Goon Show Script

The Stolen Postman

Series 8, Episode 11

First broadcast 9th December 1957. Script by Larry Stephens, produced by Roy Speer. Transcribed by Yukka Tukka Indians.


This episode is available on...
Goon Show Compendium 7

[CD Box Set from Amazon]

Vol. 28: Indigestion Waltz

[CD from Amazon]



Greenslade:
We present the all weather Goon Show.

ORCHESTRA:
Tatty chord

Sellers:
(Dramatic) And tonight we bring you the story of The Stolen Postman.

ORCHESTRA:
Dramatic introduction

Sellers:
The scene; a self contained, unfurnished radio set.

GRAMS:
(Recording) Greenslade:
And here is the news. The birthday celebrations of the Sultan of Dirtistan have had to be postponed as he's been unable to find a volunteer to act as a guest victim in the annual exploding ceremony. And now, scene two; a self contained unfurnished sewer under the Euston Road.

GRAMS:
Splashing. (Continue under)

Grytpype:
(Singing) Da di da di, da di da da. Moriarty! Come on in. The water's fine.

Moriarty:
Yes, but you're not. I'm not getting in there and getting myself wet with water.

Grytpype:
Well, there's a first time for everybody Moriarty.

Moriarty:
Ahhhhhwwww! Not the dreaded water.

Grytpype:
Shut up you fool.

Moriarty:
Ahwwwwwww! Ahhwww again. Owww. Owww...

Grytpype:
You almost owwed in a confined space. You realise, one more oww and the whole place will go up in flames? Now help me on with my clean newspaper please.

FX:
Tapping on resonant piece of iron.

Moriarty:
Grytpype, there's somebody at the man hole cover.

FX:
Heavy iron lid being thrown aside.

Seagoon:
Good morning.

Grytpype:
Oh, good morning postman.

Seagoon:
Good morning. A registered boot for you. Sign on the dotted sock please.

FX:
Scribbling

Seagoon:
Thank you.

Grytpype:
Thank you postman. Oh, and here's a little something for yourself.

GRAMS:
Pistol shot
Seagoon:
Ah! Oh goodie, just what I've always wanted, my own bullet. (Going off singing.) It's a hap hap happy day, on the spring on the sprabble spray...

Grytpype:
Now, let's have a look what's in this registered boot. Good heavens Moriarty, a registered foot.

Moriarty:
What's it say Grytpype?

Grytpype:
It's from our landlord. "Dear Sirs, Owing to complaints from the tenants of the others sewers about your singing and owwwing after eleven o'clock, I do hereby give you notice to quit."

Moriarty:
Ah howwwee! Or if you like, Hi ih ha ho ho hoou! Grytpype, we've been given the registered boot, kicked out, sewerless, without a street over our heads, with nothing but the water we stand up in. Grytpype? Grytpype! You're not listening.

Grytpype:
Mmm?

Moriarty:
You're not listening Grytpype. (Rubbish)

Grytpype:
I'm sorry. I was just reading this advertisement on the back page of my suit. Listen here, "Wanted, man for exploding. One thousand pounds offered for a genuine charlie in good condition. Apply, The Sultan of Dirtistan."

Moriarty:
Four thousand pounds! (sic) Grytpype, with that we could build our own sewer.

Grytpype:
Exactly. Moriarty I have an idea. Follow me and...

ORCHESTRA:
Short tense link

GRAMS:
(Recording) Greenslade:
And here is the news. Early this morning two masked men broke into the GPO and stole postman Neddy Seagoon. Police believe Seagoon was rendered unconscious by a blow from a weighted banana, a photograph of which was found nearby. And now scene three; a self contained unfurnished idiot.

Seagoon:
Oh. Oh. Oh my head. What. What. What-what-what! Where's my megaphone? Thank you. Thank you. Folks! Calling folks through my megaphone folks. What's happened folks? Where are we folks?

Grytpype:
Alright Neddy. Drop that speaking trumpet.

FX:
Drop metal pipe

Moriarty:
Ohh oh oh oh oh! My foot!

Seagoon:
What! What! What! What! What! What! What! What! What! What! (continues clucking) Who are you sir?

Grytpype:
My name sir is Hercules Grytpype-Thynne, and the teeth resting this glass of stale beer belong to none other than Jim 'Ping'...

Moriarty:
Ping!

Grytpype:
...Moriarty, ace knee-slapper and king of pong.

Moriarty:
Owwwww owwwww!

