GOON SHOW: TLO 71336
9TH SERIES: No 5
Script by Spike Milligan
GREENSLADE: This is the BBC light program. (Enthusiastic) Away with dull care!
SEAGOON: You’re right, Wal. Let’s dance!
GRAMS: 'Archers' theme music, slightly faster. Bring in sound of mummers over.
GRAMS: Music stops.
CASH:  Don’t you know it’s dangerous to do a pas de deux in a confined space?
SEAGOON: Pas de deux? What’s it mean? What’s it mean?
MILLIGAN: It means you’re ignorant, Jim!
SEAGOON: Nonsense, lies, lies, I tell you! Listen to this. Two and two are four. C- A-T, cat. D-O-G, um, um…
SPRIGGS: D-O-G spells what, Jim?
SEAGOON: Correct! D-O-G spells "what Jim." Well done! A funny thing happened to me on the way to the theatre today. A man in lilac pyjamas said, "Could you direct me to a flower bed?"
GRAMS: Sudden burst of wild applause.
GRAMS: Sudden stop.
SELLERS: Mister Seagoon?
SEAGOON: Yes. Don’t stand too near me, I’ve got money.
SELLERS: This message just arrived by plumed messenger for you.
SEAGOON: It’s a hand-typed letter. Let me see. (Reads) "The governors of the BBC cordially invite you to throw yourself off
. Dress optional." London Bridge
GREENSLADE: This is a great honour for you, Mr Seagoon.
SEAGOON: What! They must think I’m a charlie.
MILLIGAN: (Distant shout.) Charlie!
SEAGOON: Hello? (Double take.) Oh, that was a slip of the ton-guew! Your turn, Wal. Give us your words now.
GREENSLADE: Gentlemen, there’s a jolly hand-written show on the other side of this music.
ORCHESTRA: Can-Can. End with cymbal snap.
SELLERS: It was the year eighteen hundred and nineteen thirty-two, and
was under the iron heal of French domination. (Burst of cod French) It was da yukkule, monsteur ya yukkle. Along the boulevards, women was dressed in acme of stupidity and the cafes were full of Hayworth's ex-husbands. Paris
GRAMS: Old gramophone recording of “Sur les toits de Paris.”
FX: Water splashing in bath.
MORIARTY: (Singing over) Yukka beugh beugh beugh…
GRYTPYPE: Do you want a bucket?
MORIARTY: Come on merry Grytpype, it’s a beautiful day. Look, the sun is shining through the hole in your underwear.
GRYTPYPE: Get out of that bath Frankish wretch, and do an impression for me of food.
GREENSLADE: (Approaching) Pardon monsieur, the patron of this cafe wishes to inform you that taking a bath and double beds are forbidden in here.
GRYTPYPE: But they’re both over fourteen and house-trained.
GREENSLADE: I’m sorry, but you see..
GRYTPYPE: Do you realize who we are?
GRYTPYPE: You see those pallid clenched knees arising from that bath water?
GREENSLADE: Oui, monsieur.
GRYTPYPE: They belong to the submerged fear-ridden body of Count Jim "Bubbles"…
GRAMS: Stream of bubbles.
GRYTPYPE: …Moriarty, owner of the world’s greatest collection of fourteenth Century Italian explosions.
GRAMS: Huge explosion.
GRYTPYPE: There’s one now. A genuine Richard the Third.
GREENSLADE: But, monsieur you've been you’ve been living here for a month without buying a drink.
SEAGOON: (Approaching) Stay your hand Mister landlord, monsieur. I’ll buy these two villains a drink. (Calls) Garcon, three tins of wine.
GRYTPYPE: Thank you, sir, thank you. By your bearing, your dress and your manner, I presume you are an uncultured oaf.
SEAGOON: Aha ha ha. Thank you. May I sit down?
MORIARTY: I thought you were.
SEAGOON: What, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what… (Clucks like a chicken.)
GRYTPYPE: Apart from Harry Secombe, who are you?
SEAGOON: Well, I’m Lord and Lady Debrett, nee Ned Seagoon. And both my legs are licensed for walking.
GRYTPYPE: They won’t last, I tell you. (Short silence.) No. What are you doing in Paris?
SEAGOON: Well, apart from that, I’m over here on a sort of busman’s holiday.
GRYTPYPE: Doing what?
SEAGOON: Driving buses. I do it to eke out my fifty pound allowance.
MORIARTY: (Fiscal fibrillations) Fifty pounds! Aghghghgha! He’s got money, he’s got money!
