BROADCAST: 2 Dec 1957


Script by Spike Milligan and Larry Stephens



GREENSLADE: This is the BBC home service, a cosy little organization that gives aged gentlemen like myself safe refuge from the sinful world of work.

GRAMS: (Gradually speeding up.) Hurray! Hip hip, hurray! Hip hip, hurray!

GREENSLADE: Right! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Yes. I have here in my hand ladies and gentlemen, a chit granting me a permission to sing; and the chit is signed by John Snagge.

Secombe: Do you have to bow your head when you mention that name?

GREENSLADE: No, but it helps.

Secombe: Well get on with the old singing bit there, Wal.

GREENSLADE: Well, I should like to sing the balladÖI would like to sing theÖ

(Extended interruptions.)

GREENSLADE: Well, I should like to sing the ballad, ĎSea Feverí by John Masefield.

ORCHESTRA: Piano arpeggio.

GREENSLADE: (Sings) ĎI must go down to the sea againÖí Oh!

GRAMS: Splash

SECOMBE: That got rid of him!

GREENSLADE: (Off) Help! I canít swim in water.

SECOMBE: Right! Grab this imitation hand. Hup!

GRAMS: Splashing.

GREENSLADE: Oh! Oh, Mister Seagoon, that river was full of naughty water.

SEAGOON: What! It must have sprung a leak! Hup!

ORCHESTRA: Tatty chord

SEAGOON: Well done! Well done! (extended)

SELLERS: Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr (microphone effect)

SEAGOON: Yes. Folks, that was Peter Sellers doing an impression of the next Kari Ten Stubari. Heíll never last out. Now Wal, wring out that wet stomach and read the writing on the seat of these underpants.

GREENSLADE: We present the new all-leather goon show.

GRAMS: Massed cheering.


GRAMS: Immediately stop.


GRAMS: Massed cheering.


GRAMS: Immediately stop.

SEAGOON: Weíve got them eating out of our hands tonight!

GREENSLADE: Ha ha ha! My dear Harry, the audiences we get eat out of our hands every night.

SEAGOON: How dare you insult the paid claque!

GREENSLADE: Ladies and gentlemen, this weekís masterpiece comes from the pen of Spike Milligan. Incidentally, Mr. Milligan is on view in his pen every Sunday morning. From it he has just written Rider Haggardís immortal story, ďKing Solomonís MinesĒ for the third time.

SELLERS: (U.S. film announcer) Here it is then, Carl Filmend Mould!

ORCHESTRA: African Epic introduction.

HORN: My name is Horn. Trader Horn. Born in Houndsditch. How do you like a name like that eh? Horn-Trader-Horn-born-in-Houndsditch. My father must have been mad.

ECCLES: Hello son!

FX: Pistol shot.

ECCLES: Ohhhhhh!

HORN: I spent my life in Africa hunting the cord of the rare female stripped pajamas which are dying out rapidly. So let us go back to the beginning of our story. And so saying I sank back in my spon chair, filled my pipe with brown Ďagonyí shag, and the following story I told.

GRAMS: Recording; (Peter) I first saw Lord SEAGOON in 1908. (speeding up) It was in the south of France at the casino tables of Monte Carlo athalibutÖ

GRAMS: Roulette wheel. Ball dropping, spinning around wheel. Bell. Distant french cries.

GREENSLADE: Numero cinque rouge.

SEAGOON: Cinque rouge! Curse folks. I had my money on number five red. Iíd better get change. Pardonez moi, ah, avez-vouz le change pour mon ten bob note pour le francs?

GREENSLADE: Er, it will be easier for me if you speak english.

SEAGOON: I donít speak that very well either.

GREENSLADE: Ah ha! An english punditeur.

SEAGOON: Have a care frog eater, or Iíll dig up Napoleon and clout his nut.

GREENSLADE: I apologise for your disgusting behaviour.


GREENSLADE: Place your bets please.

