The Bedside Milligan or Read Your Way to Insomnia was written by Spike Milligan, published by Margaret & Jack Hobbs and was printed in 1969 in a Hardcover binding.
Terence Alan Patrick Seán Milligan, known as Spike, was a comedian, writer and musician. He was of Irish descent, but spent most of his childhood in India and lived most of his later life in England, moving to Australia after retirement. He is famous for his work in The Goon Show, children's poetry and a series of comical autobiographical novels about his experiences serving in the British Army in WWII. Spike Milligan suffered from bipolar disorder, which led to depression and frequent breakdowns, but he will be remembered as a comic genius. His tombstone reads 'I told you I was ill' in Gaelic.
This is pretty typical of Milligan’s stuff, bringing together a mixture of his humorous poetry and his prose, which is sort of a mixture between fiction and non-fiction. There’s no rhyme or reason here, except for the poetry which only has the former, making it pretty much a grab bag of random stuff.
It was okay, but not Milligan’s best. And as for being a bedside book, it’s too short. I read it in the bath.
If a girls notes app was written by someone’s uncle in the late 60s - you don’t know if the next page is going to be something very silly again or suddenly a very real angry letter to the government
Also, it baffles me every time I remember how people just said slurs in the past and no one stopped them… Or maybe this guy was a bit more racist than other people of the time? I’m glad it was a free book at the charity shop.
As always, a great collection of short verses, letters, and longer story jokes, complete with a smattering of what now would likely be called memes in the form of comedic artwork. I think my favourite is: “I sent my legs out for a walk / To keep them strong and fit / They would not go without me / So I made the b . . . . . . s sit.”.
The other Milligan book I read was laugh out loud funny, so when I saw this in the free bin I flipped through it and, seeing all the drawings and hand written poems, figured it might be something akin to Vonnegut. I couldn’t have been more wrong. So, after reading it in one sitting, back to the free bin it went.
A light and breezy little collection of poetry and short stories with no real theme connecting them. Milligan’s humour shines through and there’s some personal and introspective moments as well. Once again spoiled by Milligan’s casual racism so your mileage may vary.
Cabincore lit. Spike navel fluff. Sometimes his nonsense is the funniest thing, sometimes it bellyflops. But there are also two or three pieces in this, screeds almost, although still very short, written during mental breakdowns in the sixties, which are scary and sobering.