The Barber of Stalag 13
(To
the melody of Dorus’ Figaro Parody)
Tips
for the reader!
.
This
story-song is based – not on the *real* Rossini opera The
Barber of Seville as you
might have thought,
but on a classic, immensely popular Dutch
parody of the Figaro song.
To my shame I have to confess I have no idea
what the original song really is called in Rossini's opera.
I only know this parody version as written by
F. van Delden and performed by Tom Manders (aka Dorus) approximately half a
century ago,
now then transformed to suit our favourite
Heroes – I hope you'll enjoy it!
However,
seeing that none of you is likely to be acquainted with the song (at least not
with this version),
and seeing that the lyrics in this fanfic are
interspersed with some short descriptions of what is happening 'on the stage',
I would suggest that you read through the
story first – just to get an idea of what's going on.
And
once you know what's going on, then it's time to turn on the music to hear the
story the way it was meant to sound:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKK2FA5fn80
Click on 'play', and then just follow the
lyrics (Klink in yellow, Newkirk in orange) along with the music.
And perhaps try and sing along? I warn you:
it's not always easy,
but especially if you do know the melody,
with a little practice and a lot of concentration
even the fastest parts are definitely
singable – I'm the living proof!
But
now, let me present you what might well be the first attempt at marriage
between Hogan's
Heroes and classical opera (albeit in
parody form).
Ladies
and gentlemen,
straight from Hamelburg, Germany:
The Barber of
Stalag 13
"Now he's wearing this
envelope on a string around his neck, under his shirt. You think you can get
your hands on it?"
Newkirk smirked, and pushed
back his cap.
"Like taking a rattle off of a baby. No worries, Gov, you'll have that
list in a tick."
And with his hands thrust into his pockets, he sauntered off to the
Kommandant's quarters.
♦
It was a beautiful morning.
Colonel Klink had noticed the moment he opened his eyes, and he rejoiced in it.
A hard blue sky, the sun peeping out over the trees on the east side of camp...
Yes, it promised to be an excellent day.
Humming to himself, he got up,
put on his socks and pants, and went into the little bathroom to shave.
Oh! That's right.
Seeing the envelope again in the mirror,
he remembered the top secret information Major Teppel had left in his care the
other day.
Terribly important it was, the Abwehr man had emphasized.
So naturally, the man had come to him
for safekeeping –
him, Colonel Klink, Kommandant of the toughest POW-camp in all of Germany,
where no prisoner ever escaped.
Could the information be safer?
But just to be on the safe side
(after all, things did occasionally disappear and magically reappear from the
safe in his office),
he had promised to keep the information on him at all times.
He just hoped it wouldn't be too long, for taking a shower would certainly
hamper the legibility of the documents.
Still humming, he began to whip
up some shaving cream,
and as the happy sunshine began to join him in the bathroom, his voice suddenly
rang out,
"Lalalalira... lalalala
Lalalalira... lalalala
Lala lalalala lala lalalala lala lalalala lala
lalalalaaaaaa...
Oops!"
A blob of shaving cream went
flying onto the mirror.
Oh well, Frau Kalinke would be here today anyway.
And covering his neck and the lower half of face with shaving cream, he sang
with justified pride,
"Smart, and resourceful, intelligent, dressed
in blue
Kommandant, Kommandant, Kommandant – Klink!
No, no one can possibly ever live up to you
Lalala lalala lalala – la!
Can't be so long now till you'll be a general
A powerful general
For as a Kommandant
You are the best, simply the best!"
The cream on his face actually
gave him some inspiration.
"Oh Kommandant, you are simply the crème de la
crè-ème
Lalala lalala lalala – la!
Never a single escape from your prison camp
Lalala lalala lalala – la!"
His face was loaded with cream
now, but he was having such fun –
he couldn't resist the temptation to continue a little longer.
"From all the other Stalags – escapes, escapes,
escapes!
Running back to Britain, or even back to the States
Back to the States, back to the States, back to the
States, back to the States!"
He grinned wickedly. No, not
wickedly – smugly
was the word.
"When that old geezer
Who calls himself general
Finally chokes on his black caviar
I will be promoted
And I'll be a general
Known for my discipline wide and afar
Tralala lalala lalala lalala lalala lalala
laaa!"
And he crowed happily,
"And when that day comes
I will order that Hochstetter
To wipe the floor
Of the Kommandantur
While I go on holiday
With Fräulein Helga
And stay at the Ritz
On the Côte de Azur."