Grytpype:
Did you hear that Seagoon? Once again Moriarty.

Moriarty:
Owwwww owwwww!

Grytpype:
Ohhhh! Melody divine.

Moriarty:
Ace...

Seagoon:
Never mind those ahhrrrowwwws divine. What's going on?

Grytpype:
My dear postman, pull up a floorboard and I'll tell you a likely story. Because of your excellent record in the parcel smashing department you're being promoted to corporal postman and sent to a better job.

Seagoon:
What! You mean I'm going to be posted?

Grytpype:
Yes, registered of course.

Seagoon:
Oh happy day! Huzzah, huzzah, huzzah!

Grytpype:
Moriarty, get a floor cloth and mop up those huzzahs, would you. Neddy, Neddy. Stand to attention now and close your eyes.

Seagoon:
Right.

Grytpype:
Moriarty get that pad of cotton wool and soak it in chloroform.

Moriarty:
Right. Now what?

Grytpype:
Now hit him with this iron bar.

Moriarty:
Huurgh...

FX:
Clank of iron bar. Thud of body falling to floor.

Grytpype:
Splendid. Now the brown paper and string.

Moriarty:
Oh the browwwwwn paper.

Grytpype:
The browwwwwn paper. (extended) And to keep Seagoon unconscious get Max 'Haircut' Geldray to strum his elastic plastic ploogie.




MAX GELDRAY



Greenslade:
And now The Stolen Postman part two. The scene; a small post office in East Penge.

Crun:
Errr, ten, eleven, twelve words. That'll be one and ninepence please. Thank you.

FX:
Cash register. Coin drops into till.

Crun:
Good day to you sir.

FX:
Door opens. Shop bell rings. Door closes

Throat:
A good day to you too. Thank you.

FX:
Door opens again. Shop bell goes
Bannister:
Oh, what's that?

Crun:
Ah, good morning sir.

Moriarty:
Awwwww. Good morning, mon ami. I want to send this parcel by registered post. La post registeur.

Crun:
Right sir. Put is here.

GRAMS:
Straining of overloaded springs. (With echo effect to give it that hollow sound.)

Crun:
Twenty two stone sir. I'm afraid that is going to cost you an extra tuppence.

Moriarty:
Take it out of my post office account.

Crun:
Could I have your book sir? Thank you.

Moriarty:
There.

Crun:
Just forward your name along this finger here would you?

Moriarty:
Right-oh. There. Good day and Owwww.

Crun:
And a good Owwww to you sir.

FX:
Door opens. Shop bell. Door closes.

Crun:
Ah. Dear, dear. He's left his steam behind. Oh well. Min. Stamp this parcel registered while I go and change the elephant's hat Min.

Bannister:
O.K. Right-oh buddy. Now where's that modern, rhythm, rubber type stamp?

FX:
Quick stamping.

Seagoon:
(Muffled) Ahhhhhhh!

Bannister:
Ohhhhhhh!

Seagoon:
What, what, what, what, what, what, what, what?

Bannister:
Ohhhhhh! Henry! Help Henry. Henry! Ohhhhhh!

Crun:
What is it?

Bannister:
The parcel, Henry. The parcel spoke to me.

Crun:
What!

Bannister:
The parcel spoke to me Henry.

Crun:
You've been at the spirit gum again.

Seagoon:
(Muffled) I'm through and through.

Bannister:
It spoke again! It spoke again in parcel language.

Crun:
What! What did it say?
Bannister:
It said...it said Henry...

Crun:
It said Henry? Then it wasn't speaking to you, it was speaking to me.

Seagoon:
(Muffled) Let me out!

Crun:
Ohhhhhh! The parcel's moving.

FX:
Crinkling paper.

Bannister:
Hit it Henry with that mighty club of yours.

FX:
Thump

Crun:
Got it! Now let us see what it is.

Bannister:
Open it up Henry.

FX:
Crackling of paper.

Bannister:
Save the paper for lunch. Oh, look what's inside. It's a postman's uniform.

Crun:
Yes. Let's see what's inside it.

FX:
Paper crackling.

Crun:
Oh! It's a man in long underwear. Explain yourself sir.

Seagoon:
What, what, what, what, what! Look here, I'm postman Seagoon.

Crun:
What! You're the man who was stolen from the GPO?
Seagoon:
Stolen? Then I must hand myself in. How do I get to the nearest police station?

Crun:
By walking.

Seagoon:
Isn't there a quicker way.

Crun:
Running?

Seagoon:
Thank you. Goodbye.

