THE WHITE BOX OF GREAT BARDFIELD
GOON SHOW: TLO 74145
SERIES 5: No 25
BROADCAST:
GREENSLADE: This is the BBC Home Service. (strained) And
I'm getting fed up saying it. I am, I am...
SECOMBE: Steady Mr Greenslade...
Wallace, Wallace control yourself. Heheheh. Stand by to hear those two sons of
filth. Fred Socrates and partner.
ORCHESTRA: Variety theatre intro.
FRED SOCRATES: Thank you, thank you, thank you ladies and
gentlemen. And now a little monologue entitled "the Canterbury Bells won't
ring tonight, the old Dean's dropped another clanger!"
(backstage) Christmas
night in the workhouse...
MILLIGAN: I say, I say, I say...
FRED SOCRATES: You rude man, will
you kindly not interrupt my act when I'm entertaining these nice ladies and
gentlemen?
MILLIGAN: I say, can you tell me
what is it that has eight wheels and flies?
FRED SOCRATES: What is it that has
eight wheels and flies?
MILLIGAN: Yes, what is it that has
eight wheels and flies?
FRED SOCRATES: I don't know. What is
it that has eight wheels and flies?
MILLIGAN: Two corporation dust
carts. Thank you!
FRED SOCRATES: I don't wish to know
that!
FRED & SPIKE: (singing) That's why we're arm in arm
together,
just
like we used to be...
ORCHESTRA: Tatty chord.
SECOMBE: And so ends a farewell
tribute to Kenneth Adam from his dear friends in the highly esteemed Goon Show.
GRAMS: Oriental flute playing eastern
theme.
SEAGOON:
GRAMS: Large crowd of women ogling.
SEAGOON: He spoke.
GRAMS: Excited women.
ELLINGTON: My friends, my friends. I
will pay ten shillings to any man who can escape from these chains.
SEAGOON: Ten shillings?
GRAMS: Whoosh.
SEAGOON: I accept the challenge Ginger!
ELLINGTON: Right! Put your hands
behind your back...
FX: Chains rattling.
ELLINGTON:
now let's see if I can
get these chains.
FX: Chains rattling behind.
SEAGOON: (Fool! Little does he know
that these iron chains, leg shackles, hand cuffs and straitjacket can't keep me
prisoner for more than a second because, dear listener (laughs) heheheh, I am none other than Ned Seagoon, son of
Houdini!)
ORCHESTRA: Corny fanfare. Cymbal snap.
SEAGOON: Thank you! Yes, son of
Houdini whose book on how to escape I have sewn in the lining of my wig.
ELLINGTON: Right! Right now that's
it. Ten shillings if you can get out of that lot.
SEAGOON: Money for jam. (laughs) He he he he. All I have to do
is...
FX: Chains rattling.
SEAGOON: ...flick my wrists so; (struggling) raise my elbow above my
nose. Urghh, (I'll be free in a second. Ha ha! Nothing can hold me. Me, son of
Houdini!)
ORCHESTRA: Corny fanfare. Cymbal snap.
SEAGOON: Thank you. (puffing) Raise my right knee and place
it under... Yes... I'll be free in a second. (fades)
GRAMS: Big Ben chiming midnight.
FX: Chains rattling.
SEAGOON: Now - (struggling and puffing) I'll just get my left foot under my right
arm. I'll be free in a second.
ELLINGTON: Man you said that
thirteen hours ago.
SEAGOON: I'm just teasing you.
ELLINGTON: Well, I'm just going
home.
SEAGOON: Oh, no you don't. Have that
ten shillings ready. I'll be free in trice. (Laughs)
Ha ha ha ha. Remember, nothing can hold Ned, son of Houdini.
ORCHESTRA: Corny fanfare. Cymbal snap.
SEAGOON: Thank you. (struggling) Arghhh! Now I just stand on
my head and slip my waist over my knees. (Effort)
Ohhrrgggg. Ahhh! (Watch the ol' tenor's friend there...) Ah! I'll get free
if I go black in the face.
ELLINGTON: Man! that's how I got
free!
SEAGOON: Towards dawn he left me.
Then...
MORIARTY: Hawwwww; (sings) April in
chestnuts
in blossom.
