THE INTERNATIONAL CHRISTMAS PUDDING
GOON SHOW: TLU 52103
6TH SERIES: No 9
BROADCAST: 15 Nov 1955 [1]
Script by Spike Milligan
GREENSLADE: This is the BBC
Home Service. Will anybody start the bidding?
SECOMBE: Ten shillings there!
GREENSLADE: SOLD!
SECOMBE: Good! Then we're off on another remarkable wireless
talking-type Goon Show.
GRAMS:
Old fashioned gramophone recording of fox-trot.
SECOMBE:
STOP! (Gravely) Tonight – in honour
of the occasion, we bring you, especially writted for the wireless, the classic
tale of the Great International Christmas Pudding.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic
introduction.
ECCLES: Fine, fine, fine.
SPRIGGS: The Great International
Christmas Pudding! (Shock) Huh!... Where
is it?
SELLERS: (Venerable) Many years ago in the
year five hundred and sixty-two BC the Great Monumental International
Christmas Pudding was struck by lightning which also struck a tree, and the
magnificent International Christmas Pudding, which had been erected by Sisygambis
atop a temple tall,[2]
was broken into two portions by the knock it received
during the fall. And oh, these portions have been carried to a far corner of
the earth, and this terrible disaster is not an occasion for mirth and ooh...
ORCHESTRA: Harp glissandos.
GREENSLADE: Yes, it was in 1843 that the discovery in the Sudan of a
large fossilised fragment of this long forgotten pudding prompted a question in
the House of Commons.[3]
CAST: (Snoring under)
MP:[4] (Ancient) … And
the discovery of this portion of pudding prompts me to suggest that if all the
portions of this emblem of international goodwill and understanding could be
reassembled and set up in some appropriate spot, it might well be the turning
point in the falling prestige of this wonderful country of ours.
SECOMBE: Hear hear! All right lads – tea up! Tea up! [5]
GREENSLADE: And so it was, one autumn evening, that a tall stranger
approached a young man, secretly repairing a granite banjo in Hyde Park.
FX: Scratching.
GRYTPYPE: Good evening. Have
a picture of Queen Victoria. [6]
SEAGOON: No thanks. I'm trying to give them up.
GRYTPYPE: I don't think you'll ever do it. I've tried and failed. May
I come in?
SEAGOON: But I'm outside.
GRYTPYPE: Well you come in, then.
FX: Door opens and
closes.
SEAGOON: (narrative) I
found myself inside a twelve bob a week bed-sitting room in Temple Kilburn. [7]
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, we have a guest.
MORIARTY: Good – at last we eat!
GRYTPYPE: Neddie, just step into the oven will you?
FX: Oven door opens.
GRYTPYPE: We'll soon dry those damp clothes for you.
SEAGOON: Ha ha ha! Thank you very much.
FX: Oven door shuts.
GRYTPYPE: D’you mind lying down in the baking tin?
SEAGOON: (off) Right.
GRYTPYPE: Right Moriarty, light the gas.[8]
MORIARTY: I can't. I've no money for the meter.
GRYTPYPE: What? What happened to that penny?
MORIARTY: I sold it for two ha'pennies.
SEAGOON: (off) I can lend
you a penny.
FX: Oven door opens
hurriedly.
GRYTPYPE: You have money?
SEAGOON: Oh, lots of it.
MORIARTY: Money! Ohahehihohehaheoiu… (extended)
GRYTPYPE: Steady Moriarty. Please hide those bones.
MORIARTY: I can't – they're mine.
GRYTPYPE: Well, put a brown paper towel around them. Now Neddie, come
out of the oven and sit down on this orange box.
SEAGOON: Thank you very much.[9]
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, put that cardboard chicken on the table and play
the record of a champagne bottle being opened.
MORIARTY: Right, I'll do it.
GRYTPYPE: You say you're rich, Neddie.
SEAGOON: Yes. I'm an eccentric millionaire you know. Haha. I really
don't know what to do with the money. I was thinking of giving it all to a fund
for third rate music hall comedians.
MORIARTY: What? I say I say I say – what is it that has eight wheels
and flies?
GRYTPYPE: I don't know. What is it that has eight wheels and flies?
MORIARTY: Two corporation dustcarts!
GRYTPYPE: I don't wish to know that!
SEAGOON: No, neither do I. (Clears
throat) On second thoughts...
MORIARTY: Yesyesyesyes?
SEAGOON: I think I'll give it all to the next two men to swim the
channel. [10]
GRYTPYPE & MORIARTY: Ohh.....
GRAMS: Two splashes. Trudgeon stroke into distance. Speed up.
