THE
CALL OF THE WEST
GOON SHOW: TLO
76074
9TH
SERIES: No 12
RECORDED: 20 Jan
1959
By Spike Milligan
GREENSLADE: This is the BBC
Home Service
SECOMBE: Good! Now Wal,
here is that same announcement by a midget.
GRAMS: Speeded
up version of 'This is the BBC Home Service'
GREENSLADE: Who's he?!
SECOMBE: I'm a friend of
Bert F'tang.
SELLERS: F'tang?
SECOMBE: F'ting!
SELLERS: Findacoo!
SECOMBE: F'too!
SELLERS: Foulzow!
SECOMBE: F'ting
MILLIGAN: A friend of Bert
F'tang!
GRAMS: Extended
improvisation – F'tangg, F'ting! F'tooee! F'ting, Tooee! speeded up. Continue
under.
GREENSLADE: Dear sponned eleven,
you are listening to the sound track of this week’s wonder ear-film, presenting – Captain Stingo, or...
HERN: Goon Law, or
anything or Hern.[1]
ORCHESTRA: Western
theme.
HERN: See, hear and
smell hairless midget, Harry Seagoon as Double Captain Rupture, hard riding,
hard shooting, hard up cowboy.
SECOMBE: (Upper class) Hello, you ‘orny critters!
HERN: This role calls
for great audience imagination. See, feel and hit Spike Milligna as the dying
actor.
FX: Pistol shot.
MILLIGAN: Ooowww!
SECOMBE: Yes, for the
first time on your radio screen, see the hand-operated, electric teeth of Peter
'Voices' Sellers, as Big Black Beauty, the mad wallpaper stallion.
GRAMS: Hooves
galloping into distance, add donkey braying over. Speed the whole thing up.
SECOMBE: Listen to the
strains of Tex MacLength, and his sons of the bicycle saddle.
GRAMS: Goons:
(Pre-recorded singing)
‘Give me a home
Where the buffalo roam….’
All
laid out by the sound of three tubular bells belting them on the head. All fade
off groaning. “Oh dear…” etc (Speed the whole thing up slightly.)
GREENSLADE: This then is your
entertainment for this evening.
GRAMS: Screams,
cries, feet running away
SECOMBE: Come back, come
back!
ORCHESTRA: Western
theme.
CAST: (Cries of sailors aloft.)
GREENSLADE: It is 1867 and
dead on time. The
GRAMS: Body
into water.
LITTLE JIM: He's fallen in da
water!
SEAGOON: Yes, sonny, it’s
a tradition amongst drowning men. Now, come let’s step ashore onto
BUM: Hey bud, you gotta
nickel for a cup of coffee?
SEAGOON: You poor man. You
must be starving. Here, take that.
GRAMS: Electronic bash in the face. Add woodblock and jelly splosh.
BUM: Oh, buddy.
SEAGOON: That'll teach him
not to be poor in front of me again. Now, where’s my slave, Uncle Tom’s Cabin?
ELLINGTON: I’m here boss. Yous
covered wagon is waiting for yous.
SECOMBE: Good for yous. Fill
the horses up with three gallons of hay. Hahaha! What a gallant figure I must
have made, in my tricorn hat, tricorn trousers, and an unexploited-ed first
edition of the Union Jack.
GRYTPYPE: Did you say
covered wagon?
SEAGOON: Yes, and here's a
photo of me saying it.
GRYTPYPE: And here is a
statue of the word ‘Thank You.’
SEAGOON: Good! I'll unveil
it tomorrow.
GRYTPYPE: Fine, fine! Are
you a millionaire?
SEAGOON: No, I'm seven and
six short.
GRYTPYPE: Blast! Look sir,
I too am heading west with this retired wooden fish crate.
MORIARTY: (Off mic.) OOww. Let me out of here,
Grytpype. The fumes! Oh the pong, the pong, Grytpype! Let me out of here.
SEAGOON: I say, what are
those yellow things, champing at the knothole?
GRYTPYPE: They are the
teeth of a dear friend and confidante, the great French poet and lyric plumber,
Count Jim 'Flies'…
GRAMS: Flies
buzzing.
GRYTPYPE: …Moriarty.
SEAGOON: Why does he
travel by fish crate?
GRYTPYPE: It’s something to
do with the devaluation of the Frank, I'm not sure.[2]
However, apart from which he is inventing something.
