8TH SERIES: No 11
BROADCAST: 9 Dec 1957
Script by Larry Stephens
GREENSLADE: We present the all weather Goon Show.
ORCHESTRA: Tatty chord
SELLERS: (Dramatic) And tonight we bring you the story of The Stolen Postman.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic introduction
SELLERS: The scene; a self contained, unfurnished radio set.
GRAMS: (Recording) GREENSLADE: And here is the news. The birthday
†celebrations of the Sultan of Dirtistan have had to be postponed as
†heís been unable to find a volunteer to act as
a guest victim in the annual exploding ceremony. And now, scene two; a self
contained unfurnished sewer under the
GRAMS: Splashing. (Continue under)
GRYTPYPE: (Singing) Da di da di, da di da da. Moriarty! Come on in. The waterís fine.
MORIARTY: Yes, but youíre not. Iím not getting in there and getting myself wet with water.
GRYTPYPE: Well, thereís a first time for everybody Moriarty.
MORIARTY: Ahhhhhwwww! Not the dreaded water.
GRYTPYPE: Shut up you fool.
MORIARTY: Ahwwwwwww! Ahhwww again. Owww. OwwwÖ
GRYTPYPE: You almost owwed in a confined space. You realise, one more oww and the whole place will go up in flames? Now help me on with my clean newspaper please.
FX: Tapping on resonant piece of iron.
MORIARTY: Grytpype, thereís somebody at the man hole cover.
FX: Heavy iron lid being thrown aside.
SEAGOON: Good morning.
GRYTPYPE: Oh, good morning postman.
SEAGOON: Good morning. A registered boot for you. Sign on the dotted sock please.
SEAGOON: Thank you.
GRYTPYPE: Thank you postman. Oh, and hereís a little something for yourself.
SEAGOON: Ah! Oh goodie, just what Iíve always wanted, my own bullet. (Going off singing.) Itís a hap hap happy day, on the spring on the sprabble sprayÖ
GRYTPYPE: Now, letís have a look whatís in this registered boot. Good heavens Moriarty, a registered foot.
MORIARTY: Whatís it say Grytpype?
GRYTPYPE: Itís from our landlord. ďDear Sirs, Owing to complaints from the tenants of the others sewers about your singing and owwwing after eleven oíclock, I do hereby give you notice to quit.Ē
MORIARTY: Ah howwwee! Or if you like, Hi ih ha ho ho hoou! Grytpype, weíve been given the registered boot, kicked out, sewerless, without a street over our heads, with nothing but the water we stand up in. Grytpype? Grytpype! Youíre not listening.
MORIARTY: Youíre not listening Grytpype. (Rubbish)
GRYTPYPE: Iím sorry. I was just reading this advertisement on the back page of my suit. Listen here, ďWanted, man for exploding. One thousand pounds offered for a genuine charlie in good condition. Apply, The Sultan of Dirtistan.Ē
MORIARTY: Four thousand pounds! (sic) Grytpype, with that we could build our own sewer.
GRYTPYPE: Exactly. Moriarty I have an idea. Follow me andÖ
ORCHESTRA: Short tense link
GRAMS: (Recording) GREENSLADE: And here is the news. Early this
morning two masked men broke into the GPO and stole postman Neddy Seagoon. Police believe Seagoon was rendered unconscious by a blow from a weighted banana, a photograph of which was found nearby. And now scene three Ė a self contained unfurnished idiot.
SEAGOON: Oh. Oh. Oh my head. What. What. What-what-what! Whereís my megaphone? Thank you. Thank you. Folks! Calling folks through my megaphone folks. Whatís happened folks? Where are we folks?
GRYTPYPE: Alright Neddy. Drop that speaking trumpet.
FX: Drop metal pipe
MORIARTY: Ohh oh oh oh oh! My foot!
SEAGOON: What! What! What! What! What! What! What! What! What! What! (continues clucking) Who are you sir?
GRYTPYPE: My name sir is
Hercules Grytpype-Thynne, and the teeth resting this glass of stale beer belong
to none other than Jim Ď
GRYTPYPE: ÖMoriarty, ace knee-slapper and king of pong.
MORIARTY: Owwwww owwwww!
GRYTPYPE: Did you hear that Seagoon? Once again Moriarty.
MORIARTY: Owwwww owwwww!
GRYTPYPE: Ohhhh! Melody divine.