SEAGOON: (Calls) No, come
back!
GRAMS: Trudgeon stroke coming closer at speed.
MORIARTY: What, what?
SEAGOON: I've changed my mind. No! No, I WILL give it all to the
next two men to swim the channel.
GRYTPYPE & MORIARTY: Ohh.....
GRAMS: Two splashes. Trudgeon stroke fading into distance. Speed up.
SEAGOON: (Calls) No no! No
no no! (Continues over)
GRAMS: Trudgeon
stroke coming closer at speed.
SEAGOON: I've changed my mind. I'll spend every penny on forming a
new show band.
GRAMS: Old fashioned Jack Hylton charleston recording.
SEAGOON: No, I've got it. Yes, I've got it. I'll give it all to the
man who runs a mile in three minutes. [11]
FX: Pistol shot.
GRAMS: Sound of feet running away then returning. Speeded up.
MORIARTY: (panting) There! Three
minutes exactly.
SEAGOON: No – I've changed my mind.
MORIARTY: What what what what what?
SEAGOON: I don't know really. I tell you what, have you any
ideas on how to spend my money?
MORIARTY: Oiehohohoho.
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, please. Let me look in my book of suggestions. (Reading) A...B...C... Charlie. Neddie,
have you ever heard of the Great International Christmas Pudding?
SEAGOON: No-oo?
GRYTPYPE: Do have a picture of Queen Victoria.
SEAGOON: Well, just this once. (narrative)
As I puffed my Queen Victoria, he told me the amazing story of the Great International
Christmas Pudding originally built at Alexandria in BC two thousand, destroyed
and sacked by the Carthaginians under Plato's republic and its fragments
scattered the length and longth of the known world. [12]
GRYTPYPE: Thank you Neddie – you saved me telling you.[13] But think Neddie, if only all these fragments of the Great
International Christmas Pudding could be found and reassembled under one roof,
the whole magnificent structure could be completely restored. What an incentive
to goodwill and understanding among men.
SEAGOON: GAD! Yes.
GRYTPYPE: How would… (and think carefully) – how would you like to
join my Great International Christmas Pudding expedition?
SEAGOON: (Over excited) Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes!
GRYTPYPE: No, no, though. I doubt if you have the stamina.
SEAGOON: What? Hahaha! A test! A test! Give me a test!
GRYTPYPE: Lift me on your back.
SEAGOON: Child's play… (strains)
Put your foot in… There!
GRYTPYPE: (off) Good! Now
Moriarty.
SEAGOON: Easy! (strains) Watch
out for the tenors friend there. Right up! Hup. (Pants) Huff! Now what?
GRYTPYPE: (off) Are you
sure you’ve got money?
SEAGOON: Yes – of course I have.
GRYTPYPE: (off) Then the
Ritz Carlton grill for lunch, and step on it please – do you mind.
MORIARTY: Yes! And at all costs avoid Max Geldray.
GELDRAY: (Quick chord).
MORIARTY: Too late!
MAX GELDRAY
– “For Me an’ My Gal” [14]
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic link.
GREENSLADE: The Great International Christmas Pudding, second helping.
Deeply impressed by the magnificent luncheon he’d bought for Lord Grytpype,
Neddie decided to equip a complete Christmas Pudding expedition.
ORCHESTRA: Brisk chords; segue into native singing accompanied by tribal drumming.
[15]
SEAGOON: (narrative) Yes,
within a week I had landed at Port Bakango.[16] Awaiting me on the quay was a resplendent figure wearing a
tiger-skin busby, a scarlet duffel coat and khaki drill shorts[17] and smoking a picture of Queen Victoria.
BLOODNOK: Ohhh, white man. Allow me to introduce myself sir – Major
Denis Bloodnok, International Christmas Pudding agent for the Sudan.
SEAGOON: Gad, what luck! The very man I'm looking for.
BLOODNOK: You mean you're interested?
SEAGOON: Of course.
BLOODNOK: You don't know what you're undertaking. Do you realise
there are men here who’d be willing to drive you out of the country at any
price?
SEAGOON: Who are they?
BLOODNOK: Native taxi drivers.
SEAGOON: I don't wish to know that.
BLOODNOK: Neither do I.
SEAGOON: Tell me more about the pudding. Is there a portion
somewhere in the Sudan?
BLOODNOK: It's all here lad, in Africa. Three quarters of it is
worshipped as a god by the savage Naringi Berbers,[18] and the other quarter has turned man-eater and is roaming
the forest of Ying-Tong-Iddle-I-Po.[19]
SEAGOON: Gad! You mean that portion will have to be shot?
BLOODNOK: Yes, it will need a man with a steady eye, a hollow tooth
and a wooden leg to bring it down.
