Goon Show Script

The Last Goon Show of All

Special Episode

First broadcast on 5th October 1972. Script by Spike Milligan. Introduced and produced by John Browell. Transcribed by John Koster, corrections by by Sean Dwyer.


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ORCHESTRA:
OLD COMRADES MARCH

BROWELL:
Well, good evening and welcome to the Camden. And if you'll forgive me, this is a most illustrious occasion. We are playing this Goon Show, the first since 1960, in front of a very distinguished audience. And I am very glad to see you and I hope you'll have a wonderful time. First of all the "Old Comrades", obviously played by the Wally Stott Orchestra. Wally Stott, I am afraid is not able to be with us this evening, so the orchestra is conducted by Peter Knight. Well, when Tom Mahony, who is head of my department, said "Can you get these bods together?", it was a bit of a job, but I got the principals, and I found Ray Ellington, but Max was a bit more difficult, because he is in America. But the BBC dug deep into its pocket, which was most unusual, but here, from America, is Max Geldray. Well, we didn't have quite so far to go for our colour sergeant, who else but Ray Ellington! Now it's absolutely fascinating, because I am so delighted than nearly everyone of the old musicians, (old?) have returned for tonight. I have an apology from George Chisholm, who has got his trombone stuck in his tartan down in Bournemouth, but otherwise I am so pleased to welcome the original members of the Ray Ellington Quartet, first of all Judd Procter, but not only him but Dick Katz. When he's not playing the piano he manages Lulu, he tells me. Well, here we are, all the original ladies and gentlemen, what more can I say but; please welcome the Goons!

MILLIGAN:
Simmer down. Tonight I thought I'd start by singing one of eh, one of um... (Blows in microphone) And now the Irish national anthem! (blows in microphone again)...thought i'd .. thought I'd start by singing one of Irving Berlin's songs, but I thought, why should I? He never sings any of mine! I'll sing "San Francisco" to get it all going, right?. (sings) I left my heart in San Francisco, I left my knees in Old Peru, I left my little wooden leg somewhere in Winnipeg, I left my wig in Darkland Zoo with you, I left my teeth on Table Mountain, high on a hill, they smile at me. When I go back again to San Francisco, (all together) there won't be much left of me, etc. Thankyou very much. And now for those two sons of fun, Sellers and Secombe from Finchley!

SECOMBE:
I will attempt to sing to you through the face! Hahaha. And where else? Accompanied by my friend Mr Sellers here on the timpanee! (Sellers does some timpani calisthenics) He's only using two tonight, and you'll notice that at no time through the proceedings do his hands leave his wrists! So, that lovely melodee, Falling In Love with Love in E-flat!
(sings) Falling in love with love, is falling for make-believe (timpani crash) Falling in love with love, is playing the fool (steady timpani roll)
(Milligan brings out jug to put in Secombe's outstretched hand)
Caring too much is such a juvenile fancy (heavy timpani booms) Caring too much is just for children in school (another steady timpani roll)
(Milligan pours brandy into the jug)
I fell in love with love one night when the moon was full (timpani roll) I was unwise with eyes unable to see-e! I fell in love with love with love ever-lasting,

FX:
SWOOPING FIGHTERPLANES AND MACHINE-GUN FIRE. (Milligan now helpfully fills up jug with milk.)
But love fell out with meeeee! (timpani and orchestra go insane).

MILLIGAN (off):
fine, fine.

BROWELL:
A serious omission here, yes, Andrew Timothy said to me, he hasn't been introduced yet.

SECOMBE:
Oh Andrew Timothy!

OMNES:
GENERAL CRIES OF AWWWW, SHAME, ETC.

BROWELL:
Ladies and gentlemen, Andrew Timothy!

OMNES:
GENERAL CRIES OF HOORAY, ABOUT TIME, ETC.

BROWELL (interrupting):
. . .who has a message for you. . .

TIMOTHY:
Ladies and gentlemen, we have had a large number of telegrams wishing us, believe it or not, good luck...and heaven only knows we need it. There is only time to recall one of them, and may I read it to you. It is addressed, of course, to the Goons and the message is as follows . . . 'One of your most devoted fans is enraged at the knowledge he is missing your last performance. Last night my hair fell out and my knees dropped off having turned green with envy at the thought of my father and sister attending the show. One day, perhaps, you will find time to give a performance to a shipful of Seagoons. My very best wishes, as always, and it's signed, Charles'.

OMNES:
STORMS OF APPLAUSE, ETC.

BROWELL:
There is only one old custom left for me to do, which used to take place. . .the time-honoured method of starting a program was to say:
Standby Recording-Room! Standby Transcription Service! Standby Television, we're going ahead in ten seconds from now...