GRAMS:
Boots running off at speed.

ORCHESTRA:
Short dramatic link (Spriggs sings along.)

FX:
Telephone rings. Receiver picked up.

Wardrobe:
Hello? Inspector Wardrobe here. Oh yes. Bring him in.

FX:
Door opens.

Spriggs:
This is him Jim. This is him Ji-immmm!

Seagoon:
Inspector, I want to report a robbery.

Wardrobe:
Oh? What's been stolen?

Seagoon:
Me. You see I'm postman Seagoon.

Wardrobe:
You can't be. Seagoon's missing.

Seagoon:
Well, I'm missing.

Wardrobe:
Nonsense. You're here.

Spriggs:
Yes Jim. You're here. You're here-eeeeee!

Wardrobe:
Shut Constable C major chord.

Seagoon:
Ying tong iddle I plinge. Look here, I can prove I'm Neddy Seagoon. Look, here's a photograph of myself.

Wardrobe:
Oh yes. But you're facing the other way.

Seagoon:
No, no. That's the back of the photograph. Turn it over.

Wardrobe:
Oh yes. This is a photograph of a woodshed. Where are you?

Seagoon:
I'm in the woodshed.

Spriggs:
I always said there was something nasty in the woodshed.

Wardrobe:
Ah. Come out.

FX:
Door opening.

Wardrobe:
There's one way to find out who you are. Constable, look inside his underwear.

Spriggs:
Yes sir. Let me see now. The label on these underwear says 'hand-knit'. Hand-kniiiiii-it!

Wardrobe:
So Mr Knit. You're trying to pretend you're Seagoon.

Seagoon:
But I am Seagoon.

Wardrobe:
Then you're wearing stolen underwear!

FX:
Telephone rings. Receiver lifts.

Spriggs:
Constable Spriggs here. Are you there? Are you there, because I am here-eeeeee!

GRAMS:
(Recording) Grytpype:
I wish to report the whereabouts of the missing postman Seagoon. He is at present on board the steamship Venus at Toolbury Dicks.

Spriggs:
You mean Tilbury Docks.

Seagoon:
What, what, what? He's an imposter. I'll expose him, I tell you. I'll expose him!

GRAMS:
Boots running off.

ORCHESTRA:
Dramatic link.

Greenslade:
Seagoon proceeded to the docks hot-foot, a common complaint in the Seagoon family. And now, if listeners will lag their hornpipes they will be able to hear him ascending the gangplank of the steamship Venus.

GRAMS:
Dockside sounds. Distant ship's sirens.

Seagoon:
Ahoy! Ahoy! Anyone on board?
Grytpype:
Ahoy.

Seagoon:
Now then. What's all this....YOU! Grytpype Thynne!
Grytpype:
Have we met?

Seagoon:
Of course. I'm Neddy Seagoon.

Grytpype:
Simple. Seagoon's inside that crate.

Seagoon:
What! This crate marked "Human Sacrifice for Exploding Ceremony"?

Grytpype:
Yes. If you don't believe me step inside and see for yourself.

Seagoon:
I will. (With echo effect) There you are, you see. There's no Neddy Seagoon in here.

FX:
Rapid hammering on wood.

Grytpype:
There is now!

Moriarty:
Ha ha ha ha owwwww!

Grytpype:
Well done Moriarty.

Moriarty:
I've done nothing.

Grytpype:
Have you oiled yourself this morning?
Moriarty:
(Rubbish)

Grytpype:
Now have you stoked up the boilers?

Moriarty:
Oui, oui, mon ami.

Grytpype:
Is the steam pressure up?
Moriarty:
Oui, oui, mon ami.

Grytpype:
Splendid. Then grab those oars and row madly.

Moriarty:
Owwww oww, buddy. Owww.

ORCHESTRA:
Dramatic nautical link.

(Milligan:
Bollard on the starboard bow.

Secombe:
(Vomits.)

GRAMS:
Seagulls.

Seagoon:
Hello folks. Hello folks. This is tragic Neddy Seagoon speaking to you folks, from the tragic hold of the steamship tragic Venus folks, trapped inside a crate on my way to be exploded. Ho ho ho ho ho folks! I must find a way out of this crate. I will ask somebody. Excuse me...

Eccles:
Hello. (Don't stop folks. It's good for my ego.)

Seagoon:
Mad Dan Eccles! What are you doing here?

Eccles:
It's on the tip of my tongue.

Seagoon:
Well put your tongue out and let me see.