GRYTPYPE: You must pardon the steam Count, he’s in strict training.
SEAGOON: For what?
GRYTPYPE: His death.
SEAGOON: Ha! Gad, he looks in perfect condition for it. He must win.
SEAGOON: Well, I think I will go and blow my fifty pounds at the table.
MORIARTY: That fifty pounds again! (Hysterical) Argh, argh &c
FX: (Multiple slapsticks. Mix in wooden spoon in jam-tin, sticks on wooden box, boxing glove on punching bag. Continue under.)
GRAMS: (Add in distant rifle fire. Bring in sound of old fashioned motor car klaxon wound up to infinity.)
SEAGOON: Is he ill?
GRYTPYPE: Aye, aye. I fear he’s got the dreaded pauper’s crut, you know. There is only one known cure – fifty pounds placed inside the victim’s wallet.
SEAGOON: Has he got that much?
GRYTPYPE: No, but just by chance he has an empty wallet.
MORIARTY: (Barely restrained) Argh! Fifty pounds…
GRYTPYPE: We must hurry and find that money. His overacting is becoming increasingly apparent to us all.
SEAGOON: I say, would... er, would my fifty pounds be of any use?
GRYTPYPE: Well, we can but try, Ned, we can but try. Let me have it.
FX: (Coins in a counting machine.)
MORIARTY: It is a penny short!
GRYTPYPE: Lord Debrett, you have the steam Count’s undying thanks. We shall go directly to the Mona Lisa and sign an IOU on the bottom for you.
GRAMS: Double whoosh.
SEAGOON: Well, whilst I'm waiting here, I’ll just play this extended play-conk of Max Geldray.
GELDRAY: Oh boy, my conk is still getting the breaks!
MAX GELDRAY - "All in the Game" 
GREENSLADE: Part two – the Louvre, the well-known double entendre and comic's resort.
SEAGOON: Ah yes, here is the Mona Lisa, and look Wal – what honest men those two were!
SEAGOON: There, you see? – the corner. You see that the paint’s still wet.
GREENSLADE: (Reads) I-O-U fifty pounds, signed Leonardo da Vinci.
SEAGOON: Yes, so that’s what their name was, Leonardo da Vinci. Well, I’ll just slip the painting into my inside pocket. There!
FX: Slap on coat.
ECCLES: Hullo! (Let me stop messing around there and let me get on with the show.) Comment allez-vous?
SEAGOON: Bien, merci. Et vous?
ECCLES: Oh, that’s the end of that. Haha.
SEAGOON: Dear listeners, the art connoisseur wore a suit of shredded brown paper scaffolding around his legs and a body that hadn't been lived in for some time.
ECCLES: Well, I’m dressed for the part. I’m going to conquer
. Mount Snowdon
SEAGOON: It’s been climbed before, you know?
ECCLES: Ah, but has anybody eaten it before?
SEAGOON: I’ve, er, I’ve never seen it on the menu.
ECCLES: Ah, then the way is clear for my attempt. Hold this plate.
FX: Clink of plate. Unwrapping of parcel.
SEAGOON: He opened the parcel and took out a slice of earth labelled
. Mount Snowdon
WILLIUM: ‘Ere, stop ‘im! Stop ‘im! ‘eEre, Eccles, put that down now. I told you not to eat Mount
Snowdon‘til you was fit, didn’t I? Swallow this condition powder.
WILLIUM: Now, for the next month you trains only on eating ‘ills.
SEAGOON: Are you his trainer?
WILLIUM: Yeah, I am, mate, yeah. I’ve been managing ‘im since ‘e was two, you know. Since then, I been a-training ‘im for the biggie. You see, mate, the moment ‘e eats a mountain, ‘ollywood will be screaming for ‘im.
SEAGOON: Oh, I say, do you need a stand-in?
WILLIUM: Got any money?
SEAGOON: I am expecting fifty pounds.
WILLIUM: Fifty pounds? How much is that then? I mean, which side of ‘alf-a-crown is it on?
SEAGOON: The rich side.
WILLIUM: You’re on, mate! You’re Eccles’ stand-in.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic chords.
GREENSLADE: The luxurious and naughty Hotel Des Crottes in
GRAMS: “O Sole Mio” on massed mandolins.
GRYTPYPE & MORIARTY: (sing along to the music)
GRYTPYPE: Ah, this is it! This is the bonne villa, bon mot. Moriarty, pass me another strand of fumed spaghetti.
