BROADCAST: 16 Dec 1957


Script by Spike Milligan and Larry Stephens


GREENSLADE: This is the BBC.

GRAMS: (Recording.) Native drumming and oriental woodwind. SECOMBE singing over. Played backwards and vary the speed. Continue under.

SECOMBE: What’s this lot Wal?

GREENSLADE: That’s a record of the Siamese Mixed Male Ballet, Tom.

SECOMBE: The lads sound as if they’re in pain Wal.

GREENSLADE: Ooh they are, indeed they are. In fact they’re in excruciating pain Tom. See those Siamese lads execute great one legged leaps in very tight trousers filled with thistles.

SECOMBE: Ah. That’s very dangerous with all that frost about you know Wal.

GRAMS: Recording continues. Crescendo


GRAMS: Recording stops.

SECOMBE: I’ve had enough of this. I think the audience has too. Hello folks! Calling all folks. Have you had enough folks?

GRAMS: Wailing. Mix in penguin noises.

SECOMBE: Great jumping donglers! We’ve got the wrong audience. Wal, turn round and show them how the other half lives.

GREENSLADE: Yes Tom. But first of all the all-leather Goon Show. And here’s good news. The Goon Show is now available in half-pint bottles.

SELLERS: (American) Yes folks, don’t listen to the Goon Show, drink it in the new family sized bottle. Drink Goon Show.

SECOMBE: Now Mr Greenslade, swallow this powerful stomach powder and stand well clear.

GREENSLADE: But first let me announce this week’s story, ‘The Great British Revolution.’

ORCHESTRA: Fanfare type dramatic introduction.

SELLERS: (Poet) Ooooooooh.

OMNES: Ooooooooh.

SELLERS: Ooooo Ooooooh.

OMNES: Ooooo Ooooooh.

SELLERS: The crowd are with me tonight. ‘Twas Christmas night in the workhouse…

OMNES: Crowd noise.

SELLERS: … and all of a terrible sudden there was a dreadful accident…

GRAMS: Terrible scream.

SELLERS: … with an ordinary Christmas pudding. And oooooh…

OMNES: Further crowd noise. Cries of “More bread” etc

WILLIUM: What about the old escargot? More escargot!

SEAGOON: Inmates! Housemates! I know you have a grudge against the rich because they sleep later. The time is ripe for revolution.

JAMPTON: And so saying he wrote the word ‘dinner’ on a slip of paper and swallowed it.

SEAGOON: Ahhhh! Delicious.

WILLIUM: Oh mate, it makes me mouth water. I wish I had a bit of paper with ‘dinner’ written on it.

SEAGOON: I’ll do better.

FX: Quick scribbling

SEAGOON: There. Swallow that.

WILLIUM: Cor! Christmas dinner! Yum yum mate.

SEAGOON: Yes. Remember citizens when I’m president all those bits of paper with the word ‘dinner’ on them will be honoured.

GRAMS: Nurenburg rally.

SEAGOON: Thank you lads. Settle down! Now let’s march on 10 Downing Street before they turn it into blocks of St James’ theatres.

GRAMS: (Recording) Cast singing ‘The International’. Gradually speed up.

GREENSLADE: Meantime in the Mall, two men of dubious means shiver in a deserted crows nest.

MORIARTY: There’s a crowd of men, steaming men, marching down Whitehall.

GRYTPYPE: Hand me my ‘Times Only’ reading glasses.


GRYTPYPE: Mm, according to the Court Circular in the Daily Worker the leading steamer is citizen Seagoon leading this year’s revolution. Moriarty, store the teeth away, we’re leaving. We’re leaving by first class legs.

MORIARTY: But we’re safe, safe in this tree!

GRYTPYPE: No, it’s to be chopped down. The Ministry of Works say it’s dangerous.

MORIARTY: Dangerous? Why?

GRYTPYPE: Every time they pass it, there it is - defying them. Now, with that acid topicality we leave.

GRAMS: Whoosh

FX: Door knocker.

GREENSLADE: The sound you hear is the door knocker of number 10 Downing Street, first broadcast on April 1953. Long live the miracle of sound wireless.

FX: Door knocker.

JAMPTON: Open up this door knocker.

PRIME MINISTER: Coming. Are my feet in the direction of you?

FX: Door opens.

PRIME MINISTER: Now, may I ask why you have dragged me out of bed in the middle of the day?

JAMPTON: England is in danger.

PRIME MINISTER: I’d better write that down in case I forget it.

JAMPTON: I tell you sir, thirteen men claiming to be the English nation are approaching here on foot.

PRIME MINISTER: Oh? And whose foot are they approaching on?

JAMPTON: I couldn’t see sir. It was covered with a sock and the blinds were drawn. Sir, there’s no time to waste. We must re-assemble parliament.

