THE
SECRET ESCRITOIRE
GOON SHOW: TLO 87028
6TH SERIES: No 2
BROADCAST: 27 Sep 1955 [1]
By: Spike Milligan and Eric Sykes
GREENSLADE: This is the BBC Home Service. Now there’s
a service for you!
SEAGOON: Mister Groonslade – no advertising!
GREENSLADE: Hahaha! You should talk.
SEAGOON: (Clears throat)
Ahem. Kindly stand to one side (or to both sides,) as I announce the
extraordinary talking-type wireless Goon Show!
GRAMS: Old fashioned gramophone recording.
OSCAR WILDE:[2]
Oh, ho, ho there, dear patrons. Oh, ho, ho! We offer for your delection [3]
a three and a half act dream entitled, "The Secret Escritoire." (Goes off laughing) Oh, ho, ho, lads…
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic introduction.
GREENSLADE: The same afternoon, three weeks later.
GRYTPYPE: Let's see – Harris tweed, Birdseye… Ah, here's a
lovely mohair twill.[4]
MORIARTY: Sapristi, yakkakakkakoo! What's the matter with you,
Grytpype? Every cupboard in this house is full of these cielo pattern books.
GRYTPYPE: My dear heavily pomaded frog-eating friend, do you
not realize that each of these patterns would make a complete suit for a man
three inches tall? All we have to do is to find hundreds of such men, and then we
make a fortune.
MORIARTY: But where in the world are we going to find men so
small?
GRYTPYPE: Where?
MORIARTY: Yes.
GRYTPYPE: I'll show you. Look in this matchbox.
FX: Box of matches
sliding open.
MORIARTY: Awww! Sapristi nyuckles! Who is this man?
GRYTPYPE: Maurìce Ponk.[5]
Only last week he was six foot three.
MORIARTY: Six foot trois?
GRYTPYPE: Mmm.
MORIARTY: How did you ever manage to get him so sm...
GRYTPYPE: Well, I know a fiend in
MORIARTY: So much for the plot. Now for a few laughs.
GRYTPYPE: Yes.
MORIARTY: I say! I say! I say! Why did Sir Winston Churchill
wear red, white and blue braces?
WILLIUM: I don’t know. Why does Sir Winston Churchill wear
red, white and blue braces?
MORIARTY: To hold up his trousers! [7]
ORCHESTRA: Chord in C.
GRYTPYPE: Now Moriarty…
MORIARTY: Oui?
GRYTPYPE: Who can we shrink for one of our suits?
MORIARTY: I have a plan – or if you're French, la plan. Let's
go out and find a Charlie! We'll soon find one.
GRAMS: Traffic sounds. Hold under.
SEAGOON: My name is Neddie Seagoon. I was in
MORIARTY: (Distant) Read
ze news! Read all about ze English type news-reading, cor-blimey stone-a-crow
mate!
SEAGOON: Here there, Cockney news lad!
MORIARTY: (Suddenly very
close) Dear listeners, I am not a Cockney news lad, but a master of the
English-type voices. (Distant) Coming
mate, cor-ze-blimey!
SEAGOON: A paper! A paper, lad. And here's my copper coin of
the realm.
FX: Coin in till.
MORIARTY: Thanks! (Close
to mic) Little does he know, this is the start of a great plan to lure him to
GRAMS: Single whoosh.
SEAGOON: Wait! This paper is a day old. Ha! Never mind, dear
listeners – that penny I gave him was last year's. (Laughs) Ha ha ha ha! I've been passing old coins for some time
now. Needle-nardle-noo, to name but a few!
GRYTPYPE: Well said, little Nurk!
SEAGOON: Thank you, or if you're French – murky.
GRYTPYPE: Yes. Could I borrow your newspaper?
SEAGOON: I'm sorry, I left it in my other coat. Fortunately,
I'm wearing it.
GRYTPYPE: Oh. Could you read it to me?
SEAGOON: I never read my other coat to strangers. However,
I'll read you the paper of news.
GRYTPYPE: Good.
SEAGOON: Now, er – where are my reading glasses? Oh yes, I
left them in the escritoire.
