GOON SHOW: TLO 39090
8TH SERIES: No 2
BROADCAST:
Script by Spike Milligan and
Larry Stephens
GREENSLADE: This is the BBC
home service.
SECOMBE: Gad, a genuine
antique!
GREENSLADE: And a talking one!
Pray place your ears in the direction of the sound of this good show.
GRAMS:
Recording of Sellers on piano and
Milligan on trumpet. Speeded up.
SECOMBE: Stop! That’s not
the all leather Goon Show.
GREENSLADE: No sir. That was
the all leather Goon Show disguised as Kenny Baker’s dozen.
SECOMBE: Odd bodikins! How
could we sink so low?!
GREENSLADE: A low sink is the
right height for you.
SECOMBE: What! What!
What-what- what- what! What- what- what- what- what-what…(Chicken noises) I’ve gone broody. Any more mouth talking from you
and I’ll… I’ll strike you down sir!
GREENSLADE: Master Neddie, that
will lead to deportation.
SECOMBE: But think of the
prestige!
GREENSLADE: Very well. I shall
go over there and think of it.
GRYTPYPE: Pardon me, short
sir, but what is that on the pavement?
SEAGOON: Gad! It’s the
friend of man – a pound note!
GRYTPYE: No, no, no! Not
that. Next to it.
SEAGOON: Oh, that’s a piece
of junk.
GRYTPYE: I saw it first!
SEAGOON: What, what? Hey,
hey! What, what – nonsense! It was
nearer to me than you and you were further away.
GRYTPYPE: I tell you dear
tightly packed fellow, that reeking piece of junk is a family heirloom. It
belonged to my reeking grandmother.
MORIARTY: Sapristy bazonika
dowser! I vouch for the truth of my friends lies.
GRYTPYPE: Gad! It’s my dear
balding friend, Count Jim Tin ‘Thighs’ Moriarty…
MORIARTY: Owwwwww.
GRYTPYPE: Thanks to your
timely intervention and bleached underpants that piece of junk stays in the
family. Kindly insert it in this fur-lined envelope and have it valued.
SEAGOON: Valued! Vahlooed? (To himself) Thinks, what’s so valuable
about a piece of junk? I can’t take chances…ha hem. (Aloud) I tell you that piece of junk is mine! Mine I tell you!
Mine! MINE! Give it back to me or I’ll set this wardrobe on you.
GRYTPYPE: Dear heavy blotter-outer
of landscapes, if you wish to contest the ownership of this rare junk here is
my address.
SEAGOON: And so saying, he
pointed north.
GRYTPYPE: Farewell!
MORIARTY: See you later
incubator!
GRAMS:
Galloping hooves, bull roars over and
distance cattle.
GREENSLADE: In a flash – in a
trice, nay in a thrice, Neddie instructed his lawyer to contest a man pointing
north riding a water buffalo. I therefore announce the case of the piece of
junk part two.
GRAMS:
Chickens clucking. Distant cattle. Gavel on bench.
OMNES: Various rhubarbs.
FX: Gavel on desk.
SPRIGGS: Silence! Silence!
Silence in court please. Silence in courrrrrrrrrrrrrrt! Mister Neddie
Sigh-joon, let your agent state your case Jim. State your caaaaaaase!
CRUN: Yahs gnukk-nukk - noyiey
mmnnnenoiy ahhhggrah aaahhhhhh oeeigh ouchhhhhh… oh
MORIARTY: It’s a filthy lie!
SEAGOON: It’s a clean lie.
Hold it up to the light and see for yourself.
CRUN: My Lord Justice
Spriggs, my client Mr Nellie Selloon claims that at noon on the tenth of
January he espied on the King’s Highway a portion of junk!
SPRIGGS: Oooooh Jiiiiiim! We
live in an age of wonders folks!
CRUN:
Aaaaaaaaayaaayoooouuuuuuuayyaaaahhhhhh…
MORIARTY: It’s a filthy lie!
SEAGOON: A clean lie!
MORIARTY: A stinking,
stinking filthy lie.