HORN: A thousand francs on red ten.

Ellington: Two thousand francs on eleven.

ECCLES: Tuppence on number three.

GREENSLADE: Monsieur! Monsieur! I insist. We never take english money.

ECCLES: Oooh good. Then I canít lose.

SEAGOON: Have you tried the other tables?
ECCLES: Yep. And all the chairs. Have a nutÖ

FX: Slapping sounds on bare skin. (Mix in woodblock for effect.)

CAST: Hoi, hup. (extended)

ECCLES: Oww! Oww!

GREENSLADE: Now, any final bets?

SEAGOON: Ten francs on number one hundred.

HORN: Thereís no such number on the wheel.

SEAGOON: Iíll take a chance. My second name is Ďmad-man!í

ECCLES: Thatís my first name.

FX: Slapping on bare skin. (Woodblock again.)

CAST: (Fighting sounds.)

ECCLES: Ohhhh!Awwww!

HORN: As the night wore on I found myself at a table with Lord Seagoon opposite.

FX: Card shuffle.

SEAGOON: It was poker. Poker with a vengeance. The table was surrounded by excited spectators. The bids were a million francs a time. I had raised them two million. I felt confident. I had the best poker hand Iíd ever had.

HORN: It all depended on one player to call. Finally he did.


SEAGOON: Snap? You ragged idiot, weíre playing poker!

ECCLES: Ooooo. Well Iím winning ainít I?

HORN: Yes you are, blast you!

SEAGOON: This manís impossible. I refuse to play at this table.

ECCLES: Me too. Where shall we go fellas?

FX: Slapping on bare skin. Mix in woodblock.

CAST: Fighting sounds.

GREENSLADE: Monsieur Eccles. The managing director of the casino insists that you leave. Salut.

ECCLES: Oo. The managing director is throwing me out, what an honour that is.

SEAGOON: The ambulance is outside.

ECCLES: Ambulance? Iím not sick.

SEAGOON: You will be. Itís going to run over you.

ECCLES: What! Let me go! Let me go!

FX: Sticks on hard surface.

CAST: Fighting sounds.

ECCLES: Owwww! Owww! Owww! Oooh! Thatís enough!

SEAGOON: Thank heavens heís gone. Heís won two million francs and IímÖ(gulp) skint! Whereís my speaking trumpet? Hello folks! Calling folks!

ORCHESTRA: Solo violin. ( Dodgy version of ĎHearts and Flowers.í)

SEAGOON: Iím destitute folks! No money, folks. Ruined, folks. Farewell, folks, and farefare cruel world, folks.

HORN: Seagoon was ruined. He took the only way out.

SEAGOON: The tradesmenís entrance, folks. Iíll have a tune on Max Geldrayís secret laundry list. Whereís that corkscrew? BRANDY!!!

GRAMS: Whoosh




ORCHESTRA: African Epic theme. Crescendo and fade under.

GREENSLADE: During that number a plot started to emerge. Lord Seagoon, impoverished, set out for Africa to seek his fortune. He was bound for the upper Congo.

ORCHESTRA: Bloodnok theme.

GRAMS: Flies.

BLOODNOK: Ohhh! Ohh! Ohh! Oh dear. Silly place to have a pimple. Not a decent angle-mirror in the place. Come along you flies, out you go lads, out you go.

FX: Door opening and closing.

BLOODNOK: Good, good. Now I shall have a spoonful of the old curry powder. Puts power in your knees you know. (Swallows)

FX: Fast two-toned woodbloc.

GRAMS: Shipís siren.

BLOODNOK: Oh oh oh oh oh!

GRAMS: Shipís siren.

BLOODNOK: Oh oh oh oh oh! Itís a river steamer, and what a steamer! Singhez! Singhez Thing!

SINGHEZ: What is it Major? What is afflicting you?

BLOODNOK: A river boat has arrived. I must look my best. Lay out a fresh sock will you? Iím not putting it on, just lay it out for show. Gad! I havenít seen anyone from England for ten years.

