That’s one hell of a long post, Greenslade.

Ill met by Goonlight

Series 7, Episode 23

First broadcast 14th March 1957. Script by Spike Milligan and Larry Stephens, produced by Pat Dixon. Transcription by John Koster.


GREENSLADE:
This is the BBC Home Service.

SEAGOON:
Joke number one:
What did the elder statesman say when he read the Sunday Times?

SELLERS (CHURCHILL):
I’ll kill that fellow Alan Brooke one of these days…

ORCHESTRA:
Tatty chord.

GREENSLADE:
Good heavens, that sounds like the Goon Show chord in C.

SEAGOON:
It is, mister Greenslade, with the whole might of the BBC poised behind it.

GREENSLADE:
Gad, it all sounds so romantic.

SEAGOON:
Romantic’s the word. You should see Broadcasting House at dawn, and see those bright-eyed typists rolling in at the crack of half past ten.

GREENSLADE:
A little late, isn’t it?

SEAGOON:
Perhaps. But once they’re in those girls don’t waste a moment, huhuhum, it’s coats off, sleeves up and straight down to the canteen!

GREENSLADE:
Oooh, ooh, per ardua.

SEAGOON:
So, you’ve got a touch of the old ardua’s, eh? hahaha, ooh it’s March. Well, as I was saying, by eleven-thirty the BBC is a hive of inactivity.

GREENSLADE:
What a life that must be, do you think I could become a typist?

SEAGOON:
Only if you change your shape. Ahem. Now then Wal, the old posh announcement, the old posh radio chat there. Come on Wal. He’s a lovely talker.

GREENSLADE:
Ladies, ladies…

SEAGOON:
~~~ Look at that ~~~~ Give us the full facts Wal. Give us the old posh chat there

GREENSLADE:
Liddies and…

SEAGOON:
~~~~off at the end there Wal

GREENSLADE:
Ladies and gentlebong, tonight with the aid of the new steam leather microphone we tell of yet another of those remarkable war stories: “Ill met by Goonlight”.

ORCHESTRA:
Deutschland, Deutschland über alles.

GRAMS:
Typewriter.

MILLIGAN:
The War Office, 1942, or if you’re in the Navy: the Admiralty, 1944.

SEAGOON:
Ah, good morning, major Sprad.

MAJOR SPRAD:
Good morning lieutenant Seagoon, sir.

SEAGOON:
Now then…

AMERICAN OFFICER:
Sir, the American Sixth Fleet is ready, sir.

SEAGOON:
Right, put it on the mantelpiece. I’ll smoke it later.

FX:
Telephone ringing.

SEAGOON:
Six bells!. Must be the phone.

FX:
Telephone being picked up.

SEAGOON:
Hello folks!

GENERAL MONTGOONERY (MILLIGAN):
Hello Seagoon. (singing) Helllo Seagooooon.

SEAGOON:
(singing) Hellooo!

GENERAL MONTGOONERY:
Eh, General Montgoonery here. I want you to come over to Combined Ops, at once, (singing) At onceeee! I’ll have a crane pick you up.

FX:
Telephone down.

SEAGOON:
Scran? Keep my pyjamas in the oven and my wife in the fridge. I might be late.

THROAT:
Right, mate.

ORCHESTRA:
Link chords.

GRAMS:
Lift going up, stopping

LIFTBOY (SELLERS):
Admiralty, third floor, battleships, submarines, Combined Ops and a rotten beast of a Wren (*1) called Frida Brothel.

FX:
Door opening, closing

SEAGOON:
Seagoon RN, reporting sir.

OFFICER 1 (SELLERS):
Seagoon, something big has just come up.

SEAGOON:
What?

OFFICER 1:
You!

SEAGOON:
What? Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat? It’s a lie, I tell you! I’ve lost a stone. I took my boots off.

OFFICER 2 (MILLIGAN):
Lieutenant Seagoon,…

SEAGOON:
Wee, wee, wee…

OFFICER 2:
…do sit down will you.

GRAMS:
Wood crumbling.

OFFICER 2:
Curse! Dry rot! I didn’t know you had it. Now then, tell me, this is general Platt, …,

SEAGOON:
Humhumhum

OFFICER 2:
brigadier Quespon (???),

BRIGADIERr & SEAGOON:
How do you do

OFFICER 2:
Admiral PlinThursby…

SEAGOON:
How do you do.

OFFICER 2:
and Wollington Foo-Scrampson,

SCRAMPSON:
How do you do

OFFICER 2:
And that’s Scromson Scramson awee

SEAGOON:
Hello

OFFICER 2:
And Scremsonawee and Scripi I ho a wee

SEAGOON:
Hello folks, hello folks!

OFFICER 1:
Seagoon, we sent for you for quite a reason, lad. Have you ever heard of a place called Crete?

SEAGOON:
No, but any good taxi driver will take me there.

OFFICER 1 (agitated):
I don’t think you’re quite with it Seagoon, humph. (normal voice again) Crete is in the Mediterranean, you know.

SEAGOON:
Won’t it get wet?

OFFICER 1:
What? It’s got an umbrella, you idiot!

SEAGOON:
Good!

OFFICER 1:
Commander Greenslade, explain your infallible plot.

GREENSLADE, Jove, yes. Seagoon, the isle of Crete is held by a series of naughty-type Germans. Now, it’s about their commander, General Von Guttern.

OFFICER 1:
Yes, we want you to get him.

SEAGOON:
You want me to get him what?

OFFICER 1:
You want a punch up the conk?

SEAGOON:
No, thanks, I’m driving.

OFFICER 1:
What?