SEAGOON: Do you know of such a man?
BLOODNOK: No, but I know a man whose advice could be invaluable to
you, but… ah-hum – he'd be too expensive.
SEAGOON: Mmm. Between you and me, how much should I offer him?
BLOODNOK: Well, between you and me his usual fee is a thousand, but
in my estimation he's worth much more.
SEAGOON: Two?
BLOODNOK: Three.
SEAGOON: Right. Who is he?
BLOODNOK: Me.
SEAGOON: Ahaha, Major Bloodnok. I've been told to offer you three
thousand pounds.
BLOODNOK: You've been very well advised.
SEAGOON: Oh. Well now, what do you advise me to do?
BLOODNOK: First – pay me the money. Er, you have money, haven't you?
SEAGOON: Of course I have money.
BLOODNOK: Good, good.
SEAGOON: Miss Throat?
MISS
THROAT: Yes?
SEAGOON: Open my money chest and put on that gramophone record of seven
thousand pounds in shillings.
MISS
THROAT: Right.
GRAMS: Drop a series of coins one by one onto a hard surface.
BLOODNOK: Wait a minute! That was only three thousand, five hundred
pounds. Where's the rest of it?
SEAGOON: I'll play you the other side.
BLOODNOK: All right, I'll play the rest when I get home. Do have a
picture of Queen Victoria please.
SEAGOON: No thanks, I'm trying to give them up. Now tell me – what
is your advice about the Great International Christmas Pudding?
BLOODNOK: Forget all about it lad. (Going) Goodbye!
SEAGOON: Stop! You mustn't go.
BLOODNOK: Why?
SEAGOON: I've made up my mind. I'm going to get that Christmas
Pudding and all for Britain. I want you to accompany me on the safari.
BLOODNOK: But I've never played one in my life.
SEAGOON: I'll have a man flown out to teach you.
BLOODNOK: Then I'll come. Of course, I shall need special equipment…
SEAGOON: Such as?
BLOODNOK: … money.
SEAGOON: Very well. Here's a recording of a blank cheque.
GRAMS: Silent gramophone record. Lots of surface noise.
BLOODNOK: Ohh.
SEAGOON: Just fill in the label for any amount you like. Now, what
else do we need?
BLOODNOK: A picture of Queen Victoria.
SEAGOON: (narrative) On
Bloodnok's advice, I also purchased the following vital equipment.
MILLIGAN: One knee-action, self-reciprocating Christmas Pudding gun.
SECOMBE: One hand painted inflatable Christmas Pudding decoy with
rubber hollow.
SELLERS: One portable plastic and gravel road.
MILLIGAN: One long-bent-thing-with-a-sort-of-lump-on-the-end.
SECOMBE: On waterproof cover for same.
SELLERS: One same.
MILLIGAN: Thirty-three boxes of yellow kosher boots.
SECOMBE: Another long-bent-thing-with-a-sort-of-lump-on-the-end.
SELLERS: One uncooked leather trilby with sugar feather.
MILLIGAN: One sixty foot explodable granite statue of Bessie Braddock
with built in plunger. [20]
SECOMBE: Detailed plans of what to do with
long-bent-thing-with-a-sort-of-lump-on-the-end.
BLOODNOK: Right now, pack all that into the piano and burn it to
ashes.[21]
SEAGOON: To ashes?
BLOODNOK: Yes, they're much, much lighter to carry. Please, have a
picture of Queen Victoria!
SEAGOON: Haha. Not before lunch.
BLOODNOK: Right then follow me!
ORCHESTRA: Bloodnok theme; segue into Saharan vamp.
GRAMS: Sandpaper
footsteps. Fade.
GREENSLADE: Meanwhile, unknown to Seagoon, a different expedition has
already reached the forest of Ying-Tong-Iddle-I-Po collecting moss for the BBC.
At this very moment indeed, its members are bedding down in their tents under
the jungle moon.
BANNISTER: (Approaching) Oh
dear, yim-bom-biddle-oh…
(singing) Melodies divine…
Have you tucked the ends of the sheets
in, Henry?
CRUN: Yes… yes, Min. Yes.
BANNISTER: Oh dear. Have you put the hot water bottle in?
CRUN: Yes.
BANNISTER: Good, good, good. It's very hot tonight, I think I'll have
a cold water bottle.
CRUN: Oh Min, we will have to get these tents redecorated. The
wallpaper is peeling.
BANNISTER: I'll get a new roll from London, Henry.
CRUN: Good, good.
BANNISTER: Yes, it is good.