Ho-ho, what is this chain covered charlie in the gutter?
SEAGOON: The stranger was a
tall hairy man wearing reversible Jewish socks and an explodable sporran.
MORIARTY: Och aye, mon ami. 'Tis a
braw brucked moonlick nick this night.
SEAGOON: A Scotsman by jove. He
approached with his kilt at high port.
MORIARTY: Och aye.
SEAGOON: Och aye to be sure. Who are
you?
MORIARTY: Allow me.
SEAGOON: The stranger stepped back.
Raised the tail of his shirt. And revealed a centrally heated brass name plate.
By the side was a bell.
FX: Door bell rings. Door handle rattles open.
MORIARTY: Sapristi nyackos it's
you again. Come in.
SEAGOON: Thank you.
FX: Dragging chains. Door shuts.
MORIARTY: Here! Let me take your wet
kilt.
GRAMS: Material ripping.
SEAGOON: WHOOPS! Thanks. Now if I
could just get me left leg over my...
MORIARTY: Not now. First you must
meet my partner.
SEAGOON: The stranger pressed a
button in his trousers. A bookcase swung back revealing a plastic mule rest.
From it he took out a volume. Rapidly he turned to page nine. On it was a
drawing of a door marked
FX: Knocks on door.
GRAMS: Speeded up bagpipe music.
GRYTPYPE: Och oye, och oye.
SEAGOON: Och oye.
GRYTPYPE: Ah, come in gentlemen. Oh
here Neddie, let me take your kilt.
GRAMS: Ripping material.
SEAGOON: (Oops dear.) Whoop! Thank you. (My, it is draughty!)
GRYTPYPE: Have a bagpipe.
SEAGOON: No thanks I'm religious.
Now I'll get my left leg under the...
GRAMS: Tiger growling.
SEAGOON: Gulp. A tiger?
GRYTPYPE: Yes.
SEAGOON: Don't let it come near me.
GRYTPYPE: Why not?
SEAGOON: I've got flu.
GRYTPYPE: Down pussy! put the
little man down.
SEAGOON: Why is that tiger wearing
brown boots?
GRYTPYPE: His black ones are at the
menders. Here have a fresh kilt.
GRAMS: Material ripping.
SEAGOON: Whoop! Thank you. Now
excuse me, I must get out of these chains. (Effort)
Errrr urghhh. They can't hold me, son of Houdini.
ORCHESTRA: Corny chord. Cymbal snap.
FX: Chains.
SEAGOON: Right! Now I'll just get my
leg over my right shoulder... (Efforts
growing more and more desperate.) Urghh... Rotate my ankles in circles...
Bend my head under my glasses... Burghhh... Space my arms round my waist, up my
back, under my chin. At the same time bend my legs up under the base of my
skull... Eurghhh... Eurgghhh.... (puffing)
How's that?
GRYTPYPE: You silly twisted boy.
Neddie, stop playing that leather euphonium and answer me. Why are you keeping
us prisoners here?
SEAGOON: What!?
GRYTPYPE: A likely story.
SEAGOON: It's the truth.
GRAMS: Tiger growls.
SEAGOON: Keep away from that tiger.
GRYTPYPE: Why?
SEAGOON: It's got flu! And no wonder
in this weather. Just look at the snow out of the window.
GRYTPYPE: Yes, it's a pity it's
going to waste.
MORIARTY: Do you realise Seagoon,
that the Sudanese have never seen snow?
GRYTPYPE: Just think Neddie, you
could be the man to hold the first exhibition of British snow in
SEAGOON: Really? But I don't own any
snow.
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, the bill of
sale.
GRAMS: Whoosh
GRYTPYPE: Sign there would you my dear.
FX: Scribbling on parchment.
GRYTPYPE: There. That gives you
possession of all the snow in
SEAGOON: Hooray! I'll take it to the
FX: Chains rattling.
SEAGOON: ... (effort) I'll just get this left leg over here... and the right leg
over... Earrlp!
GREENSLADE: While Mr Seagoon is in
the second day of his lightning escape act, we see approaching the French coast
a celluloid lift containing a harmonica player with a ginger glass eye Max
Geldray
MAX GELDRAY Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White
GREENSLADE: The White Box of Great
Bardfield part two and I'm surprised it's got this far.