GRAMS: Electronic spring. “Fred the oyster” gargle.
GRYTPYPE: Delicious, delicious. Ah, pudendo di plel. How much money do we have left Moriarty?
MORIARTY: Ten pounds.
GRYTPYPE: That means we can afford to stay on at this hotel for another six moments. Have you got the cartons packed, the knotted sheets hanging out of the window?
MORIARTY: Yes. I've ...
FX: Knock on door.
GRAMS: Boots running away fast. Pane of glass breaking. Body into water.
GRYTPYPE: The coward! Come in, will you
FX: Door opens.
GELDRAY: Don’t move, boy! I’m from the French Seurat police.
GRYTPYPE: It's son of Hylda Baker.
GELDRAY: Silence! You are in the presence of a great man. I am Mr. Max "Conks" Geldray, the world’s greatest Dutch detective.
SEAGOON: …and the world’s worst actor!
GRYTPYPE: Please, Ned, please, back to your own bed! Now tell me, why has your conk forsaken its place in safety behind your harmonica?
GELDRAY: The Mona Lisa has been stolen, boy. Stolen from the… erm.. How do you pronounce this?
GRYTPYPE: Louvre. L-O-U-V-R-E, pronounced –
GRAMS: (Pre-recorded. Add reverb. Vary the playback speed on each.)
GRYTPYPE: Louvre. Louvre. Louvre. Louvre. Louvre. (Add multitrack, gradually speed the whole thing up.) Louvre…&c There, you have a choice of twenty.
GELDRAY: Well, it’s been stolen by a short, fat man.
GRYTPYPE: Neddie with the Mona Lisa. Gad!
GELDRAY: By golly, I swear I’ll get it back. Till then, my conk will never rest. Farewell, boys, farewell.
ORCHESTRA: Tatty chord in C.
GREENSLADE: He was very good you know, very good. He's never done
any acting before you know.
SEAGOON: Now we know why mate.
GREENSLADE: Please Mister Seagoon, please!
GREENSLADE: Now, if listeners will bend down, they will see quite clearly a meeting with a piano accompaniment
GRAMS: Tatty music hall piano behind.
CHAIRMAN: (Older than God) Gentlemen, I am…erm, I am glad to announce that since 1893, no other mountain eating has occurred in
OMNES: (Desultory applause.)
CHAIRMAN: Now I propose… Urghhh… (Coronary)
FX: Body falls to floor.
CRUN: Oh dear! Oh, he’s dead, Min.
BANNISTER: What, again?
CRUN: Gentlemen, the chairman has just died.
OMNES: (Further desultory applause.)
CRUN: We will send a fresh husband to the widow as soon as the weather permits. Now, as he was saying, if this…
GRAMS: Broody chicken clucking.
CRUN: Oh dear, Min, hold this chicken. Be careful, she’s...
BANNISTER: I don’t know why you have to carry a chicken around, Henry.
CRUN: Well, it’s the fog, Min. I always carry one when there’s a fog.
BANNISTER: What for?
CRUN: Because chickens can’t see where they’re going in a fog. Unless it’s a fog-chicken, and there’s no such thing as a fog chicken.
BANNISTER: What are you talking about? There was no fog today.
CRUN: Well, this isn’t a fog chicken.
CRUN & BANNISTER: (Argue about fog chickens. Extended.)
SEAGOON: (From the floor of the meeting) Get on with the meeting! I've got a cricket ball to catch!
CRUN: Gentlemen, to prevent mountain-eating in
we are raising the license fee to fifty pounds sterling. England
ECCLES: (From the back of the hall) Aww, mate, you’ve ruined my mountain-eating chances.
SEAGOON: Unfair to mountain-eating stand-ins!
ORCHESTRA: Dodgy violin version of “Hearts and Flowers”.
GRAMS: Funeral sobbing behind.
SEAGOON: (Crying while writing.) No money for a mountain-eating license…
FX: Quill on paper, under.
SEAGOON: … no signs of Leonardo da Vinci’s fifty pounds back. (Sobs) I’ve been forced to live in a fifteen shilling a week suit, I in the jacket, and Eccles in the trousers.
ECCLES: Open the window! Now, I’ll start my new diary. What’s it say here? Tuesday the second. What will I write?
FX: (Quill on paper.)
ECCLES: Today is Saturday. (Second thoughts.) Oh, no! Today ..
