It’s November 20, 1971, and we’re in
Charlotte, North Carolina, the opening night of the Who US tour that I wrote
about in an earlier post, the one where I nursed Pete through a nose bleed on the plane and
where Keith and I were almost chucked out of the arena for backstage tomfoolery.
Back
at the Holiday Inn where The Who are staying we’re all in the bar, aside from
Roger who, as ever, has retired early with a ‘temporary overnight female
companion’. Before long Pete and John retire as well and when the bar shuts a bunch of
us, some Who crew, a local fan or two who’d discovered our whereabouts, maybe
the odd intrepid girl, wind up in Keith’s suite where the mini-bar is soon
exhausted. Over at one end of the suite some gather around to watch a movie on a
TV mounted on the wall, but not Keith who’s telling jokes and
laughing at them himself, pretty loudly.
“Did
you hear about the one about the three nuns and the goat?”
Keith is talking too loudly for those by the
TV, one of whom asks him to make less noise. “We’re trying to watch a movie.”
This
is big mistake. As calm as you like, our host strides over to the TV set and
without even bothering to unplug it, wrenches it from its mounting, carries it
to the closed window and lobs it through the glass. We are about eight floors
up. There is a tremendous crash. “As I was saying…,” continues Keith to a now
speechless audience, “... there were these three nuns…”
It
takes about three minutes before the night porter knocks on Keith’s door, but
he’s ready for him, and before he can even open his mouth Keith hits his
stride. “I don’t know how I can possibly apologise for the terrible accident
that has just occurred,” he begins in his best Oxbridge accent. “It’s just too
unbelievable, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am dear boy. I was trying to
move the television closer to the window so that more of my guests might watch
it from the bed when it slipped from my grasp and, heaven forbid, fell through
the window… just the most awful thing to happen, and really a dreadful
accident... I just hope no-one was beneath it. Where did it fall? In the car
park? Oh dear, what a terrible thing to have happened. How much will it cost? I
can pay you now…”
And
it so it goes on, with Keith never allowing the porter to get a word in
edgeways until, finally, compensation having been agreed, the porter is about
to leave and return with some material with which to effect a temporary repair
on the window, which Keith has requested. Meanwhile all of us have somehow
managed to suppress our laughter, so – as a crowning gesture - Keith delivers
the killer blow: “Er... if you’re coming back would you be so kind as to bring
two more bottles of chilled champagne and,” Keith hesitates for just the right
number of seconds, “another TV?”
The following morning I had my breakfast in
the dining room, arriving just as Roger was polishing off the American
equivalent of a full English. I was surprised to see him there. “Bird was still
asleep,” he said by way of explanation. “A bit tired. Didn’t ‘ave the ‘eart to
wake her.” He polished off a cup of coffee and stood up from the table. “I will
now though. Nothing like a blow job after eggs and bacon.”
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