OFFICER 2:
Seagoon, you see Seagoon, (singing) you see Seagoooon. You see Seagoon, we want you to capture General Von Guttern.

SEAGOON:
Me? Capture a dirty big German?

OFFICER 1 & OFFICER 2:
Yes.

SEAGOON:
What? I’m off!

GRAMS:
Seagoon singing “We’ll see a welcome in the hillside…” accompanied by running footsteps, sped up under…

OFFICER 1:
Quick! Stop him before he gets back to Wales!

ORCHESTRA:
Dramatic link, Milligan singing the last notes

GREENSLADE:
They gave chase, and finally caught Seagoon…

SEAGOON:
Yes! But I made them come to me on their knees.

GREENSLADE:
Why?

SEAGOON:
I was hiding in a drain.

GRAMS:
Soldiers being drilled, under…

SEAGOON:
The following December on the third of January I was send to the Marine Commando Spaghetti Hurling Depot at Rhyll.

ORCHESTRA:
Bloodnok theme.

BLOODNOK:
Ohohow, ohohow, oow, that’s better. You know I was inspecting me knees for storm damage, when suddenly, in walks that singing Welshman Neddie “Where Are Me Legs” Seagoon.

SEAGOON:
I’m sorry to butt in during knee inspection, Bloodnok, but I’m the volunteer for the Crete job.

BLOODNOK:
Oho, I see, right. Unchain him, sergeant.

FX:
Chains rattling, under…

SERGEANT THROAT:
Right mate.

SEAGOON:
Ooh. Now major, what’s all this spaghetti hurling about?

BLOODNOK:
Well, you see, lad, it’s the Bloodnok method of ending the war, you see.

SEAGOON:
I see.

BLOODNOK:
Each commando, oohhoo, is issued with an army sock full of lukewarm spaghetti, you see, then when he meets a Hun full-face, it’s Whoosh-putt-nuk-Mcnool! Right in the square-head’s mush. And by the time the Jerries have scraped it off, it’s too late! The pubs are all shut, lad!

SEAGOON:
But why use spaghetti?

BLOODNOK:
But don’t you see, you military fool? When a German is struck with the full force of spaghetti he’ll think the Italians have turned on them, you see!

SEAGOON:
What a brilliantly mediocre idea!

BLOODNOK:
Ohohoho.

SEAGOON:
You’ll get an OBE for this.

BLOODNOK:
Oh good, my last one died.

SEAGOON:
Well, we’ve all got to go sometime.

BLOODNOK:
Yes, I went this morning, it was hell in there you know… ohohoho, dear.

SEAGOON:
Well, major…

BLOODNOK:
Ohooo!

SEAGOON:
Well major, I’ll see you at the briefing room at 0 600 hours.

BLOODNOK:
Ohoho!

ORCHESTRA:
Dramatic link.

ALL:
Rhubarbs, custard, cheddar cheese.

GLADYS (Ellington):
Eyes front there! Put those Wrens out! Commanding officer?

OFFICER 1:
Thank you Gladys, at ease. Now are we all here?

ECCLES:
I’m not all here. (Mumbled singing) Tar, tar.

OFFICER 1:
What did you say?

ECCLES:
I said tar, tar.

OFFICER 1:
Then would you mind putting your head on this table?

ECCLES:
Right.

FX:
Bang!

ECCLES:
Aaahooow! Awahuwahuwaaauw!

OFFICER 1:
Say “Sir” when you go “Auwhuahuau” to me.

ECCLES:
Auhuauhuauw, sir!

OFFICER 1:
Thank you. Now lieutenant Seagoon, you’ve been chosen to lead the raid on Crete, so let’s put you in the picture. Quiet Bloodnok.

SEAGOON:
Too late, Dirk Bogarde is already in it.

ORCHESTRA:
Tatty chord.

SEAGOON:
Hoi!

OFFICER 1:
Seagoon, stop those brilliant Movietone jokes, you. Now listen, you’ll be put ashore from the submarine alone, with three men with blackened faces.

SEAGOON:
Three? I’ve only been given enough blacking for two.

OFFICER 1:
One of the men is Ray Ellington. Any questions?

ELLINGTON:
It ain’t fair, just because I’ve got a sunlamp!

OFFICER 1:
Well I, well, that’s how it goes, Ellington.

ELLINGTON:
Yeah? And this is how this goes…

MUSICAL INTERLUDE:
RAY ELLINGTON QUARTET – “Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea”

GREENSLADE:
Ill met by Goonlight, part two. Part two? Gosh, doesn’t time fly?

ECCLES:
(Mumbled singing)

GRAMS:
Train

SEAGOON:
With others on the Crete mission we had trained at midnight for Portsmouth.

GRAMS:
Train compartment door opening, closing

TICKET COLLECTOR (WILLIUM, SELLERS):
All tickets please, all tickets. ‘Ere, you three under the seat, tickets?

SEAGOON:
Curse! He spotted us! Huuuahum.

TICKET COLLECTOR:
Come on now, what you’re ‘idin’ hunder the seat for?

SEAGOON:
Well, hahohehahehohii. We’re on a secret mission, and we thought you were a German spy.

TICKET COLLECTOR:
Me a German spy, mate? I come from Clapham South, mate.

SEAGOON:
Well, we’ve got to be careful, you see. We’re going to Crete to capture General Von Guttern.

TICKET COLLECTOR:
Good luck, mate, good luck. But I still want to see your ticket, mate.

SEAGOON:
I’d like to see my ticket too, hahahaa.

GRAMS:
Train whistle, train stopping, train announcements in background.

SEAGOON:
At two in the morning we arrived at Portsmouth. We were all heavily disguised and sworn to secrecy.

GRAMS:
(Announcement) Will the party of commandos due for the secret trip to Crete, please remove their beards, so that they can be recognised.

SEAGOON:
Gad. The wonders of British war time security.

MORIARTY:
Aha, Lieutenant Seajuone. I am the Sumbrinaise commander, count Jim “Knees Naboolah” Moriarty, of the Fried French Forces, ohihooo!

SEAGOON:
Hello folks! And terribly eased to pleet you.

ECCLES:
Com-mand-allez-vous?

SEAGOON:
This is private Eccles.

MORIARTY:
Sappristy groins of leather. You can’t take a raving idiot like that with you!

SEAGOON:
Take him and don’t bring him back.

AMERICAN OFFICER:
Oh lieutenant Seagoon, sir.

SEAGOON:
Yes?

AMERICAN OFFICER:
The American seventh fleet is ready, sir.

SEAGOON:
Yes, leave it at lost property. I’ll pick it up later.

MORIARTY:
Come lieutenant, the submarine “La Grippe” is waiting.

SEAGOON:
Is that a French submarine?

MORIARTY:
I don’t now, I never heard it speak.

ORCHESTRA:
Dramatic link.

GRAMS:
Waves. Someone in cast singing in background.

GREENSLADE:
At four in the morning the Crete party went aboard and received their final instructions from a British agent.

LEW:
Now then, you’ve got everything, the ~~~soup, Bibles, matzes, all the lot.

SEAGOON:
Yes. One more thing though. Where are the sealed orders?

LEW:
I’ve seen them, I’ve seen them somewhere, I’ve seen them. On the back of the fag packets.

SEAGOON:
Are you sure this mission is secret? I mean, could the Germans know I’m in Portsmouth?

LEW:
You’ve got nothing to worry about at all. I’ve had Portsmouth’s change its name change to Berlin.

SEAGOON:
Splendid, splendid! The Germans wouldn’t bomb us with a name like that.

GRAMS:
Bomb whistling down, explosion.

SEAGOON:
What’s that!?

LEW:
The RAF , the ~~~roff, the raff~~, I don’t know, my life! Oh, this will ruin business, I’m telling you.

MORIARTY:
Never mind, No~~~, must make for the sea at once! All aboard!

SEAGOON:
What about security?

LEW:
Leave your watch and five knickers knicker.

FX:
Till.

LEW:
Alright, and good luck.

ORCHESTRA:
Nautical music.

GRAMS:
Submarine sounds

GREENSLADE:
At midnight on January the 2nd, the submarine surfaced off Crete.

GRAMS:
Waves, wind under…

SEAGOON:
In rubber dinghies we made for the dark outline of the shore.

ECCLES:
Ohhh….ohhh…oooh.

ELLINGTON:
Lieutenant Seagoon.

SEAGOON:
Shhh. What?

ELLINGTON:
You know, I don’t fancy this fellow Eccles.

SEAGOON:
Never mind.

ELLINGTON:
You know when you just said “Start paddling”

SEAGOON:
Yes?

ELLINGTON:
Well, he took his shoes and socks off and went over the side.

SEAGOON:
You fool, Eccles. How deep is it?

ECCLES:
(Incomprehensible bubbling speech) This water is taller than me!

SEAGOON:
Well, it’s older.

ECCLES:
Ohohow.

BLOODOK:
My line says we’re coming into the beach.

GRAMS:
Running aground on pebble beach

SEAGOON:
All ashore. Lads, we’re on Crete!

BLOODNOK:
Ach, this beach is hard.

SEAGOON:
Then we must be on concrete…, hup!

SEAGOON:
Eccles!?

ECCLES:
Yeah?

SEAGOON:
Shut up!

ECCLES:
Shut up!

ELLINGTON:
Look, there’s someone coming down the beach.

ECCLES:
Ohowoow.

SEAGOON:
Give me my sock full of spaghetti.

BLOODNOK:
Here.

SEAGOON:
Now! One! Two!

FX:
Whoosh, spludge

BLUEBOTTLE:
EEEHEE! Eeeh. You rotten swine, you. Who threw them warm worms at me? I bet it’s them playtime rotters Eric Swerge (?) and Bert Prod (?).

SEAGOON:
Hands up! Are you general von Guttern?

BLUEBOTTLE:
No, I’m not. I’m Bluebottle, in the East Finchley’s greatest authority on re-conditioned bloomers.

SEAGOON:
At this time of night, why aren’t you at school?

BLUEBOTTLE:
I been playing truant.

SEAGOON:
Play it again.

ORCHESTRA:
(saxophone tune)

BLUEBOTTLE:
Hoi! Now I shall play the “Ill met by moonlight” game.

SEAGOON:
You’ll get a clout on nut with a fanlight game.

ECCLES:
Don’t you be a fool, my good man. Do-not-be-a-fooool-my-gooood-man. I’ve been planted here to show you the way to the guerrilla’s hideout.

SEAGOON:
Right! But first:
Max Geldray! Round the back for the old Marlin Brando!

GRAMS:
Stampede, feet running away, shouting.

MAX GELDRAY AND ORCHESTRA – “Basin Street Blues”

GREENSLADE:
Ill met by Goonlight, part three, the capture. Ooh, I’d better get out of the way.

ORCHESTRA:
Dramatic link.

GRAMS:
Walking feet, birds.

ALL:
Moaning, straining, under…

SEAGOON:
We marched all night. At dawn we marched all dawn. Finally we met up with a leader of the resistance.

RESISTANCE LEADER:
Welcome English commandos. I’m Bibelodo Corblimos.

SEAGOON:
Good. Now where is general von Guttern?

