To: goons
Subj: script-- Tales of Old Dartmoor
From: Reed Hedges (
Date: 1-29-97

And here is a script for the Goon Show "Tales of Old Dartmoor". My copy has had the usual fare of two musical pieces per show seamlessly (hah!) integrated into the dialogue and plot of the show edited out. There are a lot of words/phrases I couldn't understand. These I fried to spell as phonetically as possible. Things in (parentheses) are FX, grams orchestra, stage directions, or notes on my part. When a character's whole paragraph of speech is in parentheses e.g.

Bloodnok: Ohhow! Struck by a -
Eccles: Hallo!
Bloodnok: Convict Eccles,
 (Eccles: Convict Eccles...),
they indicate that what is said is kind of in the background. The fact that Eccles' line here is smushed against the bottom of Bloodnok's instead separated by a blank line also indicates the timing.

Please Please Please send comments (what to fix/change, etc.) to Thank you.

Without any further boring nonsense, here is

* * Tales of Old Dartmoor * *

Greenslade: This is the BBC light programme. And here is a photograph of me saying it.

Seagoon: Thank you, Freeze Green. Or as he came out of an icebox, deep-freeze Green.

Greenslade: I don't wish to know that.

Seagoon: Stop those carefully rehearsed ad-written ad-libs and proceed with your task of announcing radio's answer to TV.

Bloodnok: Namely the original lantern-slide wireless -type Goon Show.

(Short brass note)

Seagoon: Try and get that on a long player! All right, so much of melody. And now, segregate the sinful sexes-­

Bloodnok: Wait! How many sexes are there?

Seagoon: Two.

Bloodnok: It's not enough I say, go out and order some more.

Seagoon: Mr. Sellers, throw away that fur-lined chin strap, and make a statement.

Sellers?: What is a jail break?

Eccles: ???n jail!

Seagoon: Wrong. A jail break has nothing to do with tonight's story, which is entitled "Tales of Old Dartmoor".

(short Dragnet tune-- you know, dum da dum dum duuum)

Greenslade: This is the story of a desperate man in prison.

Seagoon: Yes, it was I. I was the governor. Question: Why was I desperate?

Eccles: Answer: Because your record hasn't reached the hit parade!

Seagoon: Wrong. I was desperate for a very different reason.

(Telephone rings: pick up)

Seagoon: Hello, prison governor here.

Thynne: (over phone) Yes, this is the superintendent of county jails. We're stock-taking.

Seagoon: Really? How jolly for you!

Thynne: How many convicts have you got in?

Seagoon: Well, let me see now, there's Jim the crazy vicar... hoo hoo oh no, no he escaped. There's um', meat-ax George .. oh no no no, no he bought himself out, yes. Then there's that confidence trickster... hno, he became an MP.  Hmm. Number 34128 was released, Fred was transferred... You know, ha ha, I do believe we've run completely out of them.

Thynne: (still over phone, in case you forgot) Do you know what this means, Seagoon?

Seagoon: Yes, we're empty.

Thynne: Empty!? By the way Seagoon, are you standing at attention?

Seagoon: Yes
Thynne: Good. Now look here Seagoon you can't go walking around with an empty prison. Your job will be in jeopardy.

Seagoon: In Jeopardy? I don't want to go abroad!

Thynne: Seagoon, I'm giving you a warning. Get that prison full of convicts or you're fired underline fired!
(Phone down)

Seagoon: It's all very well for him to talk, but nobody's committing any crimes.
Here I am working my fingers to the bone, sweeping out empty cells, oiling
unused locks, polishing handcuffs and giving transfusions to blood hounds!
And never a word of thanks. Where can I get convicts?

(Chicken squawk -- probably Sellers)

Seagoon: It's the front door. Coming!!! I'll be dale oin! (far off) Dunken drooney.
 (Bolts clank etc.)

Thynne: May I come in?

Seagoon: Have you committed any crimes?.

Thynne: I'm afraid not.

Seagoon: Then, you can't come in.

Thynne: Take off your hat... Now!


Seagoon: OWOOO OW OW OWOWOOWO! Come in.

Thynne: Come in, Moriarty.

Moriarty: Ououooiiuiuou.

