It never ceases to somehow fill me with surprise and wonder each year, that we celebrate Phil Silvers' birthday on the same day as Margaret Rutherford, the lightning king of the half hour. My winter praises: "Ten days after his anniversary: if I could, with my own hands, light up every little footlight and every stage light to illuminate all the stages of Broadway and maybe the world, I’d do it for Phil Silvers. If I could set off sparkling champagne-coloured fireworks to burst all over the dark blue skies above the trees and the din of the world as if it was New Year’s Eve, and then raise a tiny little glass in the biggest chandeliered hall to clink with a thousand other little crystal cups raised in affectionate admiration and honour, and conduct the cheers of a million angel-voiced choirs and the strength of whooping cheers from everyone and maybe the sound of triumphant drumrolls and jubilant brass - heck, I’d do it for Phil Silvers."
Time to rewatch one of my favourite episodes before bed, I think. Maybe "Love that Guardhouse" Xo
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