BROADCAST: 30 Sep 1957


Script by Spike Milligan


GREENSLADE: This is the BBC Light Programme.

FX: Saw, sawing through wood.

EMERY: (Clears his throat.)

FX: Further sawing.

EMERY: (Clears his throat.)

FX: Further, further sawing.

EMERY: (Clears his throat.)

FX: Further, further, further sawing.

EMERY: (Clears his throat.)

FX: Saw, sawing- immediately interrupted byÖ[1]

GREENSLADE: Yes Ė youíre perfectly right. Itís the new all leather Goon Show!

GRAMS: C Major arpeggios on piano. Slowly vary the speed, at first slightly then more and more wildly.

GREENSLADE: That was a chord in C by Johann Sebastian Bach,[2] arranged Doris Arnold.[3] As an encore, Arthur Rubinstein will play Mendelssohnís Sonata in F in the key of G.

GRAMS: Recording of Lisztís ďLiebestraum No.3 in A-flat major.Ē (Continue under.)

SELLERS: Go on Arthur, play it there boy.

EMERY: Lovely player isnít he? Go on Arthur the old left hand there, go on boy

MILLIGAN: Weíre just in the mood Arthur go on

EMERY: Lovely isnít it?

MILLIGAN: Go on Arthur, blow it out. Get some of the old beer down here.

GRAMS: Liszt recording speeds up and stops.

GREENSLADE: Oh please, please, gentlemen, gentlemen, please! The BBC would rather you forget the vicissitudes of the summer layoff and refer to the new collodion on leather process Goon Show.

EMERY: Well, if this is what England wants we present the drama of a time when England was under the yoking alderman of a certain brown terror.

ORCHESTRA: Dramatic chords.

FX: Door opens


FX: Door closes.

EMERY: Did you hear that dear listeners?

GRAMS: Sheep bleating.

EMERY: Remember it, Spon!

GREENSLADE: Spon, first came to England that fateful new years dawn in Greek Street. It was three in the morning and two in the afternoon making a grand total of five in the evening

GRAMS: Group of tired people at a party

SEAGOON: Good evening Constable

WILLIAM: Oh evening Inspector, happy new-type year

EMERY: Happy new year, with the conservatives in?

WILLIAM: Oh, Iíll tell Ďem to move on, come on now move along there

SINGHEZ-THINGZ: Pardon me, pardon me European-type Constable of London. Weíve just found a British-type body in the gutter

WILLIAM: Nobody claims it in three days itís yours

EMERY: Just a moment, just a moment Iíll take charge here. Just a moment, hold these wardrobes and letís examine this unearthed form

WILLIAM: He looks like a man sir

EMERY: Right, take this down. Contents of pockets; a wallet, empty.

WILLIAM: Nationalityís English

EMERY: Wearing a very expensive suit. [Pause] Howís that?

WILLIAM: Fits you lovely, Iíll have his boots

EMERY: Bad Constable, Iím seria

SINGHEZ-THINGZ: Wait a minute, what about this body in the gutter?

EMERY: Weíre coming to him, weíre coming to him I tell you! Shine your torch on him

WILLIAM: Right, click. Stroofy-manio, look, heís been sponned!

EMERY: Sponned?

SINGHEZ-THINGZ: Shponned man?

EMERY: Let me see. Youíre right, he bears the marks of a severe sponning. Constable, this is a job for the police

WILLIAM: Oh yes, Iíll blow 9-9-9 on me whistle

FX: Puffer whistle blows short 13 times. Dramatic music

GREENSLADE: The news of the sponning was in every morning paper

FX: Newspaper rattling. Teapot on saucer. Teaspoon on saucer.


FX: Teaspoon on floor.


FX: Teapot. Newspaper.


FX: Teapot then teaspoon falls to floor.

BANNISTER: O ho ho ho

FX: Teaspoon on floor then sacer. Teapot. Cup on saucer.

BANNISTER: Come on boy, time for your supper. Sit up, sit up, sit up. Put this sausage on your nose. There, thatís a clever boy!

CRUN: Minnie


CRUN: Iím fed up having my breakfast like this

BANNISTER: Sit down boy

FX: Rustling newspaper


BANNISTER: What is it Henry?

CRUN: I see that a man as sponned last night.