MILLIGAN (off):
Well done.

BROWELL:
Hooray.

ORCHESTRA:
VARIETY OF TUNING UP SOUNDS. CONDUCTOR TAPS BATON ON MUSIC STAND. ORCHESTRA RESPONDS BY PRODUCING BATONS AND TAPPING ON MUSIC STANDS.

MILLIGAN:
(whispers to others) One, two, three...

ALL:
Variety of welcome, thank you speeches, all unintelligible. They trail off...

SELLERS (Kensington):
Now look, ah, let me try this Spike, I'm, ah, more _professional_ at these sort of things, you know, I understand them--

MILLIGAN:
You're also higher--

SELLERS:
--higher and _professional_ ...high...all together, one, two, threee--

ALL:
More enthusiastic, but sadly just as unintelligible as before. They trail off again...

SECOMBE:
No, no, I'm the heaviest--

ALL:
General agreement, and cede the mike to Harry.

SECOMBE:
One, two, three--

ALL:
Even more enthusiastic and more unintelligible than ever, Sellers sounding American and furious disagreement between all three. They go off arguing...

TIMOTHY:
They haven't quite got the hang of it yet, but after another smoke they should be switched on. If you are switched on, I am empowered by the governors of the BBC wireless to say `Good Evening', and in that order. I also have it on good authority that my name is Clapham Junction, but I'll have that checked out later. When I announced the first Goon Show in a field off Tiverton, I was 30 ... I am now 93. Mr Sellers will now sell a gross of his cars and take up a dramatic voice.

SELLERS:
Oh, yes, yes, yes. I have been asked by the Beeb Beeb Ceeb to get the audience warmed up. Well, to the best of my knowledge, there is no better way than by the gentlemen using their right hand to squeeze the top of the lady's thigh next to them...

FX:
FEMALE CRIES OF OH, AAH, OOOH, AH, OOOOH!

SELLERS:
Splendid, splendid! I will now whistle the soliloquy from Hamlet (whistles 'To be or not to be')

TIMOTHY:
That was Mr Sellers practising his comeback. This morning BBC archives delivered three coffins. I will now introduce the contents of coffin number one...bald, toothless and weighing 37 stones - Harry Secombe!

ORCHESTRA:
RAZZAMATTAZ INTRO.

SECOMBE:
(through megaphone) Thank you! Hello folks, Hello, folks of world! I am speaking to you using the new aluminium cone voice projector. I will start my comeback with a new trick taught me by a one-legged sailor who did toffee-apple impressions for Noel Coward (puts finger in mouth and makes popping noise). Do you hear that? (repeats popping noise). That's it folks! It's the new Grateful Dead Seagoon sound. I'll now reveal the secret to the world live via satellite from Neasden. Take the index finger, stick it in the gob, slide gently forward inside the cheek giving it an added impetus as it shoots forward from the lips - so! (repeats popping). You see? We directors of Harlech Television are not as daft as you think!

TIMOTHY:
During that demonstration of Mr Secombe's senility - a smile, a song and a wheelchair - the remains of Mr Spike Milligna, the well-known typing error, have been reassembled and he makes this sound...

FX (Milligna highspeed):
What's the recipe today, Jim?

TIMOTHY:
In a statement to the press, he said--

FX (Milligna lowspeed):
What's the recipe today, Jim?

TIMOTHY:
However later he denied this and reverted to--

FX (Milligna highspeed):
What's the recipe today, Jim?

MILLIGNA:
It's a lie folks! What I said was "Contraceptives should be used at every conceivable occasion"!

GRAMS:
(Nazi chant) SIEG HEIL! SIEG HEIL! SIEG HEIL! SIEG HEIL!

MILLIGAN:
Policemen are numbered in case they get lost!

GRAMS:
SIEG HEIL! SIEG HEIL! SIEG HEIL! SIEG HEIL!

SELLERS:
(Stan Laurel voice) I say, Ollie, anyone with a name like Hitler can't be all that bad.

MILLIGAN:
(Heavy German accent) Zere iss anozzer fine mess you haff got us into.

GRAMS:
NAZI CHANT SPEEDS OFF INTO OBLIVION

TIMOTHY:
As everybody knows who reads the Isle of Arran Shoemakers' monthly, Her Majesty the Queen was to have opened this Goon Show but owing to a nasty rumour called Grocer Heath, she has declined. However, at short notice and wearing a floral creton frock, Mr Secombe has agreed to stand in for his Sovereign.

SECOMBE:
Ladies and gentlemen, my first impression as the Queen will be a hedgehog doing acupuncture on Yul Brynners nut. Oh-ah-ooh-ah-ooh-ooh-! (fades off).

