The Goons

[The Collector]

FX:
[Door handle turns, door creaks open]

Seagoon:
Ah! Good morning!

Moriarty:
Good morning? Just a moment...

FX:
[Telephone picked up, dialling]

Moriarty:
Hello? Air Ministry roof? Report... yes? yes? Thank you.

FX:
[Telephone hung up]

Moriarty:
You're perfectly right: it is a good morning.

Seagoon:
Thank you.

Seagoon:
My name is Neddy Seagoon.

Moriarty:
What a memory you have!

Seagoon:
Needle nardle noo! I've, er... I've come to move the piano.

Moriarty:
[Laughs maniacally, stopping suddenly] Come in.

Seagoon:
[Laughs similarly, but longer, stopping just as suddenly] Thanks.

Moriarty:
You must excuse my filthy hands but I've just been washing my face.

Grytpype-Thynne:
[Off] Moriarty?

Moriarty:
Yes?

Grytpype-Thynne:
[Now here] Can I borrow your shoe? I want to read the paper.

Moriarty:
I'm sorry it's on...

Grytpype-Thynne:
[interrupts] Oh, we appear to have company.

Moriarty:
Ha ha ha ha ha. This gentleman has come in answer to your advertisement.

Grytpype-Thynne:
Oh, how lovely! Come in, sit down.

Seagoon:
Thank you.

Grytpype-Thynne:
Have a gorilla.

Seagoon:
No thanks... I'm trying to give them up.

Grytpype-Thynne:
Splendid for you! Now, Neddy, here's the money for moving the piano. There you are: five pounds in fivers.

Seagoon:
Five pounds for moving a piano? Ha ha! This is money for old rope.

Grytpype-Thynne:
Is it? I'd have thought you'd have bought something more useful.

Seagoon:
No, no. I have simple tastes... Now, where is this piano?

Grytpype-Thynne:
All in good time, laddy. Now first, will you sign this contract, in which you guarantee to move the piano from one room to another for five pounds.

Seagoon:
Of course I'll sign. Have you any ink?

Grytpype-Thynne:
Here's a fresh bottle.

Seagoon:
[gulp] Gad! I was thirsty.

Moriarty:
Sapristi indelible! Do you always drink ink?

Seagoon:
Only in the mating seasons.

Moriarty:
Shall we dance?

Grams:
[Waltz]

Seagoon:
You dance divinely.

Grytpype-Thynne:
Next dance please.

Grytpype-Thynne:
Now Neddy, please just sign the contract.

Seagoon:
Certainly. [scribbles] Neddy Seagoon. A G G

Moriarty:
What's AGG for?

Seagoon:
For the kiddies to ride on. [blows raspberry, laughs]

Grytpype-Thynne:
Are you sure you won't have a gorilla?

Seagoon:
No thanks, I've just put one out.

Grytpype-Thynne:
I see.

Seagoon:
Now, which room is this piano in?

Grytpype-Thynne:
It's erm... It's in the Louvre.

Seagoon:
Strange taste you have.

Grytpype-Thynne:
We refer to the Louvre Museum.

Seagoon:
What what what what what what what what what what? You mean the piano's in Paris?

Grytpype-Thynne:
Yes.

Seagoon:
Ahhh! I've been tricked! Yahhahh!

FX:
[Thud]

Moriarty:
For the benefit of people without television... He's fainted.

Grytpype-Thynne:
Don't waste time. Open his jacket...

Moriarty:
Right!

Grytpype-Thynne:
...And take the weight of his wallet off his chest.

Moriarty:
Aha!

Grytpype-Thynne:
Found anything?

Moriarty:
Yes. A signed photograph of Neddy Seagoon, a press cutting from the theatre, Bolton, a gramaphone record of Gili mowing the lawn, and a photograph of Gili singing.

Grytpype-Thynne:
He's still out cold. See if this brings him round.

FX:
[coin dropped on floor]

Seagoon:
Thank you, lady! [Sings] Comrades, comrades, ever since we were boys. Sharing... [Stops singing] Ah oh ooh oh ooh! Where am I?

Grytpype-Thynne:
England.

Seagoon:
What number?

Grytpype-Thynne:
7A. Have a gorilla.

Seagoon:
No, they hurt my throat.

Grytpype-Thynne:
Oh, naughty gorillas.

