THE
MYSTERIOUS
PUNCH-UP-THE-CONKER
GOON SHOW: TLO 23090
7th SERIES No 19
BROADCAST: 7 Feb 1957
Script by Spike Milligan and Larry Stephens.
GREENSLADE: This is the BBC
Light Programme.
SEAGOON: You'll get a
punch-up-the-conk, Wal!
GREENSLADE: Mister Seagoon,
the practice of punching BBC announcers up the conk was outlawed in seventeen
seventy-three.
SEAGOON: Wrong Wallace,
wrong! Wrong indeed! Only recently there was an fresh outbreak of up-the-conk
punching. So loosen your gentleman's support for elderly couples whilst the
great poet-tragedian William MacGoonigal sets the scene.[1]
ORCHESTRA: Scratchy violin fanfare. Continues
playing ‘Hearts and Flowers’ under.
MacGOONIGAL:[2] Thank you
Paganini. Let me hear that melody divine Thompson. Oh folks. Oooh folks! 'The
Ballad of the Punch Up The Conk'. (No laughing please, folks.) Listen folks: ‘Twas in the year of nineteen tgenytnee,
when
the Punch Up The Conker struck without rhyme or rea –
son. Late
one night without any warning,
he
struck a gentleman's private conk whilst he was yawning.
WILLIUM: (Snoring)
FX: Boxing glove on punching bag.
Pneumatic car-horn.
WILLIUM: Owwwhhhwhhhawhawhhawhwh…
mate! Oww – me 'ooter! Owww.
FX: Police whistle.
SEAGOON: Hello, hello!
What's going on here?
WILLIUM: I've been punched
up the conk, officer.
SEAGOON: I'll have to make
a note of this. Now where did I put my notebook?
FX: Wooden drawer sliding open.
SEAGOON: Ah, it's in the
sideboard here. Now – tell me all.
WILLIUM: Well, I was sleeping
on the joe in the garden – (the piano,)[3]
when a leather omnibus draws up and out jumps a man wearing a masked boxing
glove on 'is 'and. “What's that up there?” he says. Up I looks and WALLOP – right up me ol' conk dere![4]
SEAGOON: I see. Have you
ever committed a murder?
WILLIUM: No, no.
SEAGOON: I can't get you
on that then. Now tell me, why were you sleeping on the piano in the garden?
WILLIUM: Cos the grass was
damp mate and I don't want to get the nadgers again you see. My wife's got the
lurgi, and my eldest boy's got the plin mate.[5]
SEAGOON: Sergeant Dongler,
take this man along to the station...
P.S. DONGLER: Yes Sir.
SEAGOON: ...and put him on
the train for
P. S. DONGLER: Right Sir.
WILLIUM: (Going) Leggo mate. I tell yourn I wasn’t…
(Argues into distance.)
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic
detective-series link.
NARRATOR:[6] Eleven-ten, Inspector
Seagoon dismissed the conk-punching as drunk's hallucination – hern, hern of
the hern. Eleven-eleven, Seagoon returned to Scotland Yard. Eleven-twelve,
Scotland Yard returned to
FX: Old fashioned telephone rings.
Receiver picked up..
SEAGOON: Hello. Seagoon of
Fabian Yard here. [7]
SINGHIZ THINGZ: (On telephone) Pardon me sir, this is
the management of the Red Indian Youth Hostel in Paddington W2. We are just
having a nasty incident here sir.
SEAGOON: Really?
FX: Door opens.
SEAGOON: What happened?
SINGHIZ THINGZ: I tell you – I
tell you all about it. Please put on this cardboard turban. Thank you. Now, we
were sitting down sir playing ping pong in the oriental style, when a leather
omnibus approaching from the direction of W4, and the occupant wearing a masked
boxing glove is punching poor Bert Ramjat Singh right up his conk and poor
Ramjat Singh is falling backwards in the direction of SW2. (So help me, it’s
the truth I tell you…)
SEAGOON: “Gad!” I said.
Then that old man sleeping on the piano was telling the truth.
WILLIUM: (Off) Yes I was!
SEAGOON: Constable, go up
to
WILLIUM: (Off) Ta mate!
SEAGOON: Now then –
Sergeant Greenslade, question all people wearing masked boxing gloves and
driving leather omnibuses.
GREENSLADE: It'll take time sir.
SEAGOON: Very well, take
time – and… and... Greenslade...
