THE
£50 CURE
GOON SHOW: TLO 78107
9TH
SERIES: No 17
RECORDED:
Script by Spike Milligan
Harry Secombe was indisposed for this broadcast.
GREENSLADE: This is the BBC Home Service. Away with dull care!
Let the joy bells ring. Huzzah!
GRAMS: Dead March from “Saul”. Solemn tread of
funeral cortege. Wails of professional mourners.[1]
KEN:[2] By Jove, it's a merry, singing funeral. Don't take
it so hard folks. It's only a trial one for Eccles. And now for an encore I'll
sing a little song entitled “Looking through the knot-hole in Grandma's wooden
leg.” Maestro please, thank you…
(Sings) 'Long, long ago in the wilds of
SELLERS: I say, I say; you look a sporting gentleman to me.
You look like a sporting man.
KEN: How dare you interrupt my act with “I say, I says” while I'm trying to
entertain these nice, nutty ladies and gentlemen here.
SELLERS: Tell me, I say – tell me I say; if it takes a
chicken ten days to eat forty pounds of sawdust, how long would it take to lay
a ten-ton wooden egg? Do you give up?
KEN: Yes.
SELLERS: You do? So did the chicken!
KEN: I say – now look here, look here, look here…
SELLERS: Tell me, tell me, tell me Mister Man. Tell me Mister
man – can a woman with a wooden leg change a pound note?
KEN: Can a woman with a wooden leg change a pound note? Of course she can!
SELLERS: No of course she can not. You see, she's only got half
a knicker! [3]
(Laughs) Ha ha!
KEN: Would you kindly leave the green-gate.
SELLERS: It doesn't really matter, 'cos we're still good
friends you see. Because…
ORCHESTRA: Three note intro into song:
PETER & KEN: (Singing) “Arm in
Arm together
just like we used to be
arm in arm through destinyyyyyyyyyy.”
ORCHESTRA: Tatty “I Want to Be Happy” playoff. Segue
into rendition of “Moonlight Madonna” with violin, clarinet and trombone on
melody.[4]
HOUSE MANAGER: (Commentating
over) And now, if you'll pardon the expression, number two on your
programme is the world famous continental act, Les Trois Toms des Acton.
GREENSLADE: (Seat in the
circle voice) And onto the stage come three tatty men wearing wigs,
leotards and partially assembled boots. The anchor man has a hearing aid in his
shin.
KEN: (Acrobatic shouts.) HEEEEEEEEEEEY
HUP! HEY!
ORCHESTRA: Roll on drums. Cymbal crash. Cue
in “Moonlight Madonna” again, hold under.
KEN: And now we take pleasure in performing – (thank you very much) the
death-defying Great Pyramid. HEEEEEEEEEY HUP!
ORCHESTRA: Side drum roll under.
FX & GRAMS: Dreadful clicks and clacks as if old bones
are under stress. Behind, something heavy grinding across the stage on wheels.
HOUSE MANAGER: (Over above)
And the Trois Toms des
GRAMS: Sound of plank breaking. Enormous long
sequence of collapsing scaffolding and old timber.
HOUSE MANAGER: Oh dear, they've all gone through the stage, they'll
be killed!
ORCHESTRA: Bright and breezy version of “I Want to Be
Happy” last eight bars.
KEN: Ohh, my leg! It's gone below the waist.
LEW: (Approaching) What's
happened? Why aren't you on the stage then? [5]
KEN: I've broken my right leg.
LEW: Only one? Get back on the stage do you hear!
KEN: I refuse!
GELDRAY: You'd better do as he says boy, or we'll never work
again. Ploogee!
KEN: Right. Come here… come here. Help me up with your conk.
FX: Crack or snap of leg breaking.
KEN: Oh! There goes the other one now!
LEW: Two broken legs? Give me the mike! Hello ladies and gentlemen,
presenting Neddie Seagoon in his impression of Toulouse Lautrec.
FX: Bicycle bell.