FX: (Knock on door)
ECCLES: Ah, that’s it! Today I heard a knock on the door. Is this a record?
BLUEBOTTLE: No, it’s me, you twit! Open up you twit. I’m freezing out here.
FX: Door opens.
BLUEBOTTLE: Good evening sir. Is you the man who just opened the door?
SEAGOON: Yes I am, lad.
BLUEBOTTLE: Cor, what a memory you’ve got!
SEAGOON: Ah, yes, yes. I remember things, you know. Magna Carta 1215...
BLUEBOTTLE: You’ve had a good life, haven’t you sir?
SEAGOON: Yes. Who are all these crutty herberts with string bags?
BLUEBOTTLE: Do not call them that, sir. They are mens of the third Finchley wolf cubs in mufti. Men, by putting knees together all the way down, atten-shun!
FX: Sticks inside jam tins.
BLUEBOTTLE: Steady, men, steady there! I say, Jules, why don’t you use your handkerchief? From the right, number!
GRAMS: Wolf cubs counting to ten. Vary the speed wildly.
SEAGOON: Here, hold on! Those three end cubs are girls.
BLUEBOTTLE: Don’t give us away, mister. After all, it’s cheaper than television, isn’t it? You’re a man of the world. You understand.
SEAGOON: I do now.
BLUEBOTTLE: We’re collecting for the East Finchley Poor-Mothers'-Christmas-Pudding-Club-jumble-sale-fete.
ECCLES: Here, Neddie. I just phoned that number and there’s nobody in.
SEAGOON: What number?
ECCLES: Magna Carta 1215.
BLUEBOTTLE: Oh, look, it’s silly old Eccles. Hello, silly old Eccles.
ECCLES: Hullo, ‘bottle, hullo. (Thinks) Err, hullo silly old ‘bottle! That got even with him!
BLUEBOTTLE: 'Ere, Why ain’t you got no clothes on?
ECCLES: Well, I’ve just been making a phone call.
BLUEBOTTLE: You don’t have to undress for that.
ECCLES: Aha! We learn something new every day.
BLUEBOTTLE: You going to give the Young Mothers something then?
SEAGOON: Yes, here’s a Ray Ellington, and there's a bottle of brandy. (Into distance.) Aaaaarrgh
GRAMS: Single whoosh.
ELLINGTON: I wonder where he keeps that stuff.
RAY ELLINGTON QUARTET - "There will never be another you"
CYNTHIA: (TV advertiser) Hello, mothers, housewives. Good news. Did you know that Ray Ellington is now on sale in the shops? At three and four a pound, he’s really wonderful value. Better than those silly old two and four-penny husbands. And remember, Ray Ellington lasts the whole drink through. Get Ray Ellington today. Oooh!
GREENSLADE: Mr. Sellers hastens to add that he’s only doing an impression. And now, the Mountain Eaters, part two. Mr. Secombe!
GRAMS: Pair of boots approaching, running. Slows up and stops.
SEAGOON: Whew, sorry I’m late, Wal.
GREENSLADE: (Off mic) That's all right mate.
SEAGOON: I couldn’t get the cork out. Here! Where we up to there, Wal?
GREENSLADE: Well now, we have discovered that eating mountains in
requires no license. So – well, listen to this. India
FX: Door opens.
BANERJEE: Mr Lalkaka! Mr Lalkaka! Where are you man, where are you? Making an appearance please.
LALKAKA: What, what! Mr Banerjee what are you doing here in the chutney season?
BANERJEE: I'm telling you, I'm telling you – indeed gregarious and incorruptible news has been reaching my Hindu ears, man.
LALKAKA: There have reached there, have they? Good heavens – you must hurry. Hurry man!
BANERJEE: I have heard a rumour that
Mount Everestis getting shorter.
LALKAKA: Well – if it’s getting shorter, it’s no surprise to me. None at all. Look, let’s face it man,
Mount Everesthas had a good run for its money. All good things must come to an end, you understand.
BANERJEE: Most indubitably I'm understanding that. I'm understanding you. But
we must go and investigate the reason for Mount Everest’s demise. Now come along – swallow this mango curry and off we go.
GRAMS: Single whoosh.
ORCHESTRA: Bloodnok theme.
GRAMS: Series of explosions.
BLOODNOK: Oh, oh, oh! Oh, oh dear, dear! I’ve never had ‘em so bad, you know. Ellinga! Ellinga, bring me ointment. My boots are squeaking.