SINGHEZ: Well itís very difficult to see them such a long way away, you know.

BLOODNOK: Silence, Singhez, or Iíll squirt curry powder up your loin-cloth.

FX: Door knocker.

BLOODNOK: Come in. Come in.

FX: Door opens.

BANNISTER: Good morning sir. Iím just off the river steamer from England.

BLOODNOK: Gad! How strange. A white man.

BANNISTER: My name is Miss Minnie Bannister.

BLOODNOK: Even stranger, a white man called Miss Minnie Bannister. Whatís happening back in England?

BANNISTER: Theyíre doing the bling blim buddle dee etc: (Bloodnok and Min extended.) Itís all the rage you know.


BANNISTER: Nothingís happening back in England.

BLOODNOK: Well thereís progress for you. Come in dear sir.

BANNISTER: Sir? Iím a woman.

BLOODNOK: Woman? Woman. That name strikes a chord, you know. Whereís my old medical charts? Now, woman, woman. W, a, m, aÖ Ah here we are. Yes. Woman. Woman is aÖ..OoooÖ.and, ahh, ohhh, ah ahhhhhhgggrrhhh!

BANNISTER: Ohhhhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhh!

FX: Door knocker.

BLOODNOK: Itís those flies back again. Iím spitting tonight. Come in lads!

FX: Door opens.

SEAGOON: Good morning.

BLOODNOK: Youíre not one of my flies.

SEAGOON: Iím not one of anyoneís flies.

BLOODNOK: So, an unemployed fly. Buzz off sir or IíllÖ

SEAGOON: Wait Major. I need work. Thatís why I left england. Iíve just stepped off the boat.

BLOODNOK: Thatís two of you off the riverboat. I was much bigger than I thought, you know. I was under the impression that it was a single seater ocean liner.

SEAGOON: It was, but it had a large boot.

BLOODNOK: So it walked here! (As Anthony Eden) You see, our ships donít need Suez, Iíve always said that. Well you just happen to be lucky. Allow me to change my voice and introduce myself as Harry Trader Horn.

HORN: How-do-you-do? A rich client of mineÖ.(rubbish)

SEAGOON: Hello folks. Calling folks. Calling folks. He told me a strange tale, folks. A rich client was sending an expedition into the interior, folks, and he wanted me to go along as an assistant hunter.

HORN: I want you to go along as an assistant hunter.

SEAGOON: Yes, Iíve just told them that, you know.

HORN: Thank you.

SEAGOON: He said thank you folks.

HORN: Yes, I told the folks.

SEAGOON: Yes, he said he told you folks. Harry, folksÖ

GRAMS: Recording of massed cheering speeded up. ďYi ha!Ē Mix in giant splash.

SEAGOON: Thank you folks. On with the story folks. King Solomonís Mines part three folks.

ORCHESTRA: Quick dramatic African link.

GRAMS: Distant native chatter.

HORN: Mr. Spriggs. Have you checked the safari supplies?

SPRIGGS: Yes Jim. Yes Ji-immmmm!

HORN: Right Ji-immmmm!


MORIARTY: Ah, Mister Trader Horn mon ami, all ready to start the trek eh? Ha ha ha. Ha ha ha. Ha ha ha.

SPRIGGS: Shut him up Jim.

MORIARTY: Ha ha ha. (Extended argument between Spriggs and Moriarty.)

HORN: Are you quite sure you know where the King Solomonís Mines are?

MORIARTY: Yes. In Africa.

HORN: Africa ia a very big place.


HORN: Africa is a very big place.

MORIARTY: Then donít stand so close to me.

HORN: Thereís nothing to fear. Iím down wind.

MORIARTY: Did you get that non trade union assistant?

HORN: I did. Allow me to introduce, under this steaming electric wig, Lord Seagoon.