MORIARTY: STOP! Ferme Hoi La.
GRYTPYPE: I second Ferme
Hoi La.
KEN: In our midst (if not sooner), rode two men wearing nude clothes. On a
unicycle they were. Their bodies driven by legs and their legs driven by feet.
GRYTPYPE: Nothing but the best for us, Kennie. My card de
Jour.
KEN: Oh. (Reading) “Doctors
Moriarty and Thynne, surgeons, tree fellers and old women hit while you wait.”
MORIARTY: We must examine this wreck. Say “ahhh.”
KEN: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh....
MORIARTY: Come little hairy Kennie, let us give you a free
diagnosis. Now put your head on that anvil.
FX: Shovel slammed onto anvil.
MORIARTY: Just as I thought – a fractured skull!
GRYTPYPE: Yes Ken. Now let us examine your wallet.
FX: Bolts, chains, locks, keys.
GRAMS: A few taps on huge empty water tank (to give
it that hollow sound.)
GRYTPYPE: Empty, by Jupiter. Kennie, you're suffering from
advanced poverty.
KEN: I say, is that dangerous?
GRYTPYPE: If not checked it can lead to bankruptcy and the
Pauper's Krutt, the dread disease that took poor Max Geldray's conk away in its
prime.
GELDRAY: Yes, I got it bad and dat ain't good, boy.
KEN: You going to play mate?
GELDRAY: Yes, dat means that you're going back for…
CAST: THE BRANDYYYYYYY!
GRAMS: Thundering of departing boots.
MAX
GELDRAY – “I’ll Be With You in Apple Blossom
Time” [6]
GELDRAY: Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen.
GREENSLADE: During Mr Geldray's conk, the great surgeons worked
on Connor's poverty.
FX: Scratchy nib on paper.
MORIARTY: Now little hairy Kennie, here is a National Health prescription
on hair.
KEN: Ah! I see. (Reads) “Pounds fifty
to be taken once a week until better.” Money! (Laughs) Ha, ha, ha! So that's the cure for poverty.
GRYTPYPE: Yes, it took a lot of Lab work but we found it.
KEN: Well, I'll get round to the bank and have this made-up.
MORIARTY: Not with those naughty broken legs Kennie. We'll
keep them until they are mended. Now let us rest your body on this pair of
skates and away you go! GRYTPYPE &
MORIARTY: AWAY! GOODBYE!
GRAMS: A pair of skates rattling along pavement at
speed. KEN: (over – pre-recorded) “Hurray for money!” Gradually
speed the whole thing up.
GRYTPYPE: Now Moriarty, our master-plan.
MORIARTY: Yes, with the master.
GRYTPYPE: Put on this mask, strap it to your knee, then glue
this bearded wig to your teeth.
MORIARTY: There! Thereeeee! – how do I look?
GRYTPYPE: It's too early to say.
MORIARTY: Look out, here comes an announcement!
GREENSLADE: And now by arrangement with America, the sound of
the Bank of England.
FX: Penny dropped into an empty
biscuit-tin.
BANK TELLER: (Gay) We
had a beastly day, dear.
KEN: Ah ha! Hello merry bank teller.
BANK TELLER: I say, what's this! A sack of potatoes on skates?
KEN: No, no, no! It's only a temporary measure. Now call your manager.
SPRIGGS: What is it Jim? What is it Jiiiiiiiiiim?
KEN: Make up this prescription please Jiiiiiiiiiim!
SPRIGGS: (Are you taking…?) Fifty pounds on the National
Health. Now that will cost you a shilling Jiiiiiiiiiim!
KEN: Touché Jiiiiiiiiiim!
SPRIGGS & KEN: (Extended) Jiiiiiiiiiim!
&c
SPRIGGS: (It gets worse all the time folks.) Miss Lumb, make
up a bottle of fifty pounds.
FX: Scoop up handful of coins.
SPRIGGS: There Jim. There Jiiiiiiiiiim!
