RECORDED: 8 Dec 1958


Script by Spike Milligan



GREENSLADE: This is the BBC light programme. Come, let us roll up our trouser legs and reveal the contents.

SECOMBE: Mister Greenslade, cover those revealing, off-the-shoulder socks!

GREENSLADE: I’m sorry, but I must cut down on spices.

SECOMBE: Be on your guard then. Now kneel down and say after me, “I am shorter than Harry Secombe.”

GREENSLADE: I will never sink that low.

SECOMBE: If you don’t acquiesce to my demands, you’ll get jelly up your vest.

GREENSLADE: I warn you Mister Snitchel-Clume that the practice of inserting jellies up senior announcers vests is punishable by death.

SECOMBE: Why – is it harmful?

GREENSLADE: Death is very harmful.

SECOMBE: And pushing a jelly up announcers vests?
GREENSLADE: It can ruin a jelly for life to say nought of its affects upon enunciation. I pray you listen to this rare recording of such an occasion.

GRAMS: (Pre-recording) SELLERS: This is London calling in the Brown

 Euphonium Service of the Ba – Bee – Cee. Here is an important

 announcement; At six o’clock this morning I fell off the top of Saint Paul’s. Will anyone who witnessed the accident please phone Scotland

GRAMS: Huge jelly splosh.


FX: Body hitting the floor.

GREENSLADE: A fate worse than death. He passed away that night in the direction of down.

SECOMBE: Thank you. Mister Sellers? Forward with your hand-knotted legs.

SELLERS: My music please, minstrel.

GRAMS: Bucolic English pastoral introduction. Hold under.

SELLERS: Ah, that music! It's 1899 and always on time. It comes from Winchelsea in the heart of the Brown country, a typical English village with a population of eight million, two-thirds under seven. From time to time nothing happens.

SEAGOON: But it always gets into the Sunday papers, mate! (Laughs) Ha ha ha!

OMNES: (Massed yokels laughing and joking.)

SUSSEX YOKEL: I don't suppose we'll ever stop it in Winchelsea! (Laughs) Ha ha ha! [1]

GRAMS: Baby crying loudly. Fade behind. Bring in birds twittering; cows lowing &c. Continue under.

BANNISTER: (Baby talk) Itsy bitsy, tiddle widdle... There, there! There, there!

CRUN: (Baby talk) Dib, dib, dib, dib, dib.

BANNISTER: Dibble, dibble…

CRUN: Dibble, dibble, dibble… Min, look! One tooth.

BANNISTER: So you have, Henry.

CRUN: How many months is he now, Min?

BANNISTER: Four hundred and thirty-nine.

CRUN: So he's thirty-seven years old, is he? [2]

BANNISTER: Yes. (Baby talk) Dib, dib, dib…

SEAGOON: Listen, Auntie Min and Uncle Hen, I know you love children but isn't it time I was weaned?

CRUN: Listen Min, he's trying to talk. (Baby talk) Da, da, da…

SEAGOON: I can't go on kipping in this pram, it's had ten extensions already. People are starting to talk!

BANNISTER: There, there.

SEAGOON: Another thing, I can't go on wearing nappies any longer.

CRUN: Long nappies are a must with you.

SEAGOON: It's embarrassing, I tell you! Look, look what happened to it in the Paul Jones last night.[3]

CRUN: You won a spot prize?

SEAGOON: Yes, but what a spot to pick!

CRUN: Let's go in and I'll show you how to bend mangoes. (Self fade) Forward with leather, Min.

BANNISTER: (Into distance) Leather forever!

SEAGOON: They've gone in, folks. (Laughs) Ha ha ha! Now's my chance to escape. I'll knot my nappies and slide down the pram. Oop – no! That would leave me starkers, and there's frost about.

GRAMS: (Pre-recording) Old music hall piano in the distance; bring in underneath the sound of an old car driving on gravel.

BLOODNOK: (Sings) I travel the road,

I travel the road,

I travel the road in a military way… [4]

GRAMS: Engine backfires.