CRUN: Did you put the tiger out, Min? [22]
BANNISTER: Yes, I did. I put the tiger out, Henry.
CRUN: And don't forget to tell the camel driver, no milk
tomorrow.
FX: A series of dull
thuds on wooden flooring. Continue under.
BANNISTER: Ohhhhhhhheeohiei. What… what's that?
CRUN: It's all right Min. It's just those noisy people in the
tent upstairs. (Calls out) Who's that
walking about upstairs?
ECCLES: (off) I'm the
famous Eccles. I got friends in.
CRUN: It's the famous Eccles and he's got friends in, Min. (Calls out) Do you mind taking those
noisy boots off?
ECCLES: (off) OK.
FX: One boot hits the
floor. Second boot hits the floor.
BANNISTER: Ahh, that's better.
FX: Third boot hits the
floor.
BANNISTER: Ohh! I didn't know he had three legs, Henry.
CRUN: He hasn't, Min. He hasn't, he has a one legged friend.
Goodnight Min.
BANNISTER: Goodnight, buddy.
Slight pause.
FX: Fourth boot hits the floor.
BANNISTER & CRUN: Ohh!
CRUN: He's got two one legged friends!
FX: Fifth boot hits the
floor.
BANNISTER: That – or one three legged friend, Henry.
CRUN: Yes. Well, goodnight Min.
BANNISTER: Goodnight, little naughty Henry. Goodnight little Henry!
GRAMS: Tiger growling.
BANNISTER: Ohh! What's that? We'll all be murdered in our beds!
CRUN: Is that the tiger, Min? Let him in, let him in.
BANNISTER: Come in, pussy.
GRAMS: Tiger growling.
BANNISTER: (Distant –
approaching at speed) Ooohhowwoooow! It isn't a tiger Henry. It's a savage
portion of the Christmas Pudding!
CRUN: (Screaming) Help! Eccles, heeeelppp!
BANNISTER: (Screaming) Heeelppp,
Eccles!
CRUN: Help, Eccles, help!
FX: Loud banging on wooden flooring.
ECCLES: (off) You two
down there – stop that naughty noise! I'm trying to get some sleep. I'm a
brain-worker! [23]
CRUN: (Calls) I'm sorry
Eccles. (Whispers) Not so loud, Min. Quietly.
BANNISTER & CRUN: (In earnest whispers) Help, Eccles! Help!
SEAGOON: (Approaching) Keep
calm, old couple – keep calm. I heard your refined screams. Now, what's the
trouble?
CRUN: There's a savage portion of International Christmas Pudding
loose in the long grass.
SEAGOON: Good heavens! Just what I'm looking for. Quick, surround
Africa!
GRAMS: Distant tribal drums. Agitated native shouting.
SEAGOON: Now, load that gun with threepenny bits. Careful! Don't
point that gun at me – point it up at the ceiling.
FX: Pistol shot.
GRAMS: Single
whoosh.
FX: Door opens.
ECCLES: [24] Look, I'm rich!
FX: Coin falls to floor.
SEAGOON: Pull up your pants at once! A-hem. Now then, if possible we
must take this savage portion of pudding alive.
BLOODNOK: Are you mad? That Christmas Pudding could never be held
captive inside anything.
SEAGOON: Then we must dig a pudding pit and line the sides with custard so it can't climb out.
BLOODNOK: Brilliant lad, brilliant. We have no time to waste.
Ellington, play that crocodile quinge!
RAY
ELLINGTON QUARTET – ‘The Crocodile Crawl’
[25]
GREENSLADE: The Great International Christmas Pudding, third helping. A
change of events. At dawn a shock for our hunters.
GRAMS: Galloping hooves. Distant native shouting and tom-toms. Occasional
rifle fire. Continue under.
BLOODNOK: Great walloping scraggles of nurdle! Look over there!
SEAGOON: Quick. Hand me my semi-circular glass telescope.
BLOODNOK: There.
SEAGOON: Gad! (narrative)
Dear listeners. As I looked over my shoulder, I could see a terrible sight.
GRAMS: Swell
noise of chase. Fade under.
SEAGOON: Galloping at full tilt across the date fields was a savage portion
of the Great International Christmas Pudding, hotly pursued by the ferocious tribe
the Naringi Berbers. Then – to our horror, they brought it down with a well
aimed plasticine boomerang and saxophone mat. Curses and naughty words! We are
forestalled!
BLOODNOK: Don't worry lad, don't worry. It's a blessing in disguise.
SEAGOON: What is?
BLOODNOK: Sabrina with a
beard.
SEAGOON: I don’t see what Sabrina needs a
beard for. I think she looks attractive enough without one[26].
Haha!