CHIEF ELLINGA: Tal lallum malla haalla kallam maam. Aamani zadool joolama, mate! Tanghooa. Ma taab faagool!
BLOODNOK: Ooooh! You too, eh? I’ll get rid of them for you. Hand me my military saxophone and civilian drum.
ORCHESTRA: Saxophone and drum play dodgy version of “The Old Comrades March”.
SEAGOON: (Distant) Hey! Hey you! Put a sock in it!
BLOODNOK: I’ve got two socks in it and it’s hell in there, sir.
ECCLES: (Distant) Stop that (Sings) “Lum lum lum, la-la-la-la lum lum lum…” Stop that music!
BLOODNOK: I say, you aren’t by any chance a millionaire, are you?
ECCLES: One, two, three, threepence. No.
BLOODNOK: Well, it was a shot in the dark.
SEAGOON: I hope it hits him. Listen you brown blatherer, we’re trying to eat a mountain and we must have silence for it. S-I-L-E-N-C-E, pronounced…
BLOODNOK: Beautifully pronounced! But, dear little Welsh titch of no fixed trousers, you don’t think that I play that military saxophone without reason, do you? Oh, good heavens, no. It’s the only way of keeping boils away.
BLOODNOK: WHAT! Have you ever seen a saxophone with boils?
BLOODNOK: Well, let’s hear no more of it, then.
ORCHESTRA: (Repeat as before.)
SEAGOON: Stop! Stop! AARGHH! If I give you this, will you stop?
BLOODNOK: What, what! Where’s my old ex-W.D. glasses? I-O-U fifty pounds, Leonard da Vicki… No, Vinki. Oh ho! End of part two.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic link. Stops suddenly. George Chisholm
“I’m in love with an old trombone…”
GRAMS: Huge jelly splosh.
ORCHESTRA: Further dramatic link. Followed by out of tune trumpet and trombone solos. End with tatty chord in C.
CYNTHIA: Get some today!
GREENSLADE: It is a month later.
GRAMS: Shovels into sand.
SEAGOON: (Chewing and swallowing) We’ve done it, Eccles. We’ve done it! We’ve eaten
Mount Everest. All we've got to do now is to wait for the Hollywoodoffers roll in.
ECCLES: Yeah, all we got to do is wait for
Hollywoodoffers to roll in. Yeah, to roll in. (Pause) They’re taking a long time, aren’t they?
SEAGOON: Nonsense, it just seems a long time because that’s what they’re taking.
GRYTPYPE: Hello, Neddie.
SEAGOON: It’s two men called Leonardo da Vinci.
GRYTPYPE: Thank you, three men called Secombe.
SEAGOON: Well, you’ve got my fifty pounds, eh?
GRYTPYPE: No, Neddie. Now, you’re a naughty boy. Did you know the fifty pounds you lent us was very ill?
GRYTPYPE: Yes, But don’t reproach yourself, Neddie. Nevertheless, it was, so as an act of charity, we took your fifty pounds to
for a holiday. Italy
SEAGOON: Is it better?
GRYTPYPE: Oho, so much better, Neddie. Wonderful, it's bronzed, wears shorts, and can whistle the Maiden’s Prayer.
MORIARTY: Now, Neddie. Do you still have our nice I-O-U on the Mona Lisa?
SEAGOON: (Giggling) You’ll laugh at this. You see, I didn’t think you were coming back.
GRYTPYPE: You mean you doubted our obvious insincerity? Who’s got it?
SEAGOON: Major Dennis Bloodnok, the well-known exploder.
BANERJEE: (Distant) Look! There are the two men. Arrest them! Arrest them!
SEAGOON: What, what. You can't arrest me. I've got a doctor's certificate saying prisons are bad for me.
BANERJEE: Never mind the chat man. One of you two men must have eaten
Mount Everest. Come on now.
SEAGOON: I'm not going to split, me – a gentleman! Never! I refuse to tell you.
ECCLES: Well stop pointing at me then.
BANERJEE: Arrest him in Hindu.
GRAMS: Single pair of boots running away. Massed boots running after them.
GRYTPYPE: Come, Moriarty, next stop, Bloodnok.
GRAMS: Single whoosh.
BLOODNOK: Oooh! Oh, who are you? What are you doing?
MORIARTY: Neddie wants his silly old Mona Lisa back, Dennis.
BLOODNOK: Oh! It’s sold. You don’t think old Dennis didn’t know the value of that painting, did you? Oh hohoho, yes. Look at this little crisp wad here. Three pounds ten.