ORCHESTRA: First
few phrases of Rudy Wiedoeft’s “Sax-o-phun”.[3]
GRYTPYPE: Listen, he's
working on it, my dear sir. E'en now, he treads the keys of his Adolf
saxophone.[4]
Could we hire, perchance a room on your covered wagon, so that the Count may
continue undisturbed by disturb?
SEAGOON: Well, there's no
bath.
GRYTPYPE: No bath? Just
what the Count likes at the end of a long day.
SEAGOON: Right. Now,
where's the rent?
GRYTPYPE: In my trousers.
SEAGOON: He bent down, and
sure enough, he had a rent in his trousers!!
ORCHESTRA: Tatty
chord in C.
SEAGOON:
GRAMS: Whip
crack. Coach and horses on gravel.
ORCHESTRA: Western
theme. Segue into Max Geldray
playing “Oh Suzanna” then into musical number.
MAX GELDRAY – “A Nightingale Sang in
GREENSLADE: That night the
wagon train rested in the plain of the plat plong tip tock klong thun plat nick
nack paddy whack give-a-dog-a-goon. Splish Splish… (Rage) I do! I refuse to
read on... (Self-fade into distance.)
GRAMS: Distant
coyote howling.
SEAGOON: I say... will all
those prairie dogs never stop howling?
GRYTPYPE: They're always
howling. No trees on the prairie.
SEAGOON: Listeners who
recognise that joke please keep their traps shut. Well, I'm going to bed. Goodnight.
GRAMS: Stretching springs.
SEAGOON: Aaah! Eighteen
stone three. Gad I'm a heavy sleeper.
MORIARTY: (Muffled) Let me out, buddy.
GRYTPYPE: Shhhhhh. Quiet in
that crate.
MORIARTY: (Muffled) Is it night or day?
GRYTPYPE: Fool! That sort
of thing is only for the rich.
MORIARTY: (Muffled) Let me out, oh buddy.
GRYTPYPE: I'll let you out
when you've made enough saxophones to sell to the Indians.
MORIARTY: (Muffled) I've made forog-serf-neef-nooksie
saxophones.
FX: Chains rattling. Wooden door opening.
GRYTPYPE: Have you? Well,
come out. Now, which of all these fish-bones is you?
MORIARTY: I'm the one with
hairs on.
GRYTPYPE: My goodness, the
sea trip has done you a power of good. You'll soon be strong enough to lie down,
Count.
GRAMS: Indians whooping.
SEAGOON: What's that? The Indians
are attacking us on the wide-screen. Quick!
GRAMS: Rifle fire. War
whoops. Thundering hooves.
ECCLES: (Fade in singing.) Born on a mountain top
in Tennessee… (Raves) [7]
SEAGOON: What luck – it’s
Davy Eccles and his goon-shin cat!
ECCLES: Uraluckum
eraluckumuluckaluckumurlum doishinook ow…&c
SEAGOON: You do it and you
clean it up mate.[8] Now
listen. We need help. Those smelly old Indians are overpowering us.
ECCLES: Hold your nose
then buddy! Hold your nose!
SEAGOON: (Very good, yes.)
Get through to
ECCLES: Ok.
SEAGOON: Here's the fare.
ECCLES: Ta! Giddup!
GRAMS: Bus
pulls away rapidly.
SEAGOON: Fortunately for
us folks, a bare ten miles away the
GRAMS: Cavalry regiment
at the gallop.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Whoa!
GRAMS: Cavalry stops
dead.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: There's
discipline for ya. (Spits) Ppt!
FX: Hard mallet on old shell casing.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Lieutenant
Hern-Hern?
GRAMS: Footsteps
running closer.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Yes sir?
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Where's your
horse?
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: You only called me sir.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Well, that’s a
good answer son. You must be mighty proud of it.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: It belonged to my father Hern.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: It’s a well-worn
Hern, yeah. Here's a dollar Hern.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: A dollar Hern? What for Hern?
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Its pay as you
hearn. (Spits) Ppt!
FX: Hard mallet on old shell casing.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Sergeant F'doo?
Where's the chuck wagon Hern?
SERGEANT: (Idiocy) 'S-fish, ‘s-fish, ‘s-furshed,
‘s-firn sir. I mean, hai… hai…
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Well, if you say
so. (Spits) Ppt!
GRAMS: Jelly
splosh.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: I'm sorry, Sarge.
Here, catch this lifebelt!
GRAMS: Something heavy
dropped into water.
SERGEANT: Thank you!
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: We better get going, Colonel. They say that the Knobbly Knee Indians
are in the vicinity.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Let's hope we
don't get the wind of ‘em.
GRAMS: (Pre-recording)
CAST: (Singing) “I’ll be calling you,
Oo - Oo.
GREENSLADE: And I’ll answer too, Oo
– Oo…” [9]
LIEUTENANT HERN-HERN: Its three lone Indians.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Call 'em over, we
could do with a loan Hern, yeah!
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Great Jumping Fanakapants! It’s the Knobbly Knee Tribe in full
war-paint and wallpaper.
CHIEF ELLINGA: Ugggg! How! Biugg!
Tioof nuff vim, oooh bugg.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: I reckon there
must be an easier way to make a living ya know! How Hern!
CHIEF ELLINGA: Me chief Investor
in Wall Street. Chief Sitting Bull and Bear, this is my squaw.
GREENSLADE: How do you do?
CHIEF ELLINGA: Ugggg!
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Yes, I thought
that too.
CHIEF ELLINGA: And this nit here
is my son, great warrior Fred Smith, OBE.
SECOMBE: Hello boy. I had
eggs for tea.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Hey, he looks
mighty tall in the saddle
CHIEF ELLINGA: That's because
he's on a horse, mate!
CAST: (Corny fanfare.) TA-RA!
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Chief, we want to
do business. We're willing to knock all your teeth out for nothing and give you
genuine false ones in exchange for old buffalo hide.
CHIEF ELLINGA: Mmmmm. Ugg. All my
braves have buffalo hides.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Where's yours?
CHIEF ELLINGA: Where's my what,
mate?
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Where's your
buffalo hide?
CHIEF ELLINGA: He's hiding behind
that tree mate.
CAST: (Corny fanfare.) TA-RA!
SECOMBE: Sounds like
Monkhouse and Goodwin got here first!
CHIEF ELLINGA: Look! Wait a
minute! Me no like what white man offer. You go, or my braves go on four-lane
warpath. And I'll give you biff and conk! BIFF!
GELDRAY: That's my dad,
boys.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Watch out Sitting
Bull, or I'll get you as sure as my name's Custer. (Spits) Ppt!
FX: Hard mallet on old shell casing.
GRAMS: Horse gallops up.
ECCLES: (Approaching) Oooh, here, here, here,
here! Oh, here, here!
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Holy Smoke! It’s something going “here-here-here-here!”
ECCLES: It was me going “here-here-here-here!”
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Steady there son.
Steady. You and me get a hold of your coconut shells.
ECCLES: I've been through
hell to get here.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: There must be a
cooler route, son, I reckon!
ECCLES: The wagon-train
with your wife on board is being attacked by the Indians!
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: My wife! Is she
safe?
ECCLES: Yeah.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: I never did like
them Indians.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Did any follow ya?
ECCLES: Yeah, they're shooting'
at me all the time, but I just stuck my tongue out at them.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Get wounded?
ECCLES: Yeah.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Where?
ECCLES: In the tongue..
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Well, for no reason at all – FORWARD!
GRAMS: Troop
of cavalry gallop off: recording over of chorus singing “The Rangers Song” from
Rio Rita. All at speed. Wind up speed and fade. [10]
ELLINGTON: Ah! White man
gone and leave no tip. Come, we go on warpath! Take partners for next war dance.
GRAMS:
Frenzied Indian war whoops.
ORCHESTRA: (Fade
in.) Tenor saxophone playing gentle rendition of Victor Silvester’s “You’re
Dancing on my Heart” as if at a tea dance, native war drums behind. [11]
GREENSLADE: That night the
tribes of the Sioux confederacy were assembled for war. A white man and his
fish crate were the centre of attraction.
GRYTPYPE: (Announces) Red men, I come as a fellow
equity member with all dues paid. In this fish crate are what Red men need.
BRAVE: Red woman?
GRYTPYPE: Later Chief,
later! But plenty of it, later. First I knock on box, so…
FX: Knocks on wood.
ORCHESTRA: Alto
saxophone solo “Sous les toits de Paris” – with donkey vibrato and slippery intonation.
OMNES: (Sounds of amazement and wonder.)
GRYTPYPE: Yes – we bring
you saxophones!
GRYTPYPE &
MORIARTY: (Singing) “From out
of the sky,
my brother and I…”
[12]
CHIEF SECOMBE: Ug! Me like. Me
try play.
ORCHESTRA: Alto
saxophone solo as before - “Indian Love Call.” [13] Improvises wildly all over the place.
MORIARTY: You play lovely,
Chief.
GRYTPYPE: Yes, he plays
lovely, doesn't he. Could easily pass for music – I’d pass it.
CHIEF SECOMBE: Good! Tonight, me
and braves attack white men with saxophones. Mooohaaaaa! Minnehaha hahahaha! [14]
GRAMS: Multiple
saxophones and Indian war whoops over.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Gentlemen, somebody’s
supplying the Indians with saxophones. (Spits)
Ppt!
SEAGOON: I think I know
who it is.
FX: Hard mallet on old shell casing.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Bring that thing
closer, will ya! You were saying Hern?
SEAGOON: I know who they
are – Moriarty and Thynne.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Where's they
hiding?
SEAGOON: America.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Sergeant, make a
note of that address will ya?
ECCLES: How the hell do
you spell it?
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Don't bother how
to spell it, just write it down.
ECCLES: Okay...
FX: Scratchy nib on paper.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Now read it back
to me
ECCLES: (Idiocy) Aambalalarlackum.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: That sounds like
the place to me. Alright men, search
GRAMS: Men’s
chorus singing “The Ranger’s
Song” repeated. Galloping hooves behind. Speed the whole thing up and fade.
MORIARTY: Grytpype, they've
got wind of us! We've got to get away, I tell you!
FX: Slapstick.
MORIARTY: Oogha oogha oogha!
GRYTPYPE: Don't panic,
Count. Get into this woman's disguise kit, while Ray Ellington releases his
power of song on an unsuspecting world.
RAY ELLINGTON -
'You'd better know it'
GREENSLADE: Meantime, in
Dodge City, television centre of the old west, a quack hawks his wares, and wares
his hawks – whichever way is the better, I wouldn't know.
ORCHESTRA: Bloodnok
theme.
GRAMS: Bubbling
cauldron under. Indian war whoops. Shells whizzing overhead. Enormous
explosion.
BLOODNOK: Ohhhh! Ohh,
that's done me a power of good, folks! And there's more where that came from.
Citizens of Dodge City – Bloodnok's the name! Dr Denis Bloodnok, late of
MONES & GRAMS: Crowd noises. Massed rhubarbs.
SINGHEZ THINGZ: (Approaching) Try it! I’ll try it! I’ll
try some of that.
BLOODNOK: You'll try some?
A Hindu Raja! Give him a big hand!
GRAMS: Thunderous
applause and cheering. Stops suddenly.
SINGHEZ THINGZ: Thank you sir,
but I'm only a coolie.
BLOODNOK: Coolie? Give him
a small hand will you!
OMNES: Sparse
applause.
BLOODNOK: Now then, mystic son
of the east, sip this small sulphur and liquorice bomb.
SINGHEZ: (Lips smacking.)
BLOODNOK: Look! Oooh, before
my eyes, before my military eyes, the colour is coming back to his pallid
loincloth!
GRAMS: Train
noises, whistles blowing, heavy traffic, sirens, explosions, people yelling,
and running feet, all mixed up.
SINGHEZ THINGZ: Good… good… Oh good
heavens! Good Heavens! Where are my trousers and loin cloth gone?
BLOODNOK: How do you feel,
Prince of the East?
SINGHEZ THINGZ: I don't feel well,
Ivy. I feel very, very ill.
BLOODNOK:
VOICE: (From the back of the crowd.) You're a
quack, mister! You're a quack!
BLOODNOK: Steady, Yankee
doodles, or I'll have the red-coats on you! I'm a personal friend of Billy
Butlin you know!
OMNES & GRAMS: Angry crowd.
Pistol shots. Running boots.
BLOODNOK: Careful there! Ooo!
Careful there! Oooha!
GRAMS: Fade
in honkey-tonk piano and pub brawl. (“The Wreck of the Ol’ 97.”)
GRYTPYPE: I say, barman – drinks,
for my lady.
MORIARTY: Yes, I'll have a
glass of fish and chips.
GRYTPYPE: And see you put a
good head on it.
BARMAN: Well, we don't
keep any drink called Fish and Chips.
GRYTPYPE: What!? Come, Moriarty,
we shall take our trade and malnutrition elsewhere.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Hold everything!
GRYTPYPE: Right Moriarty,
you hold the Piano. I'll feel the table.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: I'm Lootenant Hern-Hern of the United States cavalry. Reasonable
charges to regular customers. (Delighted to meet you too sir.)[16]
Now we’re looking for two men who have been selling contraband saxophones to
the red Indians, thereby causing unemployment amongst white musicians.
MORIARTY: (Idiot panic attack.) HIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIAHIA.
FX: Body falls to floor.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Pardon me, ma'am – your er… your wig’s fallen off.
GRYTPYPE: Wig? How dare you
sir! The unfortunate woman just happens to have gone bald suddenly. It’s
obviously a case of the new lightning French alopecia from the song of the same
name.
MORIARTY: That’s right – (sings) Alopecia,
lightning
alopecia,
alopecia,
je te
plumerai.
GRYTPYPE: (Sings) First
you get it on your nut.
MORIARTY: First
you get it on your nut!
FX: Heavy woodblock.
MORIARTY: On my
nut!
GRYTPYPE: On his nut!
MORIARTY: On my
nut!
CAST &OMNES: (Singing) Oooooooh!
Alopecia,
lightning
alopecia,
alopecia
je te
plumerai!
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Hold it! Stop that alopecia! One moment you two, I seem to
recognise your face sir. Take off that false nose!
GRYTPYPE: What!
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Ahah. Now them false ears.
GRYTPYPE: I protest!
LIEUTENANT HERN-HERN: Now that false
suit. And that false chest. (Squirms) Hahaha.
Just as i thought – I don't know who you are. Who are ya?
GRYTPYPE: Lord Nelson.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: He had one arm missing.
GRYTPYPE: I have. I used to
have three.
ECCLES: (Approaching) Hello, fellas! (Raves) Ularlumbglerlumbgroyi. Care to
have a hand of cards?
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Poker, pontoon or rummy?
ECCLES: Yeah… and cards?
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Well alright
fellas – I pass.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: I pass.
ECCLES: Mmm, it’s up to
me now folks. (It’s up to me now folks.) I'm callin' ya fellas!
BLUEBOTTLE: Ohh, he's callin'
us all fellas. I shall recipromecate. I shall call him a fella. Helloo fella!
ECCLES: 'Ere, what's that
under there? Bottle! I didn't see you under that big black hat with that cotton
moustache.
BLUEBOTTLE: It’s the Call of
the West partner! Chews plug of Hopalong Cassidy cardboard- string tobacco, liquorice-type.
Spit, spit, spitty! (Cries) Ooohhoi.
It’s gone right down the front of my shirt.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Who are you, stranger? Speak up.
BLUEBOTTLE: I am Marshal Matt
Dillon of
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: I never seen you in
BLUEBOTTLE: I came on the
forty-nine bus from the High Street.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: There ain't no buses run out here.
BLUEBOTTLE: No, it only took
me as far as the Odeon. I had to walk all the rest of the way myself.
ECCLES: What about the
game?
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Ok then, you're calling Mad Dan. What kind of hand you got?
ECCLES: Four fingers and a
thumb.
BLUEBOTTLE: I beat you, Mad
Dan – I got four fingers, two thumbs, and a toe!
ECCLES: A toe? There
ain't no such hand.
BLUEBOTTLE: Do you think I’m
a cheat?
ECCLES: No, I think
you're deformed.
BLUEBOTTLE: No man can call
Bluebottle deformed, unless he's a specialist. Eccles, I'm runnin' you in.
ECCLES: I've been run in.
I've done 10,000 miles.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Come on Mad Dan. Are you going quietly or do we have to use
ear-plugs?
ECCLES: Aohhohoi, what's
the charge?
BLUEBOTTLE: The murder of
Julius Caesar.
ECCLES: I wasn't alive
when he was murdered.
BLUEBOTTLE: No, I know dat!
That is why we had to wait 'til you was born before we could arrest you.
ECCLES: Down with Caesar!
BLUEBOTTLE: Yes!
ECCLES: You won't take me
dead or alive.
BLUEBOTTLE: And how are we going
to take you den?
ECCLES: Sort of in
between.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: He's there now. Let's get 'im!
ECCLES: What!
BLUEBOTTLE: Go for your guns,
Mad Dan. I'm warning you! See the panther-like movements of my mittened hands,
as they curl towards the cardboard and string triggers of my shredded wheat cut-out
pistols.
FX: Door opens.
BLUEBOTTLE’S MUM: There you are,
you dirty little tramp!
BLUEBOTTLE: Oha, Mum!
BLUEBOTTLE’S MUM: I'll give you oh
Mum. Your father's been looking everywhere for his trilby hat! Where's all the
shopping I sent you for? [17]
FX: Clips around lug'ole. Use
different sized woodblocks played quickly.
BLUEBOTTLE: (Leaving.) Oh mum, you spoiled my game!
Bye bye, Eccles!
ECCLES: Goodbye!
GRYTPYPE: And so perish all
enemies of the queen.
MORIARTY: And there's more
where that came from.
LIEUTENANT
HERN-HERN: Now I recognise that voice by the shape of them words!
GRYTPYPE: Run for it,
Moriarty! They know us!
GRAMS: Double
whoosh.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic
chord.
GREENSLADE: This then was the
situation: Bloodnok pursued by the
mob; Grytpype pursued by the 9th cavalry; and Bluebottle pursued by his mother.
With that in mind will listeners please take in their slack, and listen to the
occupants of
FX: Bits and pieces clanking.
BANNISTER: Rub it well in,
Hen. Rub it well in!
CRUN: They won't quell
old Hen Crun by surprise. Min, stand against that wall for a certain test.
BANNISTER: Oh. (Going off.) Ok cocky.
FX: Shotgun blast. Selection of bits
and pieces falling to floor.
BANNISTER: Ooooh! Oooowiee!
CRUN: Did that hurt,
Min?
BANNISTER: Yes!
CRUN: Good, then this
is the gun for the redskins. But just in case I'll get a gun ready for the blue-skins
and the green-skins.
BANNISTER: I hope they
attack soon because the dinner's getting burnt.
CRUN: They'll never
attack a burnt dinner Min, I tell you!
OLD UNCLE OSCAR: (Geriatric.) Ah hum… &c (raves.)
CRUN: Uncle Oscar! What
are you doing out of your grave?
BANNISTER: He must be
feeling better Henry.
OLD UNCLE OSCAR: I… er… (Raves)
CRUN: Oh Uncle – at
your age! You've been at the hormones again.
OLD UNCLE OSCAR: Arghha rhaarmmyi
nammahgh d’phagararh… (Raves)
FX: Teeth shaken round inside a
saucepan..
CRUN: There go his teeth,
Min! That means more dinner for us.
GRAMS: Indian
war whoops
BANNISTER: What's that?
CRUN: Do you hear that
Min? It’s the war-whoops of the Nukka Tukka Indians!
BANNISTER: Are they the ones
that commit atrocities?
CRUN: Yes, Min.
BANNISTER: I'll go upstairs
and get ready!
CRUN: Stop it Min, do
you hear! You know that's for me, I tell you!
OLD UNCLE OSCAR: Aaarrrrhaa arhnaghaa
arrrr!
CRUN: He remembers,
Min. He's remembered in leather. Now Uncle, get inside that coffin and defend
it with your life. Min, get into your best red flannel draws and defend them to
the end. I shall just announce the next part of the program. Ladies and
Gentlemen, I have pleasure in announcing a knock at the door.
FX: Doorbell rings.
CRUN: Blast, there's
been a change in the program. (Calls) Who
is it?
FX: Door opens.
GRAMS: Massed
saxophones with Indian war whoops over.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: And so folks, with
rivers of blood being shed – arson, rape, murder everywhere, we say goodnight from Happy-drome
FX: Gunshot.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Arghh! They got
me folks. Another unhappy ending especially for me. (Spits)
FX: Hard mallet on old shell casing.
COLONEL SLOCOMBE: Ooh!
ORCHESTRA: Double
quick version of “I Want to Be Happy.” Segue into playout.
ORCHESTRA: Playout featuring the Ray Ellington
Quartet.
YTI 