GOON SHOW: TLO 77725
9TH SERIES: No 16
Script by Spike Milligan
GREENSLADE: This is the BBC light programme.
SECOMBE: Gad, it sounds as young as ever, even more so.
SELLERS: Jove, you're right nules. Say it again Wireless Man.
GREENSLADE: This is the BBC Light Programme.
SECOMBE: It makes you glad to be alive, strengthens the shins and diminishes the spon.
SELLERS: By Jupiter, you're right I'll warrant ye. Tell us little Establishment Unit, who invented the BBC Light Prog?
GREENSLADE: Well, a Midlothian hedonist, one Mr Arthur Kack OBE,
SELLERS: Did he? Then he won't get away with it, I'll warrant you. I shall sing him.
(Sings – to the tune “Sur le Pont d’Avignon”)
Ah poor Kack, OBE,
on ye dancer,
then the lancers.
GRAMS: Wild applause.
SEAGOON: Stop folks! Hello folks! This is Neddie folks. TING-A-LING! Ah, the telephone folks.
FX: Phone taken off hook.
ECCLES: (On phone) Hello?
ECCLES: (On phone) Snap.
SEAGOON: Splendid! Ring again tomorrow and we'll have another game.
ECCLES: (On phone) Ok.
GREENSLADE: That vacuous little cameo was in the nature of an entree to the main steaming ning-nong, plitt platt toof tangg. Ladies and Gentlemen, the Kleens of Blenchinghall, the story of an ordinary English comedy half-hour.
ORCHESTRA: Stately home theme – hold under.
SELLERS: (Country Gentleman.) Hello. My name is Hurls Gnurdock Nyarl. I want to tell you about the illustrious Seagoon. He was a very ordinary Welsh crofter's son who became a very ordinary Prime Minister, who joined the Coldstream’s at the outbreak of the Armistice and rose to the rank of Private. Let us go back to that ecstatic spring of June 1887, (self-fade) when all the krill was knurdle-in-the-pool.
ORCHESTRA: Country springtime link.
GRAMS: Twittering of birds in a Surrey wood. Horse canters up gravel path.
SEAGOON: Tally Ho! Ahoy! Yoicks! Gone away, address not known. (Laughs) Aha ha ha! Some fox, ehi! Ha ha… Now where is that lazy old Irish groom, O'Blast?
ELLINGTON: Here I is, your Lordship.
SEAGOON: Oh! Ellington, how many times must I tell you not to stand in the shade – you ruin the colour-scheme. Now, where's me Lady Lavinia Seagoon?
ELLINGTON: Well, she's in the great granite Baronial dining-hall.
SEAGOON: What's she doing?
ELLINGTON: Eatin' chips.
SEAGOON: Chips? Aha! She must be practising for dinner time. Drive me there.
GRAMS: Car starts up. Engine at full throttle. Skids to a halt.
SEAGOON: Thank you Ellington. (Calls) Mother! Mother! Oh Mummy?
LADY SEAGOON: What is it Roger darling?
SEAGOON: Oh Daddy! What are you doing at home?
LADY SEAGOON: I live here, and I'm Mummy not Daddy. You've got to know the difference some time.
SEAGOON: Gad, this revelation makes me a man of the world. No more short trousers for me.
LADY SEAGOON: Excused shorts? Oh how proud your father would have been. Now, tell me all about the fox-hunt.
SEAGOON: It was wonderful mother. A beautiful spring morning, flowers blooming, and blood everywhere. It's grand to be in England!
BASIL: (Effete - approaching) Hello mother. Hello Rodney. By Jove, I'm dashed hungry.
LADY SEAGOON: Basil darling, where's your chin gone?
BASIL: I've… I’ve never had one Mummy.
LADY SEAGOON: Poor thing. Oh, what a morning Basil-oh. The first spring oak trees pushing their branches up through the lawn.
SEAGOON: Oh, not again! They did the same thing last year.
LADY SEAGOON: I know. It's such a bore, isn't it. Let us all have – TEAAA.
GRAMS: Great clanging of various sized church bells. Lots of reverb.
FX: Door opens.
THROAT: Who rang dem bells?
SEAGOON: I did. Serve tea, Jeeves.
THROAT: (Growls) I'll give you tea.