GRAMS: Music hall piano starts again. Slowly wind up the speed.

BLOODNOK: (Sings) I travel the road,

I travel the road (he travels the road)

I travel the road in a military way.

All day long you'll see me,

down the old road,

and when you see me,

I am on the road, away!

(Fade behind.)

I travel the road…

SEAGOON: What luck! Here comes a man pushing himself along on a piano. I must say, he's a funny shape.

BLOODNOK: Scroll me frogs, and sorts me plue! What's this? Where's my regimental tape measure? Oh – three foot by three? Either it's a tall child or a short man.

SEAGOON: I'm the latter.

BLOODNOK: Oh! We must be related – I'm a former latter you know. But I retired, the strain became too much for me you know.

SEAGOON: Then those lumps on your head are not fakes.

BLOODNOK: What a practiced eye you have dear man.

SEAGOON: It's been practicing all day. Listen!

GRAMS: (Pre-recording – Vary the speed wildly on the last note.)

SECOMBE: (Sings) Do re me fa so la ti doo-ooh!

BLOODNOK: Yes, yes. (I’ll have five of those please.) What! What! That lovely thing around your neck.

SEAGOON: A gold chain. It belonged to my mother's throat

FX: Hack saw sawing metal. Chain falls to floor. Large thud.

BLOODNOK: Woops! Oh, ho, ho, ho, dear, dear. It's broken and what do you know! It's fallen straight into old Dennis' deed box. Oh! Oh! Dear, dear, dear. Do you believe in miracles, lad?

SEAGOON: Help me escape and you can keep it!

BLOODNOK: I’ll not be party to such a crime! Let me tell you sir, that I am in the process of finding King Arthur's lost sword.

SEAGOON: Let me join you – I'm facing in the same direction! What could be better batter butter &c.

BLOODNOK: Spoons on you, spoons!


BLOODNOK: Have you ever had any experience in King Arthur's sword finding?

SEAGOON: Yes, well I took a course in it at Oxford you know, and was sent down with flying colours and a pound of twenty-four hour, quick-dry liquorice.



BLOODNOK: Oh! But does your granny wear a bowler?

SEAGOON: Side-saddle!

BLOODNOK: Then you're my man! Come now, hold this outboard motor!

GRAMS: Outboard motor at full throttle. Speed up and fade into distance.

BANNISTER: Help, murder! Thieves! Oh dear.

FX: Old fashioned phone off cradle. Dialling sounds.

BANNISTER: The child gone, gone – and never called me mother.[5] Hello – (dialling, dialling..) Hello? Police! Rail? Hello? [6]

WILLIUM: (On phone) Hello? Police, rail and fire station here.

BANNISTER: Oh dear. I’m…. oooh….(vapours)

WILLIUM: Hurry up, ma'  – I'm in the bath.

BANNISTER: I won't look. Are you, are you the police?

WILLIUM: No, I'm the Station Master. I'll get him.


WILLIUM: Hello, Constable here.

BANNISTER: You were the Station Master.

WILLIUM: I was, but I changed my hat.

BANNISTER: Oh. Child Harold has been stolen!

WILLIUM: What? Little 'arold?

BANNISTER: Little Harold.

WILLIUM: The light of Blinn Street, gone? I'll save him, ma! Now then, any unusual marks on his body there?

BANNISTER: Yes, he has a pair of legs that don't reach the ground.

WILLIUM: So! – we're looking for a lad with a space underneath. I'll save him, mum. Click!

BANNISTER: "Click!"?

WILLIUM: Yeah. I'm hanging up.

BANNISTER: Oh. I'll come 'round and cut you down then.

ORCHESTRA: Tatty chord in C.

SEAGOON: Hello, folks! Hello, folks! Calling folks! It's Neddie again! We now perchance upon two men reclining in a deserted crow's nest, listening to a deserted wireless program. Hup!

GRAMS: Old fashioned gramophone recording.

