The Narrow Boat Diaries, Chapter Six: Who'd have Thought It?

It was dark now, and Des and I were getting used to a Kettleby Princess without Beyoncé. For a while we spoke little; each of us coming to terms with her not being there, not being stroppy and scary and beautiful all at the same time; we missed our shipmate.

Unspoken, we established the need to ‘do the dishes’. High tea with Jay Z and The Men (see Diaries passim) had left the cabin in a bit of a state, but the chore was a welcome diversion from the business of missing our friend. I dug out the bottle of sherry, a Manzanilla I’d been keeping back; sod tea, we needed a drink.
Donning the chewy Marigolds we found at the start of our holiday, and fishing out a bone-dry J-cloth (are they related?) that had taken on the shape of the ‘Limelite’ bottle over which it had been draped, Des filled the sink and got stuck in.

‘So,’ he began, ‘I’m in LA, at The Marmont for this do; I’m wearing a lovely jacket, that salmon pink one that you wouldn’t let me work the lock in the other day, remember?’ (I did). ‘And this chap comes up all arsy and very drunk and he says “Hey man” (at this point Des O’Connor CBE adopted an eerily plausible imitation of a West Coast rocker) “I know you man, I KNOW you; you’re that English dude I saw last time I was in Lunnun’” and I’m standing there thinking who on Earth is this, and he carries on “You’re.. don’t tell me.. no, no, no.. don’t tell me man you’re..” At which point he fell over. Then he’s back up on his feet: “You’re Des O’Connor man! Tha’s who you are; you’re Des O’Connor!” And he’s looking around the bar with this glassy-eyed stare like we’re all supposed to applaud. “Flattered I’m sure. Who are you?” and he says: “Asssl” and I said “Asssl? Sounds like something else where I come from. What kind of a name’s that?”

“AXEL Man! My name is Axel but I spell it without the ‘e’ ‘cos I gotta make a statement: or should that be statmnt!” at which point he started this sort of whinnying giggle and drifts off. Well, I’m looking for the chap from the telly company to get me out of this and you know what Fred? No blinking where to be seen; it’s just me and this drunk in a bandana and it’s God knows what time in the morning and I’m thinking how nice it would be to just go to the lift and go to bed when he comes back to life and jumps up and stares me straight in the face and says “Des you’re a star man; a real star. The way you’re breaking all those acts; Jay Leno, Jerry Seinfeld; you’re onto sump’n there man, I tell ya...” and he’s so close I can count his fillings, and he goes on: “ Des; you’re jus’ the man I need...” and he started giving me this funny look; very controlling, and now I’m getting nervous. “See, I’m kinda..stuck; know what I’m sayin? Stuck. Need some ‘vice. Sendin’ a car for you in the mornin’ man; you come to mine; we work it out!” and he’s shouting and no-one’s paying a blind bit of notice I mean, this is Hollywood so I suppose this is all grist to the mill for the staff but I’m finding it all a little, well, testing.

‘Des?’ I interrupted, ‘More sherry?’

‘Thanks Fred; don’t mind if I do’ He stopped to take a sip, some soap suds running off the rubber gloves and down the stem of the sherry glass, catching the light from the feeble strip lamp above the worktop. It was now pitch black outside, and I broke off from drying up to draw the curtains on their wire worms. A dead spider fell into the sink.

‘So next day I’m coming to in my room. Fabulous by the way Fred; fabulous; the sheets! The towels! The pot pourri! And the phone rings and the voice says; “Car’s there for you man. Get over here” and it’s this Axel fellow but with no ‘e’. So I’m in the car, it’s all very nice and there’s a girl there too and I’m thinking; crikey; don’t think so, bit early for all that but nice view all the same. Then we’re sweeping up the drive of this enormous house, porticos and everything, llamas on the lawn, some naked people wandering around with drinks and an ornamental pond that was more like a lake...’ Des paused, and took a draft of the all-too-easily quaffable Manzanilla.

‘So in I go, flunky shows me into the drawing room and in walks my new best mate. “Des!” he shouts, “Come here man, lemme see ya!” and throws his arms around me like we’ve known each other all our lives and leads me off to his studio.
‘Well; I’m stunned. You’ve never seen anything like it Fred. It’s fur lined for one thing, and there’s another llama..’ Des stopped suddenly; he’d spotted a bit of dried-on jam on the cake tin and attacked it with renewed zeal. ‘....could have been a yak. Anyway, it’s in amongst the mic stands like it’s the most normal thing in the world and I’m thinking this is a long way from the bar at Television Centre when suddenly the whole mood changes; he plays a tape and Axl’s concentrating, and staring at me hard. “Des, man. Listen to this. I wrote it for my fish“, and as the tape plays he starts crying: “Des, I love’em man, I love ‘em; they mean the world to me man, like you man! They don’t let you down man, not ever” and I’m hearing this fantastic number, a rock’n’roll anthem, thundering chords, stupendous vocals; the works, but poor old Axl’s unhappy; the song’s almost there but not quite; know what I mean? (I did but, not wanting to break the flow, remained silent save for a nod); Des continued.

”Axl” I said, and he gave me that funny look I’d seen in the bar the night before,

“’I can tell you like your wildlife, I mean, it jumps out at you when you pull up the drive, and I can see you love your fish”

“And?” he said.

“Well” I said. “This is brilliant but trust me, I reckon you could sell a lot more copies if you made it about a girl.” Suddenly he’s all ears, and bolt upright, and stone cold sober.

“How many people” I said “are going to buy a record called ‘Sweet Carp of Mine’, I mean, that’s just silly” and you know what Fred; it was like a light went on. “And”, I said “while we’re at it, if you’re asking my opinion, and I think you are, ditch the kaftan and get yourself a pair of tight black leather pants; you’re supposed to be a rock god after all.”