KEN: (I won’t do it agaiiiiiiin! I promise.) [7] Thank
you! Thank you my man. And here's a tip.
SPRIGGS: A tip? A piece of cork!
KEN: Yes, it's a CORK TIP!
CAST: HEY!
ORCHESTRA: Corny chord in C.
GRAMS: Applause. Cheering over.
KEN: STOP!
GRAMS: Cheering stops immediately.
KEN: Stop! It wasn't that funny folks!
It wasn't that funny.
MORIARTY: (Effort) Urghin!
FX: Heavy blow on something solid.
KEN: (Dazed) Ohh, nutted by men
with masked knees
MORIARTY: Got him! He’s lapsing into unconsciousness with a
capital ONG! Now get this bottle of money, and off we GO!
GRAMS: Single whoosh.
KEN: (Agony) Whyroooooooooooang!
WILLIUM: (Blows hot
break on police whistle.) 'Ello sir! 'Ello! I was reading the Police
Gazette and I saw your advert that read, “Help, I’s been attacked. Apply to the
supine body on the pavement.”
KEN: Yes my man. I've just had my medicine stolen.
WILLIUM: Stolen on it yern?
KEN: Yern.
WILLIUM: Ahn! Now, where's me mate's note-hook? Ah, here it
is on top of the
KEN: It's called fifty pounds.
ECCLES: (Approaching) Hello
Ken!
KEN: Hello Eccles.
ECCLES: Well, I better be gettin' along.
WILLIUM: 'Ere, 'ere wait a minute. ‘Ere, ain't you the
Minister who built that highway that fell to bits? [8]
ECCLES: No.
WILLIUM: Ohh, well it was somebody like you, I know.
ECCLES: (Belligerent) I
arrest you for the murder of Bluebottle.
WILLIUM: He ain't dead!
ECCLES: Oh well. You watch it, that's all.
MORIARTY: Look Grytpype! It's poor Kennie and his wallet is
still empty.
FX: Furious writing.
GRYTPYFE: There Ken, a fresh prescription for fifty pounds. Now
let's get him to a hospital.
GRAMS: Pair of roller skates on pavement – very
fast. (Pre-recorded, over)
KEN: “Oh, thank heaven you came Doctor! Some swine’s
robbed my fifty pounds of medicine…” &c (Wind tape up gradually and fade
into distance.)
GREENSLADE: Now, a
GRAMS: Palm Court trio. Cups and saucers rattling.
Fade behind.
NURSE:[9] Time for your naughty medicine, Mr Connor.
KEN: Oh Nurse.... (Giggles) Ha ha!
I didn't see you.
NURSE: You are naughty. Say ahh!
FX: Loose coins being shovelled.
KEN: (Swallowing in great gulps.) Arghh! Fifty pounds! My poverty feels better already.
Gad, (swallows again) …I feel fit.
ECCLES: Hello dear. Hello my little dear – how's the
patient?
NURSE: Hello handsome.
ECCLES: Ooohh, you're a good looking fella too.
KEN: I say, you silly Eccles there! This nurse is a woman.
ECCLES: Oh well, he's a good-lookin' woman, isn't he ehi!
NURSE: Are you married?
ECCLES: Yer.
NURSE: Your poor wife!
ECCLES: Yer, but the girl next door, folks! (Lecherous) Aiohh ho hoiu hoiu hoiu....
KEN: He's growing up folks! It had to come.
ECCLES: Yer folks. Hello folks! Hello folks! And now folks,
here's my latest record folks.
GRAMS: Very old gramophone recording. (Pre-recorded
- over)
ECCLES: (Sings) Voh de, voh-de-oh-doh
Voh de, voh-de-oh-doh
Tum da-da
dai, a beautiful day...
FX:
Pistol shot.
ECCLES:
Ohhie!
(Run the whole thing slightly
faster than normal.)
KEN: Bad news folks divine! While that record was in the oven, I was dragged
from my sick bed and thrown in Holloway Women's Prison. Oh tragedy!