SEAGOON: A clean lie!
MORIARTY: It’s a foul lie…
GRYTPYPE: The dear Count is
going to lose us this case. I’m forced to use brick-on-nut procedure.
MORIARTY: You’re all in the
pay of the Germans! It’s a dirty Spanish….
FX: Sharp stroke on tin pot with lump of wood.
MORIARTY: Ow!
GRYTPYPE: My Lord, my client
has been taken ill with ‘head’. Therefore we rest on the grounds of ‘homo
nefraggem ad ero di tandem procliveran scaretheth lorethque a lorrum.’
SPRIGGS: Ha hum. Mr Seagoon.
What is the value of this piece of junk?
SEAGOON: It’s not the value,
it’s the principal sir!
SPRIGGS: What’s the value of
the principal-sir?
GRYTPYPE: Er, my Lord. May I
tell a story? Moriarty…
MORIARTY: Yes buddy…
GRYTPYPE: Beguile their
suspicions with a viola.
MORIARTY: I’ll get a new G
string on.
ORCHESTRA:
Dodgy fiddle solo of ‘Hearts and
Flowers’. Continue under.
GRYTPYE: (Echo) My Lord Justice Spriggs, members
of the jury, that piece of junk no gold can buy. Ah me. No, milord, that junk
has only a simple sentimental value.
ORCH:
Violin solo stops.
MORIARTY: Yes, but that
simple sentimental value is worth money! Money! You’re a swine! You’re in the
pay of the Germans! I want money. Money I tell you…
FX: Slap on bare skin.
MORIARTY: Aawwwwww
GRYTPYPE: My Lord….
ORCH: Fiddle
solo resumes.
GRYTPYPE: With lumps
appearing on my client’s head, the defence rests.
SPRIGGS: Will the clerk of
court strike those lumps from the record…(sings)
strike them from the recoooooooord! Now, will the crown state the case?
GREENSLADE: My Lord! My Lord, a
piece of junk, being found on the King’s Highway it is declared treasure trove.
OMNES: Groans, moans and mumbles.
GRAMS:
Massed chickens. Bull roars.
GRYTPYPE: The case is going
just as we wanted my dear Count.
MORIARTY: Ah, ce ti mon ami.
GRYTPYPE: Speak English you ignorant
swine.
SEAGOON: My Lord! My Lord, I
appeal against the light!
BLOODNOK: ‘Ow’s that!
MILLIGAN: Out! Leg before
trousers!
OMNES: Mumbling
GREENSLADE: The stumps were
drawn, the case closed, the lights dimmed and slowly the great fire-proof Max Geldray
was lowered from the roof on a rope.
ECCLES: Round the back for
the old brandy again….
GRAMS: Boots running away.
MAX GELDRAY – ‘Paper Moon’
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic
link.
GREENSLADE: Don’t be frightened
folks, that was only ‘a Paper Moon’. The Junk Affair part two – A. The time,
night-night. In the cellars beneath the House of Commons, two masked men
wearing leather wigs are tampering with the Bank of England’s official wooden
safe.
FX: Sawing
GRYTPYPE: Not so loud
Moriarty, not so loud. Turn the volume on that saw down. D’you want to wake the
Government up?
MORIARTY: I wish somebody
would. That always gets a round of applause in
GRYTPYPE: You should never
have left
MORIARTY: The audience must think
we’re mad trying to get a piece of junk back. It’s worthless!
GRYTPYPE: Ah ha! But are the
English capitalising on this natural asset?
MORIARTY: Ah, no!
GRYTPYPE: Exactly.
MORIARTY: Certainment no!
GRYTPYPE: Therefore it is
worthless. But watch the change in attitude when they find we’ve stolen this
piece.
ORCHESTRA: Further
dramatic link.
GREENSLADE: (Megaphone) The time is 8.30 and here is
the
SEAGOON: Switch that radio
off!
GREENSLADE: (Megaphone) Right. CLICK!
FX: Telephone receiver lifted. Dialling.
SEAGOON: Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha! That junk must have been valuable.