SELLERS: (Breathless) Yes, it's Bert Trusser and His Late-night Golden Silver Strings. At this time of the year it's when a young man's fancy turns to love and, well, yes, this young man's fancy turned to love and lovely Tom Links sings: "I Never Knew What Love Could Do" and here it is, and it's called...

GRAMS: (Pre-recording; gradually wind the speed right up to the last note.)

 Piano arpeggio into;

SECOMBE: (sings) "I stood on cliffs at midnight,

I stood on cliffs at dawn.

I stood on the cliffs as the wind blew

and…”  HUP!

GRAMS: Body into water.

GREENSLADE: We interrupt that splash to give you a police message: The Child Harold is missing. A reward of four shillings a pound will be paid for his body’s return. At the kidnapping, the child weighed sixteen stone.

GRYTPYPE: Sixteen stone at four shillings a pound – that's forty-five pounds reward, Moriarty.

MORIARTY: With that money I can afford to stand up. Forty-five pounds! (Raves) Ohh, hwa hwa hwa hwa hwa hwa…

FX: Slapstick.

GRYTPYPE: Please Moriarty, keep still. D’you want us both out of this suit? Now, we must plan a plan during this rendering of Max Geldray's conk.

GELDRAY: Oh, boy, my conk is still making the headlines. Whoopee!

GRYTPYPE: Conk has spoken!


MAX GELDRAY -  "But Not for Me." [7]


GRAMS: Horse and cart. Sound of whip tapping horses side.

BLOODNOK: Whoa, Ned, whoa. Yes, yes. This recorded lake might well be the one in which King Arthur's sword drowned.

SEAGOON: What a terrible death for a sword.

BLOODNOK: It was in it up to the hilt, you know.

ORCHESTRA: Corny chord.

BLOODNOK: Thank you! Now Ned, I'll lay down and think of you as you schlep around looking for the old food there.

SEAGOON: Isn't it risky me walking around the country in a nappy?

BLOODNOK: Have no fear, Neddie. The district abounds in wet nurses and a twenty-four hour nappy service.

SEAGOON: Then I will return unblemished! (Laughs) Ha ha ha! Farewell!

GRAMS: Duck quacking. Fade into distance.

BLOODNOK: And that is exactly what he looks like from the back. Part three – Neddie further away.

SEAGOON: (Approaching, singing)

When you’re tramp, tramp, tramping along the highway,

with your legs all tied down!

Gad! What's this under the old cardboard oak tree? A sword in a stone.

GRYTPYPE: (Very close) He's spotted it, Moriarty.

SEAGOON: What does the label say? "Excalibur. Read instruction in envelope." FX: Envelope opening.

SEAGOON: "Whoever pulls the sword from the stone shall be king." King! Gad – I'd stop travelling on buses! (Laughs) Ha ha! (Strains) Huigh… Haaauigh… Haaaighhhhiu….

GRYTPYPE: (Approaching) Ah, dear straining lad.

SEAGOON: If I could only get this out...

GRYTPYPE: Oh. Could we help you?

SEAGOON: Do you know a blacksmith?

GRYTPYPE: Follow this road until you reach a blacksmith, and when you get there, ask again.

GRAMS: Single whoosh.

ORCHESTRA: Dramatic scene change music; then a piece of orchestral pointillism followed by a tatty chord. Further dramatic chords; then repeat the piece of orchestral pointillism. End again on a corny chord.

BLUEBOTTLE: Make up your minds, you twits! I've been standing here waiting to start my parts.

OMNES: (Massed union unrest.)

BLUEBOTTLE: Shut up! Shut up, will you! You ruined Geraldo but you won’t do it to me I tell you. Now then, ahem…"The Virrage… The Vrilridge… The Vrimridge Blacksmith” by William Wandsworth.

Boil cauldron, boil,

thou art not so unkind

as man’s ingratitude to Gerald Hairs

of twenty Qwert Street, Islington. [8]

Here, that's not right! – that's not a blacksmith. Come on now, come on. Who's the boy who's been messing around with my parts? You rotten part messers, you. Come here, you!