RESISTANCE LEADER:
Every night at ten his staff car passes through the coast road, south of Yarbonsemate

SEAGOON:
Where is yah-bonce-mate?

RESISTANCE LEADER:
Under your hat, chum

SEAGOON:
What? Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat?

ECCLES:
‘Ere. Were ~~~ cold up these mountains. I’d freeze to death up here.

SEAGOON:
Right! You stop here then.

ECCLES:
What?

SEAGOON:
You and Blubottle keep your eyes on the road. When you see Von Guttern’s car lights coming stop it. That’ll give the rest of us time to dynamite the bridge further down. Right. Action stations.

ORCHESTRA:
Dramatic link.

GRAMS:
Frogs, crickets

ECCLES:
( Lip smacking, yawning)

BLUEBOTTLE:
You got your sock full of spaghetti ready, Eccles?

ECCLES:
Yeah. I’m keeping mine warm.

BLUEBOTTLE:
How?

ECCLES:
I got it on.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Aah.

ECCLES:
What?

BLUEBOTTLE:
Are all your family brainy?

ECCLES:
Well, eh… maaaay… my father was clever.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Ooh. What did he do?

ECCLES:
Nottin’, he was really clever.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Ooh. ‘t Is fine when they are clever, isn’t it?

ECCLES:
Aah yeah, yeah, yeah. What did you say?

BLUEBOTTLE:
I said, that it is fine when they are clever like that. It’s fine.

ECCLES:
Yes. Yeah.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Eccles?

ECCLES:
Huh?

BLUEBOTTLE:
What. Shall I tell you something?

ECCLES:
Yeah.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Well ma good man. For no reason at all I’m gonna to tell you that… I once knew an Engslis girl who could speak French. “Oui lala”, she said “Oi wee, oi wee”, she said.

ECCLES:
Yeah! Stop it, stop it.

BLUEBOTTLE:
And she used to dance the can-can for me.

ECCLES:
Ahaha! Ooh, you naughty man.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Yeees!

ECCLES:
Oh, dear, oh you know. Yeah, well, how did she dance the can-can?