BANNISTER: Spon, ooh spon, weíll all be sponned in our beds, oh dear. Horrors of spon. Your grandmother had it in the Crimean War, ooh spon

CRUN: Donít worry Min; Iíll put some sulphur under the bed

BANNISTER: Oh the power

CRUN: And then weíd better rub some thin peoplesí herbs into our legs, Min

BANNISTER: Yes yes, and weíd better take a sponful of Indian brandy as an added precaution

FX: Door opens smartly.


GRAMS: Galloping horse approaching.

EMERY: Whoa, is this your house?

CRUN: Yes, the receipt

BANNISTER: Did the horse wipe its feet?

EMERY: No need to, he came on another horse. Now, last night a man was sponned, not far from here

CRUN: We are non-spon people

BANNISTER: Non-spon people!

CRUN: We are respectable people

BANNISTER: Respectable people

EMERY: Now then

BANNISTER & CRUN: What, what, what did he say? Ooh

EMERY: Listen, donít get excited. I just wanted to know did you hear anything at about three Ďo clock this morning?

CRUN: Yes sir. Should I tell him?

BANNISTER: Tell him what Henry?

EMERY: Just come a long, tell me, what?

BANNISTER: Tell him what happened at three Ďo clock this morning, you naughty man you

CRUN: I heard a clock strike two

EMERY: Gad, at last, a clue. Bow! How many times did it strike two?

CRUN: I donít know sir, I fell asleep after it stuck one twice.

EMERY: One twice? Iíll put that in the adding machine.

GRAMS: Flatulence effects.

EMERY: Just as I thought! Goodbye, telli-ho yoiks. Hay ho silver in a blinding flash, a white horse and a cry of hay ho silver and the lone ranger is on the trail of, SPON!

GRAMS: Horse galloping away.

ELLINGTON: Listen, whatís going on here?

EMERY: A leather Goon Show, care to join us?

ELLINGTON: Cor blimey, yes mate. Me got wife and kid, an Asian flu.

GRAMS: Running footsteps disappearing.




ORCHESTRA: Dramatic link.

FX: Door opens. Footsteps approaching.

MILLIGAN: (Venerable) Spon!

FX: Door closes.

GREENSLADE: After a weekís of fruitless search - success!

EMERY: I found an apple; my search is no longer fruitless.

ORCHESTRA: Woodwind chord, cymbal crash.

EMERY: Apple!

CAST: Ha-Ha!

EMERY: Just a moment. I was confronted by a tall cadaverous man wearing a nude bicycle shed. Another man let me in.

MORIARTY: Ah, come this way please.

GRYTPYPE: Inspector, I am Mr. Grytpype Thynne.

EMERY: Iím Jim Tomontiul.

GRYTPYPE: I happen to have a photo of a spon.

EMERY: A spon? Ha, I donít believe you.

GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, show the gentlemen the receipt for the camera.

FX: Paper rattling.

EMERY: Gad, this is genuine.

GRYTPYPE: And thatís only the receipt. The spon photo is even more genuine. (Moriarty, time for your aww.)


GRYTPYPE: Splendid. Heís just been oowed

EMERY: What?

GRYTPYPE: Because he had to go oow

EMERY: Good luck. Right now look.

MORIARTY: He let me go oow.

EMERY: This photo will be a great value to the police. I must ask you to hand it over feet first by the wrists.

GRYTPYPE: (Laughs) No Inspector, first there is a little matter of money.

MORIARTY: Money, MONEY!? Hooow.

GRYTPYPE: Quiet Moriarty. Keep your powers down.

MORIARTY: My powers down

GRYTPYPE: Stop steaming. Money Inspector, yes, the spon photo draws for a mere £500.

EMERY: Supposing the photo is a forgery?

GRYTPYPE: Well that is a risk I shall have to take.

EMERY: Very well, very well, hereís £500.

FX: Coin hitting floor.

GRYTPYPE: Thank you, now here in this sealed envelope is the spon photo not to be opened Ďtill Christmas.

EMERY: I waited Ďtill Christmas, put on a white leather beard, then tore open the linen envelope from the outside - foiled by foiled, this isnít a photo of a spon.

GRYTPYPE: How dare you prove us to be liars? Moriarty hurl this man in the direction of out

MORIARTY: Right, hup!

GRAMS: Shattering glass

GRYTPYPE: Right through the window

EMERY: Yes, that taught them a lesson, a French lesson. It was a French window!

ORCHESTRA: Woodwind chord, symbol crash

CAST: Hoy!