SEAGOON: Never mind those ahhrrrowwwws divine. Whatís going on?
GRYTPYPE: My dear postman, pull up a floorboard and Iíll tell you a likely story. Because of your excellent record in the parcel smashing department youíre being promoted to corporal postman and sent to a better job.
SEAGOON: What! You mean Iím going to be posted?
GRYTPYPE: Yes, registered of course.
SEAGOON: Oh happy day! Huzzah, huzzah, huzzah!
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, get a floor cloth and mop up those huzzahs, would you. Neddy, Neddy. Stand to attention now and close your eyes.
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty get that pad of cotton wool and soak it in chloroform.
MORIARTY: Right. Now what?
GRYTPYPE: Now hit him with this iron bar.
FX: Clank of iron bar. Thud of body falling to floor.
GRYTPYPE: Splendid. Now the brown paper and string.
MORIARTY: Oh the browwwwwn paper.
GRYTPYPE: The browwwwwn paper. (extended) And to keep Seagoon unconscious get Max ĎHaircutí Geldray to strum his elastic plastic ploogie.
GREENSLADE: And now The Stolen
Postman part two. The scene; a small post office in
CRUN: Errr, ten, eleven, twelve words. Thatíll be one and ninepence please. Thank you.
FX: Cash register. Coin into till.
CRUN: Good day to you sir.
FX: Door opens. Shop bell rings. Door closes
Throat: A good day to you too. Thank you.
BANNISTER: Oh, whatís that?
CRUN: Ah, good morning sir.
MORIARTY: Awwwww. Good morning, mon ami. I want to send this parcel by registered post. La post registeur.
CRUN: Right sir. Put is here.
GRAMS: Straining of overloaded springs. (With echo effect to give it that hollow sound.)
CRUN: Twenty two stone sir. Iím afraid that is going to cost you an extra tuppence.
MORIARTY: Take it out of my post office account.
CRUN: Could I have your book sir? Thank you.
CRUN: Just forward your name along this finger here would you?
MORIARTY: Right-oh. There. Good day and Owwww.
CRUN: And a good Owwww to you sir.
FX: Door opens. Shop bell. Door closes.
CRUN: Ah. Dear, dear. Heís left his steam behind. Oh well. Min. Stamp this parcel registered while I go and change the elephantís hat Min.
BANNISTER: O.K. Right-oh buddy. Now whereís that modern, rhythm, rubber type stamp?
FX: Quick stamping.
SEAGOON: (Muffled) Ahhhhhhh!
SEAGOON: What, what, what, what, what, what, what, what?
BANNISTER: Ohhhhhh! Henry! Help Henry. Henry! Ohhhhhh!
CRUN: What is it?
BANNISTER: The parcel, Henry. The parcel spoke to me.
BANNISTER: The parcel spoke to me Henry.
CRUN: Youíve been at the spirit gum again.
SEAGOON: (Muffled) Iím through and through.
BANNISTER: It spoke again! It spoke again in parcel language.
CRUN: What! What did it
BANNISTER: It saidÖit said HenryÖ
CRUN: It said Henry? Then it wasnít speaking to you, it was speaking to me.
SEAGOON: (Muffled) Let me out!
CRUN: Ohhhhhh! The parcelís moving.
FX: Crinkling paper.
BANNISTER: Hit it Henry with that mighty club of yours.
CRUN: Got it! Now let us see what it is.
BANNISTER: Open it up Henry.
FX: Crackling of paper.
BANNISTER: Save the paper for lunch. Oh, look whatís inside. Itís a postmanís uniform.
CRUN: Yes. Letís see whatís inside it.
FX: Paper crackling.
CRUN: Oh! Itís a man in long underwear. Explain yourself sir.
SEAGOON: What, what, what, what, what! Look here, Iím postman Seagoon.
CRUN: What! Youíre the
man who was stolen from the GPO?
SEAGOON: Stolen? Then I must hand myself in. How do I get to the nearest police station?
CRUN: By walking.
SEAGOON: Isnít there a quicker way.
SEAGOON: Thank you. Goodbye.
GRAMS: Boots running off at speed.
ORCHESTRA: Short dramatic link (Spriggs sings along.)
FX: Telephone rings. Receiver picked up.
INSP. WARDROBE: Hello? Inspector Wardrobe here. Oh yes. Bring him in.
