Notes: In this episode Milligan was indisposed, so Sellers played Eccles and Minnie Bannister and Secombe played Moriarty. George Chisholm played a minor role (known in this episode as McChisholm). 

Originally broadcast: 25th October 1956 
~~~ - Parts I can’t understand 

GREENSLADE: This is the BBC. Any offers? 
ECCLES: Ten shillings 
FX: Cash register 
SECOMBE: Yes folks, sold to the gentleman with the rolled-gold trilby and transparent head. Now, Mr. Greenslade, hold this piece of seaweed, raise your right leg, point north and discharge your duty, namely a weather report of this week’s show! 
GRAMS: Thunder rumble, rain 
GREENSLADE: According to the humidity of my knees, which are sweeping in from the Azores on a broad front, we present “The McReekie Rising of ‘74” 
ORCHESTRA: Scottish introduction interrupted by a showbiz intro. 
GRAMS: Bagpipe music 
CAST: [over grams] Rhubarb, rhubarb, McRhubard, McCustard, McRhubarb, rhubarb etc. 
GRAMS: Bagpipe music speeds up and fades out 
McCHISHOLM: Lads, hear me the noo. I, Chisholm McChisholm of the MacShowband, bring grave Mc news. Mac Scotland is in Mac peril 
CAST: Oooorrrrr, McRhubarb etc. 
SECOMBE: McRhubarb, McCustard, McRhu… Silence, lads! A word from our chief, the laird Red Hairy McLegs 
McLEGS: Ooorrr neei, or nei, oorr. Ma hairies, ma brave hairies! The great hairy caber of the clan MacReekie, symbol of Scottish power and manhood, has been stolen by the reeking non-hairy sassenach English! 
CAST: Ooorrrr, McNo, McNo! 
McLEGS: Tonight we march north to England! 
SECOMBE: But England’s south 
McLEGS: I was going to march right round the world and sneak up on them from behind! Forward to MacReekie!!!!! 
GRAMS: “What is this?”, bagpipe music and singing with it speeding up 
GREENSLADE: Thank heaven they’ve gone, you know they make such a mess of the place. And now, according to this air ministry roof I’m holding, a band of Scots are approaching the tower of London, where on the ramparts, a British garrison stands alert, and ready 
BLOODNOK: [Snores] 
GRAMS: ‘Fred the Oyster’ 
BLOODNOK: Hoo, ooh, that’s better 
SEAGOON: Ahoy, up there! Let me in 
BLOODNOK: What, what? You’re not her husband, are you? 
BLOODNOK: Oh, thank heaven for that. Right, right, here’s the key, let yourself in lad. Supper’s in the oven 
FX: Gas oven opens 
SEAGOON: Ah, thank you. I’m captain Ned Seagoon of the third foot 
BLOODNOK: So, you’ve grown another one 
SEAGOON: Only for the three-legged race 
BLOODNOK: Of course, you won’t find any of them here, you know 
SEAGOON: Enough of the splin, splan, splon 
SEAGOON: Now you are Bloodnok of the tower 
BLOODNOK: The same, the same. Wait a moment, what’s that sixty-foot, hairy pole hidden under your kilt? 
SEAGOON: So you’ve spotted it, eh? 
BLOODNOK: Only when the sun glinted on it 
SEAGOON: This pole was captured in battle from the Scots. It’s the great McHairy McCaber of the MacReekie 
BLOODNOK: Ooh, you three-legged military fool, you. They’ll slaughter it for bringing that to England. Abdul, pack my kit and Mrs Fitzsimmons, we’re leaving for foreign parts 
SEAGOON: Bloodnok, you’re a miserable coward 
GREENSLADE: Pardon me, Major Bloodnok 
BLOODNOK: What is it, Mrs Fitzsimmons? 
GREENSLADE: Um, there’s a hairy army outside, sir 
BLOODNOK: Aaooow, the Scots! 
GREENSLADE: And this registered Scotsman arrived this morning 
McCHISHOLM: I, I bring word from our Laird. Return the red hairy caber or we’ll close wi' you the noo! 
BLOODNOK: It’s Chisholm McChisholm the steaming kilt 
McCHISHOLM: I’m warning you, Seagoon! Listen, I’m warning you, we’ve got the whole of England surrounded by water 
SEAGOON: Curse, we’re trapped! Man the lifeboats! Alright, McChisholm. Tell your hairies, we fight! 
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic link 
GRAMS: Thunder rumble, rain 
GREENSLADE: With the trough of low pressure settling under my chair and the glass falling in all directions, the defenders of the Tower of London await the hairy Scots’ attack 
FX: Footsteps approaching 
WILLIUM: [Muffled] Halt! Who goes there, mate? 
FRED NURKE: Hello, Willium, I’ve come to relieve you 
WILLIUM: [Muffled] Ooooh, you’re too late, mate 
FRED NURKE: I say, Willium, where are you lad? 
WILLIUM: [Muffled] I’m ah – I’m inside the barrel of this cannon, mate 
FRED NURKE: Are we out of ammunition, then? 
WILLIUM: [Muffled] No, no, no, matey, it come on to rain you see. And I only had my thin summer armour on, so ah – I got in here, you see to get out of it. Give me an ‘and to get out, will you? 
FRED NURKE: Right, on the left, turn 'round a bit ~~~. Aah 
WILLIUM: Herh, ooh. Well, I’ll see you later, mate. Ta ta for now 
FRED NURKE: All the best, lad 
WILLIUM: [off, singing:] Maybe it’s because I’m a Chinaman, that I love London so… 
FRED NURKE: Neeee yeeeeeeyeeeeee. What a silly bloke he was, getting inside the barrel of that cannon? Hahaha, he won’t catch old Fred Nurke doing that! Ha-ha I’ll tell ye. After all someone might come along and fire it 
GRAMS: Rain 
FRED NURKE: Curse, it’s come on to rain. Well, perhaps if I put only half of me in the cannon, that might improve matters. I’ll just get down inside [strains]. Oh, certainly keeps you dry, don’t it? Ha-ha. Ay ay, me head’s getting wet. I will insinuate myself in the barrel for just a short period 
GRAMS: Rain stops 
FRED NURKE: [Muffled] [Yawns] It’s nice and dry inside the barrel [Yawns, snores. Snores under…] 
ECCLES: [Gibberish singing for 10 sec.] Ooh, look, a naughty little fuse. Aw look at that naughty little fuse! I will light that naughty little fuse on the cannon. ~~~~~~ 
FX: Strikes match 
ECCLES: [Goes off singing] 
GRAMS: Fuse hissing, explosion, bomb whistle, bomb hit 
FX: Cracking 
McLEGS: Brrrrrrr nuch bnn! Lads, look here, they’re firing sassenachs at us! Right, lads, fire Max Geldray, plodgee. Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr 


GREENSLADE: The MacReekie '74: Part seventy-five. With south cones pointing north and the Irish Sea waist deep in water, the hairies attacked the tower 
GRAMS: Charging, bugle call 
OMNES: [Make charging calls] 
FX: Door opens 
SEAGOON: Major, the Scots are attacking the north gate. They’re pouring in through the window 
BLOODNOK: The dirty devils! Abdul, get a mop and clear up. Where’s Sergent Groins? 
SEAGOON: A tragedy, sir. He was counterattacking when he tripped and fell right in the oubliette 
BLOODNOK: Well we’ll have him hosed down and send him in, will you? 
SEAGOON: Major Bloodnok, you underestimate the grivity of the satuition. You underestimate the sovity of the gravitation. You under… [clears throat, sings awfully:] Falling in love, with love, is falling for make-believe. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! 
BLOODNOK: Abdul, cancel my tickets for the Palladium, will you? 
SEAGOON: Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat? Bloodnok, Bloodnok, we must get the caber to a place of safety 
BLOODNOK: I know, the crown jewels room. That’s empty 
SEAGOON: Eh? What have you done with the crown jewels, you Rogue? 
BLOODNOK: How dare you insinuate, sir! They’re perfectly safe, I tell you. That pawn ticket’s under lock and key. 
SEAGOON: Alright. Private Willium? 
WILLIUM: Yes, mate, sir, yes? 