PRIME MINISTER: Right. You put back the walls and I’ll replace the roof.

GRAMS: Rapid hammering. Rapid murmuring.

GREENSLADE: During this sound effect Max Geldray will play his overdraft.




ORCHESTRA: Brisk rendition of ‘I Want to be Happy.’ Corny ending.

GREENSLADE: That music signifies that the musicians union has agreed to join the Great British Revolution part two. The siege of number 10 Downing Street.

GRAMS: Round of machine gun and small arms fire, stopped by…

FX: Whistle

GRAMS: Further burst of machine gun and small arms fire, stopped by…

FX: Whistle

GRAMS: Further burst of machine gun and small arms fire, stopped by…

 (Short pause)

FX: Whistle

GRAMS: Further burst of machine gun and small arms fire, stopped by…

 (Longer pause)

FX: Whistle

GRAMS: Further burst of machine gun and small arms fire, stopped by…

 (Even longer pause)

FX: Whistle

GRAMS: Further burst of machine gun and small arms fire, stopped by…

SEAGOON: Thank you.

FX: Whistle

SEAGOON: (Cutting in before it all starts again.) That’s enough lads! I’ll see if he’s in. Come on out Mr Prime Minister! We know you’re in there. We’ve seen your washing on the line.

PRIME MINISTER: What do you want? Who are you?

SEAGOON: I’m the October revolution of 1917.

PRIME MINISTER: That belongs to the Russians.

SEAGOON: They’ve lent it to us for the afternoon.

PRIME MINISTER: Are you telling me that this revolution is a matinee?

SEAGOON: Yes, and it’s sold out. That’s why we’re all standing at the back.

JAMPTON: Wait a minute you rebel devil!

SEAGOON: It’s old Milligan doing his histrionic nut there. What part are you playing?

JAMPTON: I, sir, am the home secretary.

SEAGOON: Time you went home then, isn’t it!

PRIME MINISTER: So you’re the leader of the naughty revolution.

SEAGOON: Yes and the British people are behind me.

PRIME MINISTER: I wondered why we couldn’t see them.

SEAGOON: Be careful what you say hairy Prime Minister or I’ll…

JAMPTON: Wait a minute you devil. Are those rifles loaded?

WILLIUM: No they’re not, but we’re not telling you that mate.

SEAGOON: Well said citizen Willium. Here…

FX: Fast scribbling.


WILLIUM: Cor! A bit of paper with O.B.E written on it!

JAMPTON: Mr Prime Minister these men are flooding London with paper O.B.E.s and the word ‘dinner’ written on paper.

PRIME MINISTER: Is Stalin behind this revolution?



SEAGOON: No. Len’s out.

PRIME MINISTER: I don’t wish to know that!

SEAGOON: You want to speak to his dad?

GRAMS: Cattle lowing.

SEAGOON: Alright lads settle down. Prime Minister, the citizens are getting impatient. We’re taking over England and here’s the receipt for it. We give you one week to hand over officially. Come men! Time for our revolutionary study.

FX: Phone rings. Receiver picked up.


GRYTPYPE: Look here laddie, I’ve been playing your revolution on my phonograph. Congratulations! Now then, I have certain information that could benefit your cause.

SEAGOON: What what what what what what what what what what what what what?

GRYTPYPE: Would you like to have dinner with me?

SEAGOON: Yes. Where?

GRYTPYPE: At your place?

SEAGOON: Yes. Seven o’clock?

GRYTPYPE: Meet you at seven o’clock on the dot.

SEAGOON: Sure enough at seven I met him standing on a dot. And the dinner began!

GRAMS: Ring of boxing bell. Herd of pigs at feeding time. Mix in distant glass breaking; massed public screaming; falling bricks and lumber.

GRYTPYPE: Ah! Magnificent meal. Who said English cooking was lousy?

SEAGOON: Just about everybody.

GRYTPYPE: No, no, no. Now the sign!

SEAGOON: At a sign Moriarty stepped back and revealed a secret radio station.

GRYTPYPE: Go in Neddy.

FX: Door opening.

YAKAMOTO: Ah! It are citizen Seagoon. Ah, come in citizen.

GRYTPYPE: Yukamoto, tell him your oriental secret.

YAKAMOTO: Ah yes. (Extended Japanese)

SEAGOON: You’re making it up aren’t you?
YAKAMOTO: Yes. Your laughing is also ad lib. Now listen. I have invented an anti-gravitation stick that when pointed at a person makes person lose contact with gravity.

SEAGOON: And they disappear into the sky?

YAKAMOTO: Yes! Oh boy, what fun it is.

GRYTPYPE: Neddy, with that weapon you could be master of the universe.

SEAGOON: Yes indeed. But where can I get them?

GRYTPYPE: Here’s the address of the sole wholesale agent.