GRYTPYPE: Emery-type-Seagoon, stop these BBC audience losing jokes

GRAMS: Telephone rings speeding up then slowing down again

EMERY: Hello, Emery-type-Seagoon here

GRYTPYPE: Grytpype here

MORIARTY: Moriarty here

GREENSLADE: (Distorted) This is Dr. Greenslade of St. Hamptonís Hospital for the Fit and Healthy. The spon victim is now conscious

EMERY: Strap him to a thermometer until I arrive or vice-versa

FX: Hangs up phone.

EMERY: Whatís the quickest way to St. Hamptonís Hospital?

GRYTPYPE: Hold this rocket

EMERY: But I...

GRAMS: Whoosh. Sped up voice of Emery saying ĎWhat are you doing this for? How dare you...?í

ORCHESTRA: Dramatic music.

GREENSLADE: Ladies and gentlemen, during the broadcast you mightíve experienced some crackling on your radio

MILLIGAN: Sheís mine

GREENSLADE: This is due to atmospherics, so do not interfere with your set or any ladies in the room. Part three - a National Health Hospital.

DOCTOR: Say aahh

PATIENT: Aahh (Screams)

FX: Objects hitting floor

DOCTOR: Stand by your beds

GRAMS: Disorganised running footsteps.

EMERY: Ah, Dr. Greenslade, whereís the spon man?

GREENSLADE: On this hatstand. We did our best, heís much better

EMERY: And how are you feeling now, my poor man?

GREENSLADE: Iím fine thankyou

BLUEBOTTLE: He means me you nit!

EMERY: So you were the victim of the sponning, a Finchley child, of no fixed trousers

BLUEBOTTLE: Yes I was heavily sponned in all areas below the knees. Spon it went, spon spon spon! Up it came, spon! And down it went, spuggy! [Singing] Honey, how I love you, how I love you my dear old honey!

EMERY: Tell me the whole story

BLUEBOTTLE: I was told you the whole story

EMERY: From the beginning

BLUEBOTTLE: Oh I diden know that

EMERY: Right

BLUEBOTTLE: Well I was, I was coming back from morning classes one evening in Hyde Park and I was brushing the grass off my knees when suddenly...

EMERY: Yes yes yes yes?

BLUEBOTTLE: Yeah, thereís some smashing nurses there

EMERY: What, what, what what what what what?! Remove those evil thoughts from your mind, to mine

BLUEBOTTLE: Never! I can get them free on the National Health

EMERY: Gad I must vote labour next time

BLUEBOTTLE: Theyíre all red-hot labour in this ward

EMERY: So this is the labour ward, hup!

ORCHESTRA: Corny chord. Cymbal snap.

CAST: Hoy!

BLUEBOTTLE: Oh look, here comes someone on a stretcher

EMERY: So they stretch people here. Poor man, bandaged from head to throat. A victim of some fool. What happened my poor man?

MORIARTY: You threw me through a window you fool

EMERY: That reminds me this photo you sold me is not of a spon but a military gentleman in Africa. Who is he? ...Speak up, or Iíll confiscate your teeth!

MORIARTY: OK, I tell you I tell you. Itís Major Dennis Bloodnok, he owns the film rights of The Walton Report

EMERY: What?! Walt Disney will never forgive him. After him!

ORCHESTRA: Bloodnok theme

BLOODNOK: Aeough aeough! Me arles me arles!

GRAMS: Flies.

BLOODNOK: The heat and the flies. I should neveríve come to Timbuktu in the mating season, you know. Abdull, my military saxophoneÖ

ORCHESTRA: Saxophone playing start of ĎComrades Marchí finishing with one low loud note.


FX: Knock on door, door opens, machine.

EMERY: Iím Emery-type-Seagoon, Iíve just arrived in Africa

BLOODNOK: Iím Major Bloodnok and Iíve been here all the time

EMERY: So you beat me here

BLOODNOK: Bend down and Iíll beat you there

FX: Cracking whip.

EMERY: OOOWWW, you fool. Bloodnok


EMERY: I must warn you Iím on police business

BLOODNOK: Warn me then

EMERY: First, a few questions


EMERY: One, are you naked?

BLOODNOK: Yes Iím training to take a bath

EMERY: What a funny place to keep the soap

BLOODNOK: How dare you?

EMERY: Is this a photograph of you?