BLUEBOTTLE:
~~~~~ shall I tell you what she did?

ECCLES:
Don’t keep me waiting. My socks are burning. Haha! Look, the spaghetti’s boiling.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Well I tell you she used to put an oil can on each foot and jump up and down.

ECLLES:
Hahahaha, Oooh.

BLUEBOTTLE (singing):
Tadamtamtadam… etc.

ECCLES:
You sinful man, you! Oh, that’s livin’!

BLUEBOTTLE:
Yeah.

GRAMS:
Car approaching, under…

ECCLES and BLUEBOTTLE:
Yewwee haha how

ECCLES:
Ooh what? howwaw, look.

BLUEBOTTLE:
It’s a car.

ECCLES:
Eeh, Ooow. Who’s gonna stop it.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Let draw a lots for it. We’ll both close our eyes and when we open them, who ever’s left stops the motorcar.

ECCLES:
OK, mine are closed (smacks lips)… Well ah, are yours closed?

BLUEBOTTLE (off):
Yes!

ECCLES:
He’s gone. He thinks I’m mad, folks. He thinks I’ll open my eyes and find him gone. Well, I ain’t gonna open them.

GRAMS:
Car stops, brakes screech. Door opens.

ECCLES:
I thought (???) You could have fooled me.

FX:
Boots on gravel.

GERMAN 1 (Secombe):
Open your eyes, Englander!

ECCLES:
Ahahahooo. You silly man, Bluebottle. I’m not gonna open my eyes and you can’t fool me with that phoney German accent.

FX:
Thud.

ECCLES:
AHAHAAAAOWOW!, sir.

ORCHESTRA:
Deutschland, Deutschland über alles.

GRAMS:
Car driving with footsteps following, under…

GERMAN 2 (Sellers):
Who vas zat you clubbed?

GERMAN 1:
And idiot vis his eyes closed. Ach Himmel! He’s running alongside the car. Faster driver!

DRIVER:
Jawohl!

GRAMS:
Car driving faster, footsteps faster as well.

GERMAN 2:
Gerblunden, he’s still keeping up with us! Faster driver, faster.

DRIVER:
Jawohl.

GRAMS:
Car and footsteps even faster.

GERMAN 1:
Great gerblunden, he’s stil alongside, and we’re doing hundred miles an hour.

GERMAN 2:
Lower the window.

FX:
Window slid down.

ECCLES:
Ohohow!

GERMAN 2:
Look, go away you, stop running after us.

ECCLES:
I can’t. Somehow (???) I have got my coat caught in the door!

GERMAN 2:
Stop the car

FX:
Footsteps and car stop.

SEAGOON:
Hands up and good evening, general.

GERMAN 2:
Gerblungener Schitts Garrimmen. Right steamer here, Harry Secomben, a British commando.

SEAGOON:
Move over. Eccles, where’s Bluebottle?

ECCLES:
He’s back there.

SEAGOON:
Right. Ray, turn the car ’round.

ELLINGTON:
Right-o.

GRAMS:
Car speeding up., under…

SEAGOON:
Now, general Von Guttern, say one word and you’re dead.

VON GUTTERN (GERMAN 2):
Give me the word and I won’t say it.

SEAGOON:
What’s the disposition of your troops?

VON GUTTERN:
Hoho, they’re pretty nice fellows, you know, really.

FX:
Clonk.

VON GUTTERN:
Ahohoho!

BLOODNOK:
There lads, old Bloodnok’s spaghetti socks silenced him. One good clout on von Guttern’s big steaming nut sufficed.

SEAGOON:
Clout him again.

BLOODNOK:
But I’ve already hit him once.

SEAGOON:
Yes, but one good turn deserves another, hoi! I though we’d never get to that gag, my life.

GRAMS:
Car speeding up (recording sped up).

ORCHESTRA:
Dramatic link.

GRAMS:
Frogs, under…

BLUEBOTTLE:
Eccles! Eccles? You can open your eyes now, Eccles? Eccles! Eccles!? Where are you? I don’t like it in the dark. Eccles! I can’t see where I’m going, I…heehee!

FX:
Splash.

LITTLE JIM:
He’s fallen in de water!

BLUEBOTTLE:
Naughty Little Jim! Did you put that water there?

LITTLE JIM:
Yeah.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Are you sorry?

LITTLE JIM:
Yeah.

BLUEBOTTLE:
All right then. Look! The car’s coming back! Quick, Little Jim, put this dynamite in the road and light the fuse.

LITTLE JIM:
Light the fuse.

FX:
Car appraoching, explosion, shouts (going off).

BLUEBOTTLE:
Hooray! We got them!

LITTLE JIM:
We got them!

BLUEBOTTLE:
I’ll get a cardboard medal for this.

SEAGOON:
You’ll get a cracker up your shirt. We were in that car.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Oh, oh, it’s my captain, all rags and no eyebrows. That’s a good costume for explosions, that is.

ECCLES:
‘Ere! Can I open my eyes now?

BLUEBOTTLE:
Ooh! What’s that bread pudding stuck on the wall?

ECCLES:
That’s me!

SEAGOON:
Shut up! Where is general Von Guttern?

BLOODNOK:
He, he’s unconcious, Neddie.

SEAGOON:
Are you sure?

BLOODNOK:
Here’s his wallet.

SEAGOON:
Let me see. Gad, it’s full of Deutsche Marks.

BLOODNOK:
He must be a German.

SEAGOON:
Gad good!

BLOODNOK:
Gad good ~~~. Look at the time by the general’s wristwatch which I’ve got on my wrist.

SEAGOON:
Nearly dawn. The submarinine “La Grippe” should be appearing any minute.

TICKET COLLECTOR:
You won’t be on it, mate. Hands ups uns.

SEAGOON:
Heavens! It’s the old ticket collector!

ECCLES:
Quick, under the seat!

TICKET COLLECTOR:
You was right, you know. I was a German spy.

SEAGOON:
You? What’s your name?

TICKET COLLECTOR:
Von Gutterns, mate.

SEAGOON:
Then who’s this German we’ve got tied up?

TICKET COLLECTOR:
He’s a ticket collector, comes from Clapham, mate.

SEAGOON:
You know, folks, I sometimes wonder how we won the war.

ORCHESTRA:
Tatty chord.

GREENSLADE:
And with that stirring chord in C, you realise we’ve bluffed our way through another Goon Show. Why not write your MP about it today?

MILLIGAN:
Yeah, why not?

ORCHESTRA:
Play out.

GREENSLADE:
That was the Goon Show, a BBC recorded programme featuring Peter Sellers, Harry Secombe and Spike Milligan. With the Ray Ellington Quartet, Max Geldray and the orchestra conducted by Wally Stott. Script by Spike Milligan. Announcer Wallace Greenslade. The programme produced by Pat Dixon.

ORCHESTRA:
Play out.

Notes:
1) Wrens = members of the Women’s Royal Naval Service

Taken from here: Goon Show Scripts

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Nuclear Ducks

It’s about the nuclear duck thingy… Was rejected but I liked it…