SEAGOON: (Reading) Major Bloodnok, care of India. I’m off!

GRAMS: Whoosh

GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, take this letter down on the piano.

GRAMS: (Recording) Seller’s amateurish piano playing. Continue under as if taking dictation.

GRYTPYPE: Dear Dennis; I am sending you a ripe Charlie. He’s fallen for the anti-gravity sticks plan. Charge him a fortune and include ten-percent commission for me, made payable to any piggy bank. Signed Grytpype-Thynne. Play that back.

GRAMS: Seller’s ‘Dance Hall Solo’ played back at slightly faster speed with badly played final cadence.

GRYTPYPE: Fool. You spelt my name wrong. It goes –

GRAMS: Seller’s ‘Dance Hall Solo’ played back at even faster speed with extensive, badly played, final cadence, ending with glissando.

GRYTPYPE: There. Put that in a letterbox and post it in the dustbins of Bombay.

ORCHESTRA: Dramatic link.

SEAGOON: Right. Right. Thank you. Well done, lads. Well done. Well done. Well done. Well done. Well done. Well done. Well done!

WILLIUM: I don’t like moaning citizen, but we’ve been running full belt since we left London and I’m a bit shagged out, I am.

SEAGOON: OK. We’ll send you onto Bombay by air then. Step into the barrel of this cannon.

WILLIUM: (With echo.) Right. I’m ready.


GRAMS: Cannon shell.

SEAGOON: There he goes ladies, airborne!

WILLIUM: (Echo) That ain’t me mate, that’s me trousers. They went away they did.

SEAGOON: Did they? Well you’d better stay in the barrel hadn’t you?

WILLIUM: It’s not my turn mate.

SEAGOON: Mr Spriggs!

SPRIGGS: Hello Jim. Hello Ji-immmmm!

SEAGOON: Hello Ji-immmm! Now what’s our geographical location?

SPRIGGS: I cannot say. Oh Jim, I cannot say-yyyyyyyy!

SEAGOON: Nothing but sand as far as the eye can see. Let me taste a spoonful of it. (Licking. Swallowing.) Ugh! Oh gad. This is the Sahara desert. It must have been in the oven, it’s still warm.

SPRIGGS: Oh. That means it’s ready to serve Jim. Come on lads, fill your hour glasses. This is all for us…




GREENSLADE: Hello folks! Here we go again folks!

SEAGOON: Spriggs! Do my eyes deceive me or is there a lighthouse over there?

SPRIGGS: It doesn’t look very light to me Jim.

SEAGOON: It is! It’s the Eddystone lighthouse. It says so on the label.

SPRIGGS: It must be off course Jim. Oh Jim, it’s off co-oooooourse!

SEAGOON: Listen! Hist, hark, hoock, hark, heck listen. I can hear the folks inside, folks. Shhh!

GRAMS: Slow sequence; drop a teaspoon onto hard surface, followed by a blunt object; sound of low pitched spring; a creak; Fred the oyster; drop a couple of spoons; a high pitched spring; finally drop a series of blunt objects.

CRUN: It’s no good Min, my bed’s falling to bits you know. It’s never been the same since that terrible night I drank the dandelion wine.

BANNISTER: This bed’s alright Henry. It’s still got four legs.

CRUN: Yes, but two of them are mine.

BANNISTER: Oh, I wondered why they had boots on. Well buddy, it’s time to light the lighthouse lamp up top buddy.

CRUN: Yes, yes, yes Min, modern Min.

BANNISTER: O.K. rhythm type Henry.

CRUN: Where are the modern matches Min?

BANNISTER: I put them in the fridge so they wouldn’t go off.

CRUN: Good Min. Good modern Min. Now before I start work I shall just sip this cup of brown man sulphur and harbinger cennapod tea. Come Min. Come on Min. Let’s go up the top and trim the wick. Come on Min.


FX: Boots walking up stairs. (Extended.) (It is likely that Sellers and Milligan actually do this effect themselves.)

CRUN: You know Min, a script writer named Spike Milligan gave me two guineas to take a long time walking up these steps. He said it helps him in his work.

BANNISTER: Yes, I know.

CRUN: Now Min, light the wicks.

FX: Match being struck.

CRUN: Phish-toooooo.

BANNISTER: Hurray! There it is Henry. Shine on brave light, a warning to those sailors who sail the stormy seas.

CRUN: Never mind about them Min. Pull the blinds. We don’t want people looking in.

FX: Venetian blinds being pulled down.

CRUN: If they see this light on all night Min, they’ll think we’ve been having sinful midnight ludo parties.

SEAGOON: (Off) Ahoy there!

CRUN & BANNISTER: Ahoy! (Extended.)

SEAGOON: Can you give us a lift to Bombay?

CRUN: Ask the driver. He’s under the lighthouse mending the brakes.