HENRY CRUN and MINNIE BANNISTER:
Get on ... please ... hurry ... get on with it.

SECOMBE:
What-what-what-what-what-buk-buck-cluck-cluck?

CRUN:
Start the show ...hurry.

SECOMBE:
Hurry? Why?

CRUN:
We're dying...

FX:
NUTS, BOLTS, HITTING THE FLOOR.

SECOMBE:
What was that?

CRUN:
Min...Min's falling to bits ...She's a loose woman you know...(mimes heart attack)

MILLIGAN:
Time for your coronary, sir!

SECOMBE:
Quick, throw a bucket of water over her before the season starts ... And now, ladies and gentlemen, my husband and I have great pleasure in starting this Goon Show number 161!

GRAMS:
SOUND OF SLUGGISH ENGINE TURNING OVER UNSUCCESSFULLY.

SECOMBE:
Oh. My husband and I have great pleasure in starting this Goon Show number 161.

GRAMS:
SOUND OF DODGY ENGINE FAILING AGAIN TO START.

SECOMBE:
My husband and I are having great difficulty in starting Goon Show number 161.

GRAMS:
DODGY ENGINE CONTINUING TO SPLUTTER COUGH AND FAIL. VERY LOUD RUDE SOUND.

SECOMBE:
That's funny, it was all right at the Royal Rehearsal...

SELLERS:
(Michael Caine cockney) 'Ello,'ello,'ello,'ello,'ello.

SECOMBE:
Ah! A constable of Old England played by an ageing Peter Sellers.

SELLERS:
I'm sorry sir, you cannot park that huge bloated Welsh body there.

SECOMBE:
Watch it, Rozzer.

SELLERS:
I 'ave been watchin' it, sir, and it gives me no pleasure ... now then, there's not many people know that. What is your name sir?

SECOMBE:
Harry Secombe.

SELLERS:
What a splendid memory you've got, sir. Now then sir, would you like to explain as to why you are wearin' a flowered criton frock?

SECOMBE:
Explain?

SELLERS:
Yes.

SECOMBE:
Haven't you read the court circular?

SELLERS:
No, I'm waitin' till they make the film of the book of the sketch of the Street of the play.

SECOMBE:
Now listen, constable.

SELLERS:
Yes.

SECOMBE:
I am dressed like this because I have been asked to represent Her Majesty the Queen.

SELLERS:
Oh, I'm sorry, Your Queen. My refund ferpologies, I'm sorry.

SECOMBE:
It's too late for that.

SELLERS:
It's only alf past five.

SECOMBE:
We're having difficulty starting this Goon Show.

SELLERS:
Well, let's have a look in the tonk, then. Tonk? Ah, I see you've still got the same typist you 'ad in 1953 ...
SECOMBE:
Yes, I still have her, no one's found out yet.

SELLERS:
Yes, ere's the trouble, Your Queen. There's no jokes in this fuel tonk.

SECOMBE:
I'll just shout a few in. I say! I say! I say!

MILLIGAN (off):
What d'you say? What d'you say?

SECOMBE:
How do you start a pudding race?

MILLIGAN (off):
I don't know, how do you start a pudding race?

SECOMBE:
Sago.

GRAMS:
DONKEY FART

MILLIGAN:
Someone get me out of here!

SECOMBE:
I say! I say! Can a lady with a wooden leg change a pound note?

MILLIGAN (off):
Can a lady with a wooden leg change a ten pound note? Yes!

SECOMBE:
No, she can't.

MILLIGAN:
And why not?

SECOMBE:
All together folks - she's only got half a knicker!

GRAMS:
DONKEY FART

SECOMBE:
Yes, there's plenty of combustion there! Well - Ladees and Gentlemen! I now pronounce the Goon Show - Open!

ORCHESTRA:
BLARGH CHORD

SELLERS (tipsy lady):
Oh! Every night is New Year's Eve! One more Time!

ORCHESTRA:
ANOTHER BLARGH!

TIMOTHY:
The plague hit London in 1546 and has been here ever since - Mrs Dale's last husband, Ray Ellington!
ELLINGTON Sings "Tennessee Waltz"

TIMOTHY:
That was Ray Ellington, one-time colour sergeant, now a Chelsea pensioner. With anti-pollution in mind, we move now to the Westminster City Council rubbish dump, skilfully sited in the middle of Hyde Park. Two ragged fiends incarnate are discussing a moot point.

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Don't point that moot at me, Moriarty! Say this line:

MORIARTY:
Sacréd Bleu! Havanagihila-arlaghir! Good news, the council have just dumped--

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Good--

MORIARTY:
800 feet of brand-new lagging.