ORCHESTRA: Soft saxophone version of ‘Laura.’ [8]
GREENSLADE: Yes sir?
SEAGOON: …do be careful.
Remember – you're… you're all I've got.
GREENSLADE: Don't worry sir,
I'm wearing my trousers back to front.
SEAGOON: (anguish) It must be hell in there!
GRAMS: Steam
locomotive. Start at high speed, slow down rapidly to a stop. Brakes squeal.
P.S. DONGLER: Here he is Sir.
WILLIUM: Hello mate.
SEAGOON: You're back
quickly.
WILLIUM: Yes, we brought
the train by h’aeroplane.
SEAGOON: Splendid. Now
look, what did this attacker look like?
WILLIUM: I dunno… I dunno
– I didn't see 'im mate.
SEAGOON: I see. And would
you recognize him if you didn't see him again?
WILLIUM: Straight away!
Although you know sir, I must admit me eyes ain't what they used to be.
SEAGOON: No?
WILLIUM: No – they used to
be me ears.
SEAGOON: Sergeant! Take
this man to
P.S. DONGLER: Fyakfyakfyia sir.
SEAGOON: And Sergeant
Geldray...
GELDRAY: Yes boys?
SEAGOON: ...your nose is
an obvious temptation to the punch-up-the-conker.[9]
Place this harmonica under it as a protection!
SEAGOON: Right, round the
old back for the brandy there!
GRAMS: Running
footsteps.
MAX GELDRAY – “Can’t We Be
Friends?” [10]
FX: Boxing glove full tilt into boxing
bag. Pneumatic car horn.
GELDRAY: (Blows harmonica chord) Oooh! My nose!
Ooooo…
GRAMS: Bus
bell.
SEAGOON: Quick – they've
clouted Geldray's hooter. After that leather omnibus on these national health
feet.
GRAMS: Running
footsteps.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic
link.
SEAGOON: Unfortunately the
leather omnibus out-distanced us whilst I was having lunch,[11]
and when I got out of bed next morning it was completely out of sight.
CONSTABLE: Inspector, I have
been looking through this log book of leather omnibus manufacturers…
SEAGOON: Let me see – hmm,
there's only one entry. We'll have to go in there. (Laughs) Ha Ha! Ha ha!
Ahem... Dear
listeners, up a narrow street, in a broad road which ran through a long narrow
lane, (Sings) in a quaint little old
fashioned town…[12]
GRYTPYPE: You'll starve.[13]
SEAGOON: … we saw a small
green door. [14]
GREENSLADE: We now reveal for
the very first time exactly what is going on behind that green door.
BANNISTER: (Singing.) Dum binim bibim, GREEN DOO-OR!
Yim bom biddle. Yatta tappa pappum pittoyl di boi. GREEN DOO-OR! Bwak
bwak bwak-ark! (&c.)
CRUN: Min – Min! I
can't concentrate on the brown leather when you keep singing the green door you
know.
BANNISTER: Ah – you gotta
get modern Henry.
CRUN: (In a temper) Modern? I am modern Min! I
am known as 'Modern Crun'.[15]
You think that because I don't sing rhythm-type melodies that I'm a corny. Well
– you asked for this! You asked for it! I'm going to sing moderrrrrn!!
BANNISTER: Oh! I'll put my
corsets on.
CRUN: (With foot stomping.) One, two, three,
four… Mister Whatchacallim whatcha doing tonight – YEAH! Pitta dada doo. I hope
you’re in the mood because I'm feelin' alright.[16]
Ohhh, go man go... oww. Dimmal nuppa duppa doo. Da da da
da da da…
ORCHESTRA: High-hat
cymbal snap.
CRUN: There Min. Let
that be a lesson to you – you and your Dan Leno school of rhythm![17]
Now let us get back to the leather omnibus.
BANNISTER: We never seem to
sell any.
CRUN: I know – I can't
understand it. You know, we make the finest leather omnibuses in the world.
GRAMS: Penguin
sounds.
CRUN: Min, Min – the
penguin wants to go out. [18]
BANNISTER: I tell you what
Henry, if we want to sell more of these modern leather rhythm omnibuses we
should do more modern American advertising-type advertising.
CRUN: We can't get more
modern than we are already Min.
BANNISTER: What do you mean
Henry?
CRUN: We've got a gas lit
poster in the gents wash-up and brush-up in Piccadilly Tube you know.