SEAGOON: Donít change the subject. This manís a notorious international confidence trickster by appointment to the government.

MORIARTY: Awwwwwwwwww! Ahawwwwwww! How dare you insult the french count like that without payment of leather guineas.

GRYTPYPE: Ah Moriarty, now. Put down those replicas of clenched fists. Neddy need have no fear. We are but the minions of a rich man who is financing this trip. Moriarty, time for your Oww.


GRYTPYPE: Splendid. Itís the only cure for la grippe, you know.

SEAGOON: Ahhh! Where is this rich man then? Speak up or Iíll swallow this stuffed seagull.

GRYTPYPE: Heís nailed up in this wooden crate here.

FX: Tapping on wooden plank.

GRYTPYPE: Are you alright sir?

ECCLES: (Off) Yep. Fine, fine. Iím finished with the bottle.

SEAGOON: Thatís the famous Eccles!

GRYTPYPE: You recognised him by his crate?

SEAGOON: You devils. You mean youíve had him nailed up in that crate for the whole voyage?

GRYTPYPE: Of course not. Half the time he was sealed in the barrel.

ECCLES: (Off) My turn.

SEAGOON: Sealed in the barrel? How did he breathe?

MORIARTY: He breathed through his nose. Hup hoi!

ORCHESTRA: Tatty chord in C

MORIARTY: Youíve got to keep Ďem laughing folks. We are after King Solomonís Mines.

SEAGOON: Hello folks. Did you hear that folks? We are hunting for King Solomonís Mines folks. Forward into Africa Wal.

ORCHESTRA: Dramatic safari link.

GRAMS: Sound of canoe paddling. Distant native singing with tom tom accompaniment. Continue under.

GREENSLADE: For three days the expedition travelled upstream by river. For days they never saw an Albert Memorial. This was Africa at its most primitive. Some of the men got restless.

Cyril: ĎEre, how long are we going to be on this river like this?

SEAGOON: Two more days Cyril, and then a months march inland.

Cyril: One month? I gotta be away from home for a month?

SEAGOON: Youíre not worried are you?

Cyril: ĎCourse Iím worried. My baby sitter charges two bob an hour.

SEAGOON: Well, couldnít your wife have done it?

Cyril: No. She charges three bob an hour.

SEAGOON: Well, itís worth it.

Cyril: Worth it? We havenít even got a baby! Now listen. Iím not stopping in Africa. Iíve got three windows to dress. You gotta get me off this boat! I love Anne and June I tell youÖ

SEAGOON: Right. HupÖ

GRAMS: Splash

LITTLE JIM: Heís fallen in the water.


GRAMS: Splash

BLOODNOK: Seagoon. Swallow me thuns, I saw you throw little Jim into the water.

SEAGOON: Yes. I thought the change would do him good.

BLOODNOK: I warn you Seagoon. If Little Jim is not back for next weekís catch phrase I shall say it myself. Allow me to try; Heís fallen in the water. Un un nn nngÖNo. Itís no good. I canít do it.

Cyril: (Off) Help! Help! Iím drowning in non kosher water. Help!

BLOODNOK: Oh look! A crocodile making straight for Cyril.

GRAMS: Pistol shot.

BLOODNOK: Got him. Now to get the crocodile.

GRAMS: Pistol shot.

SEAGOON: Got him too! It looks like a very old crocodile.

MORIARTY: Yes. He won the Ďold crocksí race to Blackpool last year.

ORCHESTRA: Tatty chord.

(MORIARTY: You got to keep Ďem laughing folks.)

BLOODNOK: Iíll have a pair of real shoes out of him. Wait a moment. Itís floating downstream towards Spriggsí boat.

SPRIGGS: Yes? Yes Ji-immmmm! Yes Ji-immmmm!

BLOODNOK: Got any rope?


BLOODNOK: Then lasso that crocodile and give him a tow.

SPRIGGS: Why should I? Heís had two of mine already.