GRYTPYPE: Disgusting!
SEAGOON: Have a care, thin sir! I’ll have you know that
according to the new Oxford dictionary, (and I quote) – l’escritoire means,
"writing table with tiroirs and pigeonholes, as distinct from a writing
desk which usually has a sloping front" – therefore what you see before
you on the pavement is my escritoire, or – if you're French, WRITING DESK.
GRAMS: Enthusiastic cheering and scattered applause.
SEAGOON: Thank you, Seagoon fans. Now...
GREENSLADE: Dear listeners, you are no doubt puzzled
at the picture of a full-sized escritoire in the middle of
GRAMS: Corny chord.
SEAGOON: (Idiot) Thank
you. (
GRYTPYPE: Yes, and I know where he is. Quick, follow me inside
the escritoire.
GRAMS: Two whooshes. Roll top shutting quickly.
SEAGOON: Inside my escritoire all was dark. I was lead to a
clearing in the blotting paper. There, lit only by lights was a matchbox. I
tiptoed forward on my hands and k-nees. And there inside the matchbox, lying
face-downwards on his back, was a dead contortionist.
GRYTPYPE: Need-die! Need-die! You must go to the police – or if
you're French, la polise.
SEAGOON: Yes – or if you're French, oui.
GRAMS: Single whoosh.
FX: Door opens.
SEAGOON: Inspector?
FRENCH INSPECTOR: [10]
Oui?
SEAGOON: I want to report a murder. Man dead in matchbox!
FRENCH INSPECTOR: Sacré Bleu! (Rapid cod-French - extended) … Or if you're French – (blows raspberry) PHPHPHPHPHPHPH!
FX: Door closes.
SEAGOON: I never saw him again. (I wasn't sorry either.) No,
so the police didn't believe me, eh? (Laughs)
Very well – I would bring the evidence back to them. Taxi!
GRAMS: Car approaching fast. Squeal of brakes.
CABBIE:[11]
Where to, sir?
SEAGOON: Piccadilly.
CABBIE: This is Piccadilly.
SEAGOON: How much shall that be?
CABBIE: Five bob.
FX: Penny in till.
CABBIE: Thank you.
GRAMS: Car drives off at speed.
SEAGOON: I returned to my escritoire, to discover that it was
gone!
MORIARTY: Do not worry, my little friend.
SEAGOON: I wasn't worrying your little friend. The man I
addressed was a tall, perpendicular cretin, reclining on a loaded pogo stick,
and carrying a stringless banjo for protection.[12]
Aloud. (Clears throat) Who are you?
MORIARTY: My card.
SEAGOON: The ace of spades!
MORIARTY: Yes. I’m a man of many parts.
SEAGOON: They don't seem to be working very well.
MORIARTY: Please Neddie, no ad-libbing. So, your escritoire has
been stolen! I can help you recover it.
SEAGOON: It doesn't need recovering, it's brand-new. (Cheerful burst of laughter.) Ha ha ha! ( Embarrassment sets in.) Ahem.
MORIARTY: What?
SEAGOON: I don't like the look of you.
MORIARTY: Name of a dog!
SEAGOON: Fido.
MORIARTY: Correct! Now, follow me. Meantime – Max Geldray!
MAX GELDRAY: "Someone
to Watch Over Me.” [13]
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic introduction.
GREENSLADE: "The Secret Escritoire," part
the two. If listeners will put up their binoculars and look towards Tilbury,
they'll observe that Moriarty has lured Neddie to the docks.
GRAMS: Distant sounds of shipping.
SEAGOON: Tell me, salty old seaman – you say my escritoire was
put on board a ship by Grytpype?
WILLIUM: Yes mate, yes. They put it aboard the S. S. Clarence.
SEAGOON: Is that a mail boat?
WILLIUM: With a name like that, we’re not sure mate.
Needle-nardle noo!
SEAGOON: Yakka bakkaka!. When did the ship set sail, mate?
WILLIUM: Two days and eight nights ago, mate.
SEAGOON: Good heavens, mate. By now it must be more than three
hundred k-nots away.
