Series 7, number 3


Transcribed from the "Pick of the Goons" series version. Unfortunately, the beginning of the tape is missing and one early part (italics) is indistinct.


(bit missing) opens with laughter.

Greenslade: To find the explanation, I am inserting (into the lantern, this slide) of the

people assembled in the Corn Exchange.

Omnes: Rhubarbs, etc.

Crun: Gentlemen, Lord Seagoon is right in calling this meeting.

(nasal voice): Well said, Jim.

Crun: Hrmph. As the apothecary for Ninfield (?), I have been studying the

humours of the trousers for many years and I can tell you that the two gentlemen staying at Lord Seagoonís house are clear cases of the dreaded Nadger Plague.

F.X.: (sounds various, ending with horse, chicken, cow.)

Seagoon: Citizens of Ninfield, I must warn you.. beware the moment the seats of

your trousers start to burn. Then youíve got it.

(nasal voice): Oh, tell me, Sir, how can we avoid catching this dreaded malady?

Seagoon: There is no known cure, Jim. But there is a preventative measure.

(nasal voice): Oh.

Seagoon: Oh, ho. As the disease only strikes the seat of the trousers, it is best that

we desist from wearing any.

(nasal voice): Oi hear the words, but would it not be unwise for the men of Ninfield to

walk abroad without their nether garments. Remember there is a broad frost in the morning.

Seagoon: Heís right. However, I have an alternative. As the seat of the trousers is

the vulnerable part, that portion shall be cut out.

Bloodnok: This is a lot of rubbish. (laughter) Nadgers, Iíve never heard of it! Itís

all fish and vinegars, do you hear. Can you smell.. (sniffs). Oh, me britches! Ooooh.

Seagoon: Run for your lives. The Nadger.

Omnes: The Nadger (cries, descends into panic)

Orch: (musical chords)

Greenslade: Dear viewers, as youíll observe on the lantern slide, Lord Bloodnok had

indeed been stricken by the Nadgers. Now here on the next slide, youíll see the men of the village filing past Doctor Crun to have the seats of their trousers removed.

Seagoon: Ooooh, mind how you go, Doctor Crun!

Crun: Iím sorry. Next please.. your name, Sir?

Geldray: Max Geldray, English gentleman.

Crun: Floojie!

Geldray & orchestra.

Greenslade: That was Max Geldray, BBC contract artist, now under threat of death.

However, with the seat of his trousers removed, he can now face the world with a smile.

Now the Nadger Plague coloured slide number 4.

F.X.: (knock on door)

Grytpype-Thynne & Moriarty: Ohohohoho..

Moriarty: You naughty Grytpype_Thynne! Oho, the way they all ran away from the

manor, eh?

Grytpype-Thynne: Yes, that was a brilliant idea of mine that you thought of.

Moriarty: What?

Grytpype-Thynne: Burning those false Nadger holes in our trousers. Now put on that

lantern slide of Lord Seagoonís chest.

Moriarty: There..what a beautiful picture.

Grytpype-Thynne: Isnít it?

Moriarty: (strains) I canít get the chest open.

Grytpype-Thynne: Well, try this lantern slide of a bunch of keys.

Moriarty: Oh, voila, voila. They all fit perfectly.

Grytpype-Thynne: Look whatís inside.. a lantern slide of four pounds, seven shillings

in coppers.

Moriarty: (various gasping sounds) Then itís true Ė he is a millionaire.

F.X.: (doorbell rings)

Eccles: Hear ye, hear ye, confirmation that the plague has come to Ninfield.

Grytpype-Thynne: Plague? He must be joking.

Eccles: No, Iím not. The plague. The king has decreed that the village shall be

put in quarantine (pronounced "ine") and in quarantine (pronounced "een"), and shall be surrounded by a cordon of soldiers.

Grytpype-Thynne: What, letís get out of here.

F.X.: (whoosh, whoosh)

Seagoon: Curse! Just as the listeners already know, Grytpype-Thynne and

Moriartyís fake Nadger trousers have made off with my entire fortune in coppers. Pausing only for an English Summer, I leap on my favourite Arab (sound of man groaning). Thatís better. Now, tango after them!

F.X.: (horse gallops off, then a chicken sound)

Greenslade: We included the recording of a cockerel for people who like that sort of

thing. And now, here is a recording for people who donít like that sort of thing ( sound of a human imitating a cockerel, followed by a gun shot). If listeners will stand on their beds and face north, theyíll be able to see a portion of a lantern slide which shows a sentry on duty at the Nadger Plague village of Ninfield.

F.X.: (owl sounds)

Bluebottle: Halt, who goes there? (audience cheers) It is a little owl. Hello, little

owl. Thinks.. I will make up a poetry up.

Hello, little owl.

I can hear you owl, little howl.

Dear little lovely howl.

Moriarty: Sh, sh, sh. Look, Grytpype, look over there. That.. itís a Ö What is it?

Grytpype-Thynne: Itís a Ö hand me that book on British wildlife. Oh, yes, yes, the

lesser spotted sentry boy.

Moriarty: Thatís it, Grytpype. I should talk to him because Iím wearing the hat.

Grytpype-Thynne: Right, Iíll accompany you on this waistcoat.

Orch: (piano music)

Moriarty: Me, me, yes, right. I say, little ragged lad.

Bluebottle: Oooh, youíre not an owl.

Moriarty: Of course not, of course Iím not an owl. Iím on holiday.

Bluebottle: But I heard one. I hearded one.

Moriarty: You heard it?

Bluebottle: It went "hoot, hoot, hootie". (audience laughter)

Moriarty: Quelle brilliant impression. Tell me, little lad, can you do an impression

of a sentry fast asleep?

Bluebottle: Yes, I can. Yes..

Moriarty: Yes.

Bluebottle: Lays on ground, closes eyes, does imitation cardboard snoring. Imitating

ten seconds from now. (rapidly counts to ten). (snores). Finished my imitation now.

Moriarty: Heís not finished. Right, Grytpype, letís go.

F.X.: (whoosh, whoosh)

Seagoon: Good heavens, a piece of knotted string asleep at his post. Get up, you

rotten twine.

(much audience applause)

Bluebottle: Donít shake my eating-type catch braces. (?) Youíll shake my knots off!

Iím not doing real sleeping. I was doing an impression of sleeping.

Seagoon: Well, do an impression of waking up.

Bluebottle: (licks lips) Hello, Mum, whatís for breakfast?

Seagoon: Very good. Now, tell me, little spring-type soldier, did you see two

criminals go by with four pounds seven shillings in coppers?

Bluebottle: No, but I saw two coppers go by with four pounds seven shillings in

criminals. Eheeeeeeee, I have made a little jocule! (sound of a hit) ow-type ow!

Seagoon: Shut-type-up-type-shut-up-type. Ooooooo, youíve let two men go

through disguised as two other men. After the four of them. WaitÖ. Why is that gas stove wearing a hat?

Bluebottle: Heís going out! (audience laughter and applause) That gas stove is


Seagoon: Splin, splan, splon! Poor little cardboard Grenadier. He thinks that the

noble Eccles is a noble gas stove. Just to prove that he is mad and I am sane, Iíll question the gas stove in its own tongue. Ahem, hello, gas stove.

Eccles: Hello, Neddie.

Seagoon: Arrrrrgh, notes, nowts, newts! Itís true. Eccles is a gas stove. Tell me,

Eccles, whatís cooking.. ahahaha.. whatís cooking?

Eccles: I donít wish to cook that!

Seagoon: Get out of my oven. I mean, how did this fate befall you?

Eccles: Well, Neddie, when I heard about the Nadger Plague (mumbles).

Seagoon: While he was mumbling, I read an amazing story. Seemingly, as Eccles

had no trousers he could not avoid the plague by having the seat cut out, and had therefore swallowed the witchís magic potion which had changed him into a gas stove, thus making him immune to the plague. This has given me an idea. I will hie me to the witch. Eccles, lead the way. But first, an impression of Ray Ellington.

Ellington: Thatís easy!

(Ellington & quartet Ė "green Door")

F.X.: (bubbling water)

Min: Yim mum middleygo, yup bim bubble, toil and trouble, (then something I

cannot decipher!) and bubble, eye of newt and a toe of rat, Ö (and so onÖ.)

Crun: Stop making those naughty spells, Min.

Min: Iím not making a naughty spell. Henry, hand me that carton of frozen

ashes (?)Ö. And a nose of a (ÖÖÖ?), buddie.

Crun: Yum, yum, yum.

Min: Yum to you.

Crun: Are you using Mrs. Beetonís cookery book?

Min: Of course, itís the first thing I put in.

Crun: Oh.

F.X.: (knock on door)

Seagoon: The door was opened by an elderly cupboard with the drawers open.

Crun: Yes, Iím just putting some clean newspaper in.

Seagoon: I understand. Some of my best friends are cupboards.

Min: Did you want me, young Welsh buddie?

Seagoon: Mistress Bannister, are you the witch?

Crun: Donít talk to Min like that Ö

Min: ÖÖ(?)

Crun: .. or Iíll Ö(mumbles, gradually tailing off

Seagoon: I caught him as he fell. Mistress Bannister, I want some potion that would

change me into some inanimate object.

Min: You mean, youíre not one? Hahahaha.

Crun: Ö(mumbles, gradually tailing off

Seagoon: I caught him as he fell.

Min: Here, young man, take this bottle of green liquid. Drink it when your

ÖÖ. (?) is running low, then youíll be transformed into any object you want, buddie, oooh.

Seagon: Thank you, maíam. Hereís my personalized unsigned plasticine AEIOU.

Min: Thank you, and hereís my tip, buddie. Grytpype-Thynne and Moriarty are

on their way to the Green Sailorís Inn, oooh.

Seagoon: Hup, hup, onward!

F.X.: (sound of horse galloping off, then wind, and a knock on a door)

Willium: Coming, mate, coming. Hold on a minute, mate. I donít know. Iím

coming. I donít know what mates are doing out on a night like this., mate. I donít know. Itís mate night for Ö Itís not a night Ö

Greenslade: Is this the Green Sailorís Inn?

Willium: Yes, mate.

Greenslade: Then, part seven, in which two travellers arrive at the inn.

Willium: Oh, I better go and get the beds ready, mate.

Morirty: Yes, yes, mate; yes, mate, and a bowl of steaming venison and a side of

mead for our horseís friends.

Willium: Whoís your horses friends?

Moriarty: We are.

Grytpype-Thynne: Oh, and landlord, we want a room with the walls facing inwards, a

table laid with your best silver and napery.

Moriarty: Yes, and a window overlooking our horse, and a set of knotted sheets

hanging therefrom.

Willium: Here, wait a minute, mate. Sheets hanging out the window? I know what

youíre going to do, mate. The moment my backís turned, that horse will be up them sheets for a free nightís kip (? drowned out by audience laughter).

Moriarty: Curse it, curse it, curse it, Grytpype, heís guessed our plans.

Grytpype-Thynne: Alright, landlord, youíve rumbled us. Put the horse on the bill.

Moriarty: Yes, and hurry.

Willium: Alright, mates, in here.. room number 99. Named it after me old Dad, I


Moriarty: Ooh, what a lovely room your father must have been. Wait.. Yes, and a

gas stove in the corner, mate.

Willium: Yes, a bloke left it here earlier on, and that clock on the mantule-piece.

Left his horse behind and all.

Moriarty: Did he?

Willium: Iíll go and get your dinner.

Moriarty: Thank you, lad, thank you.

Willium: OK.

F.X.: (sounds of Grytpype-Thynne and Mortiarty counting money, and ticking)

Seagoon: Hello, listeners, hear that ticking? Aha. Yes, that clock on the mantelpiece

was none other than I, Neddie Seagoon. I had drunk the witchís magic potion and been transformed into an eight-day, all-weather (leather?) clock, with device for waking you up with a cup of tea. Now, I must maintain the deception. Dong, dong, dong, dong; dong, dong, dong, dong; dong, dong, dong, dong; dong, dong, dong, dong. DongÖdongÖ dong.

Moriarty: Three oíclock? My watch says four.

Seagoon: Dong.

Moriarty: What?!

Grytpype-Thynne: Nonsense, I make it seven.

Seagoon: (very quickly) Dong, dong, dong.

Moriarty: Thereís something strange going on in this room. Tr\hat clockís slow. Iíll

wind it up from behind.

Seagoon: Donít touch me or Iíll strike!

Moriarty: Ooooh, that clock spoke! Itís witchery. Run for it!

F.X.: (sounds of horses, followed by a window breaking)

Seagoon: Ahahaha, listeners, they fled leaving the Seagoon fortune behind.

Eccles: Ha ha, listeners, they fled leaving the Seagoon ..

Seagoon: Shut up, gas stove!

Eccles: Shut up, clock!

Seagoon: Now to change back into human form again. Hand me the magic potion.

Eccles: I canít move. Iím a gas stove.

Seagoon: Well, change back to Eccles.

Eccles: OK, hand me the magic bottle.

Seagoon: I canít, Iím a clock.

F.X.: (sound of clock ticking)

Greenslade: And that, dear listeners, was 300 years ago. To this day, there is a room in

the Green Sailorís Inn available for travellers (laughs) complete with a gas stove, clock and four pounds seven shillings in coppers. Goodnight, Charlies, everywhere.

Orchestra: (roll-out)

Announcer: That was the Goon Show, a BBC recorded program 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 and Larry Stephens. Announcer Wallace Greenslade. The program produced by Pat Dixon.

Orchestra: (music playout).