STOCK
BROKER:
(Milligan. Older than God) Ah! Ah yes,
are you phoning me?
SEAGOON: Yes. Hello?
STOCK
BROKER:
Yes.
SEAGOON: Is that a well
known city stock broker?
STOCK
BROKER:
Aaaahah yes. Harold Cupboard Junior here.
SEAGOON: Cupboard?
STOCK
BROKER:
Yes.
SEAGOON: How are your
drawers?
STOCK
BROKER:
Hahaha! You devil you! That’s not a city joke.
SEAGOON: (Laugh &c) Listen, I want you to buy
me as much junk as you can.
STOCK
BROKER:
That should be easy! The shops are full of it!
SEAGOON: Splendid! Then buy
me all the junk you can.
STOCK
BROKER:
Yes!
SEAGOON: Never mind how much
you buy, but buy, buy!
STOCK
BROKER:
Bye, bye!
FX: Telephone receiver into cradle.
SEAGOON: Hahahahhahaha!
Maniacal laugh! Hahahahahahaha! Greenslade, hand me my speaking trumpet whilst
I tell the listeners my plan. Hello folks! Heeeeeello folks! Calling folks!
Folks I’m going to corner the market in junk. You watch folks. The price of
junk is going to go sky high folks. And all I’ve got to do now folks is just
sit and wait!
(Pause)
GREENSLADE: The silence you
hear is Mr Neddie Seagoon sitting and waiting. Or if you wish, waiting and
sitting which is merely sitting and waiting in reverse. As good as any time for
The Junk Affair part three.
SEAGOON: Hello folks! Hello
folks! I’m back again. Calling folks. I’m back again folks! With my stock broker buying all the junk he
could folks I went to purchase a warehouse for it folks.
ORCHESTRA: Bloodnok
theme.
GRAMS:
Massed flies buzzing.
BLOODNOK: Oooohh oh oh oh
ohhhh! Ooh well, I can’t sit here all day.
FX: Knocking at door.
BLOODNOK: Oohooh! Oohhhhaahh!
FX: Door opens.
SEAGOON: Major Bloodnok.
BLOODNOK: Who are you sir?
SEAGOON:
BLOODNOK: Erianoillim knuj
eht noogaes den mi!
SEAGOON: What’s that?
BLOODNOK: That’s reading from
right to left.
SEAGOON: Splendid! Major, I
believe you have monster warehouses for sale.
BLOODNOK: True, true, true.
SEAGOON: What do you keep in
it?
BLOODNOK: My wife.
SEAGOON: Why?
BLOODNOK: She’s a monster.
SEAGOON: Hup!
ORCHESTRA: Tatty
chord in C.
BLOODNOK: That went quite
well didn’t it? Yes, good, good, good. Now Neddie raise your hands above your
head and stand in front of this shotgun. Splendid, splendid. I’ll just aim it
at your head. That’s it. Now then, let me hear your offer for this warehouse.
SEAGOON: Well I…..I….hehehehe.
I’d like to see it first.
BLOODNOK: Not enough!
Nevertheless, I’ll show it to you. It’s under this bed.
SEAGOON: I’ll drive you
there.
BLOODNOK: Ta!
GRAMS:
Motor car at speed.
BLOODNOK: There’s the place.
SEAGOON: What a magnificent
warehouse. Is it on the phone?
BLOODNOK: I’ll just ring it
from a phone box and see. And gad! What luck! Here comes a phone box now.
GRAM:
High powered motor car drives up.
SEAGOON: And there’s a
telephone in it!
BLOODNOK: What will the
G.P.O. think of next?
SEAGOON: Putting the prices
up I should imagine.
BLOODNOK: Yes, yes. Now let
us phone up this warehouse. W – A – R – E
H – O – U – S – E.
GRAMS:
Phone rings. (Buzz type)
SEAGOON: Major! I can hear a
phone ringing in your warehouse.
BLOODNOK: Oh, run in and
answer it would you.
SEAGOON: Right!
FX: Door opens and closes.
SEAGOON: (At end of line)
Hello?
