Stalin, Dietrich and the Porno Star – Part 4

by Shamus on June 16, 2018

So anyway, I bit the bullet and turned the bed to face this porn star guy with the unfeasibly huge penis. I figured at the time that, bearing in mind what had happened to Marlene Dietrich, he just might turn into Sharon Stone or Kim Basinger or someone like that. Of course, there was always the danger he’d turn into Margaret Thatcher or maybe Ethel Merman – if you’d had given me a choice of anyone, it would have been Buster Keaton. With all this weirdness going on, I really needed a laugh and perhaps a little bit of absurd fantasy.

Well now, I’m staring at this guy with the unfeasibly huge penis. He was standing in a desert landscape that was quite bare, except for what looked like a group of camels in the far distance. As I looked intently at the picture, I found myself being drawn into the desert. Then the wind started to howl and I was jerking up and down, up and down and being lashed by the wind and the sand. When I looked down, I found myself dressed in the uniform of an officer in the Afrika Corps, seated on the top of a Tiger tank and leading a column back into a desert hideout. The sky was full of black oily smoke and there were quite a few burnt out vehicles scattered around. There had obviously been an attack while we had been away and our H.Q. had suffered badly. The strange thing was, that the barrel of the gun sticking out the front of the tank resembled a huge ten-foot long penis and it was flopping about all over the place. When I looked round, I saw that all the other tanks were the same, they all had floppy gun barrels.

So, I’m walking into this tent to make a report. There seated on a cane chair, is Field Marshall Erwin Rommel. I knew then that it was El Alamein. Yes, it was 1942 and we were in the North African desert. Because I knew this, I also knew, that I knew the position of Monty’s army and that Rommel didn’t know that I knew because, if he had known that I knew, he would have changed his strategy and this could have altered the course of the war. Well, I had a good look at him and do you know, he was the spitting image of James Mason. And he spoke perfect English; a bit of an accent maybe, but perfect – it was amazing! Now, his adjutant looked just like Curt Jurgens. He actually is German, I grant you, but he does speak perfect English. Well, I suppose I was a little disappointed. I mean, if things had been different, and say I’d been riding in a British tank, when we got to H.Q. there would probably have been, let’s see now –  Richard Attenborough, Ralph Richardson, David Hemmings, Dirk Bogarde, John Geilgud, Lawrence Olivier, Alfie Bass, Alec Guiness – there are so many! I would have been surrounded by familiar faces. As it was, there was Field Marshall Rommel, looking just like James Mason and staring at me with a look of high expectancy on his face.

I’d probably gone to his tent to make a report. I didn’t know what to do, but I had to act quickly. I wanted to tell him that none of all this mattered, because Germany would lose the war and he’d be dead in a couple of years, so everything was pointless. Well, he’d believe that as much as he would believe that Adolf Hitler was president of Amnesty International. Instead, I decided to approach things kind of laterally and tell him about a fantastic Pink Floyd concert I’d been to at Knebworth the previous year. Well Rommel listened to me talking about this stuff; Dark Side Of The Moon, The Wall, Saucerful Of Secrets and all that. I must say, he was a very good listener and seemed quite interested, especially about The Wall and the story of Roger Water’s childhood during the blitz in London and how the Luftwaffe had bombed his and thousands of other families out of their homes. He seemed even more intrigued when I told him about the regular visits of Herbert von Karajan and the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra to the Albert Hall during the 70’s and about how well they were received by the press. But his demeanour changed when I got on to the punks in the late 70’s and early 80’s and he appeared to get visibly bored. Well, I guess he was a very cultured man and didn’t like stories about spitting and throwing cans of beer and stuff like that. And then… well, then he just nodded. It was one of those nods that says, “yes, very well, you can go now”. So I did.

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