BANNISTER: I bet that's been
marked for life by now.
CRUN: We must keep
production rolling Min.
BANNISTER: Yes.
CRUN: Help me lace up
this leather engine.
BANNISTER: Mind the piston
rods now.
FX: Door opens. Shop-bell rings.
SEAGOON: Good morning.
CRUN & BANNISTER: (Variously)
Oooh! Ahhh! What is it?
CRUN: Min! It's a
customer direct from the Piccadilly wash and brush up. (Sings) Mister Whatchacallim whatcha doing tonight – YEAH!!!
SEAGOON: So that's what
happened to Harry Roy.[19]
Now sir, I'm from the police department.
CRUN: (Fibrillations) Ahhhhhhhhiiiiee! Min and
I haven't done anything wrong.
SEAGOON: I don't suppose
you could at your age. Now – what I've come for is your record of all leather
omnibuses sold.
CRUN: Just a minute
sir. We shall – let’s have to look in the vital ledger. [20]
FX: Pages being leafed through.
CRUN: Ahh let's see –
omnibuses sold. Yes, here's the first one we sold; eighteen seventy-three.
SEAGOON: And the next one?
CRUN: Yes? Oh, we
haven't finished it yet.
SEAGOON: Well, who did you
sell the first one to?
CRUN: We don't know.
You see he punched me up the conk and displaced my spring and leather wig.
SEAGOON: Dear listeners,
here was proof. Whoever bought that leather omnibus was the punch up the
conker!
BANNISTER:
Whoooooooooooooaaaaaa
ORCHESTRA: Police
detective link.
NARRATOR: Eight
seventy-six, got back to headquarters. Found dinner in oven…
SEAGOON: Two months went
by.
NARRATOR: … dinner got
cold. Three months went by – there were no more reports of punch-up-the-conking.
Work at Scotland Yard went on as normal.
GRAMS: Traction
engine – jack hammer pounding – hammering – violin tuning.
SEAGOON: (Calls out) Sergeant Hobbs, turn that
radio down will you?
GRAMS: Noise stops.
SEAGOON: Thank you. Now, any
news?
SEAGOON: Where?
SEAGOON: Are you sure it
wasn't a disguise?
FX: Office buzzer.
SEAGOON: Yes?
OFFICER:[23] (Rubbish &c)
SEAGOON: Send him in.
FX: Door opens.
GRYTPYPE: Good morning
Inspector. Grytpype Thynne is the name. Permit me to introduce you to the part
owner of my suit, Count Jim 'Thighs' Moriarty…
MORIARTY: Owwwwwww.
GRYTPYPE: …Schlapper Royal
and noted amateur postman.[24]
MORIARTY: Hoowww do you
doooo. Hoowww do you dooooo.
SEAGOON: The voice came
from a thin, heavily oiled, Lisle Street Frenchman.[25]
His suit was a
MORIARTY: (slurps)
GRYTPYPE: Inspector, we
seek the long lost heir to the Spon fortune of forty thousand pounds.
SEAGOON: Have you any clue
to his identity?
GRYTPYPE: He has a habit of
leaping off leather omnibuses and punching people up the conk.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic
link.
SEAGOON: Gad! There's just
a chance that this might be the 'up-the-conk-puncher'.
ORCHESTRA: Police
detective link.
MORIARTY: (Engine noises) Bbbbbbbbb – beep beep!
Owwww owwww – beep beep! Brbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrb – owwwww. Brbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrb…
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty?
MORIARTY: Mm? (Applies the brakes) Yuuyuyuyuyuyoo!
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, how
many times have I told you not to drive that leather omnibus round the bedroom
in broad daylight. You know these blinds are drawn – they're not real. [26]
MORIARTY: I was only
practising my leap and conk punching.
GRYTPYPE: Yes, I quite
understand Moriarty. Now, did you put the advert in The Times?
MORIARTY: Yes, here – read
it…
GRYTPYPE: Let me see.
MORIARTY: … from left to
right, the new style.
GRYTPYPE: Ah. How
appropriate – they've put it in the fourth leader. (Reads) “Don't
risk being punched up the conk. Wear a Moriarty nose protector. Now available
in flesh tint plastic. Send ten shilling postal order for free receipt.”
Splendid! Well, according to the
MORIARTY: Dark? What ideal
conditions for night!
