GOON SHOW: TLO 45929
8TH SERIES: No 15
1st BROADCAST:
GREENSLADE: This is the BBC.
SECOMBE: I do not wish to
know that. Kindly leave the country! (Recites) Jen was the coward…
GREENSLADE: Listen, how dare
you interrupt me while I’m conveying vital information to the ignorant masses.
SECOMBE: What! What! What!
What! What! What! What! What! What! What! What!
GREENSLADE: And talking of
ignorant masses, how are you Seagoon?
SECOMBE: (Chicken) Bwaaaaaaaaaack bwack bwack
bwack bwack! Bwack bwack bwack!
FX: Drop tubular bell.
GREENSLADE: Or in plain English
- The All Leather Goon Show.
ORCHESTRA: Tatty fanfare on trumpet and trombone.
(Nanny goat vibrato)
GREENSLADE: We present, based on an original wallpaper by J. Philpot Brim and adapted for washing machine by Sir Fuels Bladdock, the story of…
MILLIGAN: (Methuselah) The Thing on the Mountain.
ORCHESTRA: Strange
trumpet fanfare – (‘Grub’s up’ with nanny goat vibrato) followed by dramatic
chords.
SELLERS
BACH:
(Welsh) Our story opens at the bottom
of the great
GRAMS:
Cork popping.
OMNES: Welsh
murmurings. Drunken Welsh singing.
DAI
BREAD:
Mr Worship the Mayor, permission to speak?
SINGHEZ-THING
BACH:
(Drunk) Yes?
DAI BREAD: Krist! Oh passed boi. Oh, by the great Llandahoi collenbai threepence it lost boy. Oh dear, dear, dear, dear!
SECOMBE
BACH:
Cheer up Dai the Bread. Have another glass of leek tea.
DAI
BREAD:
Oh no more for me boys. It keeps me awake all the night you know.
SELLERS
BACH:
All of a sudden running down the mountain came a wild eyed, terror stricken
madman.
GRAMS:
(Recording) Boots running. Secombe over,
shrieking. Fade in and out at speed.
SELLERS
BACH:
…he said. I recognised the boy. ‘Twas me.
SPRIGGS
BACH:
Oh listen Jim. Listen Ji – immmmmmm! What was that Jim?
FX: Door opens
SELLERS
BACH:
Oh boy - boy! I saw it. It was terrible. Ooo, it was a terrible thing look you.
Oooh, oooh!
FX: Body hits floor.
SECOMBE
BACH:
Why, it’s Dai the Hair.
SPRIGGS
BACH:
Quick. Force this eisteddfod between his teeth.
SECOMBE
BACH:
What’s happened Dai bach?
SELLERS
BACH:
Oh bach, I was up on the mountain doing a bit of courting, you see.
DAI
BREAD:
Courting on a mountain? That’s no place to take a girl man.
SELLERS
BACH:
Ooo, I haven’t got a girl.
DAI
BREAD:
Then why did you go up by yourself then?
SELLERS
BACH:
Well, I didn’t want to be up there alone, you see.
DAI
BREAD:
Ooo, he’s got a head on his shoulders you know.
SECOMBE
BACH:
Aye. Pity it’s facing the wrong way isn’t it.
SELLERS
BACH:
And suddenly through the mist and the snow I saw this terrible thing walking
towards me.
SECOMBE
BACH:
Go on bach.
SELLERS
BACH:
Then it gave a terrible cry.
SECOMBE
BACH:
Did it bach?
SELLERS
BACH:
No, it didn’t bark, it sort of ‘owled. It went –
MILLIGAN: (Sings lame jazz, somewhere between sound of
a trumpet and a chicken. Ends with a sound like a small drum kit doing a snap
ending.)
SINGHEZ-THING
BACH:
Boys, as Mayor of Llandahoi and President of the singing and burial club I say
we must capture this monster.
SELLERS
BACH:
Right. Dai the Shorthand take down this poster.
THROAT: Right.
FX: Large poster ripping.
SELLERS
BACH:
And put up another one saying - ‘Five pound reward for the capture of the
Snowdon Monster.’
THROAT: All right mate.
FX: Door opens.
SEAGOON: Good evening. I’ve
called about your poster.
SELLERS
BACH:
How did you know about it?
SEAGOON: I was listening to
the programme.
SELLERS
BACH:
But this programme is recorded.
SEAGOON: That’s right. I was
listening to it on my gramophone. Hup!
ORCHESTRA: Tatty
chord. Cymbal snap.