GRAMS: A pair of brogues approaching along pavement.

ECCLES: (Self-effacing) I'm the anti-climax.

BLUEBOTTLE: Oh dear, Eccles, I don't know what to do you with you, man. What's the matter with you man? What you got in the parcel then?

ECCLES: A bottle of water.

BLUEBOTTLE: Oh. I never knew you went in for that kind of thing.

ECCLES: Oh, well – when you're earning big money, you know... You know how it is…

BLUEBOTTLE: Yes men. Could I see it with the cork out?

FX: Paper bag rustling.

ECCLES: There 'bottle.

BLUEBOTTLE: Oh, oooh. Is that real water?

ECCLES: Oh, yeah! I got the maker's guarantee on this record. You listen.

GRAMS: (Pre-recording) BLOODNOK: This water is genuine and any copy

of it will be confiscated. Remember, only genuine water makes this sound…

GRAMS: Body into water.

PIANO: Accompaniment.

BLOODNOK: (Sings) Buy a bottle of

genuine Bloodnok

water today!

GRAMS: Body into water.

ECCLES: You see? You can't get better than that.

BLUEBOTTLE: Oh. Why do you carry it about for then, Eccles?

ECCLES: Well, it hasn't got legs.

BLUEBOTTLE: But what about running water?

ECCLES: Here, this water must be a fake. Where’s that naughty Bloodnok?

GRAMS: Single whoosh. Fade in sound of hammer on anvil. Continue under.

SEAGOON: I say, Madam – are you a blacksmith?

ELLINGTON: My name’s Smith, and you’ve got eyes.

SEAGOON: Oh! Could you help me to get this sword loose?

ELLINGTON: Well, I'll hold it and when I nod my head, you hit it.

SEAGOON: Let's get this right. You hold it, and when you nod your head, I hit it?




FX: Hammer on anvil – single stroke.

SEAGOON: Hurrah, that got it out! (Laughs) Ha ha ha! Hands up all those who thought I was going to hit him on the nut. Take ten lines.[9] (Thank you and goodnight Dennis Young.) Now then – I'm the King of England! All kneel down say after me – I am shorter than Harry Secombe!

GRYTPYPE: Your Majesty! We just heard the good news. Allow me to present my credentials.

FX: Bits and pieces falling to floor.

SEAGOON: What beauties!

GRYTPYPE: Yes. The finest set this side of the wash.

SEAGOON: Well done. (They could do with one.) Thank you loyal subjects. Kneel down and I'll dub you.

FX: Small hammer on anvil.

BLOODNOK: You filthy swine!

SEAGOON: Arise director of Tottenham Hotspur and Chelsea.

MORIARTY: Murky, murky, murky. Greeting from la France, your Majesty! Your Majesty – your royal robes and your royal choppers.

SEAGOON: They're too big!

GRYTPYPE: We'll soon fatten you up, lad. Swallow this stuffed elephant now.

SEAGOON: (Gulps)

GRAMS: Enraged elephant trumpeting.

SEAGOON: Ah, delicious!

GRYTPYPE: On the royal scales with him.

GRAMS: Creaking of scales. Different size springs popping.

GRYTPYPE: Eighty-three royal stone!

FX: Writing under.

MORIARTY: Four shillings a pound, eighty-three stone... That's two hundred and forty pounds reward!

GRYTPYPE: (Close) The heavier, the better, Moriarty! (Aloud) Come Ned, nibble this roast mountain now.

GRAMS: Avalanche. Rocks and boulders streaming down a mountainside.

SEAGOON: (Swallowing) Oh! Yerw yerw yerw yerw…cor… Ohh! (Swallows) Gad, it's wonderful being a king. You can eat things the commoners don't get. (Laughs uproariously.) Ha ha ha!

GRYTPYPE: And another little fried hippopotamus now lad!

SEAGOON: Oh, thank you!