Mr Netanyahu: Ladies and Gentlemen, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then what is it?

Lady: A communist?

Gentleman: A terrorist?

Lady: Is it a nuclear weapon developed by Iran?

Mr Netanyahu: Close, but not exactly what I was getting at.

Gentleman: Oh, is this a riddle? My first is in ocean but not in sea? My second is… And so on. What am I?

Lady: Yes, like, I was trapped in a jail cell and all I had was a mirror and a wooden table. How did I escape?

Gentleman: Was the door locked?

Lady: Well, yes, otherwise I wouldn’t have been trapped.

Gentleman: OK, of course.  Let me think… perhaps this is more of a riddle that you need to have read out to you.

Lady: Yes, exactly right.

Gentleman: So, I looked in the mirror and saw… what I saw. I took the saw and did the only thing I could do with it, which was cut the table in half.

Lady: Yes, go on.

Gentleman: And two halves make a whole. So, I escaped through the hole.

(Cheering in the background)

Lady: Well done!

Mr Netanyahu: (cutting in over the cheering) No, no, no it’s not a riddle or a trick question.

Gentleman: Give us a clue then.

Mr Netanyahu: Well, it goes… quack, quack, quack.

Gentleman: Oh, it’s Daffy Duck!

Sketchy Sketch

Been a while! Here’s another old one. I’m going to end up blogging the whole show if I can’t get my head around a new idea or two soon. Nevermind, busy times. Can you spot the blatant Monty Python rip off er… -ness? I’m not ashamed. Sound departments can do wonders with special effects I hear.

THE WARS OF THE ROSES

HISTORIAN: And now welcome to our series of historical shorts with me, Dr Monkchester Jones. Today’s lesson tackles The Wars of the Roses. A terrible civil war fought between 14:55 and an afternoon nap. It was a bloody time, a clash of white versus red, a land running pink with the sap of brother pitted against brother. Here we have some new-found actual, very rare, archive footage of the Battle of Northampton.

LEADER OF THE WHITE ROSES: (Majestically) Fellow saplings! Let not this bleak day shadow the importance of the hour. We are rooted here in Northampton, on the banks of the River Nene, and here we shall stay rooted. Some of you I have known since seedlings, like Young Spike here, struggling through the frozen ground and, like Young Spike, you have grown to great, great heights. Today, I will do my duty for the Kingdom of The White Roses and I ask you all to do your duty too. Not for me, but for your saplings and for your freedom! Band of Thorns, Brothers of Thorns we, together, will be victorious on this gray day. We all will share in the soils. For, I say to you my white warriors. We will fight them on the river side, we will fight them in the gardens, we will not be dead headed and we will never surrender!

ARMY OF WHITE ROSES: (cheers)

LEADER OF THE RED ROSES: Oi! You ‘pure as white’ us red roses want you to get your roots out of our water.

ARMY OF RED ROSES: (jeers)

LEADER OF THE WHITE ROSES: (ridiculously loud and high-pitched) Attack!!

Over the noise of fighting roses.

HISTORIAN: History tells us that it was the brave and mighty red roses that won this bloody war of shrubbery. As we can see from the archive footage, this is not entirely historically accurate.

Screams in the background over the fighting noises.

HISTORIAN (CONT’D): (to himself) Fighting roses indeed, what complete rubbish. What next?

Background noises and historian start to fade out.

HISTORIAN: (CONT’D) Bungy jumping petunias?

Sound of a bungy jumping petunia.

HISTORIAN (CONT’D): Hyperventilating Hydrangea?

Sound of hyperventilating.

HISTORIAN (CONT’D): Dogging daisies?

Sound of rhythmic squeaking.

HISTORIAN (CONT’D): Oh God. I’m living the nightmare.

Historian falls asleep. Sound of snoring.

Sketch: THE MATHEMATICAL BRIDGE, CAMBRIDGE: REVENGE

(This one’s for Ibi – however she spells it – I believe it!)

THE MATHEMATICAL BRIDGE, CAMBRIDGE: Good morning.

MAN: Good morning!

TMB, C: How are you this fine day, Mr Kai Benn?

MAN: Very well, thank you. And you?

TMB, C: Good, thank you. Aren’t you forgetting something, though?

MAN: Forgetting something?

TMB, C: Yes, you’re talking to me, a bridge, so you must know the protocol and you do seem very polite…

MAN: Protocol? Ah, of course, I do apologise.

TMB, C: Oh good. I do like you Mr Kai Benn, I wouldn’t want to have to throw you off.

MAN: Of course, nobody wants that, The Bridge of Sighs.

TMB, C:  (shocked) Pardon?

MAN: I agreed with you about nobody wanting to see me thrown off the bridge and then I called you by your name.

TMB, C: (slightly confused) No, no. That’s not my name.

MAN: Yes it is.

TMB, C: (getting angrier) No, no it’s not.

MAN: You’re not going to start shaking, are you? I thought we agreed that no one wants to see me thrown off the bridge.

TMB, C: No one wants to see you thrown off the bridge BUT ONLY IF YOU KNOW MY FULL AND PROPER NAME!

MAN: Oh, my mistake, are you related to The Bridge of Sighs? You look very similar.

TMB, C: No, no I don’t think we’ve met properly, actually. I don’t get to travel much or at all, really. It’s a lonely life being a bri… WHAT IS MY NAME PUNY HUMAN?!

MAN: Oh, well sorry it must be The Mathematical Bridge, Cambridge then.

TMB, C: Yes, that’s right. I’m glad I didn’t have to drown you. YOU MAY PASS… Ahem… (mumbling) mustn’t get carried away. Not that anyone could carry a bridge anywhere very easily. Ha. Haha. Ahem.

*footsteps over bridge*

MAN: Thank you The Mathematical Bridge, Cambridge. Just one thing though.

TMB, C: Yes, what is it Mr Kai Benn?

MAN: Can you just spell that for me?

TMB, C: Sorry?

MAN: Can you just spell my name for me, please The Mathematical Bridge, Cambridge?

TMB, C: Oh, OK, well…. K. A. I.B.E.N.N

MAN: I didn’t think so.

*running footsteps*

MAN: (shouting from a distance) CLEAR!

TMB, C: Now, hang on…