Seagoon:
Wait! Now I remember... You've trapped me into bringing back a piano from France for only five pounds.

Grytpype-Thynne:
You signed the contract, Neddy. Now get that piano [voice changes to Lew's] or we sue you for breach of contract.

Seagoon:
Owww! [exits]

Grytpype-Thynne:
Gad, Moriarty! If he brings that piano back we shall be well in the money. That piano must be worth at least ten thousand pounds.

Moriarty:
How do you know?

Grytpype-Thynne:
I've seen its bank book. That is the very piano Napoleon played at Waterloo.

Moriarty:
No wonder we lost.

Grytpype-Thynne:
Yes. With all that moolah we can have a wonderful slap-up holiday.

Grytpype-Thynne and Moriarty (singing):
April in Paree, we've found a Charlie...

[moriarty]

---Ned's Atomic Dustbin
By Spike Milligan
Broadcast 5th January 1959 (series 9 episode 10)

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Greenslade: This is the BBC Light Programme. To add seasonal cheer to the broadcast I've had written permission to wear a small holly leaf in my button hole.
Seagoon: Whup! There's white top courage for you
Greenslade: What what what what what
Seagoon: Don't you realise Wal boy, that the Druids used the holly leaf for certain unsavoury ritualistic rites.
Greenslade: Oh dear...
Seagoon: Indeed
Greenslade: ...well I'd better hurry and get that word cleared by the BBC censorship department. Gid up there!
Grams: Horses gallop off very fast
Seagoon: There he goes... And in his space we see Peter Sellers...
Sellers: Schizig. If listeners will stand up and place both hands on their partners shoulders, they will actually pick up the sound of the all-powerful BBC censorship department. [gurgle]
Grams: Fanfare
Fx: Knock on door
Secombe: (older than God) Ahhh... mara... ahh comeeee... ahhhh... ahhh ... ahhhhhhh.
Minnie Bannister: He's trying to say 'come in'.
Henry Crun: Male hormones forever! Ahhh... hha (collapses) Ahhhhh... mr...
Fx: Thud of body & bits of body scattering. Ball bearings marbles roll along floor. Hand full of forks. Metallic resonant nuts and bolts falling.
Henry Crun: Oh clear he's disinteregated Min... I'll have to take over his trousers.
Fx: Door opens. Galloping hooves at great speed (coconut shells).
Greenslade: Ahoy...
Minnie Bannister: Ahoy youuuu!
Greenslade: ...I've come to get clearance on a word.
Henry Crun: What is the word, sir?
Greenslade: Well its er um... um. Yes.., 'Holly'!
Henry Crun: What's wrong with it sir?
Greenslade: Well it is believed to have an undertone of eroticism.
Henry Crun: Oh Dear...
Minnie Bannister: Ohhh.
Henry Crun: Could you write, mnk, this word down?
Minnie Bannister: Blindfold yourself Henry, don't look!
Greenslade: Yes...s I could.
Fx: Writing
Grams: Loud startled cluck of chicken...
Henry Crun: (aside) Blast! He can write on chickens. You want us to see if this word is fit to be said?
Greenslade: I fear so.
Henry Crun: Ohh dear, well that puts us in a rather nasty spot doesn't it. We don't like committing ourselves.
Greenslade: Well it's alright, but you're the Censors.
Henry Crun: Ah but we don't like that sort of thing you see. We don't do it.
Secombe: (Yorkshire)We don'y like it at all. Mr Lord Scradds, you're the oldest, what do you think of this word?
Lord Scradds: Ahhhhh.. . ahhhhh, ahh I'll I won't commit myself at this ahhhhhhhhh at this stage... I... I'll... go along, Yes...I...I'll go along...
Henry Crun: Who will you go along with?
Milligan: Ahhhhh, anybody a...
Sellers: (Aussie) I think I'm with you there, I'm with you all the way, I'll go along with that.
Milligan: (Hooray) I ratar mark the omplication the most of the mam arve bwin time waste and non the far the plo Car there at Dawn.
Secombe: Does anybody agree with that?
Sellers: (Aussie) I agree with that.
Greenslade: Look, look, look, look what are you all agreeing about?
Henry Crun: Ha ha ha you devil-you devil.., you devil.. So then it's agreed that we all agree? Now what was the question?
Greenslade: The word 'holly', is it -?
Minnie Bannister: Canteen's open!
Henry Crun: Canteen!
Cast: Screams of 'teaaaaaaa'...
Grams: Great rush of boots departing. Distant slamming doors very fast...
Seagoon: Well, well, well they've escaped under cover of stupidity.
Greenslade: Oh dear oh dear, very well. In place of the word 'Holly', here's an excerpt from my latest long-player called 'Suddenly it's the news'
Seagoon: Get off that gramophone. In place of that...
Cast: [Chaotic utterances]
Seagoon: Here is a conundrum. What is this sound?
Sellers: It is I, Tom.
Secombe: Yes, it's old 'it is I Tom', Peter Sellers - playboy of Old Finchley tube station and friend of West End managements.
Sellers: I see a vision, Tom.
Seagoon: Well, hold this song and accompany this next announcement.
Sellers: (sings idiot tunes behind Greenslade)
Greenslade: Ladies and Gentlemen, what kind of Christmas has it been. Let us recount one, two, three...
Grams: Eccles singing 'Good King Wenceslas'. (The choral one).
Terry France: Hello Listeners. Terry France here. We're going over now to the services station in the Christmas Islands. So over to them...
Grams: Atom bomb...
Secombe: (kid) Look Mum, another Atom Bomb.
Sellers: (mum) You lucky boy, that means Dad will be home early from work.
Seagoon: Here in London we interview passers by . . . Excuse me, sir, do you believe in a White Christmas?
Ray Ellington: Are you kiddin'?
Seagoon: Ha ha ha yes, and... and you, madam, do you believe in an old, fashioned Christmas by the fire?
Sellers: (whoops dear) Oh, not harf dear.
Seagoon: Conks? Play that arrangement for nose and harmonica, me? I'm for the old brandy there.
Grams: Great rush of receding boots...