SPRIGGS
BACH:
Ooooh! What are your qualifications for climbing a dangerous mountain Jim? What
are your qualifications Ji-immmmmm? Oooh! That hurts Jim.
SEAGOON: Gentlemen, I hold
the gold medal for fish scaling; I was the first man to skate across the Albert
Memorial; I wear size nine in boots, and my grandmother keeps a duck farm in
SPRIGGS
BACH:
Ah, the very man.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic
link.
GREENSLADE: Meanwhile, not far away
in a small Welsh pigsty, it is feeding time.
GRAMS: Herd
of weaners in a trough.
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty - manners,
manners!
MORIARTY: Aah! But the food,
the food Grytpype. The food - aouwwgh aaww awwawh!
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, don’t you
know when eating pig swill out of a trough always take your hat off.
MORIARTY: Auwwbe be-awwaugh
awoei braaawwgh auww hic hic hic hic aww bauw bauw bauw bauw.
GRYTPYPE: Don’t point your
aww at me you fool. It may be loaded.
MORIARTY: But Grytpype it’s
all these little pigs. They keep biting me. I don’t look like a pig. I don’t
sound like a pig. (Raves)
GRYTPYPE: There are other
means of identifying a pig you know. Now, pass the finger bowl would you.
MORIARTY: There.
GRYTPYPE: You greedy swine.
You’ve eaten the last finger.
SEAGOON: (In distance – approaching.)
(Sings) I’d climb the hairy mountain for you.
I’d
fight the British trousers for…
Ooop! Oh, I didn’t know you were having dinner.
GRYTPYPE: Oh, that’s quite
alright my dear sir. You care to join us? Pull up a pig.
SEAGOON: Thank you. My host
was impeccably turned out in a stove pipe hat and a dark grey stove.
GRYTPYPE: Yes. That’s where I
keep my dinner. And this bucket of pig swill contains the head of none other
than Count Jim ‘Steam’ …
MORIARTY: Phish-tooo!
GRYTPYPE: … Moriarty,
inventor of the brown boot and first man to go three weeks without stopping.
MORIARTY: Aww. Je suis tres
charming. Phish-tooo!
GRYTPYPE: Tell me little
round sir, what are you doing here?
SEAGOON: Nothing.
GRYTPYPE: Good, good. (It’s
not our sty you know.)
SEAGOON: Ha ha ha. Well
actually, I’m going to climb
MORIARTY: Agh! Reward?
Awaugh, money – moulah…
GRYTPYPE: Quiet you rotten
heap. I’ll do the talking.
MORIARTY: And I’ll do the
steaming. I’m wearing the sock. Phish-tooo.
GRYTPYPE: Now, what you need
Neddie is our snow-master complete mountaineering kit. Only fifty shillings,
marked down to three pounds.
SEAGOON: I’ll take it.
FX: Cash register. Penny in tray.
GRYTPYPE: I thank you. Now
Neddie, all you need to climb
SEAGOON: OF course. Where is
it?
GRYTPYPE: On the fire engine.
SEAGOON: How do I get the
fire engine?
GRYTPYPE: You start a fire. Here
then is the snow-master mountaineering kit –
FX: Shake box of matches.
GRYTPYPE: One box of matches.
Right Moriarty, shall we go?
GRAMS: Two
whooshes.
SEAGOON: Why have they run
away?
GRYTPYPE: Because lad, here comes
Max ‘Bare-foot’ Geldray to play his hot underwear.
MAX GELDRAY
ORCHESTRA: Segue immediately into Music Hall
introduction.
GRAMS: Massed
cheering.
GREENSLADE: Now, if any
listener would care to tie a vintage haddock to the third finger of his left
hand and swing it round his head he will be able to hear ‘The Thing on the
Mountain’ part two.
ORCHESTRA: Strange
trumpet fanfare followed by dramatic chords.
SELLERS
BACH:
Equipped with his mountaineering kit of one box of matches, Seagoon began to
search the lower slopes of
SEAGOON: Yes folks. Yes
folks! I was looking to a place to set fire to. Suddenly, before me I saw a
small ragged tent made from sacking. Inside was a heap of rags and old clothes.
Oh folks – the very thing. Pardon me.
FX: Box of matches shaken.
GRAMS: Match
strikes. Sound of flames.
SEAGOON: Ah ha ha! What a
lovely blaze.
BLOODNOK: Awwwww awwwww awwww!
Oh, me trousers. Ahh ahhwww! Awwwww!
SEAGOON: Hello folks. A
smoking figure rushed past me and hurriedly sat down in a bucket of water.
GRAMS: Long burst of steam.