FX: Smashing of a large set, plates, cups, cutler and all accoutrement.
LADY SEAGOON: (Over) Ohhh dear! Oh! Rodney, speak to him.
SEAGOON: Hello, Jeeves. I see Barnsley took another bashing on Saturday. 
FX: Smashing of giant plate on Ned’s head.
SEAGOON: (Pain) Ohh! That does it. Jeeves – I'm giving you a week's notice.
LADY SEAGOON: (Aside) Are you mad? Servants are so hard to get.
SEAGOON: Jeeves – I'm giving you twenty-years notice.
THROAT: I quit. I just won the pools.
FX: Door slams shut.
SEAGOON: No tea? Very well, we'll have...
OMNES: (Altogether) BRANDYYYYY!!!
GRAMS: Running crowd of boots – whoops of delight.
GELDRAY: This can only mean that Geldray is left holding the conk boy.
MAX GELDRAY – “Duke’s Joke”
GRAMS: Crowd of running boots returning. Swell and suddenly stop.
GREENSLADE: (Panting) Just made it. Part two – “A Vacancy Filled.”
FX: Knock on door. Door opens.
SEAGOON: What do you want?
GRYTPYPE: Lord Seagoon?
SEAGOON: Yes, and I have a licence to prove it.
GRYTPYPE: My friend and I were in Edgware, taking the waters
of the horse trough, when we observed this advert in the London Gazette, and I
SEAGOON: Yes, that's mine.
GRYTPYPE: Why is it in the obituary column?
SEAGOON: It's threepence a line cheaper in there. Are you applying for the vacancy?
MORIARTY: Certainement. Certainement. Yes we are. Oh yes – we want to work in the food department, where there's food, nice food.
SEAGOON: Pardon me, but that old hat-stand there appears to be animate.
GRYTPYPE: You do him a disservice sir. That hat-stand is the bona fide remains of what was once the great Count Jim 'Strains-Supreme'...
FX: Vicious oil-drum with the wax string.
GRYTPYPE: ... Moriarty, last of the great butlers. He has waited at table bus-stops and YWCA windows. Hit him with this beater!
ORCHESTRA: Great Chinese gong walloped.
MORIARTY: (Over.) DINNER IS SERVED!
SEAGOON: He sounds like a butler. Have you any recommendations?
GRYTPYPE: (Recommendations Count!) Of course we have. Count, unroll the scrolls and documents!
GRAMS & FX: Load of metal dropped in scrap metal yard. Bits and pieces of old pipes dropped on hard surface.
MORIARTY: And there's more where that come from!
SEAGOON: Very well. You start work at once. Lay the table for the Hunt Banquet. Here's the key to the gold-plate.
MORIARTY: (Fiscal psychotic episode.) Ehyhyhyhyhyiah! GOOOLD? Ah...
FX: Body falls to floor.
SEAGOON: Is he unconscious?
GRYTPYPE: No, he's in a food trance. There's only one cure Neddie – a fifteen-course dinner then a drive round the grounds in a car with the gold-plate in a sack.
SEAGOON: What, give you my gold-plate? I don't know you from Adam.
GRYTPYPE: Well, we're better dressed. However sir, do not hesitate. You are dicing with death and our future prosperity.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic link.
GRAMS: Pigs in a trough. Rattling of plates..
GRYTPYPE: How's that Moriarty?
MORIARTY: I'm feeling a little better now, Grytpype.
GRYTPYPE: Good, good. Another quellth of plitts?
LADY SEAGOON: (Over) They've been eating for seventeen hours now.
SEAGOON: Yes, yes, yes – but they've nearly finished.
GRAMS: Plates being stacked together.
LADY SEAGOON: They're taking my gold-plate.
GRAMS: Car driving off into the distance.
SEAGOON: It's all right. It's only part of that poor man's cure, Mother. They're only going to drive around the grounds, don't worry. (Self-fade) They'll be back in five minutes. (Laughs light heartedly.) Ha ha ha ha...
ORCHESTRA: Short clipped chord.
CONSTABLE: You say it's fifteen years since they stole the gold-plate?
SEAGOON: Yes, fifteen years and three minutes to the day.
CONSTABLE: How is it you didn't report this sooner?