GRAMS: Grunts of hippos mating. Slow it right down.

SEAGOON: (Over-eating) Mmm – argh! Ooooh! Let the royal minstrel play!


RAY ELLINGTON QUARTET - "Old Black Magic"[10]


SEAGOON: (Chewing – swallowing) Uning… Ulp…

GRAMS: Pair of loaded scales. Variety of springs compressed.

MORIARTY: Five hundred stone, thirty pounds, four ounces.

GRYTPYPE: A jackpot, Moriarty

SEAGOON: (Out of breath) Look, I… I can't eat any more, lads. (Hiccups) Hic! Pardon.

FX: Phone rings. Hand piece picked up.

SEAGOON: Hello? King Secombe the First here, speaking from Pond Street, Croydon.

PRIME MINISTER: (On phone) This is the Prime Minister. Look here, I've looked up your claim…


PRIME MINISTER: …and I'm afraid you're not the King of England, you know.

SEAGOON: Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat?


SEAGOON: But there must be some mistake. I'm all dressed for the part – I mean, I'm on the throne.

PRIME MINISTER: Sorry, sorry...

SEAGOON: So, what am I king of – Croydon?

PRIME MINISTER: No, not even that, no.

SEAGOON: Oh. Pong Street then?


SEAGOON: What then?

PRIME MINISTER: Well look here – what's the number of your house?

SEAGOON: Twenty three.

PRIME MINISTER: Well, that's it. You're king of twenty-three Pond Street, Croydon.

SEAGOON: That's better! (Laughs) You don't get me scared into abdication, you know!

SEAGOON: Knock, knock, knock. Ah, the door! Come in!

BLOODNOK: (Approaching) Ah Ned, what happened? Where did you get to? – you naughty thing. I've been laying by the lake for three months in all weathers, but the weather got too much for me, and the wind you know, it’s all…

SEAGOON: I bet it was, mate. Yes, your search is over – I've found the sword Excalibur.

BLOODNOK: Excalibur to you too, my dear fellow! Neddie, wait a moment! What…what… what?! Ooow. Where's me old military magnifying glass? Wait a second – this is a fake!

SEAGOON: Whatwhatwhatwhat?

BLOODNOK: Look here, "Property of the Donald Wolfit touring company of Nudes, Knees and Shakespeare."[11]

SEAGOON: (Wretched) Ahhibwychmmbwychmmbwych! This means I’ll have to abdicate. Citizens, twenty-three Pond Street is now without a king.

BLOODNOK: I declare it a republic! I say, wait a minute. Ooh ooh ohwh! Look who's heir in the mirror. Why, it's old Dennis Bloodnok – first president of twenty-three Pond Street. Hooray for Dennis!

MORIARTY: Hurry Ned, it's a revolution – they will overthrow the monarchy. Pull this coach on.

GRAMS: Cantering horses.


GRAMS: Horses gallop into distance.

SEAGOON: Thank you for rescuing me, loyal subjects. I'll see you have tea with me.

GRYTPYPE: (Approaching) And you with us! We commence with elephant au gratin and cement pudding.

FX: Large serving plate dropped onto table.

SEAGOON: (Chewing) Aahykbykb. Ah, delicious!

GRAMS: Pair of scales compressed to maximum.

MORIARTY: Six hundred and three stone, Grytpype!

SEAGOON: No more now lads, please. I'm almost bursting!

GRAMS: Explosion.

SEAGOON: Too late! Why… Why have we stopped? Where are we?

BANNISTER: (Approaching) Cooeeeee!

SEAGOON: HEEELP! Not the cradle again.

GRYTPYPE: Here Auntie Min, your child Harold. Six hundred and three stone at four shillings a pound equals, er… skelton-frunder-klee pounds reward.

BANNISTER: He's a fake! My boy only weighs sixteen stone.

GRYTPYPE: Well, we shall reduce him. Into the steam bath with him, Moriarty!

FX: Wooden lid opens.

GRAMS: High pressured hose. Sounds of scrubbing brushes. Continue under.

