Oh Mickey, You’re So Fine


Oh Mickey, You’re So Fine

Illustration: Arré/Mandar Mhaskar

Isit patiently on the patio, waiting for Mickey Mouse to descend from his “Club House”. His latest squeeze, a busty, lively young millennial who calls herself Minerva in the company of journalists, brings me coffee and asks me to wait. Everything from her plastic Mouse ears to her puffy-sleeved chiffon top is a reminder of Mickey’s illustrious past. She disappears into the pop of technicolour that is Mickey’s mansion, the moment Mr Mouse comes out for the interview.

N: You look well! Seems like retirement agrees with you.

M: (Scoffs) Oh boy! Everything agrees with you when you’re Mickey Mouse, kiddo. You can grab all opportunities by… and large (coughs).

N: So it’s Walt’s 115th birthday. Looking back, how do you feel about those days? When Disney was brand new and there was an Oswald before Mickey.

M: Oswald didn’t have a chance, let me tell you that. Walt made Oswald as a first draft for me. He had potential, I had promise. But Walt and I had it difficult, in the beginning. Walt was in some James Herriot frame of mind, you know, like that Fantastic Beasts boy. He was sampling cows and dogs and shit. I think you guys call it the Pokémon syndrome or something. This new-age talent is so plastic. So anyway, we didn’t have it easy. But when the world got a load of my Steamboat Willie, it was never the same again.

N: Yes, but Walt?

M: Yeah Walt was there too. But it was my Willie on TV dude…

N: Of course. So what was Walt like, in the ’60s? Was it as glorious as they say?

M: I got a lot of tail, to be honest, so it was fucking phenomenal. But then they removed my tail, so a big part of the charm was gone. At the awards, Walt dominated, while I ruled the party scene. And what a scene it was, kid. Mickey and Mick’s weekend banger-hanger.

N: Mick?

M: Mick Jagger, jeez. Are you some sort of a Belieber or some shit?

N: No no, I love Black Sabbath. But moving on. Our readers would love to know a little bit about Walt’s private side? Some stories that we haven’t heard…

M: Here’s all you need to know okay? That guy could drink. He could out-drink a sailor about to be drafted for the war three hours before the ship. Walt would drink more than Led Zep on tour. What a guy. That’s where the Mickey Mouse Club House was born.

N: You auditioned at parties?

M: Oh relax she was a mature woman. Properly 14. We’re kingmakers, not pervs.

M: No we decided that all Disney child stars have to be able to party, kid. Either fit in or get out, you feel me? We’d all do shots together, talk about life… those really were simpler times.

N: If you insist.

M: The Mickey Mouse Club House is an institution. We always knew Britney would be big. Such a star, that girl. She walked in to her audition with a python wrapped around her neck, wearing a sharp pair of Daisy Dukes. Then she sang Marilyn Monroe’s “Happy Birthday” to Walt and the rest is history.

N: Oh my God! How old was she?!

M: Oh relax she was a mature woman. Properly 14. We’re kingmakers, not pervs.

N: That is insane…

M: You know what else was insane? Public demand for Mickey hickies. I mean even when they tried to introduce that quack, Donald Duck, he couldn’t steal my thunder. Goofy was the goody-two-shoes, always trying to be Walt’s pet. Typical dog behaviour, if you ask me…

(EDIT: The reminiscing is too much for Mickey’s fragmented memory to comprehend. He starts ranting about Yoko and how Walt always loved him like a “son, better than a son, best son ever.” Mickey’s lovely companion Minerva, comes downstairs to comfort him. She gives him a big squeeze and he relaxes.)

N: Minerva looks so pleasing…

M: Boy I’ll say. Exactly like Minnie when she was still hot. Those years of yoga retreats and facelifts did a number on her. Great ears, though.

N: So do you miss Minnie?

(Mickey lowers his head and looks out of the window.)

M: Always. But it was a choice between being a one-woman mouse or livin’ it up. I made a call. It’s a call I regret, but I made it.

N: And it’s all down to Walt, isn’t it?

M: I’m a fucking star, first of all. But yeah Walt made it happen.