FX: Door opens.
SPRIGGS: This is him Jim. This is him Ji-immmm!
SEAGOON: Inspector, I want to report a robbery.
INSP. WARDROBE: Oh? Whatís been stolen?
SEAGOON: Me. You see Iím postman Seagoon.
INSP. WARDROBE: You canít be. Seagoonís missing.
SEAGOON: Well, Iím missing.
INSP. WARDROBE: Nonsense. Youíre here.
SPRIGGS: Yes Jim. Youíre here. Youíre here-eeeeee!
INSP. WARDROBE: Shut Constable C major chord.
SEAGOON: Ying tong iddle I plinge. Look here, I can prove Iím Neddy SEAGOON. Look, hereís a photograph of myself.
INSP. WARDROBE: Oh yes. But youíre facing the other way.
SEAGOON: No, no. Thatís the back of the photograph. Turn it over.
INSP. WARDROBE: Oh yes. This is a photograph of a woodshed. Where are you?
SEAGOON: Iím in the woodshed.
SPRIGGS: I always said there was something nasty in the woodshed.
INSP. WARDROBE: Ah. Come out.
FX: Door opening.
INSP. WARDROBE: Thereís one way to find out who you are. Constable, look inside his underwear.
SPRIGGS: Yes sir. Let me see now. The label on these underwear says Ďhand-knití. Hand-kniiiiii-it!
INSP. WARDROBE: So Mr Knit. Youíre trying to pretend youíre Seagoon.
SEAGOON: But I am Seagoon.
INSP. WARDROBE: Then youíre wearing stolen underwear!
FX: Telephone rings. Receiver lifts.
SPRIGGS: Constable Spriggs here. Are you there? Are you there, because I am here-eeeeee!
GRAMS: (Recording) GRYTPYPE: I wish to report the whereabouts of the
missing postman SEAGOON. He is at present on board the steamship Venus at Toolbury Dicks.
SPRIGGS: You mean Tilbury Docks.
SEAGOON: What, what, what? Heís an imposter. Iíll expose him, I tell you. Iíll expose him!
GRAMS: Boots running off.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic link.
GREENSLADE: Seagoon proceeded to the docks hot-foot, a common complaint in the Seagoon family. And now, if listeners will lag their hornpipes they will be able to hear him ascending the gangplank of the steamship Venus.
GRAMS: Dockside sounds. Distant shipís sirens.
GRYTPYPE: Have we met?
SEAGOON: Of course. Iím Neddy Seagoon.
GRYTPYPE: Simple. Seagoonís inside that crate.
SEAGOON: What! This crate marked ďHuman Sacrifice for Exploding CeremonyĒ?
GRYTPYPE: Yes. If you donít believe me step inside and see for yourself.
SEAGOON: I will. (With echo effect) There you are, you see. Thereís no Neddy SEAGOON in here.
GRAMS: Rapid hammering on wood. Played back faster.
GRYTPYPE: There is now!
MORIARTY: Ha ha ha ha owwwww!
GRYTPYPE: Well done Moriarty.
MORIARTY: Iíve done nothing.
GRYTPYPE: Now have you stoked up the boilers?
MORIARTY: Oui, oui, mon ami.
GRYTPYPE: Is the steam
MORIARTY: Oui, oui, mon ami.
GRYTPYPE: Splendid. Then grab those oars and row madly.
MORIARTY: Owwww oww, buddy. Owww.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic nautical link.
GRAMS: Sea and seagulls.
SEAGOON: Hello folks. Hello folks. This is tragic Neddy Seagoon speaking to you folks, from the tragic hold of the steamship tragic Venus folks, trapped inside a crate on my way to be exploded. Ho ho ho ho ho folks! I must find a way out of this crate. I will ask somebody. Excuse meÖ
ECCLES: Hello. 
SEAGOON: Mad Dan Eccles! What are you doing here?
ECCLES: Itís on the tip of my tongue.
SEAGOON: Well put your tongue out and let me see.
ECCLES: Thatís it. Yeah. Iím emigrating. My tongueís emigrating on account of my job.
SEAGOON: Why? What are you?
ECCLES: Iím an idiot.
SEAGOON: Well, a professional
idiot. Then why are you leaving
ECCLES: Too much competition. What are you doing Neddy?
SEAGOON: Iím going out to be exploded.