SEAGOON: I overslept.
CONSTABLE: I see, yes. Any nut-cases in your family?
SEAGOON: No – mostly leather.
CONSTABLE: I see. Now these gold plates, are they valuable sir?
SEAGOON: Yes, they had food on them.
CONSTABLE: I see! So that's sixty large gold plates and sixty small. Anything else?
SEAGOON: Oh yes, one coal sack.
CONSTABLE: Is it valuable?
SEAGOON: Yes, it's got the plates inside.
FX: Phone rings. Handset off cradle.
ECCLES: (On phone) Hello?
ECCLES: (On phone) SNAP! Dat's two games to me.
SEAGOON: Right. You been practisin'?
ECCLES: (On phone) Yer, dat's why I'm winnin'. Well I better get back to me home-bake.
FX: Phone down.
CONSTABLE: Excuse me sir, while you were talking this sludge
was dredged up in the
MORIARTY: Owwwwwwwwwww! Fooood…
SEAGOON: What! Search his pockets for salt water.
MORIARTY: It's all a mistake. I'm a female channel swimmer, I tell you. Here is a record to prove it.
GRAMS: Body into water. Seal barking. Distant bagpipes and drums.
SEAGOON: You imposter, that's a seal. But why the bagpipes?
MORIARTY: It's the Great Seal of Scotland!
SEAGOON: (They wish to know that!) Now I recognise you by the air you're breathing. You're Count Jim Moriarty from the body of the same name. Officer, search that suit – inside you'll find a man. Arrest him!
CONSTABLE: Now come on, where are them gold plates?
MORIARTY: You can't make me talk.
FX: Smart slapstick.
MORIARTY: AHA! You've made me talk. I'll tell you – Grytpype took all the gold-plate to Algiers.
SEAGOON: Spain! (Calls) TAXI!
GRAMS: Short, sharp explosion.
GELDRAY: Where you going, darling?
SEAGOON: Follow that continent, darling.
GRAMS: Car drives off at speed. Add chickens clucking over.
GREENSLADE: The combined sound of an automobile and a hen was especially recorded for motoring enthusiasts who keep chickens. Now, part two. A chase across continents. The trail of the gold plates led Lord Seagoon to Marrakesh.
GRAMS: Berber trio with female lead vocals.
FX: Clatter of an easel knocked over.
SEAGOON: Ooh, I'm terribly sorry sir.
SELLERS: (As Winston Churchill) I should think so too.
SEAGOON: My information led me to a coffee-house, just off the main caravan route, where outside the sun purged the streets of shade. Inside, all was cool and jasmined.
GRAMS: Characteristic Berber music. Sounds of distant fountain.
SEAGOON: In an Alhambra tessellated forecourt, a fountain played on the purple water-lilies. Couched in lattice recesses, purdahed Tuareg beauties attended local sheiks. I was conducted to a low Moroccan coffee-table. My attendant wore the bleached robes of a nomad Arab. His burnoose was contained with a rope of black camel hair, at his waist a curved Hedjaz dagger protruded from his cummerbund. He bowed low, touched his forehead in time-honoured Islamic salute and spoke.
WILLIUM: The boiled fish and rice puddin's orf mate.
SEAGOON: I see. Ahem. Your accent is familiar, oh Arab prince.
WILLIUM: Yern. I went to college in
SEAGOON: What were you studying?
WILLIUM: Cockney. I got it orf pat.
SEAGOON: Did you?
WILLIUM: He didn't mind.
SEAGOON: (Bully for Pat.) Now tell me oh Arab prince, have you ever heard of a Hercules Grytpype Thynne?
WILLIUM: What's it used for?
SEAGOON: A name. A name called Hercules Grytpype-Thynne.
WILLIUM: Bit of a mouthful isn't it?
SEAGOON: I agree, but do you know a man who is called by it?
WILLIUM: I knows a bald-headed old woman called Rattler Blotts.
SEAGOON: No, well that doesn't sound like him.
SINGHEZ THINGZ: Please! Please Ladies and Gentlemen! The son of
Rattler Blotts and his quartet – Ray Ellington, all the way from
RAY ELLINGTON QUARTET – “What Else Can You Do with a Drum?”