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Max Geldray and Orchestra - "It's Got To Be You"

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Greenslade: Tar Tar... Thank you. Now over Christmas a great story broke, being no newspapers it missed the headlines, but here it is in all it's monkey para toot toot pin pon pee pee peee, tiddley. I doe too is the Story of the Tun tack tock!
Orchestra: Dramatic chords...
Milligan: It is Christmas and somewhere in a goatskin flat in naughty Wales, a young hairy titch is working on a painting of a painting!
Seagoon: (fade in) (sings) I painted her, IIIII painted her haha ha, now a dab of red here and a touch of puce, here.
Cynthia Fruit: Ohhhh!
Seagoon: Steady Miss Fruit, keep still .
Cynthia Fruit: It's awfully cold posing like this.
Seagoon: I've got the candle on! Now, there! There we are, you can relax. It's a masterpiece.
Cynthia Fruit: What is it.
Seagoon: The plans of a new British dustbin.
Cynthia Fruit: And you've had me posing nude for that?
Seagoon: It's something to do with my unhappy childhood. Now off you go and change behind that glass screen... ahahaha There she goes, T.V. was never like this. .. Knok, knik knack knock knockitty knokck knock knock... It's an impression of a door knocker. Come in!
Henry Crun: Impression of Innn.
Seagoon: Steaming Pud, it's me old wrinkled retainer Uncle Crun in his new Kingsize nightshirt.
Henry Crun: Here master Ned. A night's quince jelly for you.
Seagoon: Ohh, it's not set.
Henry Crun: No, Min warmed it up. It's no good eating cold jelly on a windy night you know.
Grams: Whoosh of wind
Henry Crun: Ohhhhhhhhh.
Secombe: I wonder where that draught's coming from.
Henry Crun: I don't know where it's coming from but I know where it's going to. Ah ah ah ah ah Christmas Cracker Joker!
Grams: Whoosh of wind again. (as before)...
Henry Crun: Ohhhhhhhhh... this nightshirt is too big for me, the wind is...
Seagoon: Wait, there's another pair of legs sticking out of the bottom.
Henry Crun: Ohhhh, who's that in there, come out or I'll...
Eccles: No I'll come out, 'ello Neddie, 'ello Uncle Crun ... 'ello, I been slummin'.
Seagoon: Eccies, what you doing in that nightshirt?
Eccles: Nuttin'. Everythings marked 'don't touch'.
Henry Crun: Yes. Antiques, you know. But how did you get in? That's what I want to know.
Eccles: I got a map of your legs.
Seagoon: Come on out at once.
Fx: Door opens
Seagoon: A door in the nightshirt opened and out stepped a street with a man in it.
Grytpype: I say, what is.all this noise? There's people in that nightshirt trying to sleep you know.
Seagoon: What what what... you'll get a biff on the knee. Explain that Knutty hand operated mattress.
Grytpype: That mattress Sir, contains the princely string and nut-bound body of such stuff as steams are made of, none other than the Count Jim 'Wakey Wakey'...
Fx: Colossal slap on bare skin
Grytpype: ... Moriarty.
Fx: Scratching
Moriarty: Owwwww... greetings my loyal subjects and all...
Fx: Slapstick
Grytpype: Stop that revolting scratching will you Count. The dear Count is plagued this year with a return of the Royal Strains you know.
