Goon Show Script

The White Neddy Trade

Series 8, Episode 19


This episode is available on...
Goon Show Compendium 8

[CD Box Set from Amazon]

Vol. 11: He's Fallen in the Water!

[CD from Amazon]
[Download from Audible]



SPIKE (Jeem):
I don't like it at all, Jeem.

WALLACE:
Are you bored during these long winter evenings? Then get yourself a Wallace Greenslade do-it-yourself kit and make your own Wallace Greenslade.

HARRY:
What? (giggles) Who on earth wants a Greenslade?

WALLACE:
Everybody! Who else could announce the title of this show?

HARRY:
I could! Ladies and gentlemen, we present --

FX:
bang

HARRY:
Aaah! (thud)

WALLACE:
Well fired, John Snagge! And now, through the marvel of electricity, steam, cardboard, elastic, and two ordinary matches, we present the Goon Show.

Orchestra:
Tatty fanfare

SPIKE (?):
Hup! And tonight, folks, the White Neddy Trade.

Orchestra:
mysterious chords

PETER:
The story of fearless Neddy Seagoon, the man who smiled in the face of danger, and laughed in the face of death.

NED:
Ha ha ha! Ha! A huh. Ha? (pause) Hellllpppppp!

Orchestra:
Vaguely France/WWII melody

SPIKE(?)(french):
Paris. The year:
nineteen hundred and twenty (?) four. We espy a ragged figure, clutching about him a threadbare boulevard. (sings garbled frenchish lyrics)

NED:
Ohoh, folks! It was me folks! Neddy Seagoon, folks! All the winter I'd been in Paris, starving folks. No money, no work, no means of support except for my small National Health braces. Oooohoohoh!

FRED (PETER?):
Ah, monsieur, I'm just overhearing your words, as you say them. (HARRY giggles)

NED:
From his broken English, I knew he was a broken Englishman. Oui, musewer?

FRED:
You would like some work? You know?

NED:
No thanks, I'm trying to give it up. You see, I, I can't afford it.

FRED:
Ah, monsieur, but this job is free, you know, you work for nothing.

NED:
Oh, that's different!

FRED:
Ah, yes, you see, I am the proprietor, the manager, the chief cashier, you knowwwww? Ayyy? And headwaiter, of the restaurant Fred.

NED:
Who is Fred?

FRED:
I am.

NED:
Gad!

FRED:
Yes, Fred Gad. I am looking for a temporary worker, you know?

NED:
What did he look like?

FRED:
You!

NED:
You mean I have a double?

FRED:
Yes, and from here it looks as if they're both wearing the same suit.

FX:
slapstick

Omnes:
Ow! Oh ho! Ow! Take that! (etc)

JEEM:
He doesn't like clubbing, Jim.

Orchestra:
French music again

SPIKE (?):
frenchish singing again, higher, and ending with a strangled "Awk!"

WALLACE:
Zat night, Seagoon began work at ze restaurant Fred, and zis is Wallace Grenslod saying it.

FX:
Smashing plates

NED:
Oops!

FRED:
You clumsy fool! Those sound effects cost money! Now, take this tray of muck francaise out to table number one on the terrace.

NED:
As I walked along, a nearby manhole cover sprang to life.

FX:
Clang

MORIARTY:
Owwww!

NED:
And a bent pin speared my kipper!

MORIARTY:
I've got it, Grytpype! La food! La manger! La (?), a kipper!

G-T:
A kipper? No wonder it's asleep. Hold it down while I strap this Sam Browne onto it.

MORIARTY:
Right! Ah! It's a military kipper!

BOTH:
Ah! Yes!

NED:
Take your teeth out of my arm, sir! Ahahaha -- thank you. The first occupant of the coal cellar was a tall man, wearing a monocle, a pair of knees, and a small brown loaf.

G-T:
Yes, and the wig resting on this ebony wig-stand belongs to none other than Count Jim Shag --

MORIARTY:
Owwwww!

G-T:
Moriarty. Strolling knee-clapper.

SPIKE:
(paradiddle noise)

G-T:
(struggling) and inventor of the round hole.

