BROADCAST: 28 Feb 1957

Script by Spike Milligan and Larry Stephens.


GREENSLADE: This is the BBC.

GRAMS: Screaming female fans at Elvis concert.

GREENSLADE: Right. Steady girls! Steady! This is your old Wallace the Ďpelvisí again with a Ďbrillí hot modern rhythm for you. So letís get Ďhepí with my latest recording, "See You Later Alligator."

GRAMS: Massed applause.


GREENSLADE: (Sings) See you later alligator,

After a while crocodile.

See you later alligator,

After a while crocodile.

Cause youíre in my way, my way now,

Donít you know you cramp my style.

SEAGOON: Stop! Stop you mad fool Greenslade. Are you out of your mind?

MILLIGAN: (Distant) Put that pelvis back.

SEAGOON: Take off those false crepe-hair side-burns and remove that elastic leg support.

GREENSLADE: I canít. Iíve got haricot beans.

SEAGOON: You mean varicose veins.

GREENSLADE: Haricot beans. Iíve just been shopping.

SEAGOON: Mr. Greenslade, Iíd like you to bear in mind that youíre in the company of cultured gentlefolk. So belt up, or youíll get a dirty big bunch of fives up your conk.

GREENSLADE: Now, the highly esteemed and pressed Goon Show.


SEAGOON: Yes, with that haunting Sellerís theme sounding the death knell of all piano postal tuition courses, we present this weekís play entitled, (and we quote from this suicide note)Ö

SELLERS: ĎInsurance Ė the White Manís Burdení.


GREENSLADE: Scene one, the British Zoo. A flannelled fool approaches the penguin pool.

GRAMS: Cheerful school children on zoo excursion.

SEAGOON: Ah! Good morning zoological keeper.

WILLIUM: Good morning flannelled fool.

SEAGOON: What a lovely day for a zoo.

WILLIUM: Yes. Thatís why I let it out this morning.

SEAGOON: Ha, ha, ha, ha! A merry zoological-type joke.


SEAGOON: A big crowd of people here today.

WILLIUM: Yes, I know. We let Ďem in for the animals to look at, you see. Trouble is, we have to lock the boa constrictors up so the kids donít get at them, you know. Lost four boa constrictors last year, kids taking them home all the time. Hang the laundry on demÖ (raves)

SEAGOON: Well done. Now tell me, what do you call those little black and white creatures in the penguin pool?
WILLIUM: Well, I call that one Jim, that oneís Terrance and thatís Penelope over there.

SEAGOON: What do you call that one sitting at the piano?
WILLIUM: I call him a pianist, mate.

SEAGOON: Donít tell me that penguin plays the piano!



SEAGOON: Good heavens! And he sings as well.

WILLIUM: Yes. And themís all his own words too you know.

SEAGOON: Dear listeners, I realised that the great crowd was due to this piano playing penguin. If I could get him on the stage Iíd make a fortune.

GREENSLADE: Immediately Seagoon went to a nearby house and put up a brass plate inscribed ĎCurator of Birds - Inquire within.í

FX: Quick knock. Door opens.

SPRIGGS: Good morning. Come in. Come i-innnn.

SEAGOON: I want to buy a penguin.

SPRIGGS: You look like the type. But only one penguin? Iím afraid, Iím afra-aaaid we only sell them wholesale.

SEAGOON: Alright then, Iíll buy one wholesale. How much are they?

SPRIGGS: How much are they? How much are the-eeeey! Iíll just look in this catalogue.

SEAGOON: I donít want a cat, I want a penguin. Look in the penguin log.

SPRIGGS: Itís a lie. I didnít write that one. Nevertheless I shall look in this penguin log. (sings) Hahahahaa! Hoawaoaoaoaw! Here we are. Here we ar-rrreeee!

SEAGOON: You found it?
SPRIGGS: No. I was just telling you where we were.

SEAGOON: Thank heavens. I can throw away this map of China.

SPRIGGS: Iíll just make out this bill of sale. How do you spell penguin?

SEAGOON: P Ė N Ė guin.

SPRIGGS: How do you pronounce it?


SPRIGGS: Thank you. Let me see now, Iíll just write that down. E Ė Z Ė L Ė X Ė Q. Drat this pen, it canít spell!

SEAGOON: Wait a minute. Perhaps itís the ink that canít spell. Let me taste it.

SPRIGGS: Right-o Jim.

SEAGOON: (Tasting) P Ė E Ė N Ė G Ö No, no. This inkís alright.

SPRIGGS: Thank you. Now then, hereís the one Jim. The nameís Tom, Tom Penguin. Pianoforte and penguin vocalist. (Sings) Melody divine he sings.

SEAGOON: Thatís him. How much?

SPRIGGS: How much? Twenty pounds sterling.

SEAGOON: Thatís expensive for a second hand penguin.

SPRIGGS: Ah, but heís just been done up.

SEAGOON: Who by?
SPRIGGS: The husband of the penguin heís been carrying on with.

SEAGOON: Twenty pounds? Iíve only got eighteen shillings sterling.

GRAMS: Double whoosh.

GRYTPYPE: Neddie, we just heard your bank statement on the wireless.

SEAGOON: The two strangers were dressed in immaculate hand sewn rags with newspaper parcels to match.

MORIARTY: Senti amo caro. Listen Neddie Ė and here is a hand carved Arab sock as a token of our goodwill. Aowawawawawawoohaw!

SEAGOON: What would you with me, gentlemen?

GRYTPYPE: Neddie, my steaming French friend has come here to make you a present lad.

MORIARTY: Yes, yes. And here is a sample of it in this bottle.

SEAGOON: It looks like water.

GRYTPYPE: Yes, but no ordinary water this lad. Partake and savour the bouