The Dark Side Of The 'Carry On' Funny Man

One of this country’s true comedy writing geniuses, Talbot ‘Tolly’ Rothwell, spoke little about his time in the Palestine Police Force, except, that is, for one sunny mid-summer’s day.

It might have been the heat that brought the outpouring of information, or then again it may have been the circumstances. After all, unbeknown to me, he’d just signed-off his very last Carry On script.

As we sat in his garden, I noted Tolly didn’t look well. Not just strained, but unwell. His usual spark seemed absent. His eyes, which always sparkled and engaged, seemed to be roaming in search of nothing in particular. It was then, as a lone siren wailed in the distance, that he embarked on a journey through his little known past.

He told me that there was a saying in the Palestine Police Old Comrades Association: "There is no promotion after Jerusalem." He said he adhered to the saying, but admitted to finding the training tougher than he’d expected.

He was young and not used to having to jump when someone barked for him to do so. He’d signed-up on a late-summer’s wet Wednesday, and over a year later he was still in training and only just nearing the end of his compulsory attachment to the mobile unit.

Tolly then smiled as he recalled that it hadn’t taken long for him to ingratiate himself into the very separate communities of the stallholders and shopkeepers from the city’s Moslem, Jewish and Christian Quarters. He said his natural way of being courteous and respectful had made him feel welcomed and seemingly above suspicion.

But one thing he didn’t’ take to was the chilly climate of the uplands of Jerusalem. He much preferred the more dependable summer and autumn seasons to be enjoyed in Tel Aviv.

Whilst on routine company patrols and manoeuvres Tolly recalled how he was a witness to the inner-workings and social-struggles of local families. Some mothers were raising as many as eight or nine children on an income of what Tolly classed as a pittance.

Initially it had taken him a while to gain the families’ trust. On spying Tolly’s uniform the children had been taught to run and hide, while their mothers would close shut their front doors and wait for ‘the law’ to pass.

But as he befriended their fathers and husbands in the workplace, it soon spread back to the families that Talbot ‘Tolly’ Rothwell was an honourable man, and as such, he was, in time, to become an easily tolerated part of the fabric of the local community.

That didn’t stop what came next. January 13^th 1939 was set to be a pretty average day on tour of duty for Tolly. But it was to end in near death and a realisation that life was short and as such opportunities should be grabbed with both hands and exploited to the full.

To find out what happened on that fateful day, look out for:

A Write Carry On (Wholepoint Publications)

 

Contact me at editor@brighton.co.uk