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Question - Why does the council discard brand-new lagging?

SEAGOON:
Answer - Because it was in feet and inches, and we have gone metric!

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Splendid, so that's why you've gone! Old England isn't finished yet. It's finished--

FX:
GONG

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
--now. Moriarty, that lagging is going to be a lifesaver--

MORIARTY:
Yes! Let's eat it! Food!

FX:
SLAPSTICK

MORIARTY:
Earghh!

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
What's the matter with you? You stupid frenchie-poo! Here we are, starving to death, and all you can think of is food! Moriarty, lay your lovely head on this anvil and close your eyes--

FX:
HAMMER

MORIARTY:
Earghh!

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Now, taste this margarine

FX:
LIP-SMACKING EATING NOISES.

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
There, can you tell the difference?

MORIARTY:
No.

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
You see? You can't tell the difference between a lump on the head and margarine. The leadership of the Conservative Party is yours for the asking!

GRAMS:
CLOCKWORK ENGINE NOISE.

SEAGOON:
(sings) If I ruled the world, every day would be ...

MORIARTY:
Sapristi Ruckus! Here comes Neddie driving an unlicensed Goon Show with CD plates on.

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Smails of loon! It does look a bit seedy, doesn't it? Yes, he's dressed as our Gracious Queen. There must be trouble at the Palace, dan arr!

SEAGOON:
Ahoy there gentlemen of the frog and throad. Have you seen a knighthood go this way?

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Yes, but Richard Attenborough was wearing it, and anyway it was the wrong size for that huge, bloated Welsh body of yours.

SEAGOON:
What-what-what-what-what? Mind what you say or we will have you incarcerated!

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
The unkindest cut of all. Ned, just relax against this cut-throat razor. Ned, according to your monthly obituary, you were discharged in 1945 from His Majesty's forces as a first-class twit. On that occasion, you were given a gratuity of a hundred pounds.

SEAGOON:
One hundred pounds. Current market value:
three pounds!

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Now Ned, according to the Mean Swines Gazette & Admirer, you have never spent a penny on that gratuity.

SEAGOON:
No, I've been saving it for a rainy day.

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Why?

SEAGOON:
I want to buy an umbrella!

GRAMS:
DONKEY FART

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Neddie, now listen to this...

GRAMS:
(chipmunks) THIS IS WHAT YOU DO...

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
You see that's what's happened to Milligan. You don't want to end up like that. Here is a preview of next winter in Jimmy Grafton's attic...

GRAMS:
BLOWING STORMY SLEETY WIND

MCGONAGAL (over):
Oooh wind sleet rain and trousers are falling. The monkeys are still doing it in the soup. And the snow lies heavy on the slopes of Raquel Welch.

GRAMS:
BLOWING STORMY SLEETY WIND

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
[There!] Can your legs stand another recorded winter like that?

SEAGOON:
Well, I don't stand all winter. Sometimes I lie down ...depends on who she is...

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Ned, making love with cold legs up can cause knee trembling and ruin a man's chances in the old wedding stakes there.

SEAGOON:
Oh.. What do you suggest?

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Leg-lag!

SEAGOON:
Leg-lag?

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Leg-lag!

MORIARTY:
Leg-argglah!

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Let me introduce that. A Frenchman of noble birth, the family arms a wreck rampant on a field of steaming argent tat, voted actor of the year by Mrs Mable Fumes, son of the eminent graphologist and swine, Count Dingleberries Moriarty!

MORIARTY:
I tell you there is a curse on the house of Moriarty!

SECOMBE:
What is it?

MORIARTY:The Hampstead Building Society!

SECOMBE:
He looks in a bad way. Has he had a medical check?

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Yes, thirty shillings for a new truss.

MORIARTY:
End truss torture today!

FX:
SPRING DOING

MORIARTY:
Arghhh!

SECOMBE:
He must be due for the chop!

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
No it's my turn for the chop, he gets the bangers. But thanks to him, there's a government health warning on the back of every sailors shirt. Not only that, but he personally lagged the legs of the Reverend Ian Paisley!

SECOMBE:
Well if it's good enough for her it's good enough for me. I command you, lag my legs!

MORIARTY:
mon ... maddock ... mnk ...

ORCHESTRA:
ROYAL LEG-LAGGING FANFARE

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
That will be one hundred pounds in war gratuities and thirty new pence for the fanfare.

FX:
CASH REGISTER

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Thank you, Neddie. I will now adjust my address before doing a moonlight. Moriarty, get out the Land Rover and measure his legs.