BLOODNOK: Oh, is that the
monster warehouse?
SEAGOON: Yes.
BLOODNOK: Could I speak to
the owner please?
SEAGOON: Well, he’s outside.
I’ll get him.
FX: Door opens and closes.
SEAGOON: Major! You’re
wanted on the phone.
BLOODNOK: Oh, well hang onto
this one for me will you?
SEAGOON: Alright.
FX: Door opens and closes.
BLOODNOK: (At end of line) Hello?
SEAGOON: Hello?
BLOODNOK: I believe someone
wanted to speak to me.
SEAGOON: Yes. I’ll just call
him. Major Bloodnok! You’re wanted on the phone.
FX: Door opens and closes.
BLOODNOK: Oh, well. Hang onto
the one in the warehouse will you?
SEAGOON: Right.
FX: Door opens and closes.
BLOODNOK: Hello?
SEAGOON: (At end of line.) Hello?
BLOODNOK: Ah. Is that the
monster warehouse?
SEAGOON: Yes.
BLOODNOK: Could I speak to
the owner please?
SEAGOON: But he’s outside.
I’ll get him.
FX: Door opens and closes.
SEAGOON: Major! You’re
wanted on the phone.
BLOODNOK: Oh, well. Hang onto
this one for me will you?
SEAGOON: Right.
FX: Door opens and closes.
GRAMS:
(Recording. Gradually speeding up.)
BLOODNOK: (At end of line.) Hello?
SEAGOON: Hello?
BLOODNOK: I believe someone
wanted to speak to me.
SEAGOON: On yes. I’ll just call him. Major Bloodnok! You’re
wanted on the phone.
FX: Door opens and
closes.
BLOODNOK: Oh well. Hang onto the one in the warehouse will
you?
SEAGOON: Right.
FX: Door opens and
closes.
BLOODNOK: Hello?
SEAGOON: (At end of line.) Hello?
BLOODNOK: Ah. Is that the monster warehouse?
SEAGOON: Yes.
BLOODNOK: Can I speak to the owner please?
SEAGOON: But he’s outside. I’ll get him.
FX: Door opens and
closes.
SEAGOON: Major! You’re wanted on the phone.
BLOODNOK: Oh, well. Hang onto this one for me will you?
FX: Boots running away.
SEAGOON: Right.
FX: Door opens and
closes.
(Speeded up further)
BLOODNOK: (At end of line.) Hello?
SEAGOON: Hello?
BLOODNOK: I believe someone
wanted to speak to me.
SEAGOON: Oh yes. I’ll just call him. Major Bloodnok! You’re
wanted on the phone.
FX: Door opens and
closes.
BLOODNOK: Oh, well. Hang onto the one in the warehouse will
you?
FX: Boots running
away.
SEAGOON: Right.
FX: Door opens and
closes.
BLOODNOK: (At end of line.) Hello?
SEAGOON: Hello?
(Continues under.)
GREENSLADE: This jolly little
party game is now available in the large three ton family-size, complete with a
pair of plastic telephones, two inflatable idiots and a small brown loaf, not
forgetting Ray Ellington.
SEAGOON: Right lads. Round
the back for the old brandy there!
RAY ELLINGTON – ‘Don’t Burn Me Up’ [1]
CHIEF
ELLINGA:
What? No money!! Just for that me give you back Junk Affair part five!
GRAMS:
Seashore sounds. Gulls, distant waves.
GREENSLADE: The scene - a
Corsican bandit’s cave anchored off the coast of
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, the hour
has come.
GRAMS:
Big Ben strikes
SEAGOON: Meantime, for
safety, I installed my supply of junk in
the giant warehouse and anchored it three miles inland off the coast of
GRYTPYPE: But mark ye Neddie,
before you can corner the world market in junk you’ve got to buy OUR portion.
SEAGOON: Yes, yes! But where
can I find it?
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, this is
it!
MORIARTY: What, what, what,
what?
GRYTPYPE: Put this price
ticket on the pieces of junk and place it in the display window over our cave.
