ROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS
GOON SHOW: TLO 22507
7TH SERIES: No 20
BROADCAST: 21 Feb 1957 [1]
Script by Spike Milligan
and Larry Stephens.
GREENSLADE: This
is the BBC.
SEAGOON: Fasten your boots straps as we present Jim Verne’s “Round
the World in Eighty Days” or “Money Refunded.”
ORCHESTRA: Amateur violin fanfare. [2]
GREENSLADE: (As Dick Clark.) Part one, the Rock and Roll room at the Athenaeum
Club in eighteen eight-three. [3]
GRAMS: Rock and roll combo, saxophone lead.
LORD TAVERNER: [4] I say
Lord Seagoon, that tune was a real sizzler.
SEAGOON: Yes Lord Taverner. It was
written by that fellow… whozit?
LORD DUFFER: [5] Nonsense,
I bet you five pounds it wasn’t. It was written by… what-do-you-callum?
BLOODNOK: You’re both wrong
gentlemen – it was written by whats-is-name. So you both loose.
FX: Cash register – coin in till.
BLOODNOK: Thank you, and the next
dance please.
GREENSLADE: Such was the wild
gambling that went on every night in the Athenaeum Club at the close of the
last century. Then, one night…
GRAMS: Police whistles. Running feet. RECORDING - SPIKE: (Distant – variously.) “Apprehend
that miscreant! Stop him!”
SEAGOON: Listen gentlemen – there are members of the British
Constabulary running through the streets blowing whistles.
LORD DUFFER: What! You’d think
they’d grow out of it wouldn’t you? Foley!
FOLEY:[6] Yes
sir.
LORD DUFFER What’s happening?
FOLEY: There are two gentlemen of
unknown quantity approaching at speed.
GRAMS: Running feet approaching. Slow
down to stop.
FX: Door opens.
MORIARTY: (panting) Quick – in here Grytpype!
GRYTPYPE: (panting) Yes. If anybody asks, say that we are on the run from the
police.
MORIARTY: But we are!
GRYTPYPE: Yes, but who’d believe a
silly story like that?
SEAGOON: (approaching)
I say – look here you chaps, how dare you burst into the Athenaeum dressed as
convicts?
GRYTPYPE: Isn’t tonight carnival
night?
SEAGOON: Rubbish – it’s ladies
night. You don’t think I wear a skirt and blouse every night do you? Explain
who you are.
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty – hand him my
personal greetings telegram.
MORIARTY: There it is in the plain
wrappers.
SEAGOON: Ta. (Reads) “To Lord Seagoon.” Why – this is for me! (Reads) “Happy birthday from the
Honourable Grytpype Thynne, Spon Thud.”
GRYTPYPE: And this early French
convict is none other than – and I quote from his death certificate, Count
Villion de Jim “Thighs” …
MORIARTY: Owww.
GRYTPYPE: …Moriarty, gold medallist road sweeper to Penge
district [7] and
international knotted-string consultant.
SEAGOON: But wait, what, whit,
whoot! What, what, what? Dear listeners, I suddenly noticed that both strangers
were carrying a bulging leather safe inscribed, “Property of the Bank of
England. Stop thief.”
GRYTPYPE: It’s all a lie. We drew
this money to make a wager.
MORIARTY: Yes, we heard that you
were a very sporting gentleman and always ready for a game.
SEAGOON: Who told you?
GRYTPYPE: The chambermaid upstairs.
SEAGOON: What – it’s all a lie I
tell you, we’re just good friends. However gentlemen, put down your penguins[8] and
explain this sporting offer on a piece of paper.
GRYTPYPE: Neddie, you are twenty-one
today?
SEAGOON: Thanks to brandy, yes.
GRYTPYPE: Likewise Count Moriarty is
twenty-one today.
MORIARTY: Thanks to formalin! [9] No
doctors in the house. Carry on!
GRYTPYPE: Neddie, my dear friend the
Count wagers you a thousand sovereigns that you can’t reach the age of twenty-two
before him.
SEAGOON: You mean, whoever becomes twenty-two
first takes the kitty?