Seagoon: Does he really own that nightshirt.
Grytpype: Yes. 'een now, see how he walks the battlements... Of course he only rents the top.
Seagoon: What about the rents in the bottom?
Grytpype: Ned, old jokes will get you nowhere. Look what it did to the Count.
Seagoon: Oh, I apologise for my altitude.
Grytpype: It is low, Ned, could we sell you an extra three feet?
Seagoon: Just what I need.
Grytpype: Moriarty, saw three feet off your wooden leg.
Moriarty: No, I'm going to the ball as a toffee apple.
Grytpype: It's for money!
Fx: Furious Sawing. End drops off.
Grytpype: There Ned, three feet.
Fx: Till
Seagoon: Thank you. I'll tie it to my head and put my hat on it.
Moriarty: Ohh Sapristi nabowlas. He looks like...
Grytpype: Don't tell him!
Seagoon: Now I must get my plans of the dustbin up to London. Where's the nearest station?
Grytpype: In this cupboard. Admission thruppence.
Fx: Till cupboard door opens.
Grams: Station
Willium: 'Ere. Shut that door will yes. . . you want me train to catch cold?
Seagoon: When's the next one to London town divine?
Willium: Arsk that hairy doggie over der.
Seagoon: Ask the doggie? Does he speak?
Willium: Does he what? Does he speak? - 'ere listen, listen to this. 'Ello dog, 'ello doggie, go on tell him dog... No, he don't speak.
Seagoon: How does he know when the train goes?
Willium: I told 'im. Ohh! I can feel a low stabbin' pain in the seats of me underpants. That means it's 9.20! Time to go in it... Hold tight.
Fx: Guards whistle
Grams: Train whistle. Then horse clops slowly away.
Seagoon: Bit short of coal aren't you?
Willium: Yer, you ain't got a bit on you 'ave you?
Seagoon: No, I gave up carrying it.
Willium: Cor, taking chances eh?
Grams: Train whistle.
Greenslade: On arrival in London town divine, Neddie rushed to 10 Downing Street.
Fx: Knock on door. Door opens.
Ray Ellington: (African chief) What you want man?
Seagoon: Here, who are you?
Ray Ellington: I'm the Foreign Secretary, man.
Seagoon: Yes, you do look a bit foreign.
Ray Ellington: Oh steady man, that could mean war with Ghana.
Prime Minister: I say Basil, who is that blotting out the sun with his head?
Ray Ellington: It's a man with a wooden leg tied to his nut with a hat on top.
Prime Minister: Oh, that'll be Lord Hailsham, I expect.
Seagoon: No indeed sir, I'm Ned Seagoon. I've got plans.
Prime Minister: Eh? Let's have a look.
Fx: Unrolling plans
Prime Minister: Nothing here.
Seagoon: The drawings on the other side.
Prime Minister: Oh, that's a clever idea, who'd have guessed? Ahhhh live and learn... plans of new anti-atomic dustbin... Ohhh.
Seagoon: Yes, you see, in the event of radiation, this dustbin will keep your garbage atom free.
Prime Minister: What rubbish!
Seagoon: Indeed.
Prime Minister: Well, here's a CBE on account. Now, would you like to try for the Knight-Star and Garter?
Seagoon: If it's okay with you sir, it's alright with me.
Prime Minister: Good. Come back tomorrow with Hughie Green. Until then a sailor's farewell.
Grams: SPLASH
Fx: DOOR SLAMS
Seagoon: Whoop! Steady there!
Prime Minister: I say, what an ideal intro for Rain Elungton.

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Ray Ellington "I'm Getting Married In The Morning"

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Greenslade: Hardly had that music ceased and the wind gone up the chimney, when the PM presented a new atom proof dustbin to a meeting of high ranking idiots.
Fx: Toy bear's growler sound.
Prime Minister: Gentlemen. This dustbin has great potential, potonsil and potunshal.
Idiot 1: Can it go to the moon?
Prime Minister: No. But from small beginnings though...
Cast: Hear hear.
Idiot 2: Is that the prototype?
Prime Minister: No. That is the dustbin.
Fx: Dustbin lid.
Idiot 2: It sounds like a dustbin.
Fx: Dustbin lid.
Prime Minister: Ha ha ha - I say it's not difficult at all, is it?
Fx: Dustbin as above
Secombe: (ageing) Let. . .I say fellas . . . let me try now.
Fx: Dustbin different tempo to denote that someone else has taken over
Secombe: (ageing) Oh ha ha ha oh dear, oh dear, why didn't we get one of these before, eh?
Prime Minister: Now me again.
Fx: Dustbin
Cast: All laugh, excited noises about banging the bin
Fx: Add dustbin to the above laughter
Prime Minister:. Yes, ahem, now Lord Stron, tell the House of your plan.
Lord Stron: Yes, we intend to find if it's possible for a man to go over the Niagara Falls in a dustbin. (cries of here here) We've got to keep it pretty dark, otherwise the Russians will start putting dustbins into orbit on the Volga rapids. Gentlemen, if you'll all step into this train...
Lord Stron: We'll attend the first attempts of the dustbin.... [gobbeldy gook]
Fx:. Sound of iron bar clanging
Greenslade: Believe it or not, that was the sound of the Kremlin.
Seagoon: You'll just have to believe us, but there it is.
Greenslade: Now. Pardon me while I stand behind this freshly painted suit.
Spottovitch: Comrade Spondovitch, there is a man outside to see you.
Spondovitch: Quick. Swallow this desk then secretary. Prepare for a long siege.
Spottovitch: {garbled} The man claims to be the son of Mata Hari.
Toolsvitch:{garbled} Is he persistent?
Milligan: You ask me...?
[cast crack up]
Spottovitch: He persisted that he was Mata Hari herself until I called the doctor.
Spondovitch: Comrade Toolsvitch, send him in.
Toolsvitch:Come in, son of Mata hari.
Fx: Door opens
Grams: Series of fast approaching footsteps
Bluebottle: The Black Eagle is sitting on the Red Flower Pot.
Toolsvitch:The password!
Bluebottle: Oh? All is well. Comrades, Bluebottleski is here with cardboard to spare.
Spottovitch: Tell us Comrade, what kind of undercover work have you been doing?
Bluebottle: (naughty) Ohh, I couldn't tell you that. Oh, I don't know though... Well I was look-out for the Finchley Wolf Cubs.
Toolsvitch:(keen) ahhh, what did you spot?
Bluebottle: I spotted Mrs Evans and the Milkman.
Toolsvitch:What did you get for that?
Bluebottle: A clout on my ear 'ole.
Spottovitch: Is that a decoration?
Bluebottle: No, that's why I wear one on each side of my nut.
Toolsvitch:There is a tin rouble, get the plans of the British anti-atomic dustbin... or you will lose your deposits.
Eccles: What's goin' on here.
Toolsvitch:Who are you?
Eccles: Stalin.
Fx: Pistol Shot
Eccles: Owwwwwww!
Bluebottle: You twitt, Ecclesavitch. Come wid me... farewell comrades. Nothing but death can stop Bottleski from the plans. Farewell.
Fx: Door slams... Door opens
Bluebottle: Here, dere's a big spider out dere, Oh!
Eccles: I ain't frightened of big spiders. I'll fix him.
Fx: Door slams
Grams: Terrible battle.
Eccles: [Yelling for help].
Fx: Thuds bangs etc.
Grams: Great roaring of a lion aroused.
Fx: Door slams
Bluebottle: 'Ere where's all your clothes?
Eccles: Bottle, say after me, I must learn the difference between a lion and a spider.
Bluebottle: Ohh... ah ha.
Orchestra: Dramatic link
Seagoon: Hello folks, Neddie here folks; meantime the plans went ahead to test my dustbin over the Niagara Falls. For this the Government brought the Niagara Falls to London and put it up at the Savoy. In charge was a master of nuclear explosions.
Orchestra: Last part of Bloodnok Theme
Grams: Bombs exploding etc
Bloodnok: Ohhhhhh. It's a good job the room's sound proof, poor old Frank Sinatra upstairs, my goodness.
Grams: Atom bomb
Bloodnok: Oh, that was the biggest explosion of the series.
Seagoon: Was it Christmas Island?
Bloodnok: No sir, Christmas pudding.
Seagoon: Bloodnok, grand news. We have managed to send an elephant up the Falls in the atom-proof dustbin, and it lived.
Bloodnok: What? No other dustbin has ever done it and lived.
Seagoon: Now next, we want a human being to go in it.
Eccles: I'm safe folks!