GRYTPYPE: Yes! A few more
punch up the conk attacks and the orders will start rolling in, Moriarty.
GRYTPYPE & MORIARTY: (Laughter)
MORIARTY: Right. Tonight we
start punch-up-the-conking!
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic
link.
SEAGOON: I called an all
night meeting, but held it in the day because the light was better.
OMNES: (General rhubarbs, scrampsons and murmurs.)
SEAGOON: Now gentlemen –
where’s the head of the river police?
GRAMS: Large
splash.
LITTLE JIM: He's fallen in
der water.[27]
SEAGOON: Thank you Sir
Lawrence.[28]
Gentlemen, I'm of the opinion that the heir to the Spon fortune and the punch-up-the-conker
are one and the same person.
OFFICER:[29] How can two
people be one person Sir?
SEAGOON: It's all done under
cover of darkness. Therefore until further notice, all people showing signs of
darkness will be searched.
ELLINGTON: (Distant) I object!
SEAGOON: Silence
Ellington. Give us the old calypso banana boat song while we slip round the
back for the old Marlon Brando there.[30]
GRAMS: Massed
boots running off.
RAY ELLINGTON – “Banana Boat Song” [31]
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic
Police Detective link.
NARRATOR:
GRAMS: Big
Ben striking midnight. Vary the speed.
SEAGOON: (Approaches whistling ‘Maybe it’s Because
I’m a Londoner’ over.)
FX: Footsteps
approaching.
SEAGOON: Evening, Doxon of
Dick Green.[32]
Anything to report?
P.C. DOXON:[33] Ahh… ahhh yes.
Ahh… ahhh… I was – ahh… ahhhhh...(fades)
FX: Body hitting the ground.
SEAGOON: Good Heavens!
He's collapsed in the direction of pavement. Just as I thought – the Constable's
nose protector has been severely dented and there's a finger print of a boxing
glove on it. Quick – give him some air! Undo the buttons on his boots.
P.C. DOXON: Ahh. I want to be
buried in my socks or I…[34]
SEAGOON: Here my poor man,
swallow this bottle of smelling salts. Steady now – just sit in the direction
of up and tell me what happened.
P.C. DOXON: I felt alright sir
until some idiot made me swallow a bottle of smelling salts.
SEAGOON: Quick Sergeant –
after him!
SERGEANT:[35] Mydargharroidarlwaa! (Self fade)
FX: Single pair of boots running off into
distance.
SEAGOON: Now Bowser,[36]
when I arrived here you were lying in the gutter. Why?
P.C. DOXON: I was off duty
Sir.
SEAGOON: I trust it's
different when you’re on duty?
P.C. DOXON: Oh yes sir. Then
I lie on the pavement.
SEAGOON: That's better.
FX: Telephone rings. Receiver picked up.
SEAGOON: Hello? What? Yes!
FX: Received down.
SEAGOON: Bowser – great
news! A leather omnibus has been discovered grievously injured. It collided
with a lead tricycle on the roof of the
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic
link.
SEAGOON: Gentlemen, the
mystery assailant is now immobilised. There's only one place he can get a new
leather omnibus.
OFFICER: [38]
Where?
SEAGOON: Men – surround
Crun's factory! And wear your nose protectors.
CAST: (Excited muttering.)
ORCHESTRA: Badly
played Detective link. End with cymbal snap.
GRAMS: Recording - GREENSLADE: “This is the
Light Service of the BBC Home
Programme. Here is
the neen o'clock noise. To date, the forty-thousand pounds due to the heir of
Spon is still unclaimed. (Fades) The only clue to the missing heir is that he
always rides in a leather omnibus....”
BLOODNOK: Oooah!, Oooerrr! Oh,
did you hear that Gladys darling?
GLADYS:[39] Yes darling.
BLOODNOK: If I can get a
leather omnibus I could pass myself off as the heir of Spon and collect forty-thousand
naughty pounds.
GLADYS: Cor blimey!
BLOODNOK: Gladys darling,
this is the moment I've been waiting for. All these years I've lived off you – you've
lent me money, bought me suits and never asked for a penny back.
GLADYS: Not a penny…
BLOODNOK If I get this forty-thousand
pounds, at least I can afford to run away from you.
GRAMS: Penguin
sounds.
BLOODNOK: Ellington – let
that Penguin out will you!
ELLINGTON: Yes Major.