GREENSLADE: During the marde
funilie of that music, Lord Seagoon greased his boots and slipped away to
see the last British Ambassador in
ORCHESTRA: Bloodnok theme on North African drums and native flute. Tag by full orchestra.
GRAMS: (Starts before music stops.) Thunder, lightning, rain on tin roof. Heavy brushes on scrubbing board. Water pouring into water barrel. Skittles dropped into tub and rattled violently.
BLOODNOK: Ohh dear! It's a wonder what the human body can stand up to. Ahh!
Oh well, now for a kip on full Ambassadors pay. Ooeih, the krut! The krut! I wonder what old Gladwyn Jebb's doing?
ELLINGTON: (Incandescent rage) BLOOOODNOOKKKKK!
FX: Bits and pieces fall to floor.
BLOODNOK: The Red Bladder!
GRAMS: Single whoosh.
FX: Tin can hits floor.
BLOODNOK: (Distant.) Go away, or I'll take my wig off.
ELLINGTON: Bloodnok, don't be frightened mate. I come to do business. Me got money.
GRAMS: Single whoosh.
BLOODNOK: (Close) Ohhhh! You said the secret British password.
ELLINGTON: Me want guns, bullets and drip-dry shirts.
FX: Large piece of paper opening.
BLOODNOK: Ohh ha ha! Go to this spot on the map, dig upwards for ten feet and
you'll find 'em buried up a tree.
ELLINGTON: Good. Now here's the payment mate.
BLOODNOK: A gold plate? Ohh, just what I've always wanted for me din-dins.
FX: Door bursts open.
SEAGOON: Which one of you two men is the British Ambassador?
BLOODNOK: What? Does my Union Jack nightshirt mean nothing to you sir?
SEAGOON: What's it doing round your ankles?
BLOODNOK: It's been lowered for the night I tell you. It's hell when it's at half-mast.
SEAGOON: Major, I'm on the trail of some stolen gold plates.
BLOODNOK: Stolen? What the... Argh!
FX: A plate falls to floor, rolls round and round.
SEAGOON: (Over) A gold plate...!
BLOODNOK: Nonsense! That's my Golden Record Award, for my millionth record of...
GRAMS: (Pre-recorded: Piano accompaniment, Sellers singing, speed the whole thing up slightly.)
BLOODNOK: (Sings) I don’t know who you are sir,
or where you come from,
but you’ve done me a power of good.
BLOODNOK: OOOOH! Another power!
(Sings) I don’t know who you are sir,
or where you’ve come from
but you’ve done me a power of good.
I was standing there sir,
doing up my boot,
suddenly from a back street
I saw this hairy brute…
FX: Phone rings. Handset up.
ECCLES: (On phone) Hello…
BLOODNOK: That got rid of him!
I don’t know who you are sir,
or where you’ve come from
but you’ve done me a power of good.
That’s what you’ve done to me,
(Gradually wind up the speed.)
You’ve done me
a military power of military goooood!
SEAGOON: I don't believe it.
ELLINGTON: Stop! Me know man who’s got lot of gold plate, mate – Captain of Foreign Legion, Fort Sidi Bel Abbès mate. 
SEAGOON: Right. Seagoon! – Yes? – Follow that pointed finger, darling! – Right.
GRAMS: Running boots with the ships hooter of the Queen Mary behind. Speed the whole thing up into the distance.
GREENSLADE: I will now announce the Fort of Sidi Bel Abbès in fluent French. Ze Fort at Sidi Bel Abbès in fluent French.
GRAMS: Regiment marching smartly. Distant commands in French over. Play it at faster speed.
FRENCH SERGEANT: Mon Captain, zere is a bundle of low-grade rags to zee you.
GRYTPYPE: Lew Grade in rags? Nonsense!
FRENCH SERGEANT: He zays he knew your mother.
GRYTPYPE: Oh dear.
MORIARTY: (Approaching) Ohh Grytpype, my son. It’s your old French Daddy.
GRYTPYPE: You steamer! I told you not to hang round me during your lifetime.
MORIARTY: WHAT!? You promised me one of those gold plates. I demand...
GRYTPYPE: Sergeant! Throw this revolutionary in the Shatt al Arab prison.
FRENCH SERGEANT: Come on you.