Bloodnok: They've called you men, the flower of England and the flower of flunge, to volunteer. Come now, remember it's for England men.
Seagoon: Hahaha. Can't you think of a better reason? Hahaha. Like mummy...
Bloodnok: Cowards you are, cowards all! Anyway...
Bloodnok: ...we'll draw lots for it now. Eccles, write your name on fifty pieces of paper, and put them in a hat.
Eccles: Right, dere.
Bloodnok: Now, draw it out.
Eccles: Right
Bloodnok: What's it say?
Eccles: Mrs Gladys Smith.
Bloodnok:. You imposter sir... you're not Mrs Gladys Smith, I am!
Eccles: I don't want to die.
Bloodnok:. You don't want to die, you suspicious fool, you superstitious mule you... You won't die Eccles. Roll up your trousers!
Grams: Wooden slat blind pulled up
Bloodnok: Ohhhh. . . just as I thought, legs that reach the ground.
Bloodnok: You know what that's a sign of?
Eccles: Legs?
Bloodnok: It's the sure sign of a long liver.
Eccles: I got a long liver.
Bloodnok: Yes. And I'll bet you five pounds that you'll live forever starting... now!
[silence]
Bloodnok: You've done it! You've lived forever.
Fx: Till
Bloodnok: Now strap him in that dustbin for the test.
Eccles: No no, let me go! Take your filthy hand off my filthy arm I...
Orchestra: Dramatic chords
John Snagge: This is London calling in the uncut bicycle service of the Ba Be See. This afternoon, the Prime Minister, told an eager half-empty House that today, England would launch an atomic dustbin into the Niagara Falls, with a highly qualified pilot at the controls. There were demonstrations at the dustbin launching base, when a million barber electricians carrying soup tureens laid down in the road, with socks full of grit. The driver of the steam roller said 'It was so tempting, I'm sorry, I won't do it again' . . . Arsenal 8 - Tottenham 87... (fade)
Grytpype: Hear that Neddie? They're debasing the original use of your dustbin.
Seagoon: I'll get my revenge.
Moriarty: No, I'll get mine.
Seagoon: No no no, thank you, but my revenge is stronger and it lasts the whole drink through.
Seagoon: Don't forget folks. When you want your own back - Get revenge. Today!
Seagoon: and Moriarty: [sings advert sytle] "Get your own back, Get.. Revenge.. Today.."
Grytpype: Ned, for no reason at all, I will become your solicitor. Take a letter on uncut limo. 'Dear Bloodnok.,.
Fx: Nailing down lino. continues under dictation.
Grytpype: Unless you return the plans of Ned's dustbin, Iwill be forced to charge my client a higher rate.' Signed Thynne. Now let me hear that back.
Grams: Grytpype: 'Signed Thynne' played a little faster.
Grytpype: Splendid. Now, go and lay that under his military kippers.
Seagoon: Ha ha ha, he who laffs liffs loofs las, ahem; he who har hees, laffs loose lifs. Hee farewell.
Grams: Speeded up footsteps running away
Grytpype: Gad!I never knew his legs would move so fast
Seagoon: Neither did I. I better get after 'em!
Fx: Whoooossshhh!
Seagoon: Bloodnok!
Bloodnok: Ohhhhhhh
Seagoon: Ha ha ha this lino means curtains for you.
Bloodnok: Lino curtains? What a quaint seasonal custom.. but wait, this is solicitors lino. You'll hear from my linoleum layer in the morning sir. Meantime, take that!
Grams: Jelly splosh!
Seagoon: What is it?
Bloodnok: I don't know sir. It was dark when I trod in it..
Seagoon: Gad, it's a banner with a strange device, and clutched by a lad in snow and ice.
Bluebottle: Get your hands up.
Seagoon: Bluebottle, take that silly rice-paper off.
Bluebottle: You touch one hair of dat and Splashoul. The disintergrater ray gun will speak in my hand, ha ah ha.
Fx: Clang
Bluebottle: Oh, the 'lastic's come off the trigger.
Seagoon: Don't cry Bottle, here, have the suspender off my sock.
Bluebottle: Oh thanks... no... no! That suspender is just a glittering Western prize to make me forget my mission. Now Seagoon, look into my eyes, toot toot toot. . . little daggers come out and point all the way along my eyes to his, too-tooty toot toot. . . the secrets of Bottles mesmerism is bending Ned to my will. . .. strainnnnn strainnnnn powers of eyes, powers of eyes... Ohhh squint, squint, squinteeee.. . Squin.. . ohh, my nose has started to bleed.
Seagoon: You've crossed your eyes, you nit...
Bluebottle: Oh no! Den I'm finished with Russia, I am.. I can't go out wid birds when my eyes are crossed.
Seagoon: We've no time to lose.
Bluebottle: We must save Ecdes from a death worse than fate
Seagoon: Yes, we must save Eccles,
Bloodnok: Ah, but they never did. . . oh dear dear dear. . . to think you poor people came all this way just for that! Diddle diddle dum... Where are the pay offs of yesteryear?
Orchestra: "Old Comrades March" Playout