MORIARTY: Neddie, we must follow her.
SEAGOON: Right, follow me.
MORIARTY: No, I'll follow you.
SEAGOON: Right, lead on.
MORIARTY: After you!
GRAMS: A series of six large splashes. Vary the
size.
GREENSLADE: The first splash was Moriarty. The other
five were Mister Secombe. Now, if listeners will stand on
GRAMS: Lounge orchestra in background. Fade in melee
in foreground, bottles smashing, tables overturned, yells and shouts. [15]
BLOODNOK: (Yelling) STOP!
STOP!! STOP IT, I SAY!!!! Next dance please! Next dance. Everybody back to
their own beds. Ahh!
ABDUL: Pardon me, sir.
BLOODNOK: Abdul you naughty-type wog, how dare you burst into
my cabin on ladies night! Untie these nice women. Oh, I'm in condition tonight.
(Shouting off) Ohhh, ohhh, you
naughty type man.
ABDUL: Sir, sir![16]
There are two sahibs swimming behind the ship in the water.
BLOODNOK: Mesh me thudder, you’re right! (Calls out) I say, you two in the water – what do you want?
SEAGOON: (Drowning) He-elp! Have you an escritoire on board?
BLOODNOK: (Shouting off) Two
on B deck and one in the lounge. Stand aside and full speed ahead!
SEAGOON: (Desperately) Wait!
We have money.
GRAMS: Fifteen ton lorry applying its brakes.
BLOODNOK: Give us your hands, dear lads. Come along, you naughty...
[17]
GRAMS: Splashing.
BLOODNOK & SEAGOON: (Straining
sounds)
SEAGOON: Thank you sir.
MORIARTY: Murky, murky.
BLOODNOK: Yes. Now, I must first examine your documents.
SEAGOON: Mine are in this wallet, darling.
BLOODNOK: Allow me to see them, darling. Umm, forty-seven, forty-eight,
forty-nine, fifty pounds. Yes, these papers appear to be in order.
SEAGOON: Major, are you responsible for berths on board this ship?
BLOODNOK: Not all of them, dear boy. No.
SEAGOON: Well, we want a separate door with adjoining cabins.
BLOODNOK: Ohh! Well, that will be fifty pounds exactly, Mister
Smith. [18]
SEAGOON: What luck, Mister Jones. I've just got the right
amount, darling.
FX: Penny in till.
BLOODNOK: Thank you, darling.
SEAGOON: Now, where are you going to put us?
BLOODNOK: Here! (Heaves)
HUH…
GRAMS: Two large splashes.
SEAGOON: (Distant) You
scoundrel! We've just given you fifty pounds!
BLOODNOK: (Shouting off) D’you
think I'm not grateful? Full speed ahead – follow that sea! ARGHH...
ORCHESTRA: Nautical Fanfare. Segue into oriental link.
SEAGOON: Moriarty and I struck out for a foreign shore, and
soon waded ashore on a foreign land.
GRYTPYPE: Welcome ashore to
SEAGOON: Great goose sticks! Grytpype-Thynne, you devil – where's
my escritoire?
GRYTPYPE: Put on these bamboo boots and follow me!
GRAMS: Boots gradually speeding up and running into
the distance.
GREENSLADE: If listeners will now stand on the top of
CUSTOMS OFFICER:[20]
Please, what have you got in this eighty ton clase?
BLOODNOK: Nothing, little Malayan customs officer, played very
badly by Harry Secombe. You don't think I carry it around full, do you?
CUSTOMS OFFICER: Please open, or I clout ear-hole with
stick.
BLOODNOK: Oh, that's different. Very well.
GRAMS: Large packing crate being opened;
splintering of wooden slats etc.
ECCLES: Hallo!
CUSTOMS OFFICER: Explain please presence of white idiot in
case.
BLOODNOK: You white idiot – what are you doing in my case?
ECCLES: Case? You told me this was a first-class cabin.
BLOODNOK: It's lies, all lies I tell you. I never took
eighty-pounds-off-him-for-letting-him-travel-in-this-case-believing-it-to-be-a-first-class-cabin-thus-hoping-to-defraud-the-steamship-company-of-the-eighty-pounds-I-took-off-him.
It's all lies. Arrest him!
ECCLES: Wait! I'm as innocent as you are.
BLOODNOK: There you are. Arrest him!
CUSTOMS OFFICER: Please, tell why you come to
ECCLES: Yeah, I want to buy some rubber.
BLOODNOK: Why?
ECCLES: I made a mistake in my homework.
CUSTOMS OFFICER: Sorry – you must pay duty on this idiot.
BLOODNOK: Pay duty on an idiot!?
CUSTOMS OFFICER: Yes. Twenty dollars alive or three
dollars dead.
BLOODNOK: Eccles, here's a pistol. Do the decent thing.
ECCLES: Ok. Goodbye.
FX: Pistol shot.
ECCLES: Got him!
BLOODNOK: Good shot, Eccles!
SEAGOON: (Approaching) Stop,
stop! That's the man who threw me off the S. S. Clarence!
BLOODNOK: (Spluttering) I
don't recognize you.
SEAGOON: Of course not – I've still got my Malayan customs set
on. [21]
ECCLES: (Laughing) Ha
ha ha ha hum. Ha ha ha ha hum!
SEAGOON: Eccles!
ECCLES: Yeah?
SEAGOON: Mister Eccles – my old headmaster! [22]
ECCLES: I've got my old head on too.
GREENSLADE: Dear listeners, this will give you some
idea of the drastic shortage of schoolteachers.
ECCLES: And that speech will give you some idea of the
drastic shortage of announcers.
SEAGOON: Mister Eccles!
ECCLES: Yes, my good man?
SEAGOON: Mister Eccles, you were on board the S. S. Clarence,
weren't you?
ECCLES: Ah-hum.
SEAGOON: Did you see a roll-top desk on board?
ECCLES: Nope. The only thing I saw was an escritoire.
SEAGOON: An escritoire?
ECCLES: Yeah.
SEAGOON: Is an escritoire a French word from the Latin meaning
"to scrite?"
ECCLES: Ah-hum.
SEAGOON: And does it mean all in all, “a writing table with tiroirs
and pigeonholes”, as distinct from a writing desk which has a sloping front?
ECCLES: Yeah.
SEAGOON: Huzzah! That's the very thing I'm looking for!
ECCLES: What is?
SEAGOON: An escritoire.
ECCLES: What's an escritoire?
SEAGOON: Needle nardle noo! In that escritoire is a man dead
in a matchbox, and I want him as evidence to show to the police.
BLOODNOK: Ah! Wrench me thudder and larrup me knid! If a murder
is involved I can remain silent no longer. Your escritoire was sent to this
address.
SEAGOON: Quick! Follow that address!
GRAMS: Old gramophone recording.
FX: Various drawers
opening and closing. Continue under.
CRUN & BANNISTER: (Aged
improvisation.)
UNCLE OSCAR: Have you seen my teeth, Minnie?
CRUN & BANNISTER: Oh dear, dear, dear, dear. &c
BANNISTER: Uncle Oscar's lost his choppers.
CRUN: Lost his choppers, Min?
BANNISTER: Yes.
UNCLE OSCAR: I had them when I started.
BANNISTER: You spend too long in there every day, Henry.
FX: Series of padlocks
snapping shut.
BANNISTER: Are you locking up, Henry?
CRUN: Yes, I'm locking up.
BANNISTER: I'm worried about the Malayan bandits, you know. [23]
CRUN: Don't you worry, Min. Every door is locked from the
inside.
BANNISTER: Oh. I'm… I'm still very worried, Hen.
CRUN: Why?
BANNISTER: I'm outside.
CRUN: Oh!
BANNISTER: It's not my fault. I was potting the rubber tree, and
you told me...
UNCLE OSCAR: I can't find my teeth, you know. I er… I er…
I had pudding on them last night.
FX: Door opening.
CRUN: Now, come in Min and stay in.
FX: Door closing.
BANNISTER: Oh, oh. You locked me out when my back was...
UNCLE OSCAR: My choppers have gone you know. Perhaps
they're in the pie crust.
CRUN: Ellinga?
BANNISTER: He's lost his teeth.
CRUN: Ellinga, can you reach the top bolt? I can't...
ELLINGA: Me reach – me got long arms. Strong arms.
CRUN: Just put the bolt…
ELLINGA: Me reach. Very strong.
CRUN: You're strong?
ELLINGA. Mmm.
CRUN: You’re getting married soon, aren’t you Ellinga?
ELLINGA: Yes, cor blimey.
CRUN: Good luck.
BANNISTER: Good luck buddy.
ELLINGA: Got bolt. Strong, very strong indeed. [24]
UNCLE OSCAR: He's got teeth and everything. [25]
CAST: (Improv.
Continue under.)
GREENSLADE: Listeners, if you raise your ear trumpets
you will hear Mister Ray Ellington and his quartet.
RAY ELLINGTON QUARTET – “Play It, Boy" [26]
CRUN & BANNISTER:
(Aged improv. continues.)
FX: Knocking.
BANNISTER: Ooh! Oohee! Oh, we'll all be murdered in our beds. What's
that?
FX: Door opens.
SEAGOON: Pardon me, old steaming couple.
CRUN: What do you want, little ball of lard?
SEAGOON: Have no fear, old colonial couple – all I seek is that
escritoire.
BANNISTER: How did you get into our blung-bungalow?
SEAGOON: Through the bead curtain.
BANNISTER: We haven't got any.
SEAGOON: I carry my own.
CRUN: We have not got the escritoire, sir. Mister
Grytpype-Thynne took it through the beaded curtain.
SEAGOON: You said you hadn't got any.
CRUN: He carries his own.
SEAGOON: Quick, men – follow that Grytpype!
GRAMS: Massive whoosh. Regiment at quick march. French
military band over. Speeded up.
GRAMS: Huge splash.
SEAGOON: (Exhausted
panting)
GRAMS: Machete hacking at jungle foliage. Continue
under.
SEAGOON: For weeks we cut our way through the dense jungle
that ran along the side of the arterial road. Gladys?
GLADYS: Yes, darling?
SEAGOON: Gladys, I have a feeling we're lost.
GLADYS: Do not worry. Me come from old tracking family. Me
come this way many times before.
SEAGOON: Good. Where does it lead to?
GLADYS: Me don't know. Me always get lost, cor blimey.
BLOODNOK: (Distant) Oh!
Oh oh... Oh dear…
SEAGOON: Shh! There's someone approaching.
BLOODNOK: (Approaching) Oh
– Seagoon, Seagoon!
SEAGOON: Why are you following me?
BLOODNOK: You're so attractive.
SEAGOON: Thank heavens. For a moment, I thought you were going
to lie.
BLOODNOK: Seagoon, I… I… I feel I must tell you. You're being
led into a terrible plot. Grytpype-Thynne has a thousand suits ready for
midgets. He intends to shrink you to the right size and make you his first customer.
SEAGOON: Great yakka bakakka koos!
BLOODNOK: Yes, he could shrink you to three inches.
SEAGOON: Half my present height.
BLOODNOK: Yes. Look lad, for a thousand pounds I'll sell you
this anti-shrink pill.
SEAGOON: A thousand pounds – my life savings. Well, come into
the office.
FX: Door opens.
GRAMS: Distant typing pool.
MISS PILLS:[27]
Morning, Mister Seagoon.
SEAGOON: Morning Miss Pills. Miss Pills, get a thousand pounds
from the safe.
MISS PILLS: Yes sir.
SEAGOON: Bloodnok, I'm very grateful to you.
MISS PILLS: Here you are, sir.
SEAGOON: Thank you. There, Bloodnok – a thousand pounds in
money.
MISS PILLS: Mister Seagoon, when you will you be
back?
SEAGOON: (Brave panic) I
don't know. You see I'm lost in the Malayan jungle. For heaven's sake send
help. Goodbye!
FX: Door closes smartly.
SEAGOON: Right men – I must find that body in the matchbox as
evidence. Reverse kneecaps and we'll head north. Follow me!