SPIKE:
usual Moriarty "arrr" noises

G-T:
Yes, and that's his 'owww' to prove it. Put it away, Moriarty, before it gets damaged. Now...what are you doing in Paris?

NED:
Starving.

G-T:
Unpatriotic devil. Why don't you starve in England?

NED:
I prefer French cooking!

MORIARTY:
Ah, you are a conny sewer! Hup!

Orchestra:
quavery fanfare, rim shot

NED:
Hey! Je suis -- je suis --

Omnes:
Je, suis have no bananas! We have no -- (giggling, garbled)

NED:
Ladies and gentleman, I am a theatrical --

G-T:
Of course, of course, I've seen your photo on a poster. Weren't you in something called 'Wanted' or something like that?

NED:
No no no, it can't have been me, I was in prison at the time.

MORIARTY:
We are highly steaming theatrical agents!

G-T:
Yes lad, what do you do?

NED:
I'm a piano dancer, but I have no piano.

G-T:
Well, show us without a piano.

NED:
But of course -- right, one, two, go --

(silence, about ten seconds)

NED:
Hup!

Moriarty and G-T:
Ah, bravo! (applause)

G-T:
How would you like a booking at a South American night club?

NED:
Oh yes oh yes oh please sir thank you thank you thank you (doggy gratitude noises)

G-T:
Stop licking my boots, I'm not wearing any. What they like in South America are Scottish acts.

MORIARTY:
Scottish? (Scottish garble)

FX:
clattering small things

G-T:
Pick your teeth up, Moriarty. Neddy, slip into this coconut kilt; you can change behind that screen there.

NED:
(off) right...

G-T:
Quick, Moriarty, get the bagpipes.

MORIARTY:
Here you are.

G-T:
Now, stuff the bag with these illicit senna pods.

MORIARTY:
Owwww! You mean these senna pods are for smuggling, ho ho!

NED:
(returning) Ah, how do I look in a kilt?

G-T:
Splendid, splendid - shouldn't you have taken your trousers off? What clan are you?

NED:
The destine. Get it? Clandestine? Ha ha --

FX:
slapsticks

NED:
Ow! ooh! Ow ow ow ooh!

JEEM:
He doesn't like that clubbing Jim. He doesn't like that clubbing Jim. He doesn't like that clubbing Jim.

G-T:
(giggles) Ahowowhow...shut up Moriarty. You rotting heap. Neddy, here (breaks up) - here is a photograph of a script writer, waiting for a musical spot to help him out of shtup(?). And here is Max Geldray to do it!

Max and Orchestra:
music

WALLACE:
The White Neddy Trade, part two.

Orchestra:
more mysterious music

WALLACE:
In the South American republic of Cascada Segrada, all is gaiety at the exotic club Enrico.

FX:
plopping noises, water dripping

SPRIGGS:
Senors and senoras! Senors and (sings) Senooooras! Silence please, silence please. Silence for the cabarette. Tonight folks, tonight we present the singing of our manager. (sings) Our Manager! Enrico Crun and the glamorous La Minnie Bannister.

HENRY:
(rhythm chatter)

MINNIE:
Oh, I'm going out with a mountain but it's not in love with me yes I'm going out with a mountain and I'm only four foot three I saw it this morning, and I saw it in the night I see it every morning and it a- ppears to be all right, oh I'm going to stop going out with a mountain I'm going out with him instead

Both:
Hoy!

Orchestra:
Fanfare

MINNIE:
Thank you! Thank you!

SPIKE(?), goofy:
Excuse me Mister Crun, but there's a gentleman here to see you. Uh-huh!

NED:
Good evening! I've been sent from Paris for the cabaret.

HENRY:
You must be the nude.

MINNIE:
Ooohhhhh!

NED:
Nude? But I'm wearing clothes!

HENRY:
Ohhh, that's a new twist.

NED:
No no no, I'm a piano dancer.

MINNIE:
Who is this buddy buddy, buddy?

HENRY:
It's a nude who dances on a piano, Min.

NED:
With clothes on!

MINNIE:
Ah, the piano has clothes on.

NED:
No no no, _I_ have the clothes on.

MINNIE:
Oh.

HENRY:
Then the piano is nude?

