\u2018That\u2019s Panto, Doris. Totally different.\u2019 I gave a shudder at the thought of Les doing Twankey in a Stasi uniform, \u2018He says he\u2019s been preparing for months. And he did his National Service in Cologne; his German won\u2019t be bad.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018He was a post-war Private, Gonby. What exactly do you think he learnt how to say?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I took a sip of tea and reached for my Woodbines, while wet and weary shoppers groaned, grumbled and gossiped around us in Beatties\u2019 cafeteria. Doris had always been an overprotective mother, but I couldn\u2019t deny she had a point.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Anyway,\u2019 she continued, \u2018they only made the draw on Wednesday, so how he could have been preparing I\u2019ve no idea. He doesn\u2019t put anything like enough work into his parts. You know CAWSAMAC are thinking of kicking him out?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018No, I didn\u2019t,\u2019 I said. The Chapel Ash Wolves Supporters and Method Actors Collective was Les Benton\u2019s life. At our last meeting, he had said something in a matter-of-fact-and-keep-it-to-yourself type way that he was considering joining the Blakenhall Actors\u2019 Studio, but I hadn\u2019t thought much about it at the time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I think that\u2019s what this is all about. A grand gesture to restore his reputation with the committee. It\u2019s the East German border guards that he should be worrying about, not bloody Brian Cleaver and that lot.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018You know, I hope you don\u2019t mind me telling you this, Doris, and please don\u2019t tell Les I said anything, but he doesn\u2019t really feel you support his dreams\u2026\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018You know a boy died on that wall, don\u2019t you, Gonby? Left to die with a bleeding you-know-what while the guards on both sides looked on. If that\u2019s his dream then he needs to wake up a bit.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018He\u2019s not doing this to get shot. Have some faith, Doris. Les says he’s the best British actor of his generation.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018His generation of the family \u2013 maybe. Although our Nora can be a bit on the dramatic side, as you well know.\u2019 I certainly did. \u2018But a one-man show in the back room of The Stile and panto in Bushbury? Hard to imagine Hollywood agents standing up to take note, ay it?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Well, ar,\u2019 I said. \u2018But the greats don\u2019t necessarily go to Hollywood. Look at Donald Sinden.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Donald Sinden is crap,\u2019 said Doris. There was no answer to this, and after a short silence she began to put on her headsquare ready to face the impending snow. I finished my tea and headed over to the Bottom Fox, to enjoy a few pints before the match.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u25a1 \u25a1 \u25a1 \u25a1 \u25a1<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Three days later I was strapped into a BEA Vickers Viscount making a rather shaky landing at Berlin Templehof airport, surrounded by members of the CAWSAMAC (many of whom lived much further along the Tettenhall Road than the group\u2019s name suggested) and the Flying Squadron (who had amassed a sizeable Foreign Excursion Fund since the last competitive European fixture eleven years before). A ticket had come into my possession some time that Saturday evening, between leaving the North Bank in driving snow and watching our five-one demolition of Arsenal all over again on Match of the Day during a lock-in at the Pied Bull, meaning I could have a lie-in rather than getting up at four to meet up with the Honorable and Worthy Peddlars outside the Molineux Hotel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After a quick tour of the Western Sector, sheltering from the biting cold in numerous hostelries, we stopped at the Cafe Adler, giving Les the opportunity to change into his uniform. \u2018You\u2019re absolutely sure about this?\u2019 I said to him, as he emerged from the toilet with the high-fronted cap perfectly adjusted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Darling, I\u2019ve never been more sure of anything\u2026,\u2019 he paused and looked around, gauging the attention of the CAWSAMAC members, \u2018in my life!<\/em>\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Shut up, Gonby! You\u2019re breaking the fourth wall!\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n Two minutes later, we were at the Eastern checkpoint.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Gu<\/em>ten<\/em> Morgen, Herr Oberstleutnant.<\/em>\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Gu<\/em>ten<\/em> Morgen<\/em>,\u2019 replied Les, with what sounded to me rather a good accent.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Bist du schon lange im amerikanischen Sektor, Herr Oberstleutnant?<\/em>\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Les was a little hesitant. \u2018Ja,<\/em>\u2019 he smiled, nodding his head, \u2018Wirklich gut.<\/em>\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The exchange continued. Les said ja <\/em>a lot at first, and, realizing this, then became more adventurous. I was nervous, though I noticed with some encouragement that the guard was smiling. He then called some colleagues over. The smiles became laughs. Les tried to work with this, joining in with the laughter himself. At that point the laughing stopped. The first guard eyed him coolly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Zese are strange clothes for a tourist,\u2019 he said eventually, \u2018Vere are your papers?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Les changed tone. \u2018Zwei Zigaretten finder ich sehr teuer!\u2019<\/em> he barked with what he hoped was an officer\u2018s authority, \u2018Deiner Mutter ist nicht so sch\u00f6n<\/em>.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Please, this a terrible mistake,\u2019 I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Oh, it\u2019s terrible all right,\u2019 said a voice behind me. It sounded like Brian Cleaver.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I have his passport here,\u2019 I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Les was now quite flustered. \u2018Shut up, Gonby! You\u2019re breaking the fourth wall!\u2019<\/em> then, to the guard, \u2018Sollen wir irgendwohin gehen, wo es ruhiger ist?\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Ja, klar,<\/em>\u2019 <\/em>said the guard, reaching for his pistol, \u2018<\/em>Komm<\/em>en<\/em> mit mir.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Please, officer,\u2019 I said, \u2018He doesn\u2019t mean any harm. He\u2019s just acting.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n The guard was leading Les to an interrogation room. He stopped just before the door and turned around. <\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Zis you call actink?\u2019 he said with a sneer. <\/p>\n\n\n\n After a few minutes it was clear Les wasn\u2019t coming back. We were shown across to the Eastern side and headed for the station.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On the train to Jena, Les\u2019s expulsion from the Chapel Ash Wolves Supporters and Method Actors Collective was carried by unanimous vote after a brief review of his performance over sandwiches.