BLOODNOK: Itís no good. The pace is much too much. Ellington play a cool tune on your foon. Brandy!

GRAMS: Boots running away.




ORCHESTRA: Dramatic African Epic link.

GREENSLADE: The river journey complete the great safari formed up for the great trek inland, and the headsmanís name was ĎGingerí.

BLOODNOK: I say, are you Ginger?

Ellington: Yes. Me Ginger.

BLOODNOK: Jolly good. I say, I must have my eyes tested you knowÖIÖ

Ellington: Ombah yalla! Tallaboot kalla im mahgoo ah il bashel katool!


SEAGOON: Have you tried wearing them back to front?

BLOODNOK: Neddy, careful. Heís the head man. He says the expedition is ready to start inland.

SEAGOON: Itís going to be a long march.

BLOODNOK: Nonsense. It canít last more than thirty one days. I have a friend with a calender you know.

MORIARTY: Arrrggggh! Now listen you two, arrrggh, owww ow ow, ow, ow; Grytpype tells me from here to our destination is four hundred miles.

BLOODNOK: How farís that?

MORIARTY: Well, thatís a secret. (Go on folks, lap it up.) Now then, this journey needs stamina. Seagoon, how much ground can you cover in a day?

SEAGOON: I can cover ten square yards standing still.

GRYTPYPE: Iím glad to hear that Neddy. Now come Moriarty. Horn-Trader-Horn-Born-In-Houndsditch is waiting to carry us in his portable tree. (Going off.) We must get there.

SEAGOON: I donít trust Grytpype and Moriarty.

BLOODNOK: And I donít trust Moriarty and Grytpype.

SEAGOON: Well, keep an eye on my two first then weíll settle yours.


Ellington: Oom balla, we go!

SEAGOON: Right. Help me get this crate on my head. (Straining) Huh. Ahhhrgg ahhhrrrrgg. (Puffs) You alright in there Eccles?

ECCLES: Yeah. Fine fine. Umm, ah, oh tell me, is it day or night?

SEAGOON: Whatís that up in the sky?

BLOODNOK: The sun.

SEAGOON: Itís day Eccles.

ECCLES: Ta. Oh, this is the life. Nailed up in a crate being carried through Africa. Oh, a slice of privilege is what I like. Oh, Iíve never had it so good I tell you. This is living!

SEAGOON: Donít get excited Eccles. This crate leaks.

HORN: Right. Forward into the interior!

SEAGOON: We might meet the deck-er-ators. Hello folks, did you get that folks? Interior, interior deck-er-ator! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Ah humÖSorry folks.


GRAMS: Boots running off at speed.

ORCHESTRA: Short dramatic link.

GRAMS: Sounds of party cutting its way through jungle.

SEAGOON: Ah, we made slow progress. The jungle was very dense.

BLOODNOK: So were we.

SEAGOON: By April the twenty second weíd only reached February the first.

SPRIGGS: Hello Jim. Hello Ji-imm. Where are we heading for. Where are we heading fooooooor? Where are we heading for Ji-im?

GRYTPYPE: Iíll tell you gentlemen. With the help of Mister Eccles and Moriartyís overdraught we are seeking the King Solomonís Mines.

SPRIGGS: Solomonís Mines? Are they rich?

GRYTPYPE: With a name like Solomon? Do me a favour.

SPRIGGS: But the King Solomonís Mines is only a legend.

GRYTPYPE: We know itís only a legend but weíre determined to find it. (Going off.) Moriarty, youíve got the map. Show them Moriarty. Moriarty? Where is that schnorrer? Moriarty? Moriarty? Moriarty? Count Moriarty where are you?

SEAGOON: It sounds as if heís gone.

GRYTPYPE: Oh? And what sound does a person make when heís gone?



GRYTPYPE: Thatís it. Thatís the sound heís making. So, the steaming eater of escargots and snails has done the dirty on my dirty. Iíll get him. Give me those dentistís pliers and that rusty razorblade.