NED:
Yes.

HENRY:
The police will never allow it.

MINNIE:
Never, never.

HENRY:
Here's a nude piano; show us what you can do, owww...

NED:
Right! One, two, up!

Orchestra:
random keys struck on piano, all over the keyboard in crazy combinations

NED:
H'ray!

HENRY:
Well, what do you think, Min, did it send you?

MINNIE:
It sent the audience, they've all gone.

NED:
What what what what what's wrong?

SPIKE (clucks on behind the following)

HENRY:
Well, you see, these South Americans, they all a bit - they like the handkerchief (?) - you've got to have a naughty gimmick, you know. Couldn't you dance in your long underwear or something?

MINNIE:
Yeeesss, with black stockings and frilly garters on the piano legs.

HENRY:
You wicked woman, you!

MINNIE:
What?

HENRY:
All you think about:
pianos!

Both:
usual henry and min nattering

NED:
Are you suggesting --

SPIKE (off):
OOOOOOOoooowwwww!

NED:
You ARE suggesting --

HENRY:
She's jumped out of the window...

(giggling)

NED:
Are you suggesting I expose my intimate garments to the foul gaze of hot-blooded Latins?

Throat:
Oooooohhhhhhh...

NED:
Never I say! I will not compromise my art! Venture(?) triumphant, never never never never never never!

HENRY:
Then you'll do it?

NED:
On the never never.

HENRY:
Splendid, down and the rest over the next six months. Now hand over the bagpipes.

NED:
Bagpipes?

WALLACE:
Mister Crun is of course referring to the bagpipes stuffed with illicit senna pods, which Grytpype-Thynne gave him. I mention this for the benefit of listeners who, like Mister Seagoon, may have forgotten the plot - not that it matters.

NED:
Awww, shut yer trap, Wal. Ah, the bagpipes! The Customs took them and put them in quarantine.

HENRY:
We must get them out, then.

MINNIE:
Yes, buddy!

HENRY:
With speeeeed, buddy!

MINNIE:
With speeeeeeeeed! And Tiiimmmmmmeeee!

Both (singing, sort of):
We must have wicked time we must have naughty time (bum bum bum...)

MINNIE:
come on, we must hurry, Henry.

SPIKE:
(off, "we've filled in the time like they producer asked", gets a big laugh)

NED:
They've gone back to the Darby and Joan club.

NED:
(giggling) Oh, folks! Calling all folks! Little do they suspect that I am an agent for Interpol, on the track of a secret senna pod smuggling ring!

Orchestra:
bridge

NED:
With their own orchestra. What is so important about those bagpipes? I must find out. One, two, hup!

Orchestra:
Piano as before, fading off

PETER (can't place this accent):
I don't like that sound, I don't like it atall. I don't think we can work that in the show (SPIKE mumbles agreement) That be the sound of Seagoon piano dancing the piano to the docks, which of course is impossible, so no, I don't like that, don't like it atall.

NED:
On arrival there folks, I climbed over the barbed wire.

FX:
rrrippppp

NED:
(scream) -- and began to search the quarantine kennels.

FX:
cat meowring

NED:
Down, down, down boy. Down, boy.

FX:
Woofing dog

NED:
Shhh! Nice pussy. Curses, where are those bagpipes? I felt in the next tunnel --

ECCLES:
Gowk! Oh, here! You naughty man, you! (audience applause) Thank you! Thank you, dog lovers!

NED:
I should have said 'kennel', shouldn't I? Never mind....what are you doing in this kennel?

ECCLES:
What am I doing in this tunnel? (HARRY laughs) I'm putting on my bow tie. Get it? Bow-wow tie, bow-wow tie.

NED:
What for?

ECCLES:
I'm going dancing tonight.

NED:
You mean you live here? In quarantine?

ECCLES:
Sure! Regular meals, walk every morning, this is living! This is the living, folks! Have a bone, have a bone!

NED:
No thanks, I prefer my own. What's this in the corner?

ECCLES:
Shh! Don't wake him up!

NED:
Why not?

ECCLES:
He's asleep.

NED:
I'll have a look -- these are the bagpipes!