BLOODNOK: I suppose she does really. I never
thought of it that way.
FX: Knocks on door.
SEAGOON: Heavens, it's two men carrying a door. Come in!
GRYTPYPE: (Entering) Hello
Neddie.
SEAGOON: Grytpype! So glad you came. Bad news. Bad, bad news. The
Naringi Berbers have captured the last portion of the International Christmas
Pudding. [27]
MORIARTY: Don't worry Neddie. We have a guide here who knows where
they live.
BLUEBOTTLE: Yes, I know where they live, my capitain! Enter Bluebottle
on cardboard horse. Signals applause on gramophone record.
GRAMS: Applause and cheering.
BLUEBOTTLE: Stop!
GRAMS: Applause
and cheering stop immediately.
BLUEBOTTLE: I’ve had my fill of
the clapping. Puts record in knapsack for next week.
SEAGOON: Little East Finchley Arab chieftain in brown suede shoes, lead
us to the city of the Naringi Berbers and this quarter of jelly babies – is
yours.
BLUEBOTTLE: Ohhhoh. Yehehe! I like this game. Follow me!
ORCHESTRA: Sahara desert link.
SEAGOON: (narrative)
Following the tracks of the Naringi Berbers, Bluebottle led us to the great
mud-walled city of I-EA STAC-TON. [28]
BLUEBOTTLE: Yes, there it is capitain! Now for my reward.
SEAGOON: Here then is your quarter of jelly babies.
BLUEBOTTLE: Oooh! Thank you! (Thinks. These jelly babies will increase
my power of influence at school. This will make Molly Gnasher think twice about
me at playtime. Thinks again. I know – I will taunt her with my jelly babies. I
will be a man of wealth and mystery. Nhihingying! I will make her forget about
that rotten swine Harold Lane and his Tony Curtis-type haircut!) [29]
GRAMS: Distant howling wind.
SEAGOON: I say – the gates
of the city aren't locked and there's no-one about.
BLOODNOK. Flat me nurglers – the city's deserted.
MORIARTY: Sapristi yuckakakakakakou!
GRAMS: Tiger growls. Continue under.
MORIARTY: Ooh! Run for your lives! Look – the savage portion of the pudding
has escaped!
SEAGOON: (narrative) As he
spoke, the terrible pudding sprang into the deserted courtyard, its holly
thrashing to and fro.
MORIARTY: Sapristi Nyackols! I know why the natives have fled – that
pudding has hydrophobia! [30]
SEAGOON: Don't panic! Don't panic chaps. Play it with the pudding
cloth while I get this plate under it.
CAST: (Effort)
GRAMS: Tiger growls crescendo.
SEAGOON: Got it! Quick – put the dish cover on!
FX: Metal dish cover on
tray.
GRAMS: Tiger growls muffled.
BLOODNOK: Well done Ned – but unless you give that pudding an
anti-hydrophobia injection, I promise you it won't live.
MORIARTY: Yes Neddie, you will have to do it. Take this hypodermic
syringe.
SEAGOON: All right. Lift the dish-cover – NOW!
GRAMS: Tiger growls increase.
SEAGOON: Under you go!
FX: Metal dish cover
slams down.
GRAMS: Tiger growls stop.
GRYTPYPE: Well done Moriarty
– that pudding will be worth a fortune. Now we'll ditch Neddie.
MORIARTY & GRYTPYPE: (Laughing) Hahahahhaa!
FX: Tapping on dish cover.
MORIARTY: What! Wait – he's knocking. Lift up the cover. Huh!
FX: Metal dish cover clanks.
SEAGOON: Ah! Thank you.
MORIARTY: Neddie! How's the pudding?
SEAGOON: (burps) Delicious!
MORIARTY: You swine Seagoon!
ORCHESTRA: Theme music.
GREENSLADE: (Interrupting) Sorry!
Sorry! That's enough. Wooah, just a moment! Woooah! No, wait a moment. Wait a
moment. Ladies and Gentlemen – Mr. Jim Pills.
JIM
PILLS: (Clears his throat) Ahem.
(sings) “I have known melodies divine,
a
melody that lives forever.
Songs
of love and songs of hope,
of
songs that live forever more.
Oh,
leave a little songbird divine,
a
melody that lives for ere’…”[31]
GREENSLADE: Right, right – thank you. Thank you Mr. Pills. (Announcing) Mr. Pills was brought along
to fill in as the programme was under-running.
ORCHESTRA: Theme music recommences.
GREENSLADE: (over) That was
the Goon Show, a recorded 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, announcer Wallace Greenslade – the programme produced by Peter Eton.
ORCHESTRA: Play
out.
YTI 