Incarcerated in a women's prison. I have a request for liberty!! Give me
twenty-four hours.
GOVERNOR WOLFIT: Right, hold out your steaming hat.
FX: Drop a pile of rubbish.
GOVERNOR WOLFIT: There! And it's all in minutes.
KEN: Ta sir! And in the time given I will try to trace the villains and
regain possession of my legs.
GOVERNOR WOLFIT: Right! Warden, let him go – but keep him on a
chain.
ELLINGTON: Right, I'll pay it out. Off you go mate.
GRAMS: Pair of skates rolling along pavement, with
sound of chain paying out after it. Start slow and get faster and faster.
(Pre-recorded
– over)
KEN: (Sings)China, my island home,
land of the free…&c [10]
GREENSLADE: And as the body of Connor skates into the night, we
find a lone vinegar sipper called Ray Ellington who sings divine.
RAY
ELLINGTON QUARTET – “T’aint
What You Do” [11]
GREENSLADE: Could I have some music with this announcement
please?
BLUEBOTTLE: All right then Wal. I been waiting for this bit.
(Sings and taps foot.) “Does the Christmas pudding lose its flavour
up the chimney overnight?
Does the Christmas
pudding lose its flavour…” &c
GREENSLADE: Right, venue. Ta! Ta!
BLUEBOTTLE: (Continues) “Does the Christmas pudding
lose its flavour…” &c GREENSLADE: Poor Connor is … I SAID
TA!
BLUEBOTTLE: Alright then.
(Continues to sing softly off-mic.)
GREENSLADE: Poor Connor is travelling on a roller skate, his
legs being filched by the two fiend doctors. We find him on a lonely
BLUEBOTTLE: …overnight!
(Continues to whisper behind GRAMS and
Ken’s following lines.)
GRAMS: Howling wind and rain. Roller skates
approaching with chain clanking behind.
KEN: Oh, what a night folks! Ten miles I have travelled and no signs of the
two doctors. I must complain to the AA, the BB and the CC, or in English – yes,
yes.
BLUEBOTTLE: Can I stop singing now, Captain? My nose has started
to bleed.
KEN: (Close) Go away lad will you!
I'm acting. (Acting) Now, I’m…
BLUEBOTTLE: Oh, could I act with you den?
KEN: Keep quiet, will you. Keep quiet please.
BLUEBOTTLE: Can I be your stand-in den?
KEN: Alright then, stand-in. Stand in that ‘ole over there. [12]
BLUEBOTTLE: Cor! Standing in a hole! I wish my mum could see me
now. Hello, Mum, Dad, Rene, Eileen and Dave! I am quite well and acting on
radio. Keep the dinner in the oven, 'cos l won't be....
FX: Slapstick.
BLUEBOTTLE: D’hoieee! Oh you swine, you've hurt my shirt.
KEN: Well, shut up child. I'll lay me down on this tatty piece of ground
called
BLUEBOTTLE: (Slowly going
off) I'm going home. I don't want to stay and play. (Self-fade) Do you hear me? I'm going you rotter – I’m going!
GRAMS: George Chisholm trombone solo - “Old
Comrades March.” Continue behind. Sudden great explosion. Rain on tin roof.
Skittles in bowling alley. Duck whistles. Series of firecrackers. More
explosions. Trombone stops on final explosion.
BLOODNOK: (Screams over
the explosions.) OHHH! OHHHH! Oh dear, that wasn't in the music.
KEN: You! You sir, how dare you break into my private sleep.
BLOODNOK: Well, I saw your mouth open so I came in.
KEN: Well get out of my mouth, and mind the jaws!
GRAMS: Tube train doors closing.
BLOODNOK: Just in time. But wait a moment sir! Lift up your
trouser leg.
FX: Wooden venetian blind pulled up
rapidly.
BLOODNOK: Ohhoeio! Just
as I thought, the ragged underpants of Gunner Connor, ex-regimental strangler.