SEAGOON: Having spent all my
life savings on buying all the snow in
FX: Hammering and chiselling over.
CRUN: Mnk mnk mnk Ohhhhh.
&c
FX: Knocking on a wooden door. Continue under.
BANNISTER: Oh, oh ohhhhhh.
We'll all be murdered in our beds!
CRUN: It's alright. I
can't get the wood you....
FX: Door knob rattling and door opening.
SEAGOON: Good morning.
CRUN: You can't come in.
SEAGOON: And why not?
CRUN: Our tiger's got flu.
SEAGOON: I don't wish to
catch that. Mr Crun, I want to transport one hundred tons of snow to the
CRUN: Yes, mnk mnk. You
can't get the wood you know.
SEAGOON: Can't you?
CRUN: No, no. You can't
get it at all. Do you know Molly Nasher?
SEAGOON: No why?
CRUN: She can't get the
wood either. You can't get it you know. (Raves)
BANNISTER: We'll all be murdered
in our beds I tell you...
SEAGOON: Yes, yes, Now Mr
Crun please, will you accept the task of transporting my snow to
CRUN:
SEAGOON: Yes.
CRUN: Poor, poor, poor old
Jim Tigernuts.
SEAGOON: Jim Tigernuts? What
about him?
CRUN: He couldn't get the
wood either. He had to put them in cardboard boxes.
SEAGOON: What was he?
CRUN: An undertaker you
know.
SEAGOON: I don't wish to know
that.
FX: Door opening.
BANNISTER: (singing) Yom pom piddle...
GRAMS: Tiger growling over.
BANNISTER: Yom pom piddle
pee...
CRUN: Minnie? Stop that modern
crazy rhythm singing. You you sinful woman.
BANNISTER: You're a square
buddy! You're corny.
CRUN: Never you mind about
who's corny. You put that tiger down.
BANNISTER: This tiger's not
well buddy. He's got flu.
CRUN: Never you mind
buddy.
BANNISTER: & CRUN: (Arguing)
BANNISTER: You'll have us all
murdered in our beds...
CRUN: Why don't you want
the wood you know...?
GRAMS: Tiger growling over.
BANNISTER: & CRUN: (Arguing)
CRUN: It's no good trying
to tell me whether I'm old and square. I can get the... I... Mnk, mnk, mnk... Ohhhh...
Minnie? Minnie? Oh dear, where have you gone?
GRAMS: Tiger growling.
CRUN: Fido. Good, good
tiger. Oh dear open your mouth... Min? (Echo)
Are you down there?
BANNISTER: (Distant) Yes, I'm just going to bed.
CRUN: Come out of there.
Tigers aren't meant to be slept in you know. (Raving) You mustn't... Come out at once, I'm...
SEAGOON: Stop this madness.
Mr Crun.
CRUN: You can't get the
wood you know...
SEAGOON: I understand that.
Mr Crun, I'm going down to the docks to commandeer a ship. I want all my snow
boxed and crated and delivered to the quay tomorrow.
CRUN: Poor tiger. He's got
the flu you know...
BANNISTER: (Distant) We'll all be murdered in our tigers!
GREENSLADE: Ladies and
gentlemen. A word to listeners who may have been perplexed by the recurring
appearance of a tiger with influenza. The RSPCA have asked me to point out that
on no account would they permit the employment of a tiger in a poor state of
health. The tiger appearing on this programme has not got flu, but is just
acting the part of a tiger with flu. Snow on high ground, rain in places. Part
three we join Seagoon at the docks.
FX: Chains rattling.
SEAGOON: (Effort) Hrghhhh. I'll just get my left elbow under the right
armpit and I'll be, I'll be free in a second.
GRAMS: Tiger growling.
SEAGOON: What's that? Who
owns this tiger?
ECCLES: Hello!
SEAGOON: I found myself
looking into the face of a ragged idiot, wearing a tin sou wester, carrying a
flannel anchor and leading a tiger.
ECCLES: You know, he's got
flu.
SEAGOON: Wait! why is that
tiger wearing brown boots?
ECCLES: His black ones are
at the menders.
SEAGOON: No, what I mean is
why does a tiger wear boots?
ECCLES: Well, it's lucky.
SEAGOON: Why?
ECCLES: What other tiger's
got two pairs of boots to wear? Anyhow, he's got flu an'...
SEAGOON: I don't wish to know
that. Let me tell you, you are speaking to the son of Howdini.
ORCHESTRA: Corny chord cymbal snap.
SEAGOON: Thank yew! Now long
lad tell me, where can I hire a ship to take me to
ECCLES: Ahhhh. Where can you
hire a ship to take you to
SEAGOON: You idiot Eccles!
ECCLES: You idiot Eccles!
SEAGOON: I want a ship with
supplies.
ECCLES: Orrrr, supplies
oohh. How about milk?
SEAGOON: Yes I suppose I'll
need some?
ECCLES: Oh good, 'cos me and
my partner are in the milk business.
SEAGOON: Who's your partner?
ECCLES: A cow! (Laughs) Ha ha ha ha!
FX: Pistol
shot.
GRAMS: Funeral dirge.
SEAGOON: Alas, poor Eccles I
knew him well. Right! Now has anyone here got a ship for hire?
BLUEBOTTLE: Yes I have! Enter
Blunebottles, sticks head through porthole, cops dirty big bosun's spanner on
nut. Splun! Ooer! I don't like this game.
SEAGOON: Tell me more little
heavily pimpled stranger.
BLUEBOTTLE: Do you want a ship?
I have a ship. A proud ship. Thinks I have a ship, a proud ship.
SEAGOON: Where is it, little
Nelson?
BLUEBOTTLE: Here it is! Springs
forward onto deck of proud ship. Springe! This is my rocket ship. See, I will
demonstrate its power to you. I stand on the deck and light the rocket fuse so.
GRAMS: Rocket launch.
BLUEBOTTLE: There it goes.
SEAGOON: Why aren't you on
it?
BLUEBOTTLE: Because.... Hmmm,
because the ship has gone. Thinks then what is Bluebottle standing on?
GRAMS: Body falling into water.
BLUEBOTTLE: Oyyyy. I'm drownded
in the deaded water. Look! All the silver paper's come off my cardboard
cutlass. My best trousers is wetted. This means I'll have to wear Mum's old
drawers while they dry. Hee hee hee! Exits left to hear Ray Ellington's
Quntend.
RAY ELLINGTON QUARTET - "Sally"
GREENSLADE:
We
come now to the great day when Ned Seagoon arrived at
BLOODNOK: All lies, do you
hear me all lies. I swear on my convicts uniform. Now Neddie, you've brought
the snow?
SEAGOON: Yes, a hundred tons.
BLOODNOK: Bravo for the old
country. What's its name again?
SEAGOON: Fred.
BLOODNOK: That's it. Long live
Fred! Now into this sack and I'll take you to the great exhibition hall.
GRAMS: Single whoosh.
BLOODNOK: Here we are.
GRAMS: Native African crowd noises.
BLOODNOK: Thank you, thank you
thank you. Yes... Now ladies, gentlemen and wogs. Mister Ned Seagoon will now
cut the ribbon on the first box of British snow.
GRAMS: Excited native African
mutterings.
BLOODNOK: Abdul, Abdul. The
scissors?
ABDUL: I can't get the safe
open hooray.
BLOODNOK: Safe? What are the
scissors doing in the safe?
ABDUL: Scissors are made of
gold.
BLOODNOK: Gold!
ABDUL: Hooray.
BLOODNOK: (Gulps) Steady Denis! Ahem. You can't get the safe open you say?
Well, let's see if old Denis can do it eh? Heheheheh, Yes now. Just put on me
running shoes. Now how wide is this safe? Three foot eh? (Calls out) You wogs there clear a lane three foot wide from here
to the door. Now before I open the safe, so that no-one will know my secret
methods, will you all close your eyes. Have you all done that? Splendid,
splendid. Now (effort) uh...
FX: Heavy object scraping on the floor.
GRAMS: Explosion.
SEAGOON: What's that? Good
heavens, the...
BLOODNOK: What's the matter
lad?
SEAGOON: The safe's gone.
BLOODNOK: Good heavens can't I
turn my back for the moment? Never mind lad, it so happens that by the merest
chance I have a pair of golden scissors on me. There, cut the ribbon.