SEAGOON: Oh, no – please! &c

GRAMS: High pressured burst of steam.

GRYTPYPE: Get the steam on his knees, Moriarty!

GRAMS: Another burst of steam.

GRYTPYPE: (Laughs) Ha ha ha! That's it.

GRAMS: More steam.

GRYTPYPE: Look at that stomach vanish, Moriarty!

SEAGOON: (Screams) Ooo oo oo! Heeelp!

MORIARTY: That's got him down. Bring him down.

SEAGOON: Oh, please, stop! I'm vaporizing with the heat.

GRAMS: Water, steam and scrubbing brushes continue under.

(Pre-recording – gradually wind the speed right up.)

SEAGOON: You can't do this to me! I'm the King of twenty-three Ping Street. I'll have you arrested by my royal policeman! My mother keeps a duck farm in Kent and they’re all facing east I tell you! (Raves)

(Wildly vary the speed – then wind completely down to a stop.)


MORIARTY: Ah, he's vaporized. Now, into this bottle with him. There…

FX: Champagne cork popping.

MORIARTY: Now, to the Palladium!

GRAMS: Single whoosh.

GREENSLADE: The scene – Harry Secombe's dressing room.

FX: Cash register. Money in till.

GRAMS: Distant music hall piano. Distant thuds on floorboards as if chorus line are doing a routine. Sound of individuals laughing.

FX: Knock on door. Door opens.

LEW: Yeah, what is it – autographs?

ECCLES: Yeah, autographs.

LEW: In that queue over there, sonny.

FX: Ticket machine punch.

ECCLES: Ta. Ooh ah, this is his dressing room.

BLUEBOTTLE: It's hot in here.

ECCLES: Yeah. Like a drink from my bottle of water?

BLUEBOTTLE: No, thanks Eccles, I'm training to be a desert.

MORIARTY: (Approaching) Hands up, everybody! Drop everything!

GRYTPYPE: Yes! Now listen Secombe fans, this bottle contains your favourite singer in liquid form.

SEAGOON: (Muffled – from a distance.) Hello folks! Don't let me down.

GRYTPYPE: (Close) Put a cork on it, Moriarty!

FX: Champagne cork popping.

SEAGOON: (Muffled) Gppp!

GRYTPYPE: Now, we want a thousand pounds or we drink him!

SEAGOON: (Muffled) Don't let him drink me, folks! I hate travelling by tube.

LEW: All right! All right! I'll pay.

GRAMS: Huge pile of cutlery falling into coffer.  

LEW: There! One thousand pounds in bent NAAFI spoons.

MORIARTY: Ah! Even better than we thought. Here's your bottle! Come…

GRAMS: Single whoosh.

FX: Door slams.

LEW: Harry! Harry! Speak to me. Say something, Harry.


LEW: Hold this bottle while I get a doctor.

ECCLES: Okay. (Hums to self) Dlum di dee… &c

BLUEBOTTLE: Eccles – don't get them bottles mixed up, Eccles.


SEAGOON: (Muffled) Can anybody see what’s coming, folks? If so, well don't spoil it for me.

GRAMS: Bagpipes under.

DOCTOR: (Approaching – singing) Martha Clarke number hayn hoorner hore…

ECCLES: Hello, doctor

DOCTOR: Ah now sir, this is the patient here, is it? Aye.

FX: Liquid being poured into whiskey tumbler.

DOCTOR: (GRAMS – bagpipes behind) Ehi, this is a genuine vintage Secombe and it tastes very ill. (Smacks lips.) Aye.

ECCLES: (Giggling) Ha ha ha…

DOCTOR: (GRAMS – bagpipes behind) What are you laughing at? What are you laughing at there?

ECCLES: Well, I’m just ready in case anybody said something funny.

DOCTOR: (Brogue) Ooo-ahooo haooo oooh carrrne…

SEAGOON: (Muffled) Hurry up, I'm catching my death of cold in here. My …..’s gone to the bottom!