*EXPLOSION*

MAN: C.A.I you pathetic, worthless piece of rubble and only one N. I didn’t choose it but I sure as hell have made good use of it. Job well done, eh Mr Policeman?

POLICEMAN: That’s PC Policeman to you and I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest you for blowing up a harmless bridge.

MAN: No, it’s Police Constable Robert Thomas Jenkins.

POLICEMAN: Oh, bugger.

*SPLASH*

Sketch: THE MATHEMATICAL BRIDGE, CAMBRIDGE

Sound of footsteps.

THE MATHEMATICAL BRIDGE, CAMBRIDGE: Good afternoon.

MAN: Oh er… hello? er… who said that?

TMB, C: I did.

MAN: Who did? I can’t see anyone!

TMB, C: What do you mean you can’t see me? You’re standing on me.

MAN: Oh er… hello er… bridge…

TMB, C: Use my full name please. Honestly, it’s like me just calling you “man”, Stephen David Harrington Jones.

MAN: Oh OK… Hang on, how did you know my name?!

TMB, C: (mysteriously) I Know. (forcefully) Now, use my full name!

MAN: Hello erm… Mr Bridge.

TMB, C:  (angry) No, that’s not my name!

MAN: Oh! Hello, Mathematical Bridge.

TMB, C: (calmer, threatening) Not quite. Don’t make me throw you off.

MAN: Oh Oh wait.. Hello, THE Mathematical Bridge.

TMB, C: Nope, you’ve forced me to this.

MAN: Oh no wait STOP shaking!

TMB, C: I’m sorry but you didn’t learn my full name.

MAN: But that’s what you’re called – The Mathematical Bridge!

TMB, C: I am a bridge. I have a situation. I am The Mathematical Bridge, Cambridge. Hear the repetition. That is how important I am.

MAN: (frantic) OK I’m sorry The Mathematical Bridge, Cambridge. Just please stop shaking!

TMB, C: You’re really sorry?

MAN: Yes!

TMB, C: Hmmm (pause) nope.  Too little too late.

MAN: (screams)

TMB, C: Pathetic creature.

POLICEMAN: Hello The Mathematical Bridge, Cambridge.

TMB, C: Hello Police Constable Robert Thomas Jenkins.

POLICEMAN: How sweet that you learnt my full name.

MAN (shouting from a distance and gurgling a bit) Help! Police! Help!

POLICEMAN: Unlike that silly man.

Sound of footsteps over bridge.

By ljpaddock Posted in Sketch

The Tea Shop Sketch

A few days in to my blog I should introduce you to my sometime writing partner Matt Hutfield (@MrJackTheCohen) whom I wrote this sketch with (along with a radio sketch show pilot, which is currently in progress)…

Sound of customer entering door with bell.

Customer: Hello, I’d like to buy some tea please.

Shopkeep: Certainly, this is a shop that sells tea so you have come to the right place.  What kind of tea would you like?

Customer: (excited, licking lips) Well, what exotic teas have you got?

Shopkeep: Oooo, what have I got…? Well, I’ve got (quickly so as the audience don’t really hear what’s being said) Ceylon Tea, Blue Lady Tea, Autumn Tea, Phosphorous Tea, Monkey-brain Tea, Hairy Genital Tea, Fusion Tea, Spectacles Tea, Curry Tea, Caesar Tea, Julius Caesar  Tea, Asian Tea, Caucasian Tea, Leiderhosen tean, Blackadder Yea, Party Bongo Tea, Caramel Tea, Self-righteous Opinion Tea (slower) and Apple and Mango (pause to breathe) Tea.

Customer: Oh my word! I don’t know. Can I try some?

Shopkeep: Of course. Follow me/ If you’d care to enter the back passage.

Customer: Oh er.

Shopkeep: Don’t be stupid.

Sound of customer and shopkeep walking away into the back passage.

Shopkeep: As you can see, my friend, we only use the finest tea creatures to make out tea.

Customer: Friend? What? Tea Creatures?

Shopkeep: Teaurns. A newly imported breed from Innermost Outer Mongolia. All the latest features. And they’re all here to make our range of fabulous teas. YOU! Fetch me the kettle.No… WAIT!! Fetch me the Special Kettle, it is for our guest.

You: Oh, yes Sir, yes Sir! The Special Kettle. You’s, line up! You One and You Two (short burst of a U2 song), we’ve no time for that,  quick help me with preparing the Special Kettle for Master.

Shopkeep: Right, follow me please., We can’t taste the tea here. We need to move over to The Tea Party Table. Mhm- yes. That’s it, just wedge yourself in.

(sound of grunting and a few mumbled apologies)

Shopkeep: And here’s your hat, I’d advise you put it on quickly, those invisible flying Marmadukes can bike like there’s no tomorrow.

Customer: (confused) I’m sorry? OWCH!

Shopkeep: No need to apologise and I did warn you.

Customer: Look thanks, but-

Shopkeep: No, no need to thank me either. This is all necessary for The Tasting of The Tea.

Customer: But I just wanted to try a….

Shopkeep: And that is what shall occur, my dear! Ah, You, the Special Kettle, thank you very much.

Customer: Blimey, that’s a bit of a fancy kettle! I though you would  had the teas already made or something.

Shopkeep: (Horrified) OH NO! THIS is absolutely essential, yes esssssssssssential for those who practice the Art of Making Tea.

Customer: But, really, I mean, it’s just dried leaves infused in boiling water, occasionally with a splash of milk and sometimes sugar, isn’t it?

Shopkeep: (Angry) Dried leaves in boiling water, you say! Occasional splash of milk like it doesn’t matter. And sometime, ooooh, sometimes SUGAR?! I do hope you are testing me Satan! Each tea leaf, as you call it in your uneducated vernacular, is lovingly hand-crafted by a Teaurn individually. It is a long and laborious process which takes a certain skill and months to do. I myself have spent years perfecting the craft.

Customer: (Slightly Scared) Oh right, well can I just taste one then? One of your amazing teas that is.

Shopkeep: (Reluctantly) OK, here.

Sound of the customer sipping tea and then spitting it out disgusted.

Customer: EUUUUUUUUUUGGGH. My God that’s…

Shopkeep: Yes?

Customer: Erm, very nice but not quite what I was looking for.

Shopkeep: You mean you don’t like our wonderful Yak-Splurge tea? Hand-milked on the western slopes of Virginia, don’tchaknow?