(Steel door open/close or something.)

Thynne: Allow us to introduce ourselves. My card.

Seagoon: But it's blank!

Thynne: Business is bad.

Seagoon: That's funny so's mine. I haven't got a convict in the place.

Thynne: Perhaps we can help you Neddy ... For a consideration. Moriarty, explain (whisper) *plan*.

Moriarty: Ou Certainment! ouioiuuuoiu. oiuoo. Listen: We will guarantee you a constant supply of convicts at our reduced summer rate of three shillings per head per day.

Seagoon: Three shillings eh? The government give me five that leaves two, take away the convicts you first thought of... mheh heh... You're on! Where do they come in?

Thynne: Open that door.
 (door open)

(enter marching convicts singing:?????) 
Thynne: There you are Neddy, eleven hundred and eighty two of them.

Seagoon: Wonderful! Who said Britain was finished as a criminal nation? I'll address them in the mess hall.

Spike?: Where's the mess hall?

Seagoon: Here.

(crowd noises: conversation, some Goony foolishness thrown in...)

Spike?: Right, address them!


Moriarty: What do you mean they're not wanted? These men are wanted everywhere.

Seagoon: Really'? Who the devil wants this lot?

Moriarty: The police.

Seagoon: Well they're safe here.

Moriarty: good.


Throat: Goodbye.

(crowd noise etc)

Greenslade: Yes, once again Dartmoor prison was chock full as a bowl. And the prison yard rang to the happy sound of rock breaking, mailbag sewing and warder bashing.

Seagoon: Yes, and as governor I was receiving congratulations from every corner of the circular globe. Look at this telegram here: Good luck Seagoon, a full prison is a happy one. Signed Home Secretary. And this here: Good work Seagoon, please find enclosed three over E's (???). 'Try and get a shot at the other two, signed minister of over E's, P.S. How would you like to be a peer? Yes. Yes. I'll be a peer. Moriarty (Moriarty: yes?), I've just made myself a peer.

Moriarty: Good, I'll get down the end of it and start a counter-party (???).

Seagoon: Come back here... It's not that kind of peer, (M.: What?) P double-E R not P.I. E. R!


M. far off: Oh you swine you...

Seagoon: He's fallen in the wet-type water!

Thynne: Yes, you're a very short peer, Neddy.

(some music-- quite dramatic and mysterious)

(pen scratching)

Seagoon: Entry in prison diary. January twenty second: Convict Eccles fell into a bucket of wet cement and looks like becoming a hardened criminal. hup! (Ta daa!) Thank you, thank you! Second entry. Convict Grytpype­Thynne made a strange request today.

Thynne: Neddy, do you mind if I sit down?

Seagoon: Pull up a boll hard (???) and sit down.

Thynne: Thank you

Seagoon: Make yourself at home.

Thynne: Neddy, ...

Seagoon: Treat yourself as your own.

Thynne: I will, I will...

Seagoon: Needle nardle noo.

Thynne: Have you any more brandy'?

Seagoon: All gone.

Thynne: sorry. Do you mind if I have a strange request? It's this: (heavy whisper) I really want... (whisper whisper whisper) ...

Seagoon: Of course! I'll do it at once!

(chains. lock. bolt.
roll open door.
steps retreat into distance.
chain, lock, bolt, etc.)

(bolt, lock, chains.
bolt. lock. chains. door.

Seagoon: What was it you asked for?

Thynne: Never mind, I'll smoke one of my own. Now Neddy, the prisoners are getting restless.

Seagoon: Whatwhatwhatwhatwhat? They had Sabrina for the cabaret last night!? I mean ....

Thynne: Yes I know culture's all very well Neddy, but, what the lads really need is a holiday.

Seagoon: Holiday, where?

Moriarty: We-l-l Well, I um, I sole (???) had their hearts set on the south of France.

Seagoon: But I can't let them out of prison...

Thynne: 'Course not Neddy we'll take the prison with us.

Seagoon: But but you can't move the prison! People will talk!

Thynne: Neddy, we're going to leave a cardboard replica.

Seagoon: Oh, I see, yes. Ah but wait a minute-- where are we going to stay in France?