KEN: Exposed! How – tell me, how do you know my terrible secret?
BLOODNOK: The war lad!
KEN: (Thinking) Ahh....
BLOODNOK: The invasion – Salerno. Remember we spent that night
in a field together?
KEN: What! Sheila Francis, 601 ATS Company. Darling, what hit you?
BLOODNOK: Put me down you blind military fool! I'm not her, do
you hear me. I'm military and not her, do you hear me! And I quote from this
dishonourable discharge paper, I'm… No, better still – I'll unveil myself.
FX: Ripping of canvas sheet.
KEN: Oooooo! Great Heavens! It’s Major Denis Bloodnok, coward and bar. What
are you doing on a lonely
BLOODNOK: The old trouble lad, you know. You never know where
you’ll find ‘em. You see, I'm on a world tuba playing tour of
KEN: It must be hell in there.
BLOODNOK: It is. Look, we can't stand here in this rain on a
lonely moor. People will think we're avoiding them. Wait a minute. Give me a
rock – there's something behind that tree. (Effort)
Huh.....
GRAMS: Lump of wood on punching bag. (Pre-recorded.
Speed up gradually at end.) BLUEBOTTLE: (Distant) Houeeeeeeie! You swine
Bloodnok man! You've krinned my sore plitt.
ORCHESTRA: Mad link. Sudden rush of complicated phrase.
Pause. Another mad rush to play the same phrase. All the orchestra give a mad
yell. George Chisholm sings: “Ooooo-OOOOOO-ooooo.” All orchestra play the same
phrase. Chisholm busks trombone solo.
GRAMS: Huge explosion.
ORCHESTRA: Bursts into mad Milligan swing tune.
GRAMS: Screech of brakes. Car crashes into plate
glass window. Three or four cuckoos from genuine cuckoos.
MORIARTY: And there's more where that came from!
FX: Slapstick.
MORIARTY: Owww....
GREENSLADE: And for no reason other than a paucity of creative
continuity, we go to an outlandish old Victorian manor. If you roll up your
trousers you will hear it quite clearly.
GRAMS: Boiling cauldron.
BANNISTER: (Hot rhythm.) Ha, ha, ha-ha heee! Boil cauldron, boil. (Sudden shock) Ooow! Eye
of newt, leg of toad, eagles knee, shell of snail. He, he, he-he heee! Ha, ha, ha,
ha-ha hoooo!
CRUN: Mistress Bannister, what is that hellish fiend brew?
MINNIE: It's your laundry Henry. I'm making a laundry soup
from it.
FX: Door opens.
BANNISTER: Make way for him Henry. Stand back!
OLD UNCLE OSCAR: Morninggggggggggg ahhh Mim ahhhhhhh....
BANNISTER: He's saying good morning Henry. (Loudly) Good morning! (Normal)
He’s a bit mutton you know. (Loudly) Morning
Uncle Oscar!
CRUN: Good morning.
BANNISTER: What did you do with his ear trumpet?
CRUN: Uncle, what are you doing out of your grave so early?
OLD UNCLE OSCAR:[13] Ahmma… I'm feeling better. Hot porridge, ahhhhh.
CRUN: He wants hot porridge, Mm.
BANNISTER: Sip this nice steaming laundry soup.
OLD UNCLE OSCAR: Gnyng…gnyng… (Sips)
BANNISTER: Drink it all down.
FX: Piece of wood hits punching bag.
GRAMS: Broody chicken. Continue under.
CRUN: Oh Min! It's turned him into a male chicken.
BANNISTER: Oh dear! We’ll give him an aspirin and put him to
bed. (Calls) Cheep! Cheep! Come on.
CRUN: Yes, perhaps it will wear off by morning. If not, (Gleefully) – chicken for Sunday dinner Min. (Laughs) Ha ha hooo!
GRAMS: Pane of glass smashes.
FX: Stone falls on floor.
BANNISTER: Lawks a-missy, the knees have come off my drawers. Oooh
dear, a stone through the window!