GRAMS: Whoosh

SEAGOON: Heís gone and leave us in sound. Whereís my leather speaking trumpet? Hello folks! Here we are left in the jungle folks, with no one who will help folks.

BLUEBOTTLE: I will help you my good man. Enter a fresh lunatic.

SEAGOON: Just what England needs. Wait here while we go and trap Moriarty with this picture of forty one, twenty eight, thirty nine. Right. Follow me men!

GRAMS: Recording: Boots running at speed.

SEAGOON: (singing over, gradually speeding up.)

Give me some men who are stout hearted men,

Who will fight for the right to be free.

Shoulder to shoulder

And bolder and bolderÖ

BLUEBOTTLE: Oh. Theyíve gone and lefted me. Oh well, like all good boy scouts I will play with my elastic. Stretch, streeeetch!

FX: Whack on bare skin.

BLUEBOTTLE: Ohhhh. My nut.

ECCLES: (Off) Keep quiet out there. Thereís people in this crate trying to get some sleep.

BLUEBOTTLE: Is that you in there, Eccles?

ECCLES: Yeah, datís me-in-dere-Eccles.

BLUEBOTTLE: Is it dark in that crate there Eccles?

ECCLES: Iíll strike a match and see. Oh, no. It was a moment ago though.

BLUEBOTTLE: Good Ďcause I want to take a snapshot of you for the Ďbeautiful bodyí contest in the Finchly nature mag.

ECCLES: Ah ho! Ah ah ah ho! Iíll take my clothes off.


ECCLES: Yeh. Ready. Oh, these splinters!

BLUEBOTTLE: You smiling Eccles?


BLUEBOTTLE: Dere. I took it Eccles. Which way was you facing?
FX: Knocking on wood.

ECCLES: I was facing this side.

BLUEBOTTLE: Oh. You had your back to me. Datís ruined the photo now.

MORIARTY: (Approaching) Let me go!

SEAGOON: Come on you devils. Weíve got Ďem. Hello folks! Hello folks!It was all a hairy plot folks. Moriarty ran away and Grytpype arranged to make it look like he knew nothing about it, etcetera etcetera etcetera, folks. Sort it out for yourselves folks.

GRYTPYPE: If it werenít for those speeded up recordings of running youíd never have caught us I tell you.

SEAGOON: Now release Eccles.

GRAMS: Crowbar under nailed down slat. Crate opening sounds. (Continue under.)

SEAGOON: Hurry up. Weíre getting near the end of the show.

BLOODNOK: Out you come Eccles. Eccles! What are you doing in the nude?

ECCLES: I was posing for the nature photograph.

BLOODNOK: Youíre the wrong shape lad. You need advice.

SEAGOON: Ah you fiends. Into the crate with you.

GRAMS: Quick hammering on wood.

SEAGOON: There and therein youíll stay. Bloodnok. Throw them on the boat.

GRAMS: Large splash.

BLOODNOK: Missed! Worse still, if Little Jim had have been here he could have saidÖ

Little Jim: Heís fallen in the water.

BLOODNOK: He could have said.

SEAGOON: Now my dear friend the rich Eccles, my pal, my dear old rich mate, whereís that silly old two million francs eh?

ECCLES: It was all in that crate.

SEAGOON: Curse! An unhappy ending folks.

BLOODNOK: Not for me it isnít. Ohh!

GRAMS: Splash

GREENSLADE: Itís all in the mind you know.

FX: Sounds of slapping on bare skin. Mix in woodblock.

ORCHESTRA: End theme.
GREENSLADE: That was the Goon Show, a BBC recorded programme, featuring Peter Sellers, Harry Secombe, and Spike Milligan, with the Ray Ellington Quartet. The orchestra conducted by Wally Stott. Script by Spike Milligan and Larry Stephens. Announcer; Wallace Greenslade. The programme produced by Roy Spear.