GRYTPYPE: Of course, and the money. (You’ll
have to see them quicker than that.)
SEAGOON: I accept! Here’s my
thousand sovereigns.
FX: Steady trickle of metal oddments poured onto table.
MORIARTY: And here’s mine.
FX: Single penny on pavement.
GRYTPYPE: Thank you gentlemen.
SEAGOON: Wait a minute – supposing
there’s a dead heat?
GRYTPYPE: Then I as stakeholder take
the money. (Laughing) But I ask you
Neddie, how many times in a race does a dead heat occur? Very rarely…
SEAGOON: You’re right. I agree. You’re
perfectly correct. I acquiesce. I concur. Yes, I assent. I am of the same mind.
I am at one with you. I conform. I defer. I am in accord. [10] (Bursting
into song) I agree, I agree I agreeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
GRYTPYPE: You’ll get a punch up the
conk. Now then – for the age race, on your laundry marks, get set… but first –
Mox Gildrong!
SEAGOON: Right, round the back for
the old brandy!
GRAMS: Boots running away.
MAX GELDRAY - “Duke’s Joke” [11]
GRYTPYPE: As I was saying gentlemen,
before we were so rudely interrupted by that Dutch fiend – for the age race, on
your birth marks, get set… BANG!
GRAMS: Two sets of boots running.
(Continue under.)
Recording - MORIARTY: Ah! We’re off… we’re off lad!
SEAGOON:
You’ll never beat me Moriarty. I’m wearing my new running strap. Ha ha ha!
(Gradually speeding up.)
MORIARTY:
Don’t worry – my legs are oiled to perfection I tell you! You’ll never catch up
with me!
SEAGOON: Don’t you believe it Moriarty!
(Wind up the speed faster and faster
until unintelligible.)
MORIARTY:
I believe it, I believe it! I’ve been freshly oiled I tell you. So there! My
knees are…&c
SEAGOON & MORIARTY: (Argue and fade.)
(Single pair of boots approaching.
Crescendo and then stop.)
SEAGOON: (panting) All that day I ran and
gradually I outdistanced Count Moriarty by sheer distance. Whereupon, despite
the power of his steaming French legs, he fell behind. But – to my horror, I
discovered that he reached the following day at exactly the same time as I did.
Was this a trick? Obviously I could never get ahead of him by merely running. I
sought the advice of an old army confederate.
ORCHESTRA: Bloodnok theme.
FX: Chains rattling. (Continue
under.)
BLOODNOK: Aeiough….
FX: Cell door being unlocked. Rusty hinges squeaking.
THROAT: There’s a bloke to see you.
BLOODNOK: Oh – Neddie!
SEAGOON: Major. You know all about
time don’t you?
BLOODNOK: Well, I’ve done my share
of it – yes, yes.
SEAGOON: Tell me – how did you get
old so quickly?
BLOODNOK: Go and see Doctor Crun the
Harley Street specialist.
SEAGOON: What’s his address?
BLOODNOK: Lisle Street.[12] Before
you see him it would be wise for you to invest in one of my Rock-hopper
Penguins.[13]
GRAMS: Angry penguin.
SEAGOON: Just what I need – a
left-handed penguin!
BLOODNOK: Shall I wrap him up?
SEAGOON: Just a scarf and overcoat.
FX: Cash register. Penny in till.
BLOODNOK: Oh, melody divine. Thank
you.
SEAGOON: Good-bye Major.
BLOODNOK: Good-by Neddie… I’ll come
with you.
GRAMS: Whoosh
GREENSLADE: Now, “Round the World in
Eighty Days” part two. Perhaps you’d like to make a note on that piece of
paper. Incidentally, please save these pieces of paper. Later in the program
you’ll be told what to do with them. Now we join overseas listeners in a visit
to a lonely, rain swept Yorkshire Moor. (self
fade)
GRAMS: Thunder, driving rain. (Continue
under.)