SEAGOON: Ah yes. I see his boot sticking out. Hey you! You wearing the odd legs. Hey! HEY! Are you deaf?

FX: Slap

BLUEBOTTLE: Ohi aoohi! You swine of a man you. What’s the matter with you man? Look, you’ve dented my shins all out of shape you have.

FX: Slap

BLUEBOTTLE: Ohi aoohi!

SEAGOON: There. I’ve dented them straight again free of charge.

BLUEBOTTLE: You fool man you. I challenge you to a duel. Puts on sword-fight record.

GRAMS: Rapiers clashing. Continue under.

BLUEBOTTLE: Have at you. Have at you. Stab, thrust, parry, nick, lunge, sever, slice, parry…I can’t think of any more sword words. Oh yes. Pokie, pokie, pokie! Pokie, pokie, pokie!

GRAMS: (Recording) Eccles: Aohhwwwwww! Who did that?

BLUEBOTTLE: Eccles! What you doing on my sword-fight record?

GRAMS: (Recording) Eccles: I’m on the other side ‘bottle, and your sword

came through.


SEAGOON: Stop this rapid sponing. Lad, lad, little gooney elly tough lad.

BLUEBOTTLE: What you want?

SEAGOON: Drive this lighthouse to Bombay and you can have this life sized model of Jane Mansfield made of red jelly.

BLUEBOTTLE: Ah oh oh ohi! Does she wobble?

SEAGOON: In the right places lad.

BLUEBOTTLE: Where’s my spoon!?

SEAGOON: But first lad, Bombay by lighthouse!

ORCHESTRA: Dramatic link.

GREENSLADE: Hello folks! Hello folks! As the lighthouse departs we place our microphone in far-off India. Long live the miracle of sound wireless!

GRAMS: Long drawn out series of explosions.

BLOODNOK: Oh! Ohhhhh! Oh! Singhez. Send this parcel back to Lord Blunnley will you.

SINGHEZ: Alright. What’s inside?

BLOODNOK: Lady Blunnley! She hasn’t got the fare home dear lad. Oh what a creature my Bombay baby. Bandmaster, can I have my melodies please?

ORCHESTRA: Introduction ala Indian regimental band.

BLOODNOK: (sings)         We met inside the cage

                                        when Bombay was all the rage.

                                        My passions grew stronger

                                        so into a tonga

                                        I took her

                                        despite my age.

                                        We drove to the governor’s ball

                                        and there to amazement of all

                                        whilst doing the tango

                                        someone threw a mango

                                        at that dear old Bombay baby

of mine, of mine.

That old Bombay baby of mine.

GRAMS: Massed applause and cheering.

BLOODNOK: Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Every letter will be answered.

FX: Door opens and closes quickly.

SEAGOON: Major Bloodnok, I’m the October revolution of 1917.

BLOODNOK: Gad! The man’s a giant.

SEAGOON: I’m standing on a lighthouse.

BLOODNOK: And it suits you. I must get myself one for the hurricane season.

SEAGOON: Where are the anti-gravitation sticks?

BLOODNOK: In this crate marked ‘not to be opened until the cheque is cleared.’

SEAGOON: Ah, well done, well done, well done! Now, which is the quickest way back to England?

SINGHEZ: Through this door here.

FX: Door opens.

GRAMS: Big Ben striking the hour. Sped up.

GRYTPYPE: Welcome back to London Neddy. You’re just in time lad. According to Hansard parliament are at an all-night sitting. The government are coming out.

SEAGOON: Citizens, prepare anti-gravity sticks.

GRYTPYPE: Mr Greenslade, prepare for the payoff would you.


FX: Door opens.

PRIME MINISTER: Oh. It’s you again.

SEAGOON: Yes Mister Prime Minister. And here’s where you and your government go up. Citizens, point sticks and make government go up in the sky!


PRIME MINISTER: What are you idiots at?

SEAGOON: You’re supposed to be up in the air by now. These anti-gravity sticks don’t work. Run for it lads!

MORIARTY: Ah ha, Mr Prime Minister. As we promised they’re all yours. Arrest them!

PRIME MINISTER: Thank you Grytpype. Here is your O.B.E and Lord Taverner’s tie, the badge of success.

SEAGOON: So! It was all a plot you fiendish yukkabukkaka!

GRYTPYPE: Yes, and there’s no need to re-iterate it, the audience saw this coming a mile off, didn’t you?

GRAMS: Recording of sheep.

YOKEL: (North country.) Of course you did, now wasn’t that lovely? Yes, and this is the end of the all-leather organ recital save for one final owww.


YOKEL: Lovely. Now the collection please.

FX: Penny in mug.

YOKEL: Thank you. Thank you. Isn’t it lovely? Good night.

GREENSLADE: It’s all in the mind you know.

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 ………………………….