Thynne: Ah. I've made arrangements with one of the French governments for our prison to be the guest of the Chateau d'if, the historic Gaelic penitentiary.

Seagoon: Well, I must say-, is all sounds very attractive indeed. Yes, yes. I'll agree to it!

Thynne: Good! Then unchain our visas and we'll all be off!

Moriarty & Various: Get up there! Get up there! (Whip) Hah! (Horses on cobblestones...)

Seagoon: It was a wonderful experience to be jogging along the Queen's in one of her Majesty's prisons on this fine morning. Get up there! (horses ) (sings rather badly) I can see a mine! I travel the rooooad! Whoooo cares! A Lat int he skyyyy! To be giv a thyyyy! I travel the roooooooad! Aloooooone!

Thynne: You silly twisted governor you!

(long, tiresome journey music)

Seagoon: Entry in prison diary. February the second. At sea. (hurl). Coast of France visible through the bars of F-block.

Bloodnok: Eh good morning, captain Seagoon.

Seagoon: Wait a minute! You're not one of my convicts!

Bloodnok: No, no, I'm a stowaway.

Seagoon: Well you'll have to get off. You'll have to get off. STOP THE PRISON!! (signal bell..) ON YOUR LEFT!!... ETC...!!!...

Bloodnok: No no look, look...

Seagoon: ... STOP THE PRISON!!... ETC!!!...

Bloodnok: Don't stop it just for me, I'm not complaining, I-I...

Seagoon: That's not the point! That's Not the point!

Bloodnok: ...I-I-...

Seagoon: Look here, we are full up! We-eve a maximum complement of convicts! Two thousand one hundred and eighty three.

Bloodnok: What what what what what! Two thousand one hundred and eighty two if you'd read mine (?). One was drowned this morning

Seagoon: Drowned? How?

Bloodnok: Poor lad, he tried to tunnel his way out.

Seagoon: Fo-o-o-l. Very well. You can have his cell. That will be three shillings please.

(cash register)

Bloodnok: There you go, three shillings in kosher maragruite.

Seagoon: Good, I'll spread it on my checkbook at once. I wonder why this man wants to join our prison.

Bloodnok (aside): Little does he know that I have reason to believe that the that the Chateau d'if contains the clue to the treasure of the count of Monte Crtisto.

Moriarty: Finished? (aside) Little does Bloodnok know I also know that the Chateau D'if contains the clue to a treshure.

Bloodnok (I think): Do you mind?

Moriarty: yes.

Thynne (aside): Little do either of these Charlies know, that I've planned this whole move to bring down our prison bring it into direct contact with the Chateau D'if precisely to obtain the clue to the aforementioned treasure. Little do they know...

Seagoon: Finished?

Thynne: yes.

Seagoon: Great heavily whispered asides! (aside) Little do they know how little I know about the littles they know. If only I know what the littles that they know, I'd know a little. I'll have to keep my little ears open you know. (HAUU!). End of long, boring asides!
(big crash!)

Eccles: I shoulda said that sooner, shouldn't I?

Greenslade (French accent): Ahh, maisner de please en ar de gle sweve en ve gleknee, welcome to the Chateau d'if.

Seagoon: Shahh, what an honor! It is none other than Wallace Greenslade playing the part of the French prefect of police! And playing it very badly!

Greenslade (normal): Don't-- don't give me away-- it was this or making tea for John Snagg.

Seagoon: Thank you and good bye-- and so began a happy day at the Chateau d'if. By evening, each convict had dismantled his old cell, carried the bricks into the Chateau, wrapped in brown paper and labeled accordingly, donned the traditional French convict's red white and blue trousers, and waltzed the whole night though!

(Waltz, with chains.)

Thynne: Neddy, you look divine. Might I have the next dance?

Seagoon: I'm sorry I promised it to 9 2 4 3 7 8.

Thynne: oh, But he's in solitary.

Seagoon: Then he'll have to dance by himself.

Thynne: Ah hah ha ha.

Frenchman: Ahhh, good evening mister governor. (SG: what?) The prisoners want the band to play a special request-- unchained melodies!

Seagoon: Right!

(I think Ellington plays unchained melodies here but I'm not sure-- the editing ­out was very good.)