BLOODNOK: I felt no pain

EMERY: Yes, I paid £500 for it

BLOODNOK: A bargain, a genuine Bloodnok

EMERY: I bought it believing it to be a photograph of a spon

BLOODNOK: A spon? Youíve been swindled

EMERY: Bloodnok, I must ask you to be a witness in the spon case

BLOODNOK: I refuse to testify, sir

EMERY: Then Iíll supiner you

BLOODNOK: You filthy swine! Oooh, Aooohoh!

EMERY: Tie this railway engine round your waist and swallow this lump of coal

BLOODNOK: And so saying we left for England!

GRAMS: Two short train whistles

EMERY: Here we are back in England.

MILLIGAN: Iím sorry weíre closed.

EMERY: Curse! It must be Thursday.

BURKE: [Talking with bagpipe music] No sir, Iím sorry, welcome home to ungland sir. While you were saway thereís another case of sponniní sir.

EMERY: Where?

BURKE: [Talking with bagpipe music] At the London Zoo sir.

EMERY: A ZOO sponning, the worst type

BURKE: [Talking with bagpipe music] Aarrrr aarrrr

EMERY: How do I get there?

BURKE: [Talking with bagpipe music] You have to take a 39 green elephant sir, but first of all I would like you to hear this array

ORCHESTRA: Burke singing ĎHairy Meí accompanied by piano

BURKE: [Talking with bagpipe music] Well I hope you like it sir, itís my first composition

FX: Gunshot, Burke in pain.

GRAMS: dying bagpipes

EMERY: Got him in the haggis. Geldray play a lament while I put these chickens at bay. Back you devils!

GRAMS: Chicken bleats


MAX GELDRAY - "It Happened in Monterey"


GREENSLADE: Spon - part three

EMERY: Is this the zoo?

SPRIGGS: Yes Jim, welcome to captivity

EMERY: Iím not here as a specimen. I believe a fish was sponned


EMERY: Were there any witnesses to the sponning?

SPRIGGS: Oh yes Jim, Harold Blun.

EMERY: Whereís he?

SPRIGGS: In there Jim, [singing] iiinnn therrre

EMERY: Right, Iíll question this Harold Blun.

FX: Door opens, then closes, running footsteps and maniacal crying

GREENSLADE: We had better explain that Harold Blun is a gorilla. Height, ten foot three; chest, normal eighty-two inches; weight, eight hundred pounds. We leave him being questioned by Inspector Emery.

GRAMS: Breaking glass.


SPRIGGS: Any luck Jim?

EMERY: Yes, I got out alive

GRAMS: More breaking glass.

EMERY: Thank heaven heís thrown my legs out.

FX: Telephone ringing.

EMERY: Hello? Emery speaking from the zoo.

HERN: (On phone) Iíve got some news sir. Police records have found an actual recording of a spon.

EMERY: What luck! Mr Spriggs, hold this telephone

SPRIGGS: Right Jim

EMERY: [On phone] Hello Spriggs?


EMERY: You can hang up now.


ORCHESTRA: Dramatic link.

Cast: Rhubarbs

EMERY: Gentlemen, silence! Silence while we hear this recording of a spon. William, play the record

GRAMS: Vibrato high voice, pops, pff, voice going up and down followed by high note, burp, fast clicking, ends with a few short notes.

EMERY: So thatís a spon. Now we know what weíre looking for. Action

ORCHESTRA: Dramatic music

CAST: Hoi!

GREENSLADE: To trap the sponner, roadblocks were set up. Special men were put on duty. [Singing] On dutyyyyy!

GRAMS: Boat bell clanging twice, footsteps fading in.

EMERY: Left, left, left left left. Now youíre right. Halt!

GRAMS: Footsteps stop.

EMERY: Now Colonel, sorry to put a man of such high rank on guard but only men of high intellect can be trusted, so I leave you to trap the spon. See you later

GRAMS: Footsteps fading out.

ECCLES: [Singing softly] Hey little men, when when when, love letters in the street...

GRAMS: Flatulence effects.

ECCLES: Whatís that sound that shouldnít be there and wasnít? Whatís that? Whatís that? Whatís that?

GRAMS: More flatulence effects.

ECCLES: Oooohhh. Whatís that then? Hatís that? What?

GRAMS: Wind.

ECCLES: Ooooohhhhhh. Whatís that? Whatís that going ooooohhhhh? Who goes there?

GRAMS: Gibberish talk.

ECCLES: Advance and be recognised

EMERY: Donít shoot! Itís me, great news! Iíve heard that thereís a...