Eccles:
Errrrrrrrrr.

Seagoon:
Em-i-grating.

Eccles:
That's it. Yeah. I'm emigrating. My tongue's emigrating on account of my job.

Seagoon:
Why? What are you?

Eccles:
I'm an idiot. (Anybody want to join?)

Seagoon:
Well. A professional idiot. Then why are you leaving England?
Eccles:
Too much competition. What are you doing Neddy?

Seagoon:
I'm going out to be exploded.

Eccles:
Oh. That sounds a nice job. You been doing it long?

Seagoon:
No.

Eccles:
Well, there's always a first time for everybody.

Seagoon:
Listen. I've got to get out of this crate.

Eccles:
Ooooowwwwrroowwwooarrrghooo. Well, how did you get in?

Seagoon:
I was nailed in.

Eccles:
Well, nail yourself out again.

Seagoon:
I know! I'll dig myself out. Have you got a shovel?

Eccles:
Ah, let's see now. I, um...I think I've got one somewhere...

Seagoon:
Well find it man. Empty your pockets.

Eccles:
Ok, Ok.

FX:
Nuts, bolts and sundry objects dropped onto hard surface. Finally metal pipe.

Eccles:
No. Must be in my other suit.

Seagoon:
Never mind. Here, inflate this pneumatic drill.

Eccles:
Right.

GRAMS:
Pneumatic drill. Continue under.

Greenslade:
Quickly Seagoon dug a hole in the floor of the crate and tunneled down through the bottom of the ship.

Seagoon:
Huzzah! We're through. Give me a hand down.

GRAMS:
Splash

Seagoon:
Ah, gad, it's damp down this tunnel. Now Eccles...

Eccles:
Yep?
Seagoon:
To cover my escape hold up this leather map of Ray Ellington. Goodbye!

Eccles:
Wait for me!

FX:
Frantic hammering on wood.




THE RAY ELLINGTON QUARTET



Greenslade:
And now 'The Stolen Postman' part three. The burning deserts of Dirtistan and the residence of the British military attache.

ORCHESTRA:
Bloodnok theme.

Bloodnok:
Ohhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhh! Oh! Never again. Never again. Cennapod and gunpowder soup. I must have been mad you know. Now, where was I now? Oh yes. "Dear Lord Plunger. I enclose a snapshot that I accidentally took while passing the window of your seventh floor flat. I never realised you and Mrs FitzHerbert were such close friends. As you are an art collector perhaps you would like to buy the negative of this naughty photo.

P.S. If you go to the police about this letter, I didn't write it and I don't live here."

FX:
Knocking on door.

Bloodnok:
Ohhhhhhhhhhh! Who is it?

Seagoon:
It's me! Can I see you?

Bloodnok:
I don't know. Can you see me?
Seagoon:
No.

Bloodnok:
Thank heaven for that!
FX:
Door opens

Bloodnok:
Oh! A man in postman's underwear.

Seagoon:
Major. I wish to obtain a passage to England sir.

Bloodnok:
Well you won't find one here. This passage only goes to the front door I say.

Seagoon:
Curses! Foiled by a short passage and long egg-cloth. What about an aeroplane?

Bloodnok:
No thanks. I'm trying to give them up you know.

Seagoon:
You don't understand Major. Two men have stolen me and they're going to have me blown up.

Bloodnok:
If they blow you up any more you'll burst.

Seagoon:
But I must escape. (Weeping) You must...you must help me escape.

Bloodnok:
Steady lad. Steady. Sit down and light yourself a tree.

Seagoon:
No thanks. I'm trying to cut them down. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! I'm in condition tonight. Ha ha ha.

Bloodnok:
I've got a right one here you know. Now Neddy, you'll never escape from Dirtistan dressed in english underwear. We'll disguise you as a man disguised as a woman. Now put on these woman's clothes while I go outside and keep watch through the keyhole. Now you go in...

FX:
Door closes.

Seagoon:
Hello folks! Hardly had I disguised myself when I noticed a large crate labelled 'dancing girls, this way up, use no hooks'. Ho ho ho ho ho! Ha ha ha ho ho hello folks! A dancing girl! Excuse me while I step in the crate and introduce myself. (Pause) Funny. I can't see any...

FX:
Rapid hammering.

Bloodnok:
Ha ha ha ha ha ha! There's another one. Singhez! Take this round to the Sultan. Usual price and don't forget, cash on the nail.

Singhez:
Alright sir.