MORIARTY: (Going into distance.) It’s a lie! A lie!
FRENCH SERGEANT & MORIARTY: (Distant) – (Fierce argument. Extended.)
FX: Door slams.
GRAMS: Distant rifle fire. Battle cries.
FRENCH SERGEANT: Sacré Bleu, Mon Captain! Ze Arabs, zay are attacking us! (English) Bang! Bang!
GRYTPYPE: Bang Bang? So they're shooting at us in English are they! Man the ramparts and any other parts you can get hold of.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic martial link.
GRAMS: Distant sounds of battle. Cannons, bugle signals, shouting, rifle-fire.
BLUEBOTTLE: Bangee-bangee! Bangee! Ancor de un Arab crashes down under the rifle-butt of Beau Bluebottle, garçon de Legion. 
ECCLES: Bang! Bang! BAAAAANNNG! (Pause) Click! Oh, a dud.
BLUEBOTTLE: Do you like wars, Eccles?
ECCLES: Yer. Vanilla flavoured wars are good.
BLUEBOTTLE: Which side are you on – the Arabs or the Foreign Legion?
ECCLES: I don't know. They’re both shooting at me. Pourquoi did you join the Legion?
BLUEBOTTLE: Ah. It's the same old story mon ameri. I joined to
forget a woman. Miriam Reene, of
ECCLES: Oh, was he better looking?
BLUEBOTTLE: No. She said to us at playtime she said, (Eccles, don't do dat or you'll get into trouble… You’ll die.) Well, at playtime she said to me and Dave, “Who shows the most gets me.”
ECCLES: You won!
BLUEBOTTLE: No. I only got a bit of string, and he’d got fourpence and a saucer of water.
ECCLES: Ohh, some people are born rich.
BLUEBOTTLE: Yeah. Ho hum.
ECCLES: What's the matter? What’s the matter ‘bottle?
BLUEBOTTLE: Well I’ll tell you. I haven't had any sleep all night.
ECCLES: Why not?
BLUEBOTTLE: You know that film “Room at the Top”?
BLUEBOTTLE: Well, I'm in the room underneath 'em.
FX: Phone rings. Handset up.
ECCLES: (Extensive throat clearing) Ahem. Hello… Comment allez-vous?
SEAGOON: (On phone; imitating Eccles) Heeeello!
SEAGOON: (On phone) SNAP!!
ECCLES: Oooh, très bien. Très bien.
SEAGOON: (On phone) That's three games to one, right? Come down and let me in the back door.
GRAMS: Mad rush of pair of boots down long flight of wooden stairs. Take a long time.
FX: Door opens.
ECCLES: (Breathless) Dey play that record too fast.
SEAGOON: That's it – go on, give all our secrets away.
ECCLES: O.K. Bluebottle's shirts are made from his mum's old drawers. Oh-hoho!
BLUEBOTTLE: Fermez le bouch vous! Or je will blat vous on le conk.
ECCLES & BLUEBOTTLE: (extended argument in cod-French.)
SEAGOON: Little string and teeth soldier, listen! The Captain of this fort is a criminal. So what we are going to do is this...
GRYTPYPE: (In distance.) Who's that? Is that you darling?
SEAGOON: (Whispers) Blast – it's Grytpype-Thynne! Leave this to me. I'm a brilliant impressionist. (Clears throat.) Ahem. (Aloud – chicken impression.) Bwrk bwrk bwrk bwaark!
GRYTPYPE: (Distance.) A horse? There's no horses in this fort.
ECCLES: (Whispers) Try somethin’ else.
SEAGOON: (Dog impression.) Bwa! Bwow wow wow wow wow!
GRYTPYPE: There's no chickens either.
ECCLES: (Whispers) This one's a smart one. Listen, let me try. I'm good at dis.
GRAMS: (Pre-recorded) ECCLES: (Series of strange noises. Include excerpt from “Be My Love” in very high strained key. End with series of rhythm mouth noises. Add reverb to all.
ECCLES: (Whispers) Dat fooled him.
SEAGOON: Are you sure?
ECCLES: (Whispers) Yeah. (Calls out) Dat fooled you, didn't it?
FX: Pistol shot.
ECCLES: (Screams) AWWWWWW!