(some transition-type music, buddy)

Greenslade: Tales of Old Dartmoor, part three. That night, in the deepest dungeon of the Chateau D'if, two figures are at work.

Thynne and Moriarty: Grunt and groan.
(Hammer and chisel)


Thynne: Oh! dropped it.

Moriarty: Sapristi look! Here it is. A black box! La box noir!

Thynne: hwwhh yes. Lift it out and unroll it.

(Grunt, thud)

Thynne: Oh! Just as I anticipated.

Moriarty: what?

Thynne: I don't know what it is.

Moriarty: Wait! it's an old long playing wax cylinder gramophone record.

Thynne: Then play it!

Moriarty: But there's no gramophone.

Thynne: Well we must dig for one.

Moriarty: Right.

(Grunt, groan fast digging sounds)

Moriarty: Got it.

Thynne: Put it on.

Moriarty: (Grunt) It doesn't fit me at all!

Thynne: Then play it!

Moriarty: Very well. Here goes...

Gramophone (Scratchy, who it is, I don't know. Probably Greenslade or someone): This record is the clue to the treasure of Monte Christo. Go to the prison yard, where you will find, wrapped up in brown paper parcels, another prison. Re-assemble it, and you will find the treasure buried under the floor of cell number six two six, in the basement.

Moriarty: (gasp)

Thynne: Good, good.

Moriarty: Sapristi.

Thynne: Come on Moriarty and we'll get..


Seagoon: Grytpype! Dreadful news! (GPT: What?) Our holiday is over as somebody has stolen all the bricks to our prison! What's more, it was to have sailed home tomorrow on the tide.

Moriarty: AHonoinonino! iouoiu!! oiu! We're homeless!

Thynne: Yes, and someone's found out about the treasure.

Seagoon: Come on now, who's hiding our prison. Hands up all those who know anything about this!


Bluebottle: Me and Eccles know where it's gone captain.

Eccles: Yah, we know.

Seagoon: Splendid, lads. Tell me where it is and I'll reduce your sentence from two years to four.

Bluebottle: Wellm it, a went, um... Thinks, Where did it went?... It wented, mm,... Eccles,

Eccles: Yeah?

Bluebottle: Do you remember Eccles?

Eccles: Yeah, I remember Eccles!

Bluebottle: Well does he know where it wented?

Eccles: I'll ask him. (achem.) Do you know where it wented?

(long pause)

Bluebottle: What does he say, Eccles?

Eccles: He hasn't answered yet I think he's out.

Seagoon: Curse! What bad luck!

Bluebottle: What bad luck.

Eccles: What bad luck! What bad luck! What bad luck...

Seagoon: Yes, what bad luck-- Shut up Eccles!

Eccles: Shut up Eccles!

Bluebottle: Shut up Eccles!

ALL (SG, BB, E): Shut up!

Seagoon: SHUT UP!!

Eccles: shut up.

Seagoon: We can't wait for him to come back. We'll have to give chase in the Chateau d'if. ALL HANDS ON DECK!! CAST OFF!! FAUL SPEE DAUAA (?)!!

Eccles: (mumble etc.)
(bells, chains etc.)
Moriarty: (mumble 'ouoiuotuuu')

Seagoon: An Eccles,

Eccles: Yes?

Seagoon: Shut up.
Eccles: Shut up!
Bluebottle: Shut up!
Eccles: Shut up.

Seagoon: Send a message to the rock (?) saying we've only borrowed the Chateau temporarily.

Eccles: I thought it was the Chateau d'if.

Seagoon.: No, it's the Chateau Temporarily. We're in disguise.

Eccles: Oh.

Seagoon: Mister Christian,

Throat: Yes?

Seagoon: Bestow cheese to all hands! Cast tivits (?) to the wind, and unlatch the keel!

Someone: Burma mile surrah!

(rumble ... seagoing sunrise type music)


Seagoon: Log of the French prison Chateau d'if. At sea. (hurl) No sign yet of Her Majesty's prison Dartmoor.


Someone: Prison on the starboard bow surrah!

Seagoon: Gad it might be the Dartmoor! Get my telescope out of it's cell. Thank you By gad yes it is!

Moriarty: Sapristi yes! Look at that flag! It's flying the skull and crossbones.