MORIARTY: Owwwwww.
SEAGOON: Thinks, little do
they know that by placing my telescope to my ear I heard every word they said, yes, and was even now on my way to
bid for that final piece of junk that would make me – and I say this for the
benefit of the listeners, that would make me owner of ALL THE JUNK IN ENGLAND!
MORIARTY: He’s on his way. He
mustn’t recognise me.
GRYTPYPE: Right. Swallow this
false moustache and weight.
MORIARTY: (Swallows) Ah.
GRYTPYPE: Good. Now the weight.
MORIARTY: (Swallows unevenly) It’s no good. I
can’t get the weight down.
GRYTPYPE: Then you must give
up bread and potatoes. Shhhh!
MORIARTY: What?
GRYTPYPE: Switch off that
wall. I hear legs approaching.
GRAMS:
Boots on gravel coming near. Slightly echoey.
MORIARTY: It sounds like more
than one person.
GRYTPYPE: That’s Neddie. He’s
wearing an echo chamber.
BLUEBOTTLE: (Slightly distant.) Ohhhhh. Hello
Eccles.
ECCLES: (Slightly distant.) Heello ‘bottle.
BLUEBOTTLE: Ohhhhhh.
ECCLES: Ohhhhh.
BLUEBOTTLE: Well.
ECCLES: Well.
BLUEBOTTLE: Fancy you and me
meeting each other walking along two miles off the coast of
ECCLES: Yeh. Fancy you and
me on holiday meeting each other walking along off the Corsican… off the coast
of
BLUEBOTTLE: That is not what I
said Eccles.
ECCLES: Oooo. That’s what I
said Eccles.
BLUEBOTTLE: Oh.
ECCLES: Ohhhhh.
BLUEBOTTLE: Have you ever been
on holiday in Corsicas before?
ECCLES: No. But I once made
a dog kennel out of elastic.
BLUEBOTTLE: Ohhh! There’s
something to be said for these premium bonds then.
ECCLES:
Oooooaaawwwoaowaaowaooowwwww.
BLUEBOTTLE: I think the
government is very clever you know. I won twenty-five pounds in a premium bonds
draw.
ECCLES: What’s clever about
that?
BLUEBOTTLE: I never bought any
premium bonds.
ECCLES: Owwwowowwowahow….and
I made a hole in the front.
BLUEBOTTLE: What for?
ECCLES: For the dog to get in and
out.
BLUEBOTTLE: Ohhh! That’s nice
for the doggie.
ECCLES/BLUEBOTTLE: (Laboured) That is nice for the doggie!
BLUEBOTTLE: I say, Eccles, why
are you not wearing any trousers?
ECCLES: Oh, er, it’s
lunchtime.
BLUEBOTTLE: Ohhh! What did you
have for lunch?
ECCLES: My trousers.
BLUEBOTTLE: Here, Eccles my good
man, look in the window of that shop in that cave.
ECCLES: Ooo! An elastic dog
kennel.
BLUEBOTTLE: No. Next to it.
There’s a piece of junk for sale.
ECCLES: Ooooooooooo hoo hoo
hoo hoo hoo! We can’t afford that. Look at the price. Eight pounds, six foot
three inches.
BLUEBOTTLE: Well, I could stand
on your shoulders.
ECCLES: Ok, I’ll put ‘em on
the ground. You stand on them and I’ll pick them up. Ready?
BLUEBOTTLE: Ok then!
ECCLES: Hup! Ooo, the strain on my…
FX: Shop bell.
GRYTYPYPE: Ah, a mounted
gentleman. Good morning. What can we…er...?
SEAGOON: (Slightly muffled) No, no! What about
some lines for me then? I’m the junior vile lead. Wait till my friend comes
out. You’ll be sorry enough. Folks! Folks! Make them give me some lines folks.
I tell you, folks…
GRYTPYPE: Moriarty, go and
slam the door in his face.
MORIARTY: He hasn’t got a
door in his face.