MORIARTY:
Now, lift up your trousers, Neddie.

FX:
SOUND OF ROLLER BLIND ROLLING UP

BLUEBOTTLE:
Ooooh-he-heee! Who pulled those trousers up?

MORIARTY:
Name of a dog - Rover! Le garþon Bottle is there avec spots.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Oooh, it's Morinarty! You've gone bald. What is that lump on your nut?

MORIARTY:
That is the difference between margarine.

BLUEBOTTLE:
I know what we can do. Let's play mothers and milkmen and Neddie can be the blue tit that pecks the top of the cream. Peck! Peck! Peckee! Oooh- he-hee! Oh, I've hurted my groin...

SECOMBE:
Bluebottle you little devil! What were you doing up my trousers?

BLUEBOTTLE:
A man has to do what he has to do ...an' I did it over there.

SECOMBE:
Come out of my trousers at once, you spotty Herbert.

BLUEBOTTLE:
My name is not Herbert. I am James Bottle, double 0 seven and three-quarters cap size - ace reporter for the hard-hitting, brown-paper Junior Hours.

SECOMBE:
Get out, or I'll fetch you one.

BLUEBOTTLE:
No no, I can fetch it myself thank you. Don't shout at me please. I have got two '0' levels and a budgerigar.

SECOMBE:
I say. What are you doing with that camera?

BLUEBOTTLE:
I have got certain unsavoury snaps of your bloomers.

SECOMBE:
What-what-what-what-what? But I-I have to wear them, you see, that's protocol.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Oooh, what have you been eating then?

SEAGOON:
Give me back those snaps, or I'll never be on Stars on Sunday again, you know.

FX:
DOOR SLAMS FOLLOWED BY FRANTIC KNOCKING.

SEAGOON:
Bluebottle! Open this trouser door or I'll break every bone in my fist!

BLUEBOTTLE:
I'm not coming out until you give me a postal order for twenty new pence made out to Molly Quots.

SEAGOON:
Oh, folks! How could I raise that amount? I know. I could go and do a week's variety in merry Blackpool. I can still remember that shaving routine. How does it go again, ah, Well hello there folks, everybody needs to shave...(goes off).

TIMOTHY:
Mr Secombe's departure from the mike is a timely one - any departure of his is timely. I have a grave announcement to make. Just before this show started, Mr Max Geldray died. His wife described his condition as satisfactory. However, by waving some money under his nose, he has recovered enough to play his probate.

MAX GELDRAY accompanied by his orchestra

TIMOTHY:
68 year old Max Geldray, live from a bathchair. Mr Sellers, describe the next scene.

SELLERS:
Yes, well it's ah, tall, trendy, with a good sexy head of teeth, otherwise no.

SECOMBE:
I heard the description folks, but it sounds like me in my description.

FX:
HEAVY STEPS

SECOMBE (over):
And that sounds like me in my description running up the M1 to merry Blackpool!

TIMOTHY:
And it is indeed Mr Seacombe hauling his huge Welsh body up the M1. All four lanes are blocked and motorists are advised to take an alternative route like France.

GRAMS:
CLUCKING OF CHICKENS AND TUNING OF PIANO CONTINUES IN BACKGROUND

HENRY CRUN:
(vaguely in tune with piano tuning) Mmnk... Ummm... Hnaaa...

MINNIE BANNISTER:
Henreee! Man of mine, where are you?

CRUN:
What what Min, what?

BANNISTER:
Where are you, Henry?

CRUN:
I'm inside the new easy rider piano, Min.

BANNISTER:
Speak up, Henry! Eric Sykes is in. Which piano are you in, Henry?

CRUN:
It's the mahogany, lattice-fronted, iron-framed upright, serial number 935427D.

BANNISTER:
Oooh...935427D...They don't write numbers like that any more.

CRUN:
Min are you sure the correct way to tune an upright is with a Chinese chicken?

BANNISTER:
My mother swore by it.

CRUN:
Well it's not working this time.

BANNISTER:
Well try swearing then.

CRUN:
Listen you bloody chicken--

FX:
CHICKEN CLUCK

CRUN:
There's a label on its leg, Min, it says "Manufacturers warning this chicken is a Bombay duck."

BANNISTER:
But I heard it clucking in Chinese then

CRUN & BANNISTER:
Cluck, buck buck-oh.

FX:
INDIGNANT QUACKING

CRUN:
It's too late for that brother, you're a phoney!

FX:
CLUCK, QUACK, MEOW. CLUCK, QUACK, MEOW.

CRUN:
Listen Min. That was a chicken-duck-cat.

BANNISTER:
Oh dear. Does it lay eggs?

CRUN:
No, it lays kittens. Now Min, try a little tune on the piano and see if all those hammers are working...

GRAMS:
COOL SWING JAZZ PIANO GROUP

CRUN & BANNISTER:
Various jazzy exclaimations.

CRUN:
Oh stop it Min, you're nearly beating me to death in here! Ohhh...

SEAGOON:
It's getting dark on the M1. Or is it Ray Ellington? I'll just look up my horoscope...

ORCHESTRA:
BLOODNOK THEME

GRAMS:
THUNDEROUS EXPLOSIONS, MACHINE GUNNING, CAVALRY TRUMPET

BLOODNOK:
Oh! Oh! What's going on? Get her out the back. Where's me spares? The laundry will never keep up with this, you know.

GRAMS:
SOUND OF INCOMING ARTILLERY SHELL FOLLOWED BY MORE EXPLOSIONS

SEAGOON:
Bloodnok, stop that!

BLOODNOK:
Yes, which way did it go? It-it's a lady! Can it be? Yes! (sings) It's my dear Alice Bluegoon...

RED BLADDER:
Bloodnok! Come out and fight! Surrender the fort!

BLOODNOK:
I can't! It's leasehold and Lichfield and Grosvenor Estates and all that. Cheques and postal orders only...

SEAGOON:
Who's that out there playing the part of Ray Ellington?

BLOODNOK:
It's me mortal enemy, the Red Bladder. Go away, Bladder, and find your own television series!

BLADDER:
Bloodnok, Bloodnok you coward!

BLOODNOK:
What? He can't call me a coward and get away with it!

BLADDER:
You big coward!

BLOODNOK:
He got away with it!

GRAMS:
EXPLOSION

BLOODNOK:
Duck, Neddie!

FX:
QUACK. PHONE RINGS. RECEIVER IS LIFTED.

BLOODNOK:
Hello? What? Yes!

FX:
RECEIVER IS SLAMMED DOWN

BLOODNOK:
That was the Beeb Beeb Ceeb. They've switched Goon Shows. This is now number 162. Now now where's me old arrangements, let's see now, Sweet Sue in C, Mockingbird Lane (sings) Walking down Mockingbird Laaanee...

MILLIGAN:
(Indian accent) Pardon me, sir.

BLOODNOK:
What is it, Private Parts? It is Private Parts, isn't it?

MILLIGAN:
No sir, I am Singhiz Thing.
BLOODNOK:
Singhiz Thing? I remember you very well, yes. What do you want?

MILLIGAN:
It's time for your perversion, sir.

BLOODNOK:
Time for my perversion? Good! Good, let's start now...

GRAMS:
WAILING, GROANING, WHIPPING, STRAINING, OPERATICS, CRASHING, TINKLING, THUMPING, ECSTASY [Continues over Bloodnok]

BLOODNOK:
Ah! Oh! I love a bit of Wagner. Now the whips! Yes! Yes! Oh! Ah! Let me have the swastika now, I like that. Oh! Yes! Ah! Now the steering wheel club followed by the...oh! Touch of Mahler that's it! Is it all over? What about the starters? Now then, this uniform goes back to Moss Bros tomorrow.

MILLIGAN:
Yes, sir. There is a deposit on it.

BLOODNOK:
Oh, that'll brush off, don't worry about that. Now, Ned, why are you wearing that, why are you wearing that lovely floral creton frock? You're not the relief column, are you?

SEAGOON:
Take your hands off me and place them higher up.

BLOODNOK:
Oh, that's where it's all happening is it?

SEAGOON:
I'm dressed like this for Goon Show number 161.

GRAMS:
CHEERS

BLOODNOK:
Listen to that. Me pension's got through. Look, Ned, you need a rest. There's only one place. Go down into the coal cellar and do it down there.

SEAGOON:
Yes! I must find the snaps of my secret bloomers, before Bryan Forbes turns them into a novelty!

FX:
DRIPPING IN NOISE IN DAMP CELLAR. ALSO, STRANGE MUNCHING NOISE

SEAGOON:
By heavens! It's dark down here. What I need is a good Royal kip and a 20-course sandwich. Well, I'll just rest my body down on this smokeless fuel. Must have here for years. There's no fuel like an old fuel haha.

FX:
JELLY SPLOSH. MUNCHING CONTINUES

SEAGOON:
Ooohh that was nasty. I wasn't sure, but I swore I could hear what sounded like someone eating coke.

ECCLES:
(sings) Dum-dum, da-da-rum. Dere are tree men in my life. To one I am a mudder, to de udder I'm a wife. De third one gets the best of mee...

SEAGOON:
Who's that hey? Who's that? Who's that? Who's that?

ECCLES:
Dat's you.

SEAGOON:
Is it? I know that! I know that! I know it's me! I know! The creature was wearing a mini coal sack, both feet in one army boot and a coal scuttle on his head. He must be one of ours!

ECCLES:
As long as I'm not one of dem.

SEAGOON:
What are you doing down here?

ECCLES:
Everybody's got to be somewhere.

SEAGOON:
Yes, but who are you?

ECCLES:
Oooh, da hard ones first, eh? Now, I don't want you to spread this around ... but I'm the coal man.

SEAGOON:
Coal man? It's three in the morning.

ECCLES:
Yup. Never too late to be a coal man.

SEAGOON:
What I mean is, after you deliver coal, you're supposed to go back to the cart.

ECCLES:
Oooh. You mean I should have let go of the sack?

SEAGOON:
Yes.

ECCLES:
But...But they said they were giving me the sack. I wondered why the job didn't last long. Must be the old Finchley Exchange tomorrow morning.

SEAGOON:
How long have you been down here?

ECCLES:
Oooh. I kept a record. I scratched every day on de wall.

SEAGOON:
Good heavens! The walls are covered in them, and so are you ...suits you.

ECCLES:
Thank you, sailor.

SEAGOON:
You've only scratched six days to a week.

ECCLES:
Yup. Don't believe in working on Sundays.

SEAGOON:
Where's that drip coming from?

ECCLES:
Dat's me. I'm leaking. Here, are you a coal man?

SEAGOON:
No, I'm standing in for Buckingham Palace. Help me and I'll make you a companion of Honor Blackman.

ECCLES:
Wow-ho-ho-ho-hoooo!

SEAGOON:
Stop that or you'll go blind, I tell you! Listen, I'm going to have a royal kip. Now, if you see anybody come out of my trouser door - belt him. Now good night England and the Colonies. I'll just put on this record of royal snoring.

FX:
SNORES

ECCLES:
Dat's what money can do for you, folks.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Psssst...

ECCLES:
What?

BLUEBOTTLE:
Psssst?

ECCLES:
I haven't touched a drop.

MILLIGAN:
Joke no. 29 in the book.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Eccles, it's me Blinbuttons.

ECCLES:
Oh, my friend!

BLUEBOTTLE:
Yes I'm your friend you remember me?

ECCLES:
I remember you.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Yes... Why don't you open the door?

ECCLES:
Okay, I'll ... how do you open a door?

BLUEBOTTLE:
You turn the knob on your side.

ECCLES:
I haven't got a knob on my side.

BLUEBOTTLE:
On the door!

ECCLES:
The door! I'll soon get the hang of dat.

FX:
DOOR OPENS

BLUEBOTTLE:
Ah, ta Eccles. Now then, if you help me, do you know what I will do for you? I will give you a free dixie of bovril with added cardboard hash.

ECCLES:
Wow!

LITTLE JIM:
Pah...pilton...pa de dee pin pah... etc.

BLUEBOTTLE:
I say, Eccles.

ECCLES:
What?

BLUEBOTTLE:
What is that sicking out of the top of your boot wearing a cap?

ECCLES:
That is my nephew, Little Jim.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Oh, hello, Little Jim.

LITTLE JIM:
Pah...pilta pa de dee pin pah... etc.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Eccles, I do not understand what he is saying.

ECCLES:
Say it again Little Jim.

LITTLE JIM:
Okay. Pah pilta pa de dee pin pah.

ECCLES:
He says he doesn't understand what he is saying either.

BLUEBOTTLE:
He's one of Mrs. Thatcher's Incomprehensives.

SEAGOON:
SNORES

BLUEBOTTLE:
Here, who is that snoring in that frock?

ECCLES:
Dat's de new sound. It's Neddie. He thinks he's the Queen of England.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Yee-hee-hee! Eccles, let us play a game and push him down a well...

ECCLES:
Yeahà

BOTH:
Hup!

SEAGOON:
Aaaaaaaaaarggh!!!

GRAMS:
HUGE SPLASH

LITTLE JIM:
He's fallen in the water!

MILLIGAN (off):
Had to get it in folks, had to get it in!

GRAMS:
EXPLOSIONS.

BLOODNOK:
Oh! Oh! Out of me way! The Red Bladder's after me.

SEAGOON:
Hold it!

BLOODNOK:
I can't hold it much longer. It's old age.

SEAGOON:
You're in the wrong Goon Show!

BLOODNOK:
Yes, I needed the money you know, it's not safe in my Goon Show. Over there it's the Red Bladder doing the last turkey in the shop you know.

SEAGOON:
Is he really?