ECCLES: (sings) On Ilkley Moor baht
‘at,
On Ilkley Moor baht ‘at,
On Ilkley Moor baht ‘at. [14]
SEAGOON: Perhaps you’d like to make a note of that on a
piece of paper? And now, while I load my penguin, over to Doctor Crun’s
consulting room with piano accompaniment. Hup!
GRAMS: Sellers awful piano playing.
FX: Footsteps approaching.
CRUN: (mouth noises – extended.)
GREENSLADE: Thank you.
CRUN: Now sir, just sit on this
string bench and put your legs through the knotholes.
FX: Squeezing sound.
GREENSLADE: (Agonised.) Owww.
CRUN: You had to go. Now hold this
bowl of custard…
FX: Spoon in cup.
GREENSLADE: Right.
CRUN: Stand in this hip bath of lukewarm Irish stew…
GRAMS: Suction sounds.
GREENSLADE: Alright.
CRUN: … and finally (and in conclusion) hold these two
plates of jellied eels at arms length. Now Mister Greenslade, what seems to be
the trouble?
GREENSLADE: Well, I work for the BBC
and, you see…..
CRUN: Oh, I can’t cure that. Just
swallow these meals three times a day after medicine. (shouts) Nurse Bannister?
BANNISTER: OOOOOWW! What is it Crun?
CRUN: Nurse, put the leeches back in
their cages.
BANNISTER: Right-o. Come on you
naughty leeches. Come on!
GRAMS: Tigers roaring. Whip cracking.
(Continue under.)
BANNISTER: Back!... Back Nero! Back
Rajah! Back Satan!... Get back you devils… You hairy devils! Awww! (Extended)
CRUN: (To audience) You know – they’re really tigers, but if I told her
that she’d want more money you know. Perhaps you’d like to make a note of that
on a piece of paper.
BANNISTER: Oh dear. Oh dear, dear,
dear! Oh, those leeches are getting too big for their boots.
CRUN: Well I can’t afford any more
money for leech boots I tell you.
BANNISTER: I’ll make a note of that on a piece of paper, Henry.
CRUN: Now you naughty Min, lay the operating table for
dinner.
BANNISTER: We can’t have dinner yet, the waiting room’s crammed
full.
CRUN: What! Who’s in it?
BANNISTER: Harry Secombe.
SEAGOON: (Slightly off mic.) What, what, what, what, what, what? I heard
that!
GRAMS: Angry penguins.
CRUN: Ah – just a moment. What’s in
that leather paper-parcel?
SEAGOON: A penguin.
CRUN: What! How dare you bring wild animals
into my consulting room!
GRAMS: Enraged elephant trumpeting.
(Continue
under.)
CRUN: Min, Min – the elephant wants
to go out.
BANNISTER: I don’t know what we keep
him for. (Shouts) Shut up, you big hairy
monster. Shut up! Shut up I tell you! SHUT UP! I don’t know what we keep him
for – he never barks at burglars, ever.
CRUN: Now sir, what can I do for
you?
SEAGOON: Wowowowowowowowowowowow argghhhhhhhhhaargghh.
CRUN: You’ve been round the back for
the old brandy again, haven’t you?
SEAGOON: It’s a lie – a lie I tell
you! All lies. I never touch brandy or energy pills I tell you! I’ve come here
for your old age treatment.
CRUN: Oh, well you’ll have to come
round the back with me.
SEAGOON: What for?
CRUN: The old brandy you know. Alright
now – take your cloth clothes off.
FX: Cloth ripping.
SEAGOON: Whoops! There.
CRUN: Ohhh! Well now Mr Seagoon, how
many years older do you want to get?
SEAGOON: Two.
CRUN: I see. Over here is the
special rapid-plastic-aging-type process room. In you go.
FX: Door opens and closes.
SEAGOON: (Add echo – gulps.) Ahem… Hello?
ELLINGTON: (With echo) All right. Start running!
SEAGOON: (Echo) Help!
This man’s got a great big chopper! Help! He’ll have me head off! Help!”
GRAMS:
(Two
sets of boots approaching then fading into distance. Speeded up.) RECORDING - SEAGOON: (Approaching
then fading into distance.
“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLPPPPPPPPPP!”