Suddenly he jumped, as a voice
unexpectedly joined in.
"You're dreaming, Kommandant
You're bloody dreaming!"
It was Newkirk, standing
outside the window shaking his head.
But he didn't remain where he was – with an agile jump he was up on the
window-sill,
and before the Kommandant could open his mouth to protest or call for the
guards,
the Englishman stood next to him in his private bathroom,
picking up his razor blade and singing,
"Let me assist you
Here with your shaving
No protestations!
Shaving is my profession
I am a barber
Tralalaaaa lalala lalala lalala lalala lalala lalala
lalala lalalalalaaa
Tralalaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatchoo!"
"Gesundheit," the
Kommandant said automatically.
"Danke," was
Newkirk's reply as he produced a giant red handkerchief to blow his nose before
continuing,
"First take care of the sneezing
Or else 'twill end in a drama
A bloo-oody drama..."
The Kommandant flinched, making
Newkirk chuckle.
"Oh, my dear Kommandant
Don't be afraid, don't be afraid."
He pushed him down on a stool,
picked up a towel
and began the shaving job under a stream of inconsequential prattle as barbers
do.
"There's no need to worry
Or get in a flurry
I won't hit or strike you
Not even to spite you
And I need not mention
That if I should kill you..."
Another flinch of Klink's
almost made this line come true...
"I cannot appeal to
The Geneva Convention
The Governor says
He won't try intervention
If we are too stupid
To pay some attention
So that's what I do
In this hullabaloo
And I hope you will, too!
Hey Kommandant!"
Had he dozed off now – in the
middle of a shave?
"Kommandant?"
Perhaps this was too much prattle then.
Oh well, piece of pie to get that envelope then, as Andrew would say.
"Kommandant? Tickledee tickledee tickledee
tickledee tickledee..." No,
clearly he wasn't ticklish.
But at that moment the camp cat
chose to wander into the bathroom,
instantly diverting Newkirk's attention.
"Kitty, kitty, kitty, kitty-cat
Looking for mice, are you, kitty-cat?"
He pointed at the dozing
Kommandant and bellowed,
"Here is one!"
The man shocked back into
consciousness – and of course lost his bloody monocle.
"My eye–, my –glass
My monocle is gone!
Now how did that happen?
Hey you! Now where did it go?
You sneak! Petty thief!
This is no prank!
Oh, nobody leave here
Nobody breathe here
Nobody move here
My monocle's gone!"
Newkirk held up his hands in
innocence.
"Hey Kommandant, don't get upset!
Hey Kommandant, do watch your step
Look, Kommandant, here
Look, Kommandant, there
Look, Kommandant, si
Look, Kommandant, so
And look at the floor
I said it before
'Cause there is your monocle!
Ain't that the pinnacle?
Look who just smashed it!
Totally crashed it!
You, my dear Kommandant
Made it kaput!
Really kaput! Really kaput! Really kaput! Really
kaput!"
Klink dived for it, but Newkirk
was right – the little eyepiece was in a thousand little splinters.
He clenched it in his hand before shaking his fist at his impromptu barber.
"This is impossible!
Highly improbable!
Mighty intolerable!
Not even plausible!
This is the seventy-fifth
That got broken
Or are we yet
At seventy-six?
Really, I have had enough now
Let me show you how a tough one
Deals with crooks
And thiefs and vandals:
Out of my sight!
And better be quick!"
Fuming, he pointed to the door,
and Newkirk bristled,
"Is this the thanks I get
For giving you a shave?
Then let me wish you that
Your shaving soap
Will soon explode –
Or so I hope!"
Klink's hands flew to his still
foam covered cheeks.
Hm... He should speak to Carter about that.
Might make a nice diversion one day.
But first...
"Heil Kraut! Farewell!"
And with that, he took his exit
through the window again,
leaving the Kommandant to stew in his own juice.
♦
"Here you are, Governor.
As I said, like taking a rattle off of a bubblehead."
The End
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I don´t own Hogan´s Heroes; I just like to play with them.
Hogan´s
Heroes is the property of CBS.
No money is being made by the publication
of these stories on the internet.
The home of these stories is
www.konarciq.net.
Downloading and printing of these stories
for private use only.
For all other forms of publication and
distribution is the clearly stated, written permission of the author required.
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