BLOODNOK: Oohho, that’s
better.
SEAGOON: I didn’t realise
these old clothes were alive.
BLOODNOK: WHAT! So you set
fire to my trousers, you - you dangerous military clown you! You might have
ruined my chances of winning the all-England leg final.
SEAGOON: But wait! You’re
Major Bloodnok. Ha ha! You remember me.
BLOODNOK: Do I?
SEAGOON: Of course. I’m the
man who set fire to your trousers.
BLOODNOK: Gad. Yes. (Laughs) I knew we’d met before. I’ve
come to
SEAGOON: You mean ‘shieing’.
BLOODNOK: Yes. That as well.
ECCLES: (Approaching from distance)
(Singing)
Laa laa laa laa der powigh
Daoiugh daoiugh daoiwwwee.
I
got that melody divine.
Someday
I’ll find you…(Raves)
Ooh. Hello.
SEAGOON: Who’s this?
BLOODNOK: It’s alright. He
comes here every day for a swim.
SEAGOON: But there’s no
water here.
ECCLES: Well that’s ok - I
can’t swim. I never had a chance to learn.
SEAGOON: Why not?
ECCLES: Oh, there’s no
water here. You can’t swim without water my man. Who is this idiot?
BLOODNOK: You.
ECCLES: Ooo!
SEAGOON: I’m the man who is
going to climb
BLOODNOK: What!
ECCLES: What!
BLOODNOK: Then you’re talking
to the right man.
SEAGOON: Who?
BLOODNOK: Me.
ECCLES: Me.
BLOODNOK: Haven’t you seen my
nameplate? I’ll show you.
SEAGOON: So saying he bent
down. The brass plate on the seat of his hat read – ‘Major Bloodnok.
Mountaineering Expert’, and to prove it here is a brass plate reading it...
GRAMS: (Recording) GREENSLADE: ‘Major Bloodnok.
Mountaineering Expert’ - and I should like to point out that the part of the
brass name plate was played by...
SEAGOON: Shut up!
BLOODNOK: For the small fee
of every penny you possess I can get you to the top of
SEAGOON: Done.
FX: Penny in till.
BLOODNOK: I thank you. This
way.
SEAGOON: He led me to where
fifty pairs of braces were tied together between two trees.
BLOODNOK: Right Eccles, help
me pull these braces back.
ECCLES: Ok.
BLOODNOK: (Straining noises) Are you right Neddie?
Lean back. Now Eccles, let go.
ECCLES: Hey!
GRAMS: Sharp poinnnng sound. Projectile whistling through air.
FX: Giant thump of body hitting pavement.
SEAGOON: Awwwwoough!
Ahh-awww-aww-aww aughaw! Ahhw. Where’s my speaking trumpet?
GRAMS: Smaller
projectile whistling through air.
FX: Hollow tin tube hitting ground.
SEAGOON: Ahh! Here it is. (Megaphone) Hello folks. Calling those
kindly folks. Well here I am folks, on top of
SELLERS: (Surly north country.) Mountain? This is
the top of
SEAGOON: Curses. Foiled by
double strength braces.
SELLERS: Can I see your
ticket?
SEAGOON: I haven’t got one.
SELLERS: You can’t come up
SEAGOON: Well, where can I
buy one?
SELLERS: At the bottom.
SEAGOON: I’ll go down and
get one.
SELLERS: You can’t go down
wi’out a ticket.
SEAGOON: What am I supposed
to do, jump off?
SELLERS: You can’t jump off
wi’out a ticket.
SEAGOON: (Megaphone) Ohho ho ho folks. Trapped at
the top of
SELLERS: Wi’out a ticket.
SEAGOON: …without a ticket.
MORIARTY: Phishhhhhh-ttt-ooo.
Neddie! Little Neddie!
SEAGOON: The voice came from
a rope ladder suspended from a horse hair zeppelin above me.
MORIARTY: Owwh! Climb aboard
Neddie.
GREENSLADE: With light heart
and heavy trousers Seagoon climbed aboard, and soon the mighty zeppelin was
speeding towards the welsh coast.
GRAMS: Zeppelin motors.
MORIARTY: (Approaching) All fares please. All
fares. What! I thank you. Anymore fares? Cor luv a duck mate. Cor blimey. All
fares mate.
SEAGOON: Top of
MORIARTY: Are you under
fourteen?
SEAGOON: Yes. I’m thirteen
stone eight.
MORIARTY: Ah, nine pence
please.
FX: Ticket punch
SEAGOON: Nine pence? I
haven’t got any money.