BLOODNOK: Yes, now lay out
your pugree,[40] your
dhoti [41]
and your loin cloth.
ELLINGTON: Oh good. Am I
going out?
BLOODNOK: No – I am. And
lay out one boot…
ELLINGTON: Why?
BLOODNOK: I'm going to hop
to where the leather omnibus factory lives.
ORCHESTRA: Eccles
‘Hopping’ Concerto in C.
SEAGOON: Meanwhile in a
sleeping
GRAMS: Various
timepieces ticking out of sequence. Add
various different clocks striking – from small Swiss time-pieces, cuckoo
clocks, to a couple of large grandfather clocks. Add in a broody chicken,
tubular bells, and finish off with a pneumatic car horn.
BLUEBOTTLE: What time is it,
Eccles?
ECCLES: Um, just a minute
– I got it written down here on a piece of paper. A nice man wrote the time
down for me this morning.
BLUEBOTTLE: Oh! Then why do
you carry it around with you Eccles?
ECCLES: Well – um, if
anybody asks me the time I can show it to them.
BLUEBOTTLE: Wait a minute
Eccles my good man…
ECCLES: What is it
fellow?
BLUEBOTTLE: It's writted on
this bit of paper what is
ECCLES: I know that my
good fellow. That's right – when I asked the fella to write it down it was
BLUEBOTTLE: Well then supposing
when somebody asks you the time it isn't
ECCLES: Well then I don't
show it to them.
BLUEBOTTLE: Ooh. (Thinks) Well, how do you know when it's
ECCLES: I got it written
down on a piece of paper.
BLUEBOTTLE: Oh I wish I could
afford a piece of paper with the time writted on. Here Eccles – let me hold
that piece of paper to my ear would you… Here – this piece of paper ain't
going!
ECCLES: What? I've been
sold a forgery!
BLUEBOTTLE: No wonder it
stopped at
ECCLES: Ohhh – yeah... what's
it called…
BLUEBOTTLE: My Grandma.
ECCLES: Ohh. Wait a minute
– how does she know when it's eight o'clock?
BLUEBOTTLE: She's got it
written down on a piece of paper.[42]
SEAGOON: Alright, a man
has just gone into Crun's factory.
BLUEBOTTLE & ECCLES: Oooowwwwahuoooo!
SEAGOON: If he comes out
driving a leather omnibus, arrest him.
BLUEBOTTLE: Is this man
armed?
SEAGOON: Armed and legged.
BLUEBOTTLE & ECCLES: Ohhh! Yeah!
GRAMS: Sound
of a bus driving in low gear.
SEAGOON: (Whispers) Psst! Here he comes. Quick
Eccles, do an imitation of a bus stop.
GRAMS: Sound
of a bus pulling up. Brakes squeak
etc.
ECCLES: Stop! Stop bus!
BLOODNOK: (Approaching) I'm sorry. This is a
private bus.
SEAGOON: Come out with
your hands up and your legs down.
BLOODNOK: What? I'm the
heir to the Spon fortune.
SEAGOON: That's him! The
dreaded punch-up-the-conker is brought to book. Take him men.
BLUEBOTTLE: Hit hit.
ECCLES: Hit hit.
BLUEBOTTLE: Hit hit hit
HIT!!! End of hitting.
ORCHESTRA: Tatty
chord in C.
BLUEBOTTLE: Thank you.
ECCLES: Ta.
SEAGOON: Yes folks.
Bloodnok is now doing a hundred years imprisonment and lucky he didn't get
life.
BLOODNOK: What! I deny it
all…
GREENSLADE: And thus another
glorious miscarriage of justice was perpetrated.
BLOODNOK: It's a lie I tell
you… what!
GREENSLADE: Grytpype and
Moriarty, for their nose protectors were each given a knighthood and a spare
pair of trousers
MORIARTY: Owww – saved the
day.
GREENSLADE: Sic transit
gloria, or in English – goodnight!
ORCHESTRA: Closing
theme.
GREENSLADE: That was the Goon
Show, a BBC recorded program featuring Peter Sellers, Harry Secombe and Spike
Milligan. With the Ray Ellington Quartet. Max Geldray and the orchestra conducted
by Wally Stott. Script by Spike Milligan and Larry Stephens, announcer Wallace
Greenslade. The programme produced by Pat Dixon.
ORCHESTRA: Playout.
YTI 