
and short person famous for sitting in the dark on an armchair and telling stories. Like your dad, in fact,
but repellent. For that reason the entry for December 4th ends here except to say that it is a sad truth
that this is also the anniversary of the start of 1952's Deadly Smog in London when more than 4000
people died in the space of five days from killer pollution. Only slightly funnier than Ronnie Corbett,
then.
December 5th
This is largely a day of musical anniversaries primarily, although Christina Rossetti
was born today in 1830. Little Richard, of "Tutti Frutti" fame was born on December 5th 1932, Wolfgang
Amadeus Mozart died in 1791 at the age of 35 having written more music than most of us have listened
to. Acoustic songster J.J. Cale, never ever to be confused with avant- garde violist and Velvet Undergrounder
John Cale, was born today in 1938. He is famous for the songs "After Midnight" and "Cocaine", both
popularised but hardly altered at all by Eric Clapton. The album to buy for J.J. Cale is "Naturally", a
splendid debut album, although the double C.D. greatest hits "Anyway the Wind Blows" is also a good
bet. Walt Disney was born on December 5th 1901. His films have been dogged with the suggestion
that naked version of their stars have appeared in certain frames ("Snow White" and "The Little Mermaid" being
two alleged examples for those with freeze frame video players and a lot of time on their hands). This
may have been subliminal advertising for the "American League of Physical Culture" in New York City,
founded in 1929. This was, though the name hardly suggests it, the first nudist association in America.
Why not the "Nudity League of American" then or something that actually suggests that they like being
naked rather than implying a group interest in field sports? Surely not embarrassment?
December 6th
Today
is not exactly the most exciting day in literary history. In fact, it is a sad day in musical history more than
anything else, with the death of Roy Orbison in 1988. Orbison was famed for such crooned tunes as
"Oh, Pretty Woman" and "Crying", and latterly "I Drove All Night". Quite why he chose in his later years
to join The Travelling Wilburys is beyond the understanding of all but Tom Petty and Bob Dylan who did
exactly the same thing. This supergroup crashed rather swiftly to the ground, being rather less than
the sum of its parts. In a similar tale of immediate crash landing, today was also the date of the first
American satellite lift off, in 1957. This ill-fated craft managed to get 2 feet off the ground before blowing
up. This record was later broken by a terrorist on a trampoline.
December 7th
December 7th was the
day in 1985 that Robert Graves, author of I,Claudius, classical scholar, poet and all round good bloke
died in Majorca. He had something to say of places like the "American Naked League" or whatever its
name was: "At the superior nudist camp, a nice class distinction was made: the butlers and maids who
brought along the refreshments were forced to admit their lower social standing by wearing loincloths
and aprons respectively". If you've ever tried cooking or moving hot liquids in the nude, you will know
that this was probably a practical advantage.
Today was also the birthday of Tom Waits ("Tom Traubert's
Blues" etc.) in 1949. Waits, a songwriter and singer who sounds like he has warmed up for recording
sessions by drinking twenty shots of whiskey and then eating the glasses, is one of the few in popular
music's left field really worth a listen. His best ever, "Rain Dogs", is an extraordinary album, full of great
songs like "Downtown Train" and "Time" played by what sounds like a troupe of monkeys playing bongos
and harps with their bananas (yes, that good). For those of a tender disposition, "The Asylum Years" is
a good introduction to his early ballads featuring his exceptional reading of "Somewhere". Working with
writers like William Burroughs, Waits has always been something of a literary type and if anyone can
convince him to write a novel he should be locked in a shed with a pen for a few months and kept off of
his homemade instruments for a while.
December 8th
Due to the lack of literary anniversaries on December
8th, I think it may be worth continuing our "mad royals" section started with Mad Queen Juana (see last
month's editorial). On December 8th in 1926, Queen Christina of Sweden was born. She had a pathological
fear of insects and decided that the best way to deal with the problem would be to commission a kind of
insect killing device. This is in itself perfectly logical. What is less so is the fact that the weapon she
demanded that her servants design was a mini-cannon that fired miniature shells through its four inch
barrel at the unlucky insects. Mass production of insect stun-guns has, surprisingly, still not taken off.
'Lizard
King' Jim Morrison of The Doors was born today in 1943. He would no doubt have liked me to treat him
as a poet. So, here is a taster of his "Horse Latitudes" 'poem':
"Awkward instant
And the first animal is
jettisoned,
Legs furiously pumping
Their stiff green gallop,
And head bob up
Poise
Delicate
Pause
Consent
In
mute nostril agony"
If you feel the need to hear Morrison speak that nonsense to you, it is on "Strange