GRYTPYPE: No money Neddie?
Then you’re in the wrong compartment. Non-paying passengers through that door.
SEAGOON: Oh ho. Right.
FX: Door opens.
SEAGOON: (Falling) Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhgh!
GRAMS: Splash
LITTLE
JIM:
He’s fallen in the water.
GRYTPYPE: Thank you little Jim.
Now get back in the barrel and make room for Ray ‘Bones’ Ellington and his
melody minstrel.
RAY ELLINGTON
ORCHESTRA: DRAMATIC LINK
SELLERS BACH: And so the snow and the blizzards on
GRAMS: Blizzard wind.
ORCHESTRA: Strange trumpet fanfare – ‘Grub’s up’ with
nanny goat vibrato.
SEAGOON: Hello folks. How
could I reach the summit of the dreaded
GREENSLADE: Mr. Seagoon.
SEAGOON: How could I
possibly climb this impregnable mass of rock and snow?
GREENSLADE: Mr. Seagoon, why don’t
you go by train?
SEAGOON: Train?
GREENSLADE: Yes. There’s a
mountain railway that runs up
SEAGOON: What? Hhahagh, but
how do I get back?
GREENSLADE: It also runs down
again.
SEAGOON: Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Gad, saved by steam!
ORCHESTRA: DRAMATIC LINK
JAPANESE
AMBASSADOR TO
WILLIUM: What do you want
then bach? Look you mate.
SEAGOON: Third return to the
top of
WILLIUM: Right-o bach mate.
SEAGOON: What time’s the
next train?
WILLIUM:
SEAGOON: What! But it’s only
ten past one January.
WILLIUM: Oh, we can’t run
trains up in January mate. There’s blizzards and nine feet of snow up dere.
You’ll ‘ave to wait till April.
SINGHEZ
THING BACH:
And so Seagoon waited until April when there were blizzards and eleven feet of
snow.
GRAMS: Train at station, steam valves open.
GRAMS: (Recording – hollow like a platform
announcement.) GREENSLADE: The train now standing on the platform is for the
top of Snowdon, calling at a quarter of the way up, a half-way up and
three-quarters of the way up.
SEAGOON: Hooray! By train at
last.
GRAMS: Carriage door slams.
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, have you
got the bomb?
MORIARTY: Sapristi
bazonika-dowser, yes the bomb. Yes.
GRYTPYPE: Then slip it into
the tender with the coal.
MORIARTY: Awww.
FX: Blast of station master’s whistle.
WILLIUM: All aboard.
FX: Whistle.
GRAMS: Steam train starting up. Gathering speed.
GREENSLADE: And so as the train
chugged slowly up the side of the mountain we find in the engine the driver and
fireman hard at work.
GRAMS: Steam whistle. Engine chugging continues
under at moderate speed. Whistle repeats.
ECCLES: Ooh, this is
living!
BLUBOTTLE: Do you know
something, my good man? I have always wanted to be an engine driver.
ECCLES: Oowgh, oowgh! And I
always wanted to be the village idiot.
BLUBOTTLE: Then we’ve both
succeeded.
ECCLES: Ooh no. Oowwough,
I’m not the village idiot.
BLUBOTTLE: No?
ECCLES: No. But when he
retires my name’s top of the list.
(They both laugh etc)
GRAMS: Engine chugging slows down.
BLUBOTTLE: ‘Ere! We’re
stopping. You stupid nit my good man Eccles, the fire’s going out.
ECCLES: Oooo! I’ll put some
more coal on.
FX: Shovelling of coal.
ECCLES: (Singing over)Tote dat barge and lift
dad bale! Get a little drunk and you land in jail! Ah-ooohmm! Ah-oooughmma!
Oooooooh. Oooooh! ‘Ere, this is a funny looking piece of coal. It says B – O –
M – B. (Having literacy failure) Mah…
ah..ghh… ghhh… ghum.
BLUBOTTLE: B – O – M – B? That
stands for ‘Best Ordinary Mixed Black’. It’s special strong coal.
ECCLES: Oh good. I’ll throw
it on the fire.
FX: Metal object into coal pile.
GRAMS: Engine chugging continues. Sudden loud explosion (strength 4). Engine
chugging at extreme velocity.
ECCLES: You were right.
That coal was strong. Oooh yeah.
GRAMS: Sudden violent crash. Pieces of metal piping
falling, saucepans and tin plates. Explosion
- sudden burst of steam. Fade.
ECCLES: All change!
GRAMS: Distant blizzard.
SEAGOON: What! What! What!