ECCLES: Oh. That sounds a nice job. You been doing it long?
ECCLES: Well, thereís always a first time for everybody.
SEAGOON: Listen. Iíve got to get out of this crate.
ECCLES: Ooooowwwwrroowwwooarrrghooo. Well, how did you get in?
SEAGOON: I was nailed in.
ECCLES: Well, nail yourself out again.
SEAGOON: I know, Iíll dig myself out. Have you got a shovel?
ECCLES: Ah, letís see now. I, umÖI think Iíve got one somewhereÖ
SEAGOON: Well find it man. Empty your pockets.
ECCLES: Ok, Ok.
FX: Nuts, bolts and sundry objects dropped onto hard surface. Finally a large metal pipe.
ECCLES: No. Must be in my other suit.
SEAGOON: Never mind. Here, inflate this pneumatic drill.
GRAMS: Pneumatic drill. Continue under.
GREENSLADE: Quickly Seagoon dug a hole in the floor of the crate and tunnelled down through the bottom of the ship.
SEAGOON: Huzzah! Weíre through. Give me a hand down.
SEAGOON: Ah, gad, itís damp down this tunnel. Now EcclesÖ
SEAGOON: To cover my escape hold up this leather map of Ray Ellington. Goodbye!
ECCLES: Wait for me!
FX: Frantic hammering on wood.
GREENSLADE: And now ĎThe Stolen Postmaní part three. The burning deserts of Dirtistan and the residence of the British military attachť.
ORCHESTRA: Bloodnok theme.
BLOODNOK: Ohhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhh! Oh! Never again. Never again. Cennapod and gunpowder soup. I must have been mad you know. Now, where was I now? Oh yes. ďDear Lord Plunger. I enclose a snapshot that I accidentally took while passing the window of your seventh floor flat. I never realised you and Mrs FitzHerbert were such close friends. As you are an art collector perhaps you would like to buy the negative of this naughty photo. P.S. If you go to the police about this letter, I didnít write it and I donít live here.Ē
FX: Knocking on door.
BLOODNOK: Ohhhhhhhhhhh! Who is it?
SEAGOON: Itís me! Can I see you?
FX: Door opens
BLOODNOK: Oh! A man in postmanís underwear.
SEAGOON: Major. I wish to
obtain a passage to
BLOODNOK: Well you wonít find one here. This passage only goes to the front door I say.
SEAGOON: Curses! Foiled by a short passage and long egg-cloth. What about an aeroplane?
BLOODNOK: No thanks. Iím trying to give them up you know.
SEAGOON: You donít understand Major. Two men have stolen me and theyíre going to have me blown up.
BLOODNOK: If they blow you up any more youíll burst.
SEAGOON: But I must escape. (Weeping) You mustÖyou must help me escape.
BLOODNOK: Steady lad. Steady. Sit down and light yourself a tree.
SEAGOON: No thanks. Iím trying to cut them down. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Iím in condition tonight. Ha ha ha.
BLOODNOK: Iíve got a right one here you know. Now Neddy, youíll never escape from Dirtistan dressed in English underwear. Weíll disguise you as a man disguised as a woman. Now put on these womanís clothes while I go outside and keep watch through the keyhole. Now you go inÖ
FX: Door closes.
SEAGOON: Hello folks! Hardly had I disguised myself when I noticed a large crate labelled Ďdancing girls, this way up, use no hooksí. Ho ho ho ho ho! Ha ha ha ho ho hello folks! A dancing girl! Excuse me while I step in the crate and introduce myself. (Pause) Funny. I canít see any...
FX: Rapid hammering.
BLOODNOK: Ha ha ha ha ha ha! Thereís another one. Singhez! Take this round to the Sultan. Usual price and donít forget, cash on the nail.
SINGHEZ: Alright sir.
BLOODNOK: You tell the Sultan Ė no pay, no play.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic Arab link.
GREENSLADE: Scene twenty-eight; the sultanís palace, and if listeners will look eastward through a melted sock they will hear the sultan calling for his ferocious captain of the guard.
ELLINGTON: AI BOU RALOYI WAHL BASHA!
FLOWERDEW: You donít have to shout. Iím not deaf.
ELLINGTON: Open this crate.
FLOWERDEW: Not another dancing girl. You havenít touched the old ones yet.
ELLINGTON: Never mind. Me saving them up for birthday party. You lock this girl in harem for the night.