Customer: Hand-milked? Un, no, not really, no. Maybe I’ll just go with the apple and mango tea.

Shopkeep: If you must. Here.

Sound of the customer sipping.

Customer: Yuck! That’s not apple and mango. That’, OH GOD. (Gags) What IS that?

Shopkeep: Apple and mange tea. Oh wait, sorry no that’s, my mistake. That was Forgotten Trouser Tea. Try these three.

Customer: Look, thank you, but…..

Shopkeep: I said there’s really no need to thank me.

Customer: OK… (frustrated) Don’t you just have ordinary tea?

Silence. Background noise stops abruptly.

Shopkeep: Ordinary tea?! AS YOU WERE TEAURNS!

Background noise starts up again slowly.

Shopkeep: (sniffs snootily) No, I’m afraid we do not.

Customer: Oh…. Oh well, I think I might have changed my mind… erm… thank, I mean, maybe I’ll pop next door for some coffee instead.

Shopkeep: Coffee?! YOU, YOU ONE and YOU TWO, STOP SINGING and take this… this (with venom) Coffee Lover away to The Boiling Room.

Customer: What? What…. get off me. How can you life me up like that? You’re only three feet tall! Get you purple fingers off me! Wait stop…. PUT ME DOWN!!!

Customer is dragged away with sounds of screaming and shouting.

Infinite change

On Train. Day.

Conductor: Tickets please.

Man: I’d like to buy a ticket to Infinity, please.

Conductor: What?

Man: A ticket to Infinity, please.

Conductor: Are you having a laugh?

Man (seriously): No.

Conductor: Right, we don’t go there.

Man: Yes you do, it says here on this leaflet. Trains to Infinity and Beyond.

Conductor: That’s not our leaflet.

Man: Yes it is, that’s your logo.

Conductor: (pearing closely at the leaflet) Oh, yeah. So it is. (to Bob offstage) Bob! We go to Infinity? (noises, grumbling from offstage) Bob says he knows nothing about Infinity.

Man: Does that mean you aren’t stopping at Infinity then? Oh. That’s a shame, oh well, OK, ticket to Beyond then please.

Conductor: (firmly) We don’t go to Beyond.

Man: But it says on this leaflet that…

Conductor: Look I don’t know where you got the leaflet but we don’t go to Infinity or Beyond. Now where are you travelling to?

Man: I’ve told you. Perhaps you don’t know where I mean. Let me explain. You see that tree there? (points out of window)

Conductor: (looks out of window) No.

Man: Well, we’ve passed it now but it was on the Horizon. Look, quick see that house?

Conductor: No.

Man: Right, OK. Over there, see that woman with the ill fitting wig and hideously bright lipstick?

Conductor: No, wait, her? That’s my wife!

Man: Well, she looks lovely. I’m using her to demonstrate where Infinity and possibly Beyond are actually situated. Relatively I mean. Now, listen…

Conductor: No, you listen. Don’t you be using my wife in explanations of such things. Relative or not. Now, buy a ticket or get off the train.

Man: Can I request a stop?

Conductor: No!

Bob: (from offstage) Yes, he can.

Conductor: Can he?

Bob: (noise that sounds like an affirmative grunt)

Conductor: You sure Bob?

Bob: (LOTS of grumbling now and incomprehensible shouting)

Conductor: Bob says yes.

Man: How much to Infinity please?

Conductor: Erm… (looking at ticket machine and doing some calculations) 4.2 quattuordecillion pounds

Man: Do you take credit card?

Conductor: Yes we do. (takes card and inserts into machine)

End.

My first sketch

Both on this new blog and ever. I’m still ridiculously proud of it. So, where better to start…

Mr Paddock is on a landline phone to a company (Enterprise Solutions) trying to order something over the phone.

Customer Service (CS): Good morning, thank you for calling Enterprise Solutions. May I take your name please?

Mr Paddock (Mr P): Yes, it’s Paddock.

Customer Service: Is that Miss, Ms, Mrs? 

Mr P: Mr!

CS: Right, Mr Haddock, how can I help you?

Mr Paddock: No, Paddock, with a P.

CS: Mr Paddick

Mr P: No, Mr Padd-OCK

CS: Sorry, Mr Padlock

Mr P: No, No L, Paddock.

CS: That’s a nasty stammer you have there, Sir. Noel Padlock. May I call you Noel?

Mr P: What? I don’t have a stammer… And No you can’t! That is not my name! Listen. Let me spell it for you… (slowly) P A Double D O C K.

CS: Right, P E

Mr P: No, No P A, A

CS: P A.. A? I thought you said you didn’t have a stammer.

Mr P: I don’t! P A Double D

CS: P A Double B oh Pabbock! Mr Noel Pabbock.

MR P: No, No, D.

CS: Dabbock?

Mr P: No, now look…

CS: ….. Noel …. Badcock?

Mr P: LISTEN TO ME! My name is by the by, I would just like to talk to someone in Sales please.

CS: Bytheby? I thought you said your name began with a P?

Mr P: No! Just put me through to the sales department! Please!

CS: Your name doesn’t begin with a P?

Mr P: (very angry, reacts) I, I…  

CS: Sir, there’s no need to get angry. Please calm down. Let’s try again. Your name?

Mr P: Right, (very slowly) Pad…dock…

CS: OK, Mr Paddock

Mr P: (relieved) YES!

CS: And which department would you like to speak to?

Mr P: Sales

CS: I’m sorry.

Mr P: Sales, please.

CS: I didn’t quite hear that…did you say Wales?

Mr P: SALES!

CS: But you’re talking to customer services. In India.

Mr P : Yes and I’d like to talk to sales, PLEASE. (pause) Hang on, how much is this costing me?!

CS: (Slowly) This is services.

Mr P: No No No No No I want SALES!!

CS: OK calm down please Mr Bytheby.

Mr P: PADDOCK MY NAME IS PADDOCK AND I WANT TO TALK TO SOMEONE IN SALES, SALES DAMN IT!

Mr P gets so angry he smashes the phone. (some good acting needed here to pad out)

Mr P: Fine!

Mr P looks at phone, breathes, gets mobile phone out of his pocket and dials.

Customer service 2 (the same man with a different accent): Hello customer services.

Mr P: Hello, yes I’d like to order a new phone please.

CS2: Yes of course, may I just take your name?

Mr P: Yes, my name? ……….Smith.

CS2: And is that spelt with a y or… ?

Mr P throws the phone over his shoulder and storms off stage.