Bloodnok:
You tell the Sultan - no pay, no play.

ORCHESTRA:
Dramatic Arab link.

Greenslade:
Scene twenty-eight; the sultan's palace, and if listeners will look eastward through a melted sock they will hear the sultan calling for his ferocious captain of the guard.

Ellington:
Ai Bou Raloyi wahl Basha.

Flowerdew:
You don't have to shout. I'm not deaf.

Ellington:
Open this crate.

Flowerdew:
Not another dancing girl. You haven't touched the old ones yet.

Ellington:
Never mind. Me saving them up for birthday party. You lock this girl in harem for the night.

Flowerdew:
Oh, alright.

ORCHESTRA:
Short dramatic link.

Seagoon:
Oh folks! What a tragedy, locked in a darkened hareem full of dancing girls. Oh, what a trage...

Eccles:
(Singing) Oh da da da...A thing of beauty is a joy forever. Hou hou hou...houw houw houw.

Seagoon:
Eccles!

Eccles:
Yep?

Seagoon:
Is that you?

Eccles:
Just a minute, I'll strike a match.

FX:
Match strike

Eccles:
Yep, it's me.

Seagoon:
How did you become a dancing girl?

Eccles:
I took lessons.

Seagoon:
He-he-hello folks. This is terrible. I must find the exit. I'll grope about in the darkness. Huh! What's this? It must be one of the dancing girls. Just a minute, I'll make sure.

FX:
Spring

Bluebottle:
Oh ho! Stop pulling my lanyard. Don't do that. Harm can come to a young boy scout like that.

Eccles:
Oh. Hello bottle.

Bluebottle:
Hello Eccles.

Eccles:
Hello bottle.

Bluebottle:
Hello Eccles.

Eccles:
What are you...dis is a silly question but what are you doing in a hareem?

Bluebottle:
I came to see if anyone wanted a bob-a-job doing.

Eccles:
Ooooh ooooh! Your good turn for the day?

Bluebottle:
Yes. I thought I could help an old sultan across the hareem.

Seagoon:
Quiet you spotted lads. Something's coming.

FX:
Rattle of doorknob. Door opens.

Grytpype:
There he is Moriarty.

Moriarty:
Owwwww owwwwwrrrr.

Grytpype:
Alright, now let's take him to the sultan.

Seagoon:
You villains! You can't explode me. I'll...

Grytpype:
Back Neddy. Hands up.

Seagoon:
But...but you haven't got a gun.

Grytpype:
No, but I'm thinking of one.

Seagoon:
Well, I'm thinking of ringing the police. Eccles, think of a telephone.

Eccles:
OK.

FX:
Phone rings. Receiver picks up.

Seagoon:
Hello, police? I want to report a...

Grytpype:
Steady Neddy! Put down that telephone that Eccles is thinking of.

Seagoon:
I refuse.

Grytpype:
Then I'm thinking of shooting you.

GRAMS:
Pistol shot.

Seagoon:
Well I'm thinking of the bullet missing me and hitting Bluebottle.

Bluebottle:
Ohi ohhhhi! You rotten swine you.

Moriarty:
Aw aw owwwwwwww!

Grytpype:
Moriarty, what are you thinking of?

Moriarty:
Ho ho ho ho howwwwwww! It's the way you say it folks!

Grytpype:
You filthy swine. Go and get Seagoon.

Seagoon:
I warn you Moriarty, I'm thinking of a canal right in front of you.

GRAMS:
Splash

Little Jim:
He's fallen in de water.

Grytpype:
It was tricky but we finally got it in.

Seagoon:
Now you devil, I'm thinking of a pistol.

GRAMS:
(Recording:
Gradually speeding up.

Seagoon:
Now you devil, I'm thinking of a pistol.

GRAMS:
Pistol shot.

Grytpype:
And I'm thinking of a grenade.

GRAMS:
Grenade explosion.

Seagoon:
I'm thinking of a machine gun.

GRAMS:
Burst of rapid fire.

Grytpype:
And I'm thinking of a cannon.

GRAMS:
Weeeeeee bang.

Seagoon:
I'm thinking of a bomb.

GRAMS:
Explosion.

Grytpype:
And I'm thinking of an atom bomb.

GRAMS:
Large explosion.

Seagoon:
I'm thinking of a horse.

GRAMS:
Whinney, hooves into distance, large splash, followed by large explosion.)

Greenslade:
The moral of this is of course, beware of thinking because thinking is all in the mind you know.

ORCHESTRA:
Playout.