GRYTPYPE: Then he’s trapped
and he can’t get out. I set the grand scheme which will culminate in our
current catch phrase. Seagoon stands yon, poised perilously atop his junk warehouse, round him the angry sea.
I shall now fire this loaded laundry list at him. (Shouts) Stand by little catch-phraser!
SEAGOON: Never mind about
all chat that you’re doing there. What about some lines for me then!!? (Continues ad lib)
GRYTPYPE: FIRRRRRE!
GRAMS:
Howitzer. Shell trajectory. Explosion
followed by splash.
GRYTPYPE: Lad?
LITTLE
JIM:
He’s fallen in the water!
GRYTPYPE: Thinks - it can’t
last forever.
MORIARTY: No, but we’ve got
to make the most of it while we can buddy!
BLUEBOTTLE: Yes! Now then nice
man, we want to buy that piece of junk in the window.
MORIARTY: Aww! That, little
spotty lad, is not for sale.
BLUEBOTTLE: I don’t want to buy
that little spotty lad, I want to buy the junk.
MORIARTY: Awwwwwww, that’s
not for sale either.
BLUEBOTTLE: Ooooeeeeeioohhie!
ECCLES: But there’s a price
ticket - eight pounds, six foot four inches.
GRYTPYPE: Ahhh, but that’s
the price for the ticket.
ECCLES: Ooooooo. How much
is that on each piece?
GRYTPYPE: Eight pounds down and six
foot four inches, eighteen instalments over two inches each month.
FX: Frantic sawing. Piece of wood falls to
floor.
BLUEBOTTLE: Well, there’s one
foot nine to start with.
ECCLES: Here, where’s my
leg?
GRAMS:
Shop bell.
SEAGOON: You swine! You shot
me into the water just for a catch phrase. Now gentlemen, I’m bidding for this
last piece of junk. I know my rights! I know my lefts.
GRYTPYPE: Control your powers
man. Now, who was that lady I saw you with last night?
SEAGOON: That was no lady,
that was my wife. I married her just for the gag.
MORIARTY: You got to keep ‘em
laughing folks!
SEAGOON: Now look, what
about the junk.
GRYTPYPE: Neddie, we’ve kept
that piece of junk steaming in the window for you on low gas.
MORIARTY: What about the money?
SEAGOON: Gentlemen please,
if you’ll just turn your backs I’ll take the money from its secret hiding place
in my wallet.
GRYTPYPE: By the way, we’ll
need it paid in danger money.
SEAGOON: I’ve only got
sterling.
MORIARTY: That’s dangerous
enough.
SEAGOON: There gentlemen!
FX: Coin on table.
SEAGOON: Eight pounds.
GRYTPYPE: Thank you. Now what
about the six foot four inches?
SEAGOON: Six foot four? (Gulp) Wouldn’t you settle for four foot
eleven?
GRYTYPYE: Never, shorty!
SEAGOON: Foiled by duck’s
disease, the curse of the Seagoon.
GRYTYPYPE: Very well Ned,
we’ll forget the six foot four and settle for the four foot eleven. Like the
British Olympic high jumper you know.
SEAGOON: Huzzah! I’m rich. I
now own all the junk in
GRYTPYPE: Neddie. A moment,
pray. We’ve just heard that the British junk has been devalued.
SEAGOON: What! (Crying) Then I’m ruined. Penniless. I
shall kill myself with death and other accepted means. Oooh no!
GREENSLADE: Oh ho. That’s quite
enough thank you. That’ll be all for tonight Mr Seagoon. Here you are.
FX: Cash register. Penny in mug.
SEAGOON: Eight bob. Ta. All
right lads, round the back for the old brandy there!
GRAMS:
Boot rushing off at speed. Add clucking
chickens.
GREENSLADE: And so we say
goodnight to the Goons and a chicken will come to no good. We would like you to
know that this was the first broadcast from the Russian satellite moon. I say,
it’s jolly high up here, isn’t it?
ORCHESTRA:
PLAYOUT
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 Spike Milligan and Larry
Stephens, announcer Wallace Greenslade, the programme produced by Charles
Chilton.
YTI