THE HILLS ARE ALIVE

Next Friday I am off to the land of flamenco and paella, birthplace of Antonio Banderas and General Franco. Seville, where the barber and the oranges come from. Not quite a holiday. I am travelling with the Kurt Nachtnebel Oompah Band (or K.N.O.B.) who are competing in the All-Europe Oompah Band championships. There will be an awful lot of trumping next week. Bert is usually on Triangle, but since Manfred was taken ill, has had to stand in for him on the Big Bass Drum, which leaves me holding Bert's small dangly instrument. I have precisely one “ting” to make, at the end of their grand finale, “Gretl gib’ mir meine Strumpfhosen” but if it’s not ‘ting’ed in exactly the right place the whole performance could fall apart and the K.N.O.B. would have to go home with tail hanging between legs.

Not every member of K.N.O.B. is of pure Prussian stock like Bert. Engelbert, for example, is from Bavaria. But they do not want it made common knowledge that they have a “Tommy” in their midst. Some older fans have long memories. So I have to wear a dirndl, or traditional German milkmaid’s dress, with my hair plaited and wound around my ears like Helga in ‘Allo ‘Allo. Under my plaits will be concealed tiny earpieces, so that I can receive instructions on when to ‘ting’ from Wolfgang, the head of K.N.O.B., hiding in the wings. The aerial will be cunningly disguised as the cock’s tail feather in my Tyrolean hat. I did suggest that it might be less complicated just to find a triangle player who could read music, but Bert said my gentle touch on his instrument was essential to the success of the K.N.O.B.

If it all goes a bit Sound of Music, frankly I'd rather be wearing the Baroness Eberfeld's wardrobe than Maria von Trapp's, but I don't want to be hissed at. I'm sure if the K.N.O.B.'s performance should be a bit limp, an arousing chorus of "Edelweiss" in tango rhythm will have the audience upstanding in less time than it takes to say "Donde esta la viagra por favor".