GRAMS: Splash.
GREENSLADE: There are many lakes in
SEAGOON: I struck out for the far side of the mango-infested
swamp.
ECCLES: Grab my hand – I'll pull you out.
SEAGOON: Eccles! How did you get across the swamp without
getting wet?
ECCLES: I jumped on that log.
SEAGOON: That? Log? That's an alligator![28]
ECCLES: Ooo. I wondered why my legs kept getting shorter.
SEAGOON: Gad – we're in a pretty mess. What's going to happen
next?
BLUEBOTTLE: Hands up in Malayan! Do not move or these
cardboard guns will spit death! Enter Bluenbotton. Signals applause.
GRAMS: Cheers, shouts, and clapping.
BLUEBOTTLE: Enough, enough, enough! I have drunk my
fill.
SEAGOON: Great hoary swimmers! It's a… What is it?
BLUEBOTTLE: Silence white stringe. I am Jungjl Jim
Blunebottom, Kinge of the junj-gle. I have been hiding in the jungle for three
weeks. [29]
SEAGOON: Why?
BLUEBOTTLE: I got a hole in my trousers.
SEAGOON: Tell me little stranger, why do you bar our way?
BLUEBOTTLE: I have been sented here to lead you to
Grytpype-Thynne and Doctor Syn, the mad Malayan biologic chemisterarian.
SEAGOON: Is that difficult?
BLUEBOTTLE: You try saying it.
SEAGOON: Very well, lead on.
BLUEBOTTLE: Yes, but first we must cross the dreaded
river Bagochips.
ELLINGA: I warn you, river Bagochips very cold.
SEAGOON: There's nothing worse than a cold bag-o-chips!
GREENSLADE: If listeners will now stand on their
heads in a bowl of lukewarm porridge, they'll be able to hear the last part of ‘The
Secret Escritoire.’ If you haven't got porridge, bread pudding is an excellent
substitute. Good luck!
ORCHESTRA: Corny chord in C.
GRAMS: Native singing.
SEAGOON: For days we travelled deep into the interior. There
we met a tribe called the Darkaraters. They were of course the famous interior
Darkaraters.
BLUEBOTTLE: Stop! We have arrived. This is the place
and there is your escrintoire. I have done-ed my duty. Sinks exhausted to
ground, does hands-clutching and unclutching act as done by Cary Grant in ‘To
Catch A Thief.’[30] (Here,
that Grace Kelly is a nice tart, isn’t she? Thinks – “I must be growing
up!” Tee hee hee!)
SEAGOON: Good work, Bluebottle! Here's a match – go find
yourself a petrol dump. Now to locate the dead man in the matchbox.
GRYTPYPE: Neddie, drop that gun, or I shall play this record.
GRAMS: Recording of ‘Cara Mia’ by David Whitfield.[31]
SEAGOON: STOP! STOP! STOP! You win. What do you want?
GRYTPYPE: Roll up your sleeve.
SEAGOON: There.
GRYTPYPE: Just as I thought – an arm!
SEAGOON: Suddenly he took out a yi-tong-tiddle-I-po-dermic
needle and… (agony)
Ahh-ooo-arrgghhh-eeahh…&c
GRYTPYPE: Have you finished?
SEAGOON: Yes.
GRYTPYPE: Good. Now I'll give you the injection.
SEAGOON: (Agony) Ahhh!...
Ooh! I hurriedly swallowed my anti-shrink tablet.
GRYTPYPE: There. In a few moments you'll be the right size for a
suit. Now, in here Neddie.
SEAGOON: (Laughs) He
thinks I'm going to shrink.
FX: Door opens then closes.
(Pause)
FX: Door opens.
SEAGOON: (Falsetto)
How do you like my new suit, fellas – eh?
ORCHESTRA: End theme.
GREENSLADE: That was the Goon Show, a recorded BBC
programme 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, the
programme produced by Peter Eton.
ORCHESTRA: Theme up and out.
GREENSLADE: Harry Secombe is now appearing in
‘Flotsam's Midgets’ on Bognor Pier.[32]
ORCHESTRA: Playout.
YTI