SEAGOON: Carry the sixty-foot hairy caber into the crown jewels room 
WILLIUM: Right. [Strains] mate, ooh. It won’t go through the door, mate, it’s too high. I’ll have to saw a bit off the top, mate 
SEAGOON: You won’t have to do that, you fool, just make the doorway higher 
GREENSLADE: Erm, may I suggest you take it in horizontally? 
WILLIUM: Right, I’ll do that, mate. I’ll lie down, mate. I shouldn’t be doing this, man of my age. I’ve got a chit. I'm excused cabers I am 
GRAMS: Whoosh, splat 
WILLIUM: Oooh aaaw aaaw! Who threw that? 
SEAGOON: Poor Willium, he’s been hit by a great steaming spludge. What is it? 
WILLIUM: [Taste noise] Here, taste it 
SEAGOON: [Taste noise, gulps] Good heavens. Issue umbrellas, the Scots are firing porridge! 
BLOODNOK: Porridge at tea time? The devils, they’re trying to unbalance our diet 
SEAGOON: Gad, you’re right. Not a word to the men 
BLOODNOK: Of course 
SEAGOON: Very well then. If the Scots want to make it a war on nutrition, we have an English dish in our armoury twice as deficient in calories as porridge and twice as deadly 
BLOODNOK: Seagoon, you’re not going to fire… 
SEAGOON: Yes, brown Windsor soup 
ORCHESTRA: Dramatic link 
GRAMS: Bubbles 
MIN BANNISTER: Naaaaw! [Sings:] You’ve got to rock and roll in a military way! Yim bum bum bidle day, yum bum bum bum bum, bubble bo! Num num with a shiny jewel, yum bum bum, diddle doo! 
HENRY CRUN: What’s happening in this steaming room, Minnie? 
MIN BANNISTER: I’m pouring brown Windsor soup into these naughty cannon balls, buddy 
HENRY CRUN: Oh, haven’t we got any soup plates, Min? 
HENRY CRUN: Good, good, good 
MIN BANNISTER: Ooooh. What’s good, Henry? 
HENRY CRUN: It’s good that we’ve got soup plates, Min 
MIN BANNISTER: But we’ve always had soup plates, Henry 
HENRY CRUN: Yes, it’s always been good, Min 
HENRY CRUN: [Surprised] 
SEAGOON: Now, come on, Tarzan. Seal those cannon balls and take them up to the cannoniers 
HENRY CRUN: They’re too heavy for me to carry, sir 
SEAGOON: Well have you got a dumb waiter? 
HENRY CRUN: Only Eccles 
SEAGOON: Ah, just the man! Eccles, take one of these cannon balls 
ECCLES: OK [swallows] 
SEAGOON: You fool, you! 
GRAMS: Explosion 
ECCLES: Pardon 
ORCHESTRA: Scottish-type link 
GRAMS: Bagpipe music 
GREENSLADE: The MacReekie ’74. With the weather vanes exposed to the Gulf Stream and equinox in the ascendance, the Scots maintained a non-stop barrage of bagpipes, which slowly had its effect on the English garrison 
GRAMS: Bagpipes continue 
GRYTPYPE: Have you got the earplugs, Moriarty? 
MORIARTY: Six hundred pairs of them, oooooh hiwwwww! 
GRYTPYPE: If the English want to stay sane, they should buy the lot 
MORIARTY: Ooh, yes we’ll make some money. Ooh, the moolah, the lolly, the ~~~~, the grisbee! Power, more power ~~~~ 
GRYTPYPE: Silence, you steaming infested Gaelic wreck 
MORIARTY: Oooh hiwww! 
GRYTPYPE: Stop shrieking and steaming. You’ll bring the hairies down on us. Now straighten those knees, wipe that filthy handkerchief off your face and don’t forget I shall do the talking 
MORIARTY: Right, and I'll join in the choruses, iiiiiwww! 
FX: Knock on door, door opens 
GREENSLADE: Halt, who goes there, sir? English or German? 
GRYTPYPE: Thank you. Is there a garrison living her by the name of Billegard? 
GRYTPYPE: Could I speak to the owner? 
GREENSLADE: Certainly, sir. Um – would you care to wait in here with these other chairs? 
FX: Door opens 
GRYTPYPE: Thank you. You don’t mind if we smoke our own? 