MORIARTY: You fool. That painting was worth five hundred thousand pounds!
MORIARTY: Who bought it?
BLOODNOK: The Finchley wolf cubs.
GRAMS: Double whoosh.
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic chord.
GRAMS: Murmur of massed boy scout voices. Hold under.
GRYTPYPE: (Close) Just there, Moriarty. That spotty cub’s got it.
WOLF CUB: Roll up! Roll up! What am I bid for this old painting?
GRYTPYPE: This is just going to be just too easy, Moriarty. Start the bidding.
MORIARTY: (Calls out) Ah, little boy, two shillings for that silly old painting.
WOLF CUB: Two shillings? Ho, ho, ho. Sorry, it’s more than that, you know. We have a fixed price on it.
GRYTPYPE: (Laughs) Oh, dear, dear. How much is it then, sonny?
SECOMBE: Five hundred thousand pounds.
GRYTPYPE: (Close) Moriarty, these wolf cubs are getting smarter every day. Come!
ORCHESTRA: Tatty chord in C.
GRAMS: Hurrying boots on bare floorboards.
GREENSLADE: I say, I did enjoy that. Well, must be off home to the little woman. Goodnight all. Goodnight.
ORCHESTRA: Cartoon march. Two trumpets and bass drum.
GREENSLADE: Playout. “Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead.”
 The Goon Shows “Mountain” episodes. “The Greatest Mountain in the World:” (2/Vin) “The Saga of the Internal Mountain”(9/Vin), “The Thing on the Mountain,”(15/8th) and “The Mountain Eaters.”
 “The Archers” was the world’s longest running radio soap opera, first broadcast on the BBC in 1950. The theme’s actual title is “Barwick Green” and is taken from the orchestral suite “My Native Heath” written by the Yorkshire composer Arthur Wood in 1924.
 Sellers using the same London Jewish voice he uses the following week for ‘Lew’.
 Sellers uses an inner London working man’s accent. Seller’s genius was in being able to paint an entire character with his voice. In this case he instantly portrays a man with a slightly seedy, criminal background.
 In cod French accent.
 Margarita Carmen Casino (Rita Hayworth, 1918-1987) had just remarried for the fifth time. Her scandalous marriages to Orson Welles, the Prince Ali Khan and Dick Haymes had made her a byword for conjugal infidelity in the movie industry, while her marriage to the Muslim Prince Ali Khan had propelled her into the international jet setting crowd of La Belle France, and the international horse racing community (of which the Khan was a splendid feature.)
 Since 1769, the specialist publisher Debrett’s has regularly published a book entitled “Peerage and Baronage”, a guide to the “Who’s Who” of the British establishment.
 In 1911, the young Charles G. Dawes, later vice President of the United States under Calvin Coolidge, composed a piano piece he called “Melody in A Major.” It was given words in 1958 by Carl Sigman and became a hit for the rhythm and blues singer Tommy Edwards. Edwards’ recording label MGM was experimenting with stereophonic sound, so they cut a stereo version of the song with a rock and roll accompaniment. It reached number one in the US in September and in the UK in November.
 Des Crottes = “Droppings” in French.
 Pudendo = Spanish for penis/ or embarrassing. Piel is Spanish for skin.
 The ninth series is the period in which Bluebottle is head of the Finchley Wolf Cubs. He appears as their leader in “The Million Pound Penny” (3/9th), “The Mountain Eaters” (3/9th) ,“The Seagoon Memoirs” (7/9th) and “The Fifty Pound Cure” (17/9th). Bluebottle had been part of boys clubs in Finchley in prior series, the Finchley Sea Scouts in “The Missing Battleship” (8/8th), and the Finchley Boy Scouts in “Scradje!” (26/6th.)
 A much recorded popular song from the 1942 movie “Iceland.” Chet Baker’s 1954 recording made it one of the standards of jazz repertoire, recorded by every great jazz performer of the 50’s.
 Sellers pronounces ‘demise’ as “demeese”.
 The Grams is covered by the orchestra entering too early. In series 9 Spike wrote George Chisholm into the scripts on five occasions. Firstly in “I Was Monty’s Treble” (2/9th), then this episode, then “Dishonoured Again” (13/9) the same sequence; “The Tay Bridge Disaster” (15/9) where Chisholm plays the phantom trombonist of the glen; and finally “The Fifty Pound Cure” (17/9) where Chisholm is part of a complicated madhouse orchestral link.