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In a BBC Radio interview some years ago, when told he was look-
ing very well, Spike replied: “Rubbish, I’ve been dead for years, and
nobody’s brave enough to tell me.”
227
‘No Sir, not true. I’m a hero wid’ coward’s legs, I’m a hero from the
waist up.’1
As Spike said in another context, “Legs are hereditary, and run in most
families” (Figure 1).
For over 40 years Spike Milligan has championed silly words and
sketches, a body of work that should be valued far more than it is in
schools, so I have written this piece to celebrate Spike’s eccentric and
influential contribution to children’s literature in education. I have
returned to his material for my own pleasure since childhood, listen-
ing to reruns of The Goon Show, enjoying his odd appearance on TV
or film and in particular reading his prose and poetry: Book of Milli-
ganimals, Silly Verse for Kids, Unspun Socks from a Chicken’s Laun-
dry, and Startling Verse for all the Family. I have used his writing
with children in schools for over 20 years, and they find it funny too.
It manages to blend the highly didactic with the anarchic in tone
(therefore an excellent educational model), uses very regular rhyth-
mic and rhyming schemes, and is consequently very easy to learn by
heart. Yet the best word to describe Spike’s work is: ‘antiestablish-
ment.’
Figure 1.
‘How long was I in the Army? Five Foot Eleven,’ Spike would say. But
his pacifist work rings as true now as ever.
Figure 2.
What Spike did in his nonsense verse, such as poking fun at the Brit-
ish military he had been part of, Dr. Seuss (aka Theodor Seuss Geisel)
did not do in his New York political cartoons during World War II. He
was happy to draw Hitler as a worm or an endless cow (with trade-
mark moustache) made up of all the invaded European countries,
with the caption reading: ‘The head eats: the rest gets milked,’ but
Seuss’s position was ‘America First,’ avoiding total anarchy. Spike took
strongly politicised and antiauthoritarian positions in his work, some-
thing that sparks critical thinking in schoolchildren, just as it did
‘I told you I was ill’ 231
Figure 3.
for me as a child. And like Dr. Seuss in his writing for children, with
his maxim: ‘A person’s a person, no matter how small,’ Spike often
directly championed and questioned children’s disenfranchisement,
as English writers such as Stevie Smith and Roald Dahl have done
(Figure 3):
she said:
She said as she tumbled the baby in:
There, little baby, go sink or swim,
I brought you into the world what more should I do?
Do you expect me always to be responsible for you? (Stevie Smith,
from Mother, What is Man? 1942, p. 182)
Kids
‘Sit up Straight,’
said Mum to Mabel.
Keep your elbows
232 Children’s Literature in Education
It was a really good Jungle: great scarlet lilies, yellow irises, thousands
of grasses all grew very happily, and this Jungle was always on time.
Some people are always late, like the late King George V. But not this
Jungle.
Figure 4.
the plimsoll line, where the little plimsolls (one UK word for
sneakers) float along the surface of the water. As in the work of Stevie
Smith and Dr. Seuss, Spike’s drawing is crucial to the text, and appre-
ciating the humorous counterpoint affirms something very important
for children. The comic line illustration that they are also skilled in
(but which is neither valued nor developed in school), is a vital form
of communication in creative work. Children devour the detail in
Spike’s sketches and relate directly to his literal humour; it makes
them ask urgent questions and look up words such as ‘hypochon-
driac’ and “plimsoll” just to get the joke. Incidentally, the Bald Twit
Lion does not get cured of his baldness, and the story threatens to end
sadly, with his heart broken.
“Sad growls” he said and then he did what no lion had ever done be-
fore, not even in the Ark, he laid himself down on the World and cried.
“Boo-hoo, boo-hairless-hoo.” The animals, having no television, gath-
ered around him to look and feel sad. (Milligan, A Book of Milliganani-
mals, 1968, p. 71)
can!/There’s a Fish that Talks in the Frying-Pan!’), and the later twen-
tieth century return to phonic literacy promotion through high-fre-
quency regular rhyming schemes such as Dr. Seuss’s playful use of
tongue-twisters, puns, hyperbole, chiasma (‘I meant what I said and I
said what I meant’), or polyptotons (the repetition of word-cores)
such as: ‘No former performers performed this performance.’ This is
what I love about using Lear, Spike, or Dr. Seuss for phonics teaching:
they do not lend themselves to phoneme drill, but to word play. Chil-
dren laugh while learning, and laughter is a reaction against rigidity.
‘Things could be worse,’ said Crow. ‘You could be a Hamlet pencil, 2B
or not 2B.’
Yet when it comes to topics such as love and loss and environmental
concern, all three are deeply serious poets, too, and must have influ-
enced the best British contemporary poet/illustrator collaborations
such as Michael Rosen with Quentin Blake and John Agard with Satoshi
Kitamura. Where John Agard says, ‘Green issues/are not to be treated
lightly. And quite rightly’ (Agard, Points of View with Professor Peek-
aboo, 2000), Spike comments harshly on the hypocrisies of sentiment
about “baby” animals and the use and abuse of them by humans:
Myxomatosis
A baby rabbit
With eyes full of pus
Is the work of scientific us. (Milligan, Small Dreams of a Scorpion,
1972, p. 26)
Figure 5.
‘I told you I was ill’ 235
Figure 6.
But like Edward Lear and Ogden Nash, Spike most often used the
animal kingdom as a rich resource for humorous commentary on di-
versity. Much of Lear’s best inventions are somewhere between the
human and the animal world—imaginative creatures such as the
Quangle-Wangle, the Pobble Who Has No Toes, the Yonghy-Bonghy-
Bo, and the Dong with the Luminous Nose. Freud called nonsense
words ‘verbal malformations,’ which resemble those found in para-
noia, hysteria, and obsessive behaviours, treating words like objects
(as children do), inventing artificial forms and deliberate ‘slips,’ what
Jean-Jacques Lecercle calls ‘regular irregularities’ such as ‘Twangum,’
‘Jumbly,’ and ‘Dong’; ‘morphologically incoherent but nevertheless
somehow regular’ (Lecercle, Philosophy of Nonsense: The Intuitions
of Victorian Nonsense Literature, 1994, p. 35).
The Dong with the Luminous Nose tells the sad story of a romantic
idyll shattered by the loss of the Jumbly girl who sailed away in the
family sieve, ‘And the Dong was left on the cruel shore/Gazing-gazing
for evermore,—’ a desertion which drives the Dong mad: ‘What little
sense I once possessed / Has gone quite out of my head!’ Spike read
his poems for BBC audio tapes, and laughs after some of them, inter-
jecting: ‘I must have been off my head when I wrote that!’ Ogden
236 Children’s Literature in Education
Where ‘poetry’ comes from the Greek word ‘poiein’ (to make), ‘ono-
matopoeia’ means ‘the creation of names,’ or ‘name-making.’ Highly
specific names of creatures and sounds are crucial to all these word-
makers’ work. With a name like Theodor Seuss Geisel, Dr. Seuss was
bound to play on name-making. And, like Edward Lear, Ogden Nash,
and Dr. Seuss, Spike plays with the idea of onomatopoeia as the possi-
ble origin or core of all language, self-expression, and communication.
Where you have Ogden Nash’s Skink, or Bugaboo, or ‘There goes the
Wapiti, Hippety-Hoppity!’, Spike gives us Itchy Koo Land, the Straw-
berry Moose, the Wiggle-Woggle, the Leetle with ‘Hands and Feetle/
Covered in ginger hairs,’ and the horse who can ‘clippety cloppity
‘I told you I was ill’ 237
Figure 7.
Onamatapia
Thud-Wallop-CRASH!
Onamatapia!
Snip-Snap-GNASH!
Onamatapia!
Whack-Thud-BASH!
Onamatapia
Bong-Ting-SPLASH! (Milligan, Unspun Socks, 1980, p. 71)
Figure 8.
from Karawane
wulubu ssubudu uluw ssubudu
tumba ba-umf
kusagauma
ba-umf. (Ball, Phonetic Poem, 1917, p. 8)
Nonsense II
Myrtle molled the Miller pole
While Tommy twigged the twoo
And Dolly dilled the dripper dole
As Willy wet the woo
Then Andy ate the Acker cake
And Wensy wonged the groo
As Herbert hacked the hatter rake.
240 Children’s Literature in Education
I met a Moroccan
With only one sock on. . . .
I met a Croat
Who had a sore throat.
Figure 9.
‘I told you I was ill’ 241
I met a Sioux
Who was six foot tioux. . . .
I met a Majorcan
Who wouldn’t stop torcan
I met a Fijian
Who’d just done his knee in.
I met an Iraqi
Who had a bad baqui. . . . (Milligan, Startling Verse, 1987, pp. 76–77)
Figure 10.
242 Children’s Literature in Education
Spike wrote most of the irreverent and surreal material for over two
hundred shows containing ridiculous character spoofs and improb-
able sound-effects (such as a man hit over the head with sock full of
custard). Spike’s mental health suffered throughout, and he was occa-
sionally absent due to nervous collapse. As he put it, ‘The Goon
Shows did it. That’s why they were so good.’ I think it was Freud who
said a great comedian takes our pain unto himself. Making connec-
tions between creative drive and madness is what much of Spike’s
work actually does. Like the anti-psychiatrist R. D. Laing and neurolo-
gist and writer Oliver Sachs, he questioned what madness is when it
is categorised by those who categorically believe themselves sane. Are
children closer to this madness? Can children, as part of their condi-
tion—their ‘not yet’ fully sane or adult status—more readily appreci-
ate comic Bolshevism? I think perhaps they can.
Conclusion
In writing this I have come to the conclusion that a medical condition
perhaps encourages a writer not to waste time (nor words), and that
work published for children may not have been produced for them
alone. (But we knew that already.) ‘Make things as simple as you can,’
said Einstein. ‘But no simpler than that’ (Figure 11).
Figure 11.
What I know from Spike is that facing our worst fears can be done in
silly verse and then laughed at. I recommend listening to him read his
own stuff, which is exactly that combination of hilarious and tragic as
Edward Lear’s performances at the piano, singing his nonsense has
been described; hovering on a thin edge between tears and laughter.
And I also recommend learning Spike Milligan off by heart (Figure
12).
Notes
1. All quotes without sources come from my head. (I’ve tried to look them
up, but it’s all dark in there.)
‘I told you I was ill’ 245
2. Almost all the words written by Spike and other poets came up in my
spell-checker as ‘unacceptable’ spellings, which is a great compliment to
their words (and an insult to mine).
Every effort has been made to contract copyright holders
References
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Hark, Ina Rae, “Eccentricity and Victorian Angst,” Victorian Poetry, 1978, 16.
Jackson, Holbrook, ed., The Complete Nonsense of Edward Lear. London:
Faber & Faber, mcmxlvii.
Lecercle, Jean-Jacques, Philosophy of Nonsense: The Intuitions of Victorian
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