CRUN: There's something attached to
it.
KEN: It's me folks, Kennie. And this is my way of saying to you, “Have you
got lodgings?”
CRUN: I've got 'em very bad sir.
BANNISTER: Look you could share the steam attic with two
gentlemen doctors upstairs.
KEN: Two gentlemen doctors? Send for the police! Those men are criminules.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic link.
GRAMS: Distant police sirens approaching.
MORIARTY: (Singing) Ma
mallappa poi,
My little dream divine…
Ahh!
What's that? Oooh! Ahhhhhh, Sapristi nabolas! The police! They've surrounded
the house with surround.
GRYTPYPE: What? Somebody's tipped them off. Get the Gatling
gun loaded and put this string in your shoulder holster.
MORIARTY: Alright.
WILLIUM: (Off) You
in there, give yourself up on it. You're surrounded. Come out with your hands
up or we'll say rude words on you.
KEN: (Distant) I say, throw my
legs out you naughty man!
GRYTPYPE: One step nearer Kennie, and your legs will go in the
mincer.
KEN: What! You wouldn't dare mince the legs of a Connor.
GRYTPYPE: No? I tell you we're desperate men.
KEN: (You must be, to be on this show.)
MILLIGAN: What! He’s ad-libbing.
KEN: Bluebottle, now you’re my stand-in! (I'm not ad-libbing at all. No.) Salt-Sellers…er,
Bluebottle, please take this conker and get my legs back.
BLUEBOTTLE: Alright Captain. I’ve got my Finchley gang with me. (Calls) Ready men?
GRAMS: A dozen little boys scream “YESSS!”
BLUEBOTTLE: CHARGE!
GRAMS: Hundreds of small boots running away.
KEN: There they go little heroes all. All that night folks, the battle for
my legs it raged.
GRAMS: Hundreds of Bluebottles shouting “Bang!
Bang! You’re dead!”
FX: Door opens.
MORIARTY: Ahhh! Stop! We give up. Those pimples and elastic
string – they’ve overpowered us.
GRYTPYPE: They were too much for us.
MORIARTY: They certainly were. Come in little boys – come in
and have some of this nice laundry soup.
GRAMS: Hundreds of little boots rushing inside.
GRYTPYPE: Yes, come in. Let's all sip some of this special
“Minnie Bannister” soup.
KEN: I’d like to see what's coming now. Here it goes, then.
OMNES: Sipping and
slurping.
GRAMS: Broody chickens. Gradually add more and more
chickens under. Slightly increase speed as it goes.
CRUN: Min, what did you put in that laundry soup?
GREENSLADE: Ladies and Gentlemen, with the entire cast
unfortunately turned into brood chickens, we are forced to close this series of
the Goon Show. The entire audience will now join hands, teeth and knees with
the orchestra and sing.
PIANO: C7 chord intro.
CAST: (All sing.) We’ll gather
lilacs in the spring again,
And walk together down an
English lane
Until our hearts have
learned to love again
When you come home once
more.
(Some of the cast add humming in the background and a
little counterpoint.)
GRAMS: Gradually add sound of broody chickens
behind. Swell to end.
CAST: (Singing) And in the evening
by the firelight’s glow
You’ll hold me close and
never let me go,
Your eyes will tell me all I
long to know
(Big ending) When you come home once more.[14]
ORCHESTRA: Play-out, “Old Comrades March”.
GREENSLADE: That was the last of the ninth series of Goon Shows,
with the Ray Ellington Quartet, Max Geldray, Wally Stott and his orchestra,
Peter Sellers and Spike Milligan who writes the script, also Kenneth Connor in
place of Harry Secombe who was indisposed. Sound control and effects led by
Brian Widdey, Ian Cook and Jimmy Pope. The announcer was Wallace Greenslade and
the recorded series was produced by John Browell. [15]
ORCHESTRA: End music, “Old Comrades March”. Fade.
YTI