Here already? Hello folks. Now to capture the … but wait. Wait! Ngeu eu eu eu
eu euwghee! What’s that?
SELLERS
BACH:
At the top of the mountain, half buried in the snow was the wooden shack
labelled ‘Teas – Hot meals all day’.
GRAMS: Bring up blizzard winds.
BANNISTER: Bup bup bup bimb. Oooh
sim suuin. Bim bum budda boo! That naughty black nylon stocking.
CRUN & BANNISTER: (Hot rhythm improv. Welsh style.)
CRUN: Min, Min, Min! Min,
Min!
BANNISTER: Saucepan bach! What,
what! Phish-too!
CRUN: Modern Min. Modern
Min! It’s the elephants feeding time.
BANNISTER: Ptoooooough!
CRUN: Go out the window
and call them in.
BANNISTER: Right buddy.
Where’s my bugle?
CRUN: It’s in the bed.
BANNISTER: Ooo yes. Yes, I’ll
go and call the elephants in.
FX: Door opens.
GRAMS: Blizzard bursts in.
FX: Door closes.
GRAMS: Blizzard fades.
CRUN: Now, we should be
getting some more customers soon. I’d better lay the table. Now let’s see – herbal
salt, dandelion pepper, mmm er Indian brandy, senna pod vinegar…
FX: Door opens.
GRAMS: Blizzard bursts in.
FX: Door closes.
SEAGOON: Good evening.
CRUN: Ooo. Phish-too. Phish-too. Here’s the menu.
SEAGOON: Thank you. Let me see now – phish-too. (reads) Elephants eggs, Elephants eggs,
Elephants eggs, Elephants eggs, Elephants eggs, Elephants eggs. Um, I think
I’ll have some elephants eggs.
CRUN: Elephants eggs are off sir. They’ve gone off
pooonnngggg!
SEAGOON: What about some phish-too?
CRUN: They’re not laying you know.
SEAGOON: Elephants not laying?!
CRUN: No. They’ve not laid since we bought them you know.
SEAGOON: Oh ho, very well. I’ll have…
ORCHESTRA: Strange trumpet fanfare – (‘Grub’s up’ with nanny goat vibrato.)
SEAGOON: Listen! The monster. I must catch it at once.
FX: Door opens.
GRAMS: Blizzard bursts in.
FX: Door closes.
CRUN: What’s he talking about? The monster – what…?
FX: Door opens.
GRAMS: Blizzard bursts in.
BANNISTER: Ooooh! Ooooh dear.
That hoar frost on the knee I tell you. Come on inside all of you!
FX: Door closes.
CRUN: Let me rub the
naked sulphur on it.
BANNISTER: Come on inside, you
Henry. I’ve got the dreaded pong on it. Come on you naughty elephants. Come on
in.
GRAMS: Chickens clucking.
FX: Door opens.
GRAMS: Blizzard bursts in.
FX: Door closes.
SEAGOON: Curses. I was too
late.
BANNISTER: Careful! Don’t
tread on the elephants.
GRAMS: Single broody chicken.
SEAGOON: Elephants? These
are chickens.
CRUN: No wonder they
wouldn’t lay. Curse them. Curse them. Well, did you catch the modern monster?
SEAGOON: No, it was modern
gone. But I found some huge footprints and I followed them back here.
CRUN: What!
BANNISTER: Oooooooooh
ooooooohwagh! Ptooooooowugh! Oh dear!
SEAGOON: Stop phish-tooing
at once. Listen, the monster is hiding somewhere in this building.
CRUN: Then we must search
for it.
GRAMS: (RECORDING) FX: Cupboard drawer opens
SEAGOON: Not in here.
FX: Cupboard drawer
closes
FX: Door opens
BANNISTER: Not in
here.
FX: Door closes
FX: Window latch
opens
CRUN: Not in here.
FX: Window latch
closes
FX: Cupboard drawer
opens
SEAGOON: Not under
there.
FX: Lavatory door
opens
BANNISTER: Thank
heaven for that, he’s not in here.
(SPEEDING UP GRADUALLY)
CRUN: Not in here.
FX: Wardrobe door
opens.
SEAGOON: Not under
there.
FX: Door opens
BANNISTER: Not in
this drawer.
FX: Door opens.
CRUN: Not in there.
(Extended)
GREENSLADE: Where is the
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, Max Geldray and the
orchestra conducted by Wally Stott. Script by Larry Stephens and Maurice
Wiltshire, announcer Wallace Greenslade - the programme produced by Tom
Ronalds.
ORCHESTRA: Playout