FLOWERDEW: Oh, alright.
ORCHESTRA: Short dramatic link.
SEAGOON: Oh folks! What a tragedy, locked in a darkened harem full of dancing girls. Oh, what a trageÖ
ECCLES: (Singing) Oh da da daÖA thing of beauty is a joy forever. Hou hou houÖhouw houw houw.
SEAGOON: Is that you?
ECCLES: Just a minute, Iíll strike a match.
FX: Match strike
ECCLES: Yep, itís me.
SEAGOON: How did you become a dancing girl?
ECCLES: I took lessons.
SEAGOON: He-he-hello folks. This is terrible. I must find the exit. Iíll grope about in the darkness. Huh! Whatís this? It must be one of the dancing girls. Just a minute, Iíll make sure.
BLUEBOTTLE: Oh ho! Stop pulling my lanyard. Donít do that. Harm can come to a young boy scout like that.
ECCLES: Oh. Hello bottle.
BLUEBOTTLE: Hello Eccles.
ECCLES: Hello bottle.
BLUEBOTTLE: Hello Eccles.
ECCLES: What are youÖdis is a silly question but what are you doing in a hareem?
BLUEBOTTLE: I came to see if anyone wanted a bob-a-job doing.
ECCLES: Ooooh ooooh! Your good turn for the day?
BLUEBOTTLE: Yes. I thought I could help an old sultan across the hareem.
SEAGOON: Quiet you spotted lads. Somethingís coming.
FX: Rattle of doorknob. Door opens.
GRYTPYPE: There he is Moriarty.
MORIARTY: Owwwww owwwwwrrrr.
GRYTPYPE: Alright, now letís take him to the sultan.
SEAGOON: You villains! You canít explode me. IíllÖ
GRYTPYPE: Back Neddy. Hands up.
SEAGOON: ButÖbut you havenít got a gun.
GRYTPYPE: No, but Iím thinking of one.
SEAGOON: Well, Iím thinking of ringing the police. Eccles, think of a telephone.
FX: Phone rings. Receiver picks up.
SEAGOON: Hello, police? I want to report aÖ
GRYTPYPE: Steady Neddy! Put down that telephone that Eccles is thinking of.
SEAGOON: I refuse.
GRYTPYPE: Then Iím thinking of shooting you.
GRAMS: Pistol shot.
SEAGOON: Well Iím thinking of the bullet missing me and hitting Bluebottle.
BLUEBOTTLE: Ohi ohhhhi! You rotten swine you.
MORIARTY: Aw aw owwwwwwww!
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, what are you thinking of?
MORIARTY: Ho ho ho ho howwwwwww! Itís the way you say it folks!
GRYTPYPE: You filthy swine. Go and get Seagoon.
SEAGOON: I warn you Moriarty, Iím thinking of a canal right in front of you.
LITTLE JIM: Heís fallen in de water.
GRYTPYPE: It was tricky but we finally got it in.
SEAGOON: Now you devil, Iím thinking of a pistol.
GRAMS: (Recording: Gradually speeding up.
SEAGOON: Now you devil, Iím thinking of a pistol.
GRAMS: Pistol shot.
GRYTPYPE: And Iím thinking of a grenade.
GRAMS: Grenade explosion.
SEAGOON: Iím thinking of a machine gun.
GRAMS: Burst of rapid fire.
GRYTPYPE: And Iím thinking of a cannon.
GRAMS: Mortar whistling and explosion..
SEAGOON: Iím thinking of a bomb.
GRYTPYPE: And Iím thinking of an atom bomb.
GRAMS: Large explosion.
SEAGOON: Iím thinking of a horse.
GRAMS: Whinny, hooves into distance, large splash, followed by large explosion.)
GREENSLADE: The moral of this is of course, beware of thinking because thinking isÖ all in the mind you know.
ORCHESTRA: Theme music.
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 *********Larry Stephens. Announcer; Wallace Greenslade. The programme produced by Roy Spear.
 Milligan shouts from a distance, ďBollard on the starboard bow!Ē while Secombe vomits.
 The applause is genuine. Eccles was well on the way to becoming a famous British identity. Spike (as Eccles) says, ďDonít stop folks, itís good for my ego.Ē
 Spike adds, ďAnybody want to join?Ē Currently, British immigration to the colonies was at record levels.