ECCLES:
Ohhooohhhhhh! I thought it was a spider in a tartan sweater!

WILLYUM (off):
'Ere...'eeerreeee ey ah ow oh...

ECCLES:
Shh! This is the caretaker!

WILLYUM:
You know I don't allow the cats and dogs to talk after the lights out --- 'ello, 'ellooooowwwww, matie.

ECCLES (under):
Tell him -- tell him, 'woof woof'.

NED:
Woof woof.

WILLYUM:
A fat mangy old stray's got in. Cor', my matieeeeee...I'll have to have you dinstrolled.

NED:
Wait! I'm not a dog, I'm a man!

WILLYUM:
You can't save your hide with last minute impressions.

NED:
Let me go! Help, Eccles! Eccles, fight!

ECCLES:
Okay! Take that!

FX:
smack

ECCLES:
And that!

FX:
smack

NED:
Not me, you fool, him!

ECCLES:
Ooohh!

FX:
smack

NED:
Right! Run for it!

FX:
running footsteps

WILLYUM (going off):
Stop you doggies! Come back doggies!

Orchestra:
bridge

WALLACE:
And so, Seagoon and Eccles escaped into the jungle of the interior. And here we find, perched on the bank of the Amazon River, a military gold miner.

Orchestra:
Bloodnok theme

FX:
explosions, passing wind noises

BLOODNOK:
Oh! Ohhhh! It goes right through you, you know! Oh, dear, I'll never be the same, you know. Now, look, you baboos - Baboos, where are you?

LALKAKA:
Here, sah.

BLOODNOK:
Prepare me a hot chipati, and I shall wear it tonight.

LALKAKA:
Mister Banajee?

BANAJEE:
What are you wanting, Mister Lalkaka?

LALKAKA:
(mutters) Mister Bloodnok is wanting a curry, with a chipati.

BLOODNOK:
Hurry up, there!

L & B:
muttering, "we are getting the curry powder, we are hitting our heads - don't hit head, hit anything else, mix the other one, putting in the oven, lighting the gas oven"

FX:
explosion

BLOODNOK:
I'm not going to eat that!

L & B:
Oh dear! (rapid exchange (?))

BLOODNOK:
Gad! Look who's here! It's Ray Ellington, to play an Eastern melody.

Ray Ellington Quartet:
Music

WALLACE:
That was the Ray Ellington Quartet. I suppose the BBC know what they are doing. And now, the White Neddy Trade, part three.

Orchestra:
dramatic link

NED:
For days we struggled on through the jungle. Suddenly, we came upon a military figure, wearing a well-starched pair of Union jocks.

BLOODNOK:
How dare you! I was just tying my shoelace! Tickety-snitch!(?)

NED:
What for?

BLOODNOK:
It's going dancing tonight. Wait -- aren't you young Neddy Seagoon?

NED:
Yes!

BLOODNOK:
You remember meeee - we served together during the war.

NED:
Gad, so we did. The British restaurant!

BLOODNOK:
Of course! I was on the afters, but I deserted.

NED:
We mustn't argue over trifles!

PETER:
Hello boys and girls!

(general falling about)

NED:
Listen, what are you doing here?

BLOODNOK:
I'm digging for earth.

NED:
Any luck?

BLOODNOK:
No, just gold, gold, gold.

SPIKE:
A message has just come through for you on the gramophone.

BLOODNOK:
Then play it on this needle nardle noo.

SPIKE:
Right!

Grams - SPIKE (prerecorded) gabbling high and low, sped up and slowed down to make a screeching gargle

BLOODNOK:
You filthy swine! It's backwards!

SPIKE:
I put it on the right way, sir.

Grams - Moriarty (distorted), "Hello, Bloodnok. Keep your eyes open for Ned-eye Seagoon. He has obtained a bagpipes, stuffed with illicit senna pods."

BLOODNOK:
Right, Neddy, hands up, legs down, and drop that kilt.

NED:
What, in front of all these trees?

BLOODNOK:
I warn you, this blowpipe is loaded with a poisoned boxing glove.

NED:
Eccles, blow down the other end!

ECCLES:
Okay!