SEAGOON: (Announces) Ladies and gentlemen, unaccustomed as I am to public speaking...
BLOODNOK: Never mind that. Cut
the tape. Go on.
SEAGOON: I now pronounce the
box of British snow open.
GRAMS: African native mutterings.
SEAGOON: Oh no! The snow's
gone. The box is full of water.
BLOODNOK: Ee gad! The heat of
the sun's melted it.
SEAGOON: Who stole my snow
and put water in its place eh? I'm ruined! (sobs)
BLOODNOK: What! This water
will sell for huge sums to tribesmen living in the
SEAGOON: Oh! How can I get
there?
BLOODNOK: Quite simple. By the
merest chance..
SEAGOON: Yes?
BLOODNOK: ...I have outside a
hundred camels and provisions for six weeks. They're yours for twenty pounds.
SEAGOON: Right! There!
FX: Cash register.
BLOODNOK: Thank you. (Shouts out) Forward!
ORCHESTRA: Desert safari link.
OMNES: (under music) Native mutterings.
GRAMS: Camel noises.
SEAGOON: January the eighth.
Nearly there. Very, very excited. Expect to make a fortune selling my cardboard
boxes of water to natives.
BLOODNOK: Travelled all night
to avoid sun.
ECCLES: I travelled all day
to avoid the moon.
GRYTPYPE: I travelled by train
to avoid Eccles.
SEAGOON: I travelled by
Eccles to avoid the train.
FX: Chains rattling.
SEAGOON: ... get my right
fist under my leg. (Effort) Urugggghhh.
Stretch my shake a leg up the mud walled city of
ELLINGTON: You come my city
Pong. My people all Pong. Me Pong.
BLOODNOK: Let me talk to him
in his own language. Now! What's your language?
ELLINGTON: You watch yours ladies
present. Hey! you! You got water in cardboard box for tribe? We need-um
water. Me give you money. Here.
FX: Coins.
SEAGOON: Oh thank you very
much. Where can I keep it all?
BLOODNOK: Lad. It just so
happens I have here a replica of the safe that was stolen in the
FX: Coins.
BLOODNOK: Thank you, thank
you. Oh, oh and now so that no-one will learn the secret combination of the
lock will everybody please close their eyes while I lock it? Are they closed?
Right! (Effort) Hup!
GRAMS: Speeding up footsteps running
away into the distance.
SEAGOON: I never saw him
again.
FX: Chains rattling.
SEAGOON: ...now I'll just get
my left leg over the...
ELLINGTON: We no wish to know
that. Show-um water. Pong people need-um water.
SEAGOON: Yes. Right! I'll
just open this cardboard box.
FX: Cardboard ripping.
ELLINGTON: Cardboard box empty,
cor blimey. Only steam.
MORIARTY: Curse, curses! It's
evaporated.
SEAGOON: Moriarty?
MORIARTY: Yes?
SEAGOON: I'm ruined again.
Will no-one help me? This Sheik will kill me.
GRAMS: Whoosh.
GRYTPYPE: Don't worry Neddie.
I can come to an amicable agreement with him.
SEAGOON: Oh good.
GRYTPYPE: Oh Sheikh?
ELLINGTON: Yeah?
FX: Pistol shot.
GRYTPYPE: Just a shallow hole
Moriarty. Ah Neddie, I know a place where they'll pay anything for old cardboard
boxes.
SEAGOON: Where?
GRYTPYPE:
SEAGOON: What do they want
them for?
GRYTPYPE: Well, you see the
idea is they pack snow into them and ship them to the
SEAGOON: No!
GRYTPYPE: ...and the
natives...
SEAGOON: No! No, leave me
alone. If I...
FX: Chains rattling.
SEAGOON: (Desperate)...can just get my left leg under my right arm...
ORCHESTRA: End theme.
GREENSLADE: That was the Goon
Show. A recorded program featuring Peter Sellers, Harry Secombe and Spike
Milligan. With the Ray Ellington Quartet and Max Geldray. The orchestra was
conducted by Wally Stott, script by Spike Milligan and Eric Sykes. Announcer
Wallace Greenslade, and the programme produced by Peter Eton.
ORCHESTRA:
Playout.