[The Collector]

Right Time for a song...

You Gotta Go Oww!

(Orchestra warms up, then start to cough)

Milligan: (Shhh's Orchestra, then whispers) "1,2,3,4"

(Short musical intro)

Milligan:
You gotta go oww
You gotta go oww
You gotta go ow, ha,ha ha, haaa, if you wanna go oww

You gotta go oww
You gotta go oww
You gotta go ow, ha,ha ha, haww, if you wanna go oww

You say it every morning
say it every night
Say it under water
You'll feel alright

But you gotta go oww
(whistle)
You gotta go oww
(whistle)
You gotta go ow, ha,ha ha, haww, if you wanna go oww

Yeah!, You gotta go... (Milligan coughs, music stops, orchestra coughs. Milligan shh's orchestra, burps and raspberries are blown)

(whispers) "1,2,3,4"
(Loud coughs, the more Shhhing)

(short musical intro replayed)

Milligan: You gotta go oww
Posh Voice: He's going to go ohhh
Milligan: You gotta go oww
Posh Voice: He's going to go ohhh
You gotta go ow, ha,ha ha, haww, if you wanna go oww
Posh Voice: He's just been ohhhed
Milligan:
You gotta go oww
You gotta go oww
You gotta go ow, ha,ha ha, haa, if you wanna go oww

You say it every morning
(dog bark)
Say it every night
You say it under water
(bubble noise as if trying to sing under water)

Milligan: You gotta go...
High Voice: oooohhhh oohhh ooohhh
Milligan: You gotta go...
High Voice: oooohhhh oohhh ooohhh
Milligan: You gotta go...
High Voice: oohh oohh oohh oohh oohh
Milligan: If you wanna go...
High Voice: oooohhhh eeeeee ooohhh

(Instrumental, Minnie Bannister sings along)

(Orchestra starts coughing again and gradually stop playing)
High Voice (in background): Ohh dear. Ohh dear.
(Coughing fades out)

[larffalot]

[quote Bluebottle was allegedly based on Ruxton Hayward, a scoutmaster Sellers once met. In an interview with Michael Parkinson, Sellers described trying to keep a straight face while talking with a large red-bearded scout leader who nevertheless spoke in a falsetto voice and had an ingratiating manner
[/quote]

This was a marvellous interview. To continue the scoutmaster story, Hayward asked Sellers why he was laughing at him, and, convulsed, Sellers said "Because you're a genius, a genius." The scoutmaster was apparently pleased with this, and when his group went to the next door (in a block of flats) to offer "Bob-A-Job" (ask your Dad), he said in the Bluebottle voice: "I'm from your local scouts and that man over there says I'm a genius." Sellers watched the whole thing and fell about. It couldn't have done his heart any good. Great story, though.

[The Collector]

[glow=red,2,300]Ruxton Hayward[/glow]