FX:
poof

BLOODNOK:
Oooh! You, you unhygienic fool, you!

FX:
running feet into the distance

BLOODNOK:
Come back here! Come back!

Orchestra:
link

NED:
OooOOOOO, folks. Slowly we pushed on through the jungle, little realizing that ten miles to the north, two men were in hot pursuit.

Grams:
jungle noises

MORIARTY:
Owww! I must get this hot pursuit off! Look! A fresh steaming footprint!

G-T:
Where?

MORIARTY:
Right behind me!

G-T:
Shut up you shattered wreck.

Moriarty (gabbles)

NED:
And, ten miles to our south --

Grams:
whacking, and jungle noises

Henry and MINNIE:
(mumbling, oh dear oh dear)

MINNIE:
Give me the axe, Henry, I'll soon cut through this undergrowth. One two three --- wheee!

Grams:
boingggggg

HENRY:
Careful, you've cut through my braces.

MINNIE:
Wheeee!

HENRY:
Put that camera away!

WALLACE:
Meanwhile, in a jungle clearing, we find an intrepid British explorer.

Grams:
jungle noises

BLUEBOTTLE:
Yeeehheee! Mam! Scoutmaster! Help! I'm lost! Eeeheeue! Takes out boy scout manual. Reads. A boy scout keeps his spirits up by whistling a merry tune. (blows ineffectively) Ehheey, I don't like this game. Thinks: If I give the cry of the night owl, perhaps the patrol leader will hear me. Can you hear me, chief? Gives cry: hoot hoot hoot! Hoot hootie hootie hoot!

Grams:
Lion Roar (well, SOME big cat or other)

BLUEBOTTLE:
Thinks: that is not my patrol leader. That is a tiger. Thinks: what is a tiger doing in East Finchley?

Grams:
Rustling undergrowth

Bluebottle (getting hysterical):
What is that approaching? What, what is that? Help! Help!

NED:
Quiet, little spotted brown egg.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Ha, you, I will not go quietly! Throws large stone. Forgets to let go, hits head on tree.

Grams:
Thud

BLUEBOTTLE:
Aheeheuehe!

NED:
Shh! We must get back to England!

ECCLES:
We got to get back to England! Yeah!

NED:
We'll have to isk - have to sa - ahem! - We'll aff to hask someone the way!

ECCLES:
Ha ho ho ho ho! Here comes a native! Coming!

NED:
Leave it to me! You there: whichum way to bigum water? Cross water, white fatherland, Queen Victoria, hooray!

PETER (old dear):
You are an old-fashioned thing, aren't you? Straight through the trees, there, dear.

NED:
Thank you!

PETER:
You're welcome, cheeky.

NED:
Come on, men! Forward!

Omnes:
Sons of toil and danger.

Grams:
splash

Eccles and BLUEBOTTLE:
Will you serve a stranger?

Grams:
splash.

BLUEBOTTLE:
And to hell with Burgundy.

Grams:
splash

Little Jim:
They've fallen in the water

NED:
Yes, but we were soon picked up by a passing horse-drawn zeppelin. As we are short of time, the last scene will take place here.

FX:
door opens

HENRY:
Hands up modern Neddy, I'm a secret agent from Interpol!

FX:
door opens

LALKAKA:
Hands up modern Neddy, I'm a secret agent from Interpol!

FX:
door opens

BLOODNOK:
Hands up modern Neddy, I'm a secret agent from Interpol!

ECCLES:
'ands up Neddy I am a secret agent from Interpol!

BLUEBOTTLE:
Hands up Neddy I'm a secret agent from Interpol!

MINNIE:
Hands up Neddy, I'm a secret agent from Interpol!

BLOODNOK:
Hands up, Neddy!

NED:
Hands up, all of you, because, I am a se -- hey - who is the man behind the illicit senna pod trade?

WALLACE:
A very good question. Frankly, I think he's ... all in the mind, you know.

Orchestra:
up and out with "Ding Dong, the witch is dead"



NOTES

A Sam Browne was a leather belt and shoulder strap used to support a holster for a heavy pistol or sword.

A Darby and Joan club is a club for OAPs of loving, old-fashioned, virtuous couples.