BLOODNOK:
Yes, I needed a nice quiet series, you know the ones, "What's the recipe today Jim?" Something like that--

SEAGOON:
Have you tried Broadcasting House?

BLOODNOK:
Every window.

SEAGOON:
Look this is getting ridiculous.

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Ned Your Majesty don't worry--

SEAGOON:
Why are you dressed like Bloodnok?

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Aren't we all? Your Majesty, good news. We have just found Goon Show number 163 in which you play the lead all the way through as an underfloor eating the defective.

SEAGOON:
I've always wanted big parts.

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Erm...If you'll pardon me I'll say that once again...(breaks down laughing)

MILLIGAN:
The car's outside if you want to go,

SELLERS:
Very soon, I can't read my own writing here...(tries again and fails)

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Your Majesty, good news. We have just found Goon Show number 163 in which you play the lead all the way through as an underfloor heating detective. (eating defective?!)

SEAGOON:
I've always wanted big parts!

MILLIGAN:
Wait for it, wait for it---

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
You always had them Neddie, you and Bentine! The only man with no room for the inside lag!

MORIARTY:
Now, Neddie, just get under these nice floorboards.

FX:
FLOORBOARDS HAMMERED DOWN.

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Now how's that Ned?

SEAGOON:
Splendid, there's not another actor on the stage!

MORIARTY:
Say after me, I am a twit.

SEAGOON:
You are a twit.

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Right, now stand by for your opening song

MORIARTY:
Ned, the singing floorboard, take 1.

FX:
CLAPPER

GRYTPYPE-THYNNE:
Action!

SEAGOON:
(sings) If I ruled the world... (fade off)

TIMOTHY:
Three weeks pass away, but alas not Mr. Secombe.

MORIARTY:
Ned, the singing floorboard, take 173 yah-haha...

SEAGOON:
(finishing)....and I ruled theeee worrlldddd!!! How was that Grytpype? Hello? How was the song? Grytpype! Hello?

FX:
BANGING ON FLOORBOARDS

SEAGOON:
(over) Anybody there? Let me out! I need food! Helllp. (pop)

FX:
DOOR OPENS

WILLUM:
This is your dressing-room. Welcome to the Palace Blackpool.

BLUEBOTTLE:
You're welcome to it mate.

WILLUM:
We've 'ad 'em all here. Tom Loans, Cilla Jack, Englebert Humptyback, Val Doligools, Rolf Haggis, Harry Stenchcloth, the lot. 'Ere what's your act, son?

BLUEBOTTLE:
I am with Captain Goatcabins Balancing Stallions. And I also accompany Miss Golden Finish, late of Dr. Eats Flying Toodles.

FX:
DOOR CLOSE

SEAGOON:
Help! And I mean that sincerely.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Here, where are you? I say, where are you? Do not frighten me, I have got clean underwear on.

SEAGOON:
Help! I'm in a play under the floorboards.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Oh. You must have got a real bad agent.

SEAGOON:
Get me out!

BLUEBOTTLE:
Yes ...I can see your belly through the knothole. Oooh... poke, poke, pokey!

SEAGOON:
Stop that poking! I want those snaps back!

BLUEBOTTLE:
That was a different show, you twit. This show is number 164. This is where I say roll up, roll up! I say! Sixpence for a quick stick to poke Neddie Seagoon. Poke-poke-pokey!

SEAGOON:
Stop that poking, I tell you!

BLUEBOTTLE:
Pokey-pokey!

BLOODNOK:
Out of my way!

GRAMS:
BIG BEN CHIMES, BAGPIPES, CHURCH BELLS.

BLOODNOK:
What's going on, I demand to know...

ALL:
Various demands, yells, confused orders, Sieg Heils, etc.

FX:
HUGE EXPLOSION. LAST BIT FALLING WITH A TINNY CLANK.

TIMOTHY:
The next Goon Show will be in 1982, and from Goon Show 167, farewell. P.S. forever.

ORCHESTRA:
SIGNATURE THEME.

TIMOTHY:
That was the Goon Show, a specially recorded programme for the 50th anniversary of the BBC, starring Peter Sellers, Harry Secombe and Spike Milligan. You also heard the Ray Ellington Quartet, Max Geldray and the orchestra conducted by Peter Knight. Announcer Andrew Timothy. Script by Spike Milligan. Produced by John Browell.

ORCHESTRA:
DING DONG THE WITCHES DEAD PLAYOUT

MILLIGAN:
Now get out!

SECOMBE:
We're a grand lot...

BROWELL:
Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen good night, safe journey home.

SECOMBE:
Thank you, God bless you, it's been lovely.