My father, Tommy Henshall, God rest his
Francis is currently employed by Rachel Crabbe (masquerading as her twin brother
My father, Tommy Henshall, God rest his soul, he woulda been proud of me, what I done with my life, until today. I used to play washboard in a skiffle band, but they went to see The Beatles last Tuesday night, and sacked me Wednesday morning. Ironic, because I started the Beatles. I saw them in Hamburg. Rubbish. I said to that John Lennon, I said ‘John, you’re going nowhere mate, it’s embarrassing, have you ever considered writing your own songs’.
This little bloke Roscoe Crabbe seen all this and offers me a week’s work in Brighton, says he needs a bit of muscle. I tell him this is all fat. But I need a wage, I haven’t eaten since last night. But I don’t get paid until the end of the week, and I can’t stop thinking about CHIPS. I’m staying in a pub, and I don’t even have enough shrapnel for a PINT. There might be a discarded bag of chips in here. No! I can’t go through the bins! Must stop thinking about CHIPS. Come on Francis! Think about something boring, like...Canada. Canada!
For full extended monologue, please refer to the script edition cited here: Richard Bean. One Man, Two Guvnors. London; Oberon Books, 2011. p.23.