We Got Them Wrong

The recent publication of the memoirs of Arthur Davis has proved a treasure trove for the lover of comedy. Previously forgotten work by two London based comedians of the twentieth century has been presented to new audiences who have thus rekindled their dormant love affairs with the genuises who created these comic nuggets.

Arthur Davis was a milkman who worked in Ealing in West London. In the early 1960s comedians Arthur Haynes and Sid James lived almost opposite each other on the busy Gunnersbury Avenue. Davis soon came to know that he had two celebrity comedians on his round. He recounts with joyful glee the examples of their humour he encountered during his milk delivery work.

On one occasion he called at Sid James' house. James was famous for his lecherous laugh and the roguish cockney characters he often played. It was no surprise to Davis that he came across a humorous note. Left outside the front porch were three bottles rather than the usual two. In the neck of one of the bottles was a note in strange handwriting reading "no milk today". Davis recalls that he laughed so hard he was almost rooted to the spot gazing at this glittering bon mot. Here were three empty bottles instead of the usual two. Someone clearly was drinking extra milk. Then there was a note written by someone he did not recognise saying "no milk today". What was he to think? Had aliens invaded the house and eaten the occupants and washed them down with extra milk? The incident set him alight for the rest of the day and is recounted in glowing detail over forty years after the event as if it had happened yesterday.

An example of the humour of Arthur Haynes came one day in 1964. This comedian is forgotten now but once had a top rated TV show full of strange characters. He was also a morose person off screen which added to the comic effect of his milk-related wit. One day Mr. Haynes or someone in his family left a note saying they wanted to see Davis on Thursday morning when he came to collect the empty bottles. Davis rang the bell at the appointed hour and found there was no one home. In his mind's eye Davis saw Haynes dreaming up the joke and then walking around afterwards with his miserable demeanour seemingly oblivious to his own humour. Once more comedy genius had struck. In the Greystoke pub that afternoon Davis regaled everyone with the story and its force is not lost so many years later when it is retold in his book.

One further incident among many involved both Haynes and James. As Davis recalls he was approaching Haynes' house at the beginning of his run. As he drove along he disturbed a ten pound note left lying in the gutter for some reason. Davis did not earn much as a milkman and so got out of his float to chase the note. It blew across the busy road right into James' front garden. Scampering after it he fell flat on his face just as James himself came out of his door. Classically James asked him if he was alright. Davis stood up and said he was fine and got back into his float. Clearly the jape had been perpetrated by the two men acting in concert. It was probably not a real ten pound note anyway. Once more the irrepressible humour of these great comedians had been bestowed on the humble Davis and he almost cried with laughter as he recalled the incident over and over again as his family have frequently testified.

Arthur Davis is one of the last surviving links with the era when Haynes and James were neighbours. His memoirs cast new light on the true nature of the comedy of these great men. Comedians often complain that people expect them to be funny all the time and they are not allowed to do anything ordinary and unamusing. Davis graphically demonstrates that everything Haynes and James said and did was humour of the highest order. It has enriched his life and given him an endless fund of anecdotes to see him through old age. How grateful we should be that he has now chosen to share them with us all so that we no longer suffer the delusion that a comedian can be anything but.