“Des! That’s why I love you man! You’re the real deal; you’re the full tomato; awesome, just awesome. Now, leave me be; I need some space. Gotta clear this thing up”. Then he snapped his fingers and the flunky reappeared and I’m back in the car and back at the hotel; all very odd.

‘I wrote him a note; said how much I’d enjoyed my morning and hoped it had helped; that sort of thing. He sent a note straight back; would I like to come to the video shoot? Well would I ever? And that’s where the next extraordinary thing happened Fred.’ Des paused for dramatic effect, and, knowing perfectly well he had me hooked, took another slug of sherry before waving the empty glass under my nose for a refill. Outside some small waterborne creature, a coot probably, splashed its way back into the canal and paddled away into the night.

‘Do go on’ I ventured.

‘I arrive at the studio and they’re all in a right flap. There’s Axl, who looked terrific I must say; he’d got rid of the kaftan and had taken my hint about the leather pants, but he’s beside himself; running around, yelling and screaming.

“What’s up Ax me old mate?” says I.

“It’s Slash; he’s a no-show”. Now, I’d worked out who was who by this time, so I knew he was talking about their lead guitarist chappie. “And if we don’t get this shoot under way in five minutes the label’s gonna pull the whole Goddam’ thing and I need this video to work man.”

“Axl, where’s Wardrobe?” I said, seizing the initiative.

“Trailer’s in back Des; says ‘Costume’ on the door. Why man?”

“I’ve an idea..” and I left it at that. Well, I found the trailer, which was really a motor home, like a giant Dormobile, and had a rummage. I asked the girl if they had any wigs. “Sure Grandad” she says, and I gave her such a look Fred, I can tell you, before working my way methodically through a couple of boxes on the floor. Soon as I’d got what I wanted, I went straight back into the studio and picked up a guitar (I play a bit see Fred; don’t advertise it but I can pick out a tune).

“How do I look?” Axl looked stunned Fred; totally floored. Then he did that funny giggle he’d done the night I met him. “Des man; that is f****n’ A man, just f*****g A” (he used the f word a lot Fred; I’m leaving that out, I mean there’s no need).

“Now” I said “If this is going to work you’ve got to give me free reign with this thing” and I waved the guitar at him and the rest of the band.
“Des” says Axl “If you can pull off that costume I’ll swear you can play guitar; go right ahead. There’s a section in the middle needs rampin’ up a bit so just do what feels right”

‘This was all I needed to hear Fred. We shot the video in one take, and although I say so myself, I doubt I’d played as well before, and I won’t play as well as that ever again; the licks just seemed to pour out of me; I felt as if I was playing out of my skin. The rest is history; and if you don’t believe me just have a look; there’s a video on the internet*. There’s me in my thrown-together costume; sleeveless denim jacket, stovepipe hat and huge wig, which completely covered my face and stank of patchouli oil, knocking out the riff for all I was worth. It was marvellous Fred; marvellous. Course I’m uncredited; that was the whole point of the wig; no-one would want to know that the world’s greatest ever guitar solo was actually conjured up by me, Light Ents legend and seriously middle aged bloke, and I didn’t mind that, still don’t; just helping some fellow travellers Fred; you’d do the same.

‘Slash came to in a ditch somewhere and wandered in just as everyone was packing up. Axl gave him such a telling off!

“You lousy S*********h! Not only did you nearly screw up the band’s entire friggin’ future, you just missed the best bit of guitar playin’ anyone here’s ever heard and it’s all thanks to my good friend from London England Des O’Connor! Now you better sit down and drink a ton of coffee Man cos’ you got a new solo to learn and learn good before we take this thing on the road...”. I made my excuses and left, my work with Guns’n’Roses was done.’

‘Crikey Des’ I said ‘What happened next?’

‘Didn’t hear a thing for a couple of years. Then, out of the blue, my accountant rings and says “Des? You checked your Jersey No.2 account recently? Think you’d better have a look.” So I call them up and ask for a statement and blow me down if there isn’t all this extra cash, and every entry’s marked ‘G’N’R: THANKS DES’ and a date. You know what Fred; I made more money out of those two days with Axl and the band than in my entire career, which is a bit galling really, when you think of the years of blinkin’ slog I’ve put in, and Morecambe and Wise taking the Mick for a living for God knows how long. Still, good business is where you find it I suppose, and Axl’s a top bloke; still get the odd cheque, even now.’

Tale told, Des slumped back on the narrow sofa, the fold-out table having been neatly stowed when we were half way through the sherry; he looked tired, we probably both did. It was, by this time, very late. Our friend would have completed her set some time ago and would now surely be enjoying drinks and canapés with the rest of her pop star mates at Glastonbury; would she be thinking of us, moored up here in Warwickshire? Ah well, either she’ll come back or she won’t; we would have to wait and see.

Des was by now fast asleep where he sat, and I could feel my eyes beginning to droop too. I stood and tidied the gangway (Des would wake up with a start and make his way back to his own berth in no time; wouldn’t do to have him trip over the recycling bin) and wiped down the sink, placing the freshly rinsed J-cloth over the taps.

Then, checking everything was switched off save the night light, I sat down briefly before heading off to my own snug little cabin. Just as I turned the turnbuckle catch I became aware of a noise. A purposeful, rhythmic yet distant splashing; the sound of oars... and they were getting closer. Who on Earth could be out rowing up the canal in the middle of nowhere at this time of night? I froze, the better to hear; was that a voice? Yes! And Texan too; Beyoncé was coming back!
©Fred Fibonacci 2011
*Author’s note: that video; see for yourself.... http://youtu.be/oobDQ0vdm8M