ECCLES: Ahhoooow!

DOCTOR: (GRAMS – bagpipes behind) We've got no time to waste. The only way to restore Mister Secombe to his normal self is to bring this to the boil – add a pound of leeks...

GRAMS: Boiling liquid – continue under.

DOCTOR: (GRAMS – bagpipes behind) goats milk, a touch of saucepan-bach, Mai Jones,[12] a spoon of world and ma…

SEAGOON: (Muffled) What about some brandy?

DOCTOR: (GRAMS – bagpipes behind) Steady Secombe! Steady Secombe! I'm just going to add this bust of Sabrina to bring you to the boil.

GRAMS: Bubbling crescendos – large explosion.

DOCTOR: (GRAMS – bagpipes behind) That's strange, nothing's happened.

ECCLES: Ha ha hou! I gave you the wrong bottle.

DOCTOR: (GRAMS – bagpipes behind) What, what, what? The other one then. Hurry, it's the payoff – hurry.

ECCLES: I... I drank it.

DOCTOR: (GRAMS – bagpipes behind.) Say `ahrrrrr'.

ECCLES: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

SEAGOON: (Muffled – screams) HEEEEEEEEEEEEELLPP! Let me out! He's had onions for tea!

DOCTOR: (GRAMS – bagpipes behind) Take the stomach pump.

ECCLES: (Into distance) Woooah nooooo! (Raves)

GREENSLADE: Ladies and Gentlemen, in the interests of hygiene we end this show. Good night all.

ECCLES: Aww awww!

ORCHESTRA: “Old Comrades March” playout.[13]   



[1] War memoir reference.


[2] This specifically relates to Harry Secombe who was born in September 1921. In December 1958 (when this show was recorded) he was 447 months old. Harry was 439 months old in the previous April.


[3] The ‘Paul Jones’ is a mixer dance that involves the frequent changing of partners.


[4] By Pat Thayer to lyrics of Donovan Parsons, Chappell and Co. 1927. Made famous by Peter Dawson.


[5] A famous quote from the Victorian melodrama “East Lynne”. Ellen Wood wrote the novel.


[6] I suspect the comment “dialling, dialling” is extemporary. The FX has gone wrong.

[7] Written by George and Ira Gershwin for their 1930 musical ‘Girl Crazy’ and originally sung in the show by Ginger Rodgers. Miles Davis had released a beautiful instrumental version of the number in his 1954 album ‘Bags’ Groove.’

[8] A bowdlerised version of “Blow, blow thou winter wind” from  Shakespeare’s “As You Like it” Act II, scene VII.


[9] There’s an audible cut here.

[10] "That Old Black Magic" is a 1942 popular song first recorded and released as a single by Glenn Miller and His Orchestra. The music was written by Harold Arlen, with the lyrics by Johnny Mercer. The Sammy Davis Jr. recording was released by Decca Records as catalog number 29541. It charted in 1955 and spent six weeks on the Billboard charts, peaking at position #16. Sammy Davis Jr. performs "That Old Black Magic" during a guest appearance on the television series I Dream of Jeannie.

[11] The British actor Donald Wolfit, KBE (1902-1968) was a Shakespearian specialist whose career and fame paralleled those of Lawrence Olivier and John Geilgud. Noted for his performances of King Lear, Falstaff and Richard III as well as Ben Johnson’s Volpone and Marlowe’s ‘Tamburlaine’, Wolfit was always jealous of the success of Olivier and others of the new generation of actors, formed a touring company before the war to provide an audience for his own Shakespearian characterisations, because, as the eccentric British actress Hermoine Gingold remarked “Olivier’s Lear is a tour-de-force while Wolfit is forced to tour.” He is renowned as having performed truncated Shakespearian plays during the bliz.


[12] A famous welsh identity, Mai Jones (1899-1960) was a pianist, broadcaster and composer.


[13] One of the most complicated GRAMS shows of all. 19 separate entries in the final 3 pages alone.