(Two
sets of boots rapidly approaching then fading into distance.)
SEAGOON:
(Coming then going. Echo.) “HEEEOOWWOOWWOOWWOOWWOOWLP!”
(Boots rapidly
approaching then fading into distance.)
SEAGOON:
(Coming then going.) “GET THAT CHOPPER AWAY…!”
(Boots rapidly
approaching then fading into distance.)
SEAGOON:
(Coming then going.)“HEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLPPP!”(Continue sequence underneath.)[15]
GREENSLADE: So Neddie was chased through the night by
a great Afghan Chief with a chopper. To make matters worse, Ray Ellington
decided to sing.
ELLINGTON - “All
Day, All Night, Mary-Anne” [16]
ORCHESTRA: Sellers’ piano fanfare.
GRAMS: (Boot
approaching and fading into distance. Speeded up.)
SEAGOON:
(Coming then going. Echo.) “HEEEOOWWOOWWOOWWOOWWOOWLP!”
(Boots
approaching then fading into distance.)
SEAGOON:
(Coming then going. Echo.) “HEEEOOWWOOWWOOWWOOWWOOWLP!” (Continue under)
GREENSLADE: Despite the agony of being chased all
night by a mad man with a naked chopper, Seagoon still didn’t get any older
than Moriarty.
SEAGOON: (panting) But then I discovered that by travelling around the world
in an Easterly direction and crossing the international dateline I could gain
one day, thereby (bursting into song) …getting
a day older than Moriarty and winning the thousand pooooo-uuuuunds!
ORCHESTRA: Sellers piano fanfare. Cymbal
snap.
FX: Telephone rings.
SEAGOON: Hello – who’s that?
EIDELBURGER: Justin Eidleburger. We
are hearing that you are going round zer world. Permit us to offer zer use of
Britain’s only self-drive Zeppelin service. Geblunden Schnitz rolls Geblüden! Cheap
rates and no objection to penguins.
SEAGOON: Splendid. I’ll meet you at
dawn tomorrow at about eleven o’clock.
EIDELBURGER: Right… and darling…
ORCHESTRA: Romantic saxophone version of
“Laura.”
SEAGOON: Yes?
EIDELBURGER: … do be careful –
you’re all I’ve got.
SEAGOON: Don’t worry Eidelberger.
I’m wearing hermetically sealed, creosote socks.
EIDELBURGER: It must be hell
in there. [17]
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic ‘Deutschland’ link.
SEAGOON: In the early light of the
following dawn, I saw the great cigar-shaped monster.
BLOODNOK: Yes Neddie, it’s me.
SEAGOON: Bloodnok!
BLOODNOK: Neddie, I’m coming along
to keep you supplied with fresh penguins.
SEAGOON: Right! (shouts) All aboard! Raise the anchor and start the old background
music there.
ORCHESTRA: Nautical link. Hold
under.
FORETOPMAN:[18] (Distant) Bernard Miles on the starboard
bow there!
GRAMS: Fade in zeppelin engines and
wind.
FX: Pen scratching under.
SEAGOON: Log of the Zeppelin: August
the third of September. Heading Sou’-nor’-east-west over English Channel which
appears to be flooded.
EIDELBURGER: Lord Seagoon, I must
inform you zat zis Zeppelin is highly inflame-able. Therefore Rauchen ist verboten!
Nicht Rauchen! Defence de Fumé! Nicht Fumé! Nicht Rauchen! RAUCHEN VERBOTEN!!!
SEAGOON: Cigarette?
EIDELBURGER: Zank you.
GRAMS: Sharp explosion.
EIDELBURGER: Geblunden verschitz!!
Zese cigarettes are strong.
SEAGOON: I know – they’re made of
iron.
OBERGEFREITE SCHPRIGGS: Herr Captain Eidelberger, zis message has just come
through zer electric mangle.
EIDELBURGER: Geblungen! It’s the
tale of the Keiser’s shirt! Play it on this gramophone immediately!
GRAMS: Crackly
record of Hindenburg – SELLERS: “As from today, Germany is no longer at peace
with England.”
ORCHESTRA: Piano fanfare.
SEAGOON: What?! This means war!
EIDELBURGER: Ja. But you have
already paid for your journey so we are duty bound to take you round the world
in eighty days. But from now on a state of naughty hostilities must exist
between us.
GRAMS: Battle sounds. Galloping hooves.
Shouting. Guns. Bugles.
BLOODNOK: Neddie, this is terrible –
world war one on board a Zeppelin!
SEAGOON: I know Major.
BLOODNOK: These parcels of
reinforcements just arrived from England.
SEAGOON: Let’s have a look!
FX: Paper ripping.
SEAGOON: I asked for the Grenadier
Guards. I wonder what they have sent me?
BLUEBOTTLE: Bluebottle of the
Finchley Wolf Cubs!
SEAGOON: Good heavens. What do you
know about fighting Germans?
BLUEBOTTLE: What do I know?! I woke
up one morninge and found a German under my bed. In a flash, I sprange towards
him. With the power of muscles and knotted string and reinforced cardboard
braces, I shot out my left fist! “HIT, HIT, HIT, HIT!” I went! “STRIKE, THUD, BLATT,
BLUN!” English left – CRUNCH! Strike-thud- blen! Blunge-hit! HIT-HIT-HIT-HIT
HIT-HIT-HIT! Blunge-hit fist!”
SEAGOON: Wait a minute – what was he
doing all this time?
BLUEBOTTLE: I couldn’t see – he’d
locked me in the cupboard.
SEAGOON: Yes. Stand over there.
BLUEBOTTLE: But dat’s outside the
Zeppelin.
SEAGOON: Just testing you lad.
BLUEBOTTLE: He he he!
SEAGOON: Well listen – listen! What’s
in the other parcel?
ECCLES: (Muffled singing) When you walk in the Garden,
the Garden of Eden… [19]
ah yum diddle-i-do..
Ah hello Neddie! Ah hello Neddie…. (Sings) Melody divine… The War Office
has sent me to help you – and the audience.
SEAGOON: Bloodnok, take that scented
rose from behind your ear and hand me that woollen microphone.
BLOODNOK: Ah, there.
SEAGOON: Hello folks! Neddie Seagoon
calling the studio audience. Fasten your safety belts – in a few moments we’ll
be crossing the international dateline, then I’ll be one day older than Moriarty,
thus winning the age race!
GRAMS: Multiple penguins.
BLOODNOK: Neddie! Penguin’s ready to
attack the front half of the Zeppelin.
SEAGOON: Splendid. CHARGE!
GRAMS: Bugle playing ‘Charge.’ Rifle
fire. Gun batteries. Shouting. Penguins screaming over the top of everything.
BLUEBOTTLE: Dis way, Captain! Dis
way! Let’s see what’s behind dis door here!
FX: Door opens
GRAMS: Splash.
LITTLE JIM: He’s fallen in da water.
SEAGOON: Curse! The wrong door but
the right Bluebottle! This must be the control cabin here.
FX: Door opens.
SEAGOON: Hands up!
ECCLES: OK!
SEAGOON: Not you, you idiot.
ECCLES: Sorry.
MORIARTY: Aha! It’s little, steaming
Neddie![20]
SEAGOON: Moriarty! What are you
doing at the front end of the Zeppelin?
GRYTPYPE: He has just crossed the
international dateline ahead of you, Neddie, thereby felo de se [21]-
etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. Perhaps listeners would like to make a note of
that on a piece of paper.
SEAGOON: Right. Well er… that’s the
lot for tonight then, innit?
GRYTPYPE: Yes.
SEAGOON: Oh. Well er… round the
corner for the old brandy then!
GRAMS: Feet running away.
GREENSLADE: About those pieces of
paper, listeners. I suggest you use them for writing in complaints about these
dull endings of the Goon Show. Good night.
ORCHESTRA: End theme.
GREENSLADE: That was the Goon Show,
a BBC recorded program featuring Peter Sellers, Secombe 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 program produced by Pat Dixon.
ORCHESTRA: Playout.
YTI 