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018There was nothing wrong with the uniform,\u2019 said Kenneth Starke, (or \u2018Wardrobe\u2019, as he was calling himself) \u2018Did you see how the guard addressed him in German first?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I offered to help him prepare,\u2019 said Brian Cleaver, who\u2019d also been stationed in Germany after the war, \u2018Oh no: he\u2019d be fine. I gave him the first draft of a script: oh no, he\u2019d be fine. Fine! Did you hear what he was saying?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I don\u2019t speak German.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018\u201cYour friend is short, but she\u2019s got nice legs.\u201d, \u201cYou\u2019re the prettiest little Fraulein I\u2019ve seen in Cologne.\u201d? Not entirely in character, you might say.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Sandwich, Brian?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018No thanks, Ken. I had quite enough ham back in Berlin.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u25a1 \u25a1 \u25a1 \u25a1 \u25a1<\/p>\n\n\n\n Unlike Les\u2019s performance, Wolves\u2019 visit to Jena was a triumph, thanks to resolute defending and a twelfth-minute strike by young John Richards. After a tour of Jena\u2019s hostelries, chatting to locals then watching them run to the secret police to keep them updated, we headed to the station and waited for the first morning train, huddling together for warmth. At Checkpoint Charlie I asked the guard if Les could be returned now that we were leaving for the American Sector. He went to the interrogation room and returned in a few minutes with Les in tow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Here is your friend,\u2019 said the officer. \u2018Please have a word with him for me. He has no business in zer German Democratic Republic. Or,\u2019 he fingered his pistol in its hip holster, \u2018on zer stage.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Sounds like your mother,\u2019 I quipped, as we left the concrete building.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Hmm,\u2019 said Les, vaguely. He usually enjoyed a little fun at his mum’s expense. Perhaps his night with the Stasi had brought him around to Doris\u2019s point of view. There was a cold look in his eyes and they seemed a paler grey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Shall we get coffee?\u2019 he said, pointing to the Cafe Adler.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I don\u2019t want to talk about that right now.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n Once seated, I offered him a Woodbine, and we smoked and sipped our coffee in lonely silence. I wanted to console him but, knowing how touchy actors can be, decided to wait until he broached the subject. Still, it felt he was taking it especially hard. Even allowing for the language barrier his performance can\u2019t have been any worse than his Hamlet at the Combermere Arms, where the public were urging him to \u2018make [his] bloody mind up!\u2019 even before his father\u2019s ghost had vanished. Les had been relatively upbeat about that debacle — blaming the script, for the most part. Why had a rash improv upset him so much? I tried to take his mind off things.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018You know we won?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018What was the score?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018One-none.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Do you have my passport?\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Ar, it\u2019s here,\u2019 I said and passed it to him. Why hadn\u2019t he asked me who scored? He looked through it thoughtfully and then placed it in his inside pocket.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Was it rough in there?\u2019 I asked, finally.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Yes. Difficult.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018You don\u2019t seem yourself.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I\u2019ll be all right.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n After paying the bill we headed to Tempelhof airport. Or rather, Les headed there and I followed. Though absent in other ways he was clear and direct when it came to navigating the city, and we were soon settled in the departure lounge drinking an early lager and watching the commercial flights and military planes come and go in the murky grey morning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018Looks like we\u2019ll be in the semi-finals,\u2019 I said, still trying to pierce his mood.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u2018I don\u2019t want to talk about that right now,\u2019 replied Les.<\/p>\n\n\n\n This became something of a theme. I spoke about work, Derek Dougan, his mum, only to get the same reply. I gave up long before we boarded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was after we reached cruising altitude that things got clearer, and darker. Les got up to go to the toilet as we crossed Holland, and a small business card dropped from his pocket. He didn\u2019t notice, and I said nothing, seized by a feeling of curiosity and dread. I waited until he was locked in the booth and turned it over.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Methodakteure und Dynamo Berlin Anh\u00e4nger von Gr\u00fcnau und M\u00fcggelheim<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The first word was easy enough to translate, and everybody knew that Dynamo were sponsored by the security forces. Had Les been scouted by and initiated in an East German method acting football supporters collective? Given his performance on the Mauerstra\u00dfe this seemed unlikely. In which case the only explanation would be that the guy in the toilet wasn\u2019t Les at all, but a Doppelg\u00e4nger<\/em> sent to infiltrate Wolves and other aspects of British society while his double eschewed affective memory for electrodes and sleep deprivation in some Soviet-sponsored hellhole. It was an uncomfortable thought, but not quite as uncomfortable as the thought of explaining all this to Doris Benton. I decided to keep schtum, and live forever in the knowledge that there was an East German spy in our midst, looking over my shoulder, guarding my words, taking care never to be left alone with \u2018Les\u2019 or anybody that he got close to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n All in all, a great day out and a fantastic result which meant one foot in the quarter-finals. Come on you Wolves!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Acting is all about making choices. Crossing the Iron Curtain is more to do with keeping your mouth shut.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":687,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[17,31,36,39,59,75,110,122],"class_list":["post-675","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-berlin","tag-carl-zeiss-jena","tag-checkpoint-charlie","tag-cold-war","tag-john-richards","tag-method-acting","tag-uefa-cup","tag-wolves"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/675","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=675"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/675\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=675"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=675"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=675"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}![\"\"](\"https:\/\/gonbys.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2020\/08\/interchair.jpg\")