GREENSLADE: Oh no, by all means 
FX: Door closes, door opens 
SEAGOON: Good morning, gentlemen. I’m sorry I’m late, it’s the matinees, you know 
GRYTPYPE: Yes, they can be painful 
SEAGOON: Yes, now ah – what is it? 
GRYTPYPE: Well we have reason to believe that your garrison are being sorely tried by the noise of bagpipes 
SEAGOON: Yes, but what’s that to you? 
GRYTPYPE: [Laughs] My friend and I represent a leading firm of earplug manufacturers 
SEAGOON: What? We’ll take the lot! Ah Bloodnok! 
BLOODNOK: Ah what is it? 
SEAGOON: Look! The answer to the bagpipe noise 
BLOODNOK: Earplugs, yes, let’s test them 
GRYTPYPE: Certainly. Put them in your ears and I’ll bang this drum 
SEAGOON: Right, got them in [laughs] bang away 
[7 sec. pause] 
GREENSLADE: Listeners, the silence you are now hearing is not the silence brought on by the insertion of earplugs. It is the silence brought on by Grytpype-Thynne, who fiend that he is, is actually playing the drum with silent drumsticks, thank you 
SEAGOON: Ah, he’s stopped playing now. Well his earplugs seem to be alright. How much do you want for them? 
GRYTPYPE: One hundred pounds 
[Short pause] 
SEAGOON: How much do you want for them? 
GRYTPYPE: One hundred… [Laughs] Take your earplugs out 
SEAGOON: Why don’t you answer? I asked you how much do you want for them? 
GRYTPYPE: One hundred pounds 
SEAGOON: That’s funny, I can’t hear him 
GRYTPYPE: They cost one hundred… Look, take out the earplugs 
SEAGOON: Stop all that silly miming, man. How much? 
GRYTPYPE: One hundred pounds! 
SEAGOON: I’ve had enough of this, Bloodnok. He obviously doesn’t want to do business. Come on, get out! 
GRYTPYPE: No, no, no, look here… 
SEAGOON: You steaming English idiots, get out! 
FX: Door closes 
SEAGOON: One hundred pounds for earplugs we can hear through? [Laughs] Not likely 
GREENSLADE: There seems to be some doubt… 
SEAGOON & GRYTPYPE: [Under Greenslade] [Argue] Earplugs etc. 
GREENSLADE: …as to the efficacy of the earplugs. There’s only one positive test: Ray Ellington 

RAY ELLINGTON QUARTET: “Lulu’s Back in Town” 

GREENSLADE: With the quality of the earplugs still unproven, the British were forced to step up their barrages of brown Windsor soup 
GRAMS: Bagpipe music 
BLOODNOK: It’s no good, we can’t hold out much longer against this fiendish bagpipe playing 
SEAGOON: Gentlemen, there’s one thing that will shatter the Scots: a kilt removing patrol 
BLOODNOK: But look here, isn’t that a bit near the knuckle? 
SEAGOON: It depends on how you look at it. Now who will go out and remove the enemy’s kilts? 
BLOODNOK: Alright then, we’ll draw for it. Now one of these straws I’m holding is shorter than the rest. Now come on, draw 
OMNES: [Rhubarbs] 
BLOODNOK: Well well now, who’s got the shortest? 
SEAGOON: You have 
BLOODNOK: Mmm? Oh! Well off you go, lads, off you go. And the best of luck, sir 
SEAGOON: Thank you, sir. Now listen, lads, reports indicate that our barrages of brown Windsor soup have badly stained the Scotsmens’ kilts. Now [laughs] here is my cunning plan. The splin splan splon of the needle nardle noo… 
GREENSLADE: That evening in the Scottish camp: 
GRAMS: Dance music, gunshot, music speeds up, shattering glass, music speeds up more, more gunshots and shattering glass as music speeds up more and ends with speeded up chord 
McLEGS: Next dance please 
McCHISHOLM: Laird Hairy McLegs? 
McLEGS: Ay? 
McCHISHOLM: This Chinese laundryman wants a word with you 
SEAGOON: [Chinese accent] Gleetings, honolable haily Scotsman 
McLEGS: What do you want here, jock Chinaman? 
SEAGOON: [Chinese accent] Me bling splecial offeler. Me wash all Sclotmen’s sloup-stains klilts flee of charge 
McLEGS: Off wi' your kilts, lads 
SEAGOON: Ohhhhhh ho ho ho! 
McLEGS: Jock Chinaman, have them kilts back wee in one hour 
SEAGOON: [Chinese accent] I plomise, one hour. Gloodblye! 
McLEGS: Right, lads, take your partners for the slow frenzy 
GRAMS: Same dance music, gunshots & shattering glass as music speeds up and fades out. Crickets 
FX: Door opens and squeaks 
SEAGOON: Hah. Is Corporal Bluebottle’s raiding party back yet? 
BLUEBOTTLE: Yes it is. And look here, I’ve got a hundred and ninety kilts 
SEAGOON: Kilts? Those are skirts 
BLUEBOTTLE: Ooh, no wonder they put up such a fight. Yeeheheeee! 
SEAGOON: Bluebottle, you must learn to tell the difference. What’s your tale, little musketeer? 
BLUEBOTTLE: I will tell you my tale, sir. Listen. On the night of the dreaded kilt snatching patrol, I blackened my face and whited my boots and in that position I approached the Scottish camp and I hidded in the bushes! Then I used the special Bluebottle mind over matter plan; I stared at them, with my undefeatable power of eyes look and I willed their kilts to drop off 
SEAGOON: Splendid 
BLUEBOTTLE: Yes! I looked the kilts straight in the sporrin and I went straaaiiiiin! Fall down, naughty kilt, I said in my mind. Straaaiiiiin, strain! Dotted lines out of eyes towards kilt showing direction of power. Doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot doot. Little kilt, you cannot stand up against my superior North Finchley will power. Extra heavy strain; straiiiin! Dotted lines change to daggers showing increase of power; [really straining:] burch burch burch burch burch. Straaaiiiiin! And then rip! Whoosh! Thud! 
SEAGOON: What happened? 
BLUEBOTTLE: My trousers fell down 
SEAGOON: Don’t worry, little thin East Finchley Liberace 
BLUEBOTTLE: Herheeeehehe! 
SEAGOON: I've got all their kilts. The trouble is how am I going to get them washed and back in an hour? 
GREENSLADE: You’re taking them back? 
SEAGOON: Of course, I promised. I can’t break my word as a Chinaman 
GREENSLADE: You’re only disguised as a Chinaman, sir 
SEAGOON: Thank heaven you noticed [laughs]. But for your keen eye, I’d’ve been washing chop suey all day 
BLOODNOK: Seagoon, bad news! We’ve had it, lad. The ravens have been stolen by the Scots and everybody knows the legend that if the ravens leave the tower, the tower will surely fall 
SEAGOON: If everybody knows, what did you say it for? 
BLOODNOK: It’s for me, I’d never heard of it, you see? 
SEAGOON: Men, we can’t fight the legend. The ravens have gone. This, is the end 
SEAGOON: Oohoohoo. [Sadly:] Let the Scotsmen in 
GRAMS: Sad bugle ballard 
SEAGOON: Open the gates. Men, put down your arms 
FX: Gates slide open 
OMNES: Rhubarb, rhubarb, McCustard, McRhubarb, rhubarb 
McLEGS: Well, Seagoon? 
SEAGOON: We surrender, here’s your hairy caber back. [Strains] 
McLEGS: [Strains]. Ta 
SEAGOON: All we want back now is our ravens 
McLEGS: We’ve no got your ravens, lad 
SEAGOON: What, whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat? Then, then where can they be? 
MIN BANNISTER: Dinner’s ready, boys. Forty hairy black birds baked in a hen pie 
SEAGOON: Help! We’ve been betrayed! Aaaaaaaaaa! 
MIN BANNISTER: [Under Seagoon] Hahahaha! 
ORCHESTRA: End music: “Lucky Strike” continues under: 
GREENSLADE: That was The Goon Show. A BBC recorded programme featuring Peter Sellers and Harry Secombe. With the Ray Ellington Quartet, Max Geldray and the orchestra conducted by Wally Stott. The Glasgow-type Glasgow voice was played by George Chisholm. Script by Spike Milligan and Larry Stephens, announcer Wallace Greenslade, the program produced by Pat Dixon 
(FX: Music fades out early)