GREENSLADE: Now, Emery tells Eccles that a third sponning has been traced to the Canadian Rockies. Part four - the Canadian Rockies

ORCHESTRA: Corny chord. Cymbal snap.

CAST: Hoy!

EMERY: Look, the Canadian Rockies!

CAST: Hurray!

EMERY: Didnít take long

ECCLES: It didnít hurt

EMERY: Now letís speak to this typical native of Canada, who happens to be a stranger around here

CYRIL: Um, hello partner buddy. Um, so ah, what can I do for you?

FX: Spit, object hitting bucket

CYRIL: Thatís alright that bit wasnít it?

EMERY: Very nice. We need a guide.

CYRIL: Here, Iíve got the very fella for you. Um, Chief Wurriguts.

WURRIGUTS: Yim, boom balabuya bomb.

CYRIL: This man here is a genuine fake Red Indian available for Ray Ellington parts.


EMERY: This card is blank.

WURRIGUTS: Me got writing on the back.

EMERY: Thatís a damn silly place to write, on the back.

WURRIGUTS: Look, me tell you. Chief Wurriguts, MGM child star, expert hunter, trapped? Sends spoke signals, nine words per shilling, sware words extra.

BLOODNOK: Donít pay it sir, I can do all your swearing at half price. Itís the off season, you know.

ECCLES: Is this the off season?


ECCLES: Well Iím off then.

EMERY: Come back at once! Remember here as suspects

ECCLES: All of us?


CYRIL: Well youíd better head off before it gets dark then, hadnít you?

WURRIGUTS: OK, white men, all ready for the trek?

EMERY: Right, Iíll get my trek suit on. Fill up the huskies with petrol and harness them to the sherrabang. Forward!

ORCHESTRA: Dramatic link.

GRAMS: Gail wind, chicken bleats...

BLUEBOTTLE: Mush, mush! Get up there! Flicks leather-type whip

ORCHESTRA: Cracking whip.

BLUEBOTTLE: Aeough, my ear hole!

EMERY: Bluebottle, tell those dogs to stop doing impressions of chickens

BLUEBOTTLE: Naughty dogs! Stop them chicken impressions

GRAMS: Chicken bleats stop.

WURRIGUTS: Well now, weíll have to travel on foot

EMERY: Right, Iíll unpack one

WURRIGUTS: But what about your luggage? Me got three wives in suitcase

BLOODNOK: Carry your bags, sir?

EMERY: Down Bloodnok! Put evil thoughts behind you

BLOODNOK: They are behind me, thatís why Iím first in the queue, you know

EMERY: Military fool

BLOODNOK: [Laughs]

EMERY: Oh, now everybody will have to help carry my luggage. Now to find that dreaded spon!

GREENSLADE: Iím sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Emery, but youíve only got thirty seconds left

EMERY: I canít search Canada for a spon in thirty seconds! Oh no!

GREENSLADE: Very well. Ladies and gentlemen, youíve been listening to an incomplete Goon Show. Goodnight!

ORCHESTRA: Start of end theme.

GREENSLADE: Alright Wally, whoa hold it. For dissatisfied customers, here is a happy ending:

ORCHESTRA: Romantic music.

MILLIGAN: Cynthia?

CYNTHIA: Yes darling?

MILLIGAN: Marry me, Cynthia!

CYNTHIA: Darling, Iíd love to!

GRAMS: Organ playing bridal precession, church bells clanging.

ORCHESTRA: End theme

GREENSLADE: That was the Goon Show. A BBC recorded programme featuring Peter Sellers, Dick Emery and Spike Milligan, with the Ray Ellington Quartet, Max Geldray and the orchestra conducted by Wally Stott. Script by Spike Milligan, announcer Wallace Greenslade, the programme produced by Charles Chilton!





[1] The joke Ė obtuse as it first seems, was that somebody in the cast Ė probably Secombe, had a throat like an emery (Dick Emery) board.


[2] German composer, (1685-1750) and one of the principal exponents of the high Baroque school. One of his most famous pieces is a Prelude in C major built entirely on arpeggios (the independent notes of a chord.)


[3] The name ĎDoris Arnoldí sounds suspiciously like a take-off Eileen Joyce, (1912-1991) the renowned Tasmanian pianist. Her emotionally charged performances, colour-coded by composer, (green for Chopin, blue for Beethoven) brought morale boosting performances of the classics to thousands during war-time Britain in Jack Hyltonís ďBlitz-toursĒ. Milligan mentions her on one occasion in ĎThe War Memoirs.Ē