Seagoon: Wrong. It's a photograph of David Nixon with his arms folded!

Someone: Captain he's heaving to!

Seagoon: Well, don't stand there, heave to back at him!


Seagoon: He's opened fire! Duck!

Eccles: Why?

Seagoon: There's a cannonball coming.

Eccles: Right, I'll see you after the ball is over. 


Seagoon: OHOAOO OOAUOOOA O. Stricken. 0HA000 OOAHOO O OOOAOU. I've been stricken. Grytpype, call the doctor.

Thynne: Not likely, I'm next in line for admiral.

Seagoon: Wait! This- this isn't blood.

Moriarty: What is it?

Seagoon: It's custard. The swine! He's fired Christmas puddings!

Thynne: Yes, you know what this means, Neddie. It's the twenty fifth of December.

Seagoon: Really?
Thynne: Yes.

Seagoon: Merry Christmas.

Thynne: Thank yon.

Seagoon: Gad, I'll teach them to fire the afters before we've fired the main course. Men, load all guns with roast turkey. With the parson's nose outwards!

Moriarty: Sapristi you devil! With the parson's nose outwards! If you hit him with those he'll go to the bottom!

Seagoon: FIRE!


Seagoon: Dash it! Missed! Load another salvo (??) of turkey.
Eccles: Aye aye.

Seagoon: This time with bread sauce.

Thynne: No, I have a better idea. Eccles,

Eccles: Shut up Eccles!

Thynne: I haven't said it yet. Eccles, put that big iron ball you have chained to
your leg into that cannon.

Eccles: O.K.

(roll... clunk)

Eccles: Right.

Thynne: FIRE!

(chain playing out...)

Eccles: Oh yaa! There it goes with the jghglaahh--!

Seagoon: Eccles, come back! After him! He's deserting!

Greenslade: Meanwhile, aboard Her Majesty's prison Dartmoor ...

Bloodnok: Ohohhoh, they're gaining on us! Curse these French Brigadine prisons, much speedier than ours, I tell you.


Bloodnok: Ohhow! Struck by a-­

Eccles: Hallo!

Bloodnok: Convict Eccles,
(Eccles: Convict Eccles...)

Bloodnok: Just the man I'm looking for. I want you to take a message to the Chateau d'if. Tell them I shall never surrender.
Eccles: But they're two miles away! I can't swim all that...

Bloodnok: Never you mind. Get in here. FIRE!


Bloodnok: There he goes. Let that be a lesson to them-- they can't get rid of their surplus idiots on me you know. Great Scott!  They're closing in! Stand by to repel boarders!

Someone: How do you repel boarders?

Bloodnok: Stop changing the bed linens.

Bloodnok: Look out, they're coming along side.

Seagoon: Right then, comind decisnen. (??) Board her!

(The goons board with lots of noise and shouts of Rhubarb! Custard! CustardMacCustardMacRhubarb! and other such nonsense.)

Thynne: Come on Moriarty- while they're all occupied let's go down and get the treasure. Remember it's under the floor of cell number six two six. Quick, down these stairs.

(whoosh whoosh)

Thynne: (a little out of breath) Here it is. Cell six two six.

Moriarty: Sapristi naborlis! What ever is under this floor is ours.

Thynne: Yes.

Moriarty: Together--

Both: Lift! Uhh!


Moriarty: oouoiu it's water. Salt water.

 (faint sound of water)

Thynne: Let me taste it. tpTptPPtPtptp You're right. It's the Atlantic Ocean.

Moriarty: We're rich! We're rich! Look-- there's more of it there! Look! It's all coming in!

Thynne: Stop you fool! We're sinking! Ahhhh!

Moriarty: Ahhhh!

Both: Ahhhh!

(Sound of water rushing in.)

(short ending tune)

Greenslade: And that dear listeners is why the Dartmoor we know today is only a cardboard replica.

(end of Goon Show music)

Greenslade: That was the Goon Show a BBC recorded programme featuring Peter Sellers, Harry Secombe and Spike Mitligan. Script by Spike Milligan orchestra conducted by Walter Stott. Produced by Peter Eaton.

Transcribed by Reed hedges. 11-24-96 and 1-4-96.