GRYTPYPE: So it's Lord Seagoon and Company.
SEAGOON: Where's that gold-plate? Mother's waiting to serve dinner to some guests. They've been waiting for fifteen years for dinner, and the rumbling noises are dreadful.
GRYTPYPE: (Distance.) I've had them all melted down into gold bullets and they're in this gun.
FX: Series of rapid pistol shots.
SEAGOON: Hooray! I'm going to die rich. Ohhh ohh.
ORCHESTRA: Thin chord in C.
SECOMBE: Well, that's it folks. As you all go to the cloaks, you'll be handed back your glass-eyes, false-teeth and wooden-legs, and wouldn't you. (To the orchestra.) In two, lads... 
ORCHESTRA: “Old Comrades March”. End music.
ORCHESTRA: Ray Ellington Quartet. Playout.
 “Excused shorts” is a joke Army term. Milligan mentions it in his war diaries.
 Barnsley Football Club, based South Yorkshire. At the time of this programme they were at the bottom of the second division, and about to be relegated to the third division.
 There is an aside from Spike here;
MORIARTY: (Off) I’ll have my revenge.
MORIARTY: I’ll have my revenge.
GRYTPYE: He’ll have his revenge. &c
 Marrakesh (also Marrakech) is a major city in the Kingdom of Morocco. North Africa featured prominently in Spike’s war experiences, but it also makes regular appearances in the Goon Shows. Seagoon retreats to Morocco in “Under Two Floorboards” (18/5th), while Moriarty and Grytpype flee to Tangiers in “The Moon Show,” (18/7th.) The number of shows which are set in North Africa in general, number around two dozen.
 Sir Winston Churchill developed a love of painting later in his life. An exhibition of 35 of his best paintings was currently touring North America. Entitled “Winston Churchill, the Painter” it included many of his favourite scenes – particularly those scenes he painted at various locations in and around Marrakech, Morocco.
 The Tuareg (Twareg, Touareg) people, are a branch of the large Berber ethnic confederation.
 Hedjaz (Hejaz) is the western coastal area of Saudi Arabia. A cummerbund is a waist binding. The word is Hindi/Urdu.
 Hubert Miles Gladwyn Jebb, 1st Baron Gladwyn (1900-1996) was a prominent British civil servant, diplomat who had held the position of Acting Secretary-General of the United Nations upon its creation in August 1945. Bloodnok’s casual remark is a dig at Jebb’s unfortunate political position at the time. As ambassador to Paris, he had been kept in the dark by Anthony Eden, the French and the Israelis during their mischievous (and highly illegal) negotiations at Sèvres in 1956, at which the plot for the Suez invasion was decided. MacMillan later sidelined him at the 1960 Paris “big power” summit.
 The Recording Industry Association of America established its first “Gold Record” award for singles in 1958. It’s first gold record was awarded to Perry Como for his hit single “Catch a Falling Star.” Gold records had been awarded before – eg; Glenn Miller in February 1942 for “Chattanooga Choo Choo” but those were one-of-a-kind awards. The new RIAA awards standardised the achievement for artists who shipped one million units in sales.
 Sidi Bel Abbès is a town in Algeria. It long held the position as the basic training camp and headquarters of the 1st Foreign Regiment of the French Foreign Legion. The end of this Goon Show is roughly based on the novel “Beau Geste” by the English novelist P. C. Wren, first published in 1924. This is the Algerian town in which the brothers train for active service.
 By complete coincidence, this is actually a river between Iran and Iraq disgorging into the Persian Gulf. I suspect Milligan invented the word for its obvious English connotations.
 Amusingly piecemeal French. “Ancor” means “another;” “garçon” means “boy.”
 Eccles replies, “I don’t care!” It is probable part of this exchange was improvised.
 The film “Room at the Top” (1959) – the first of the new wave “Kitchen Sink” dramas of the 60’s had opened in London on the 22nd January, slightly less than 4 weeks before this show was recorded.
 Milligan pronounces it as “traysbn, traysbn.”
 “Be My Love” was a popular song written for Mario Lanza by Cahn and Brodzsky. Secombe often performed this number in concert.
 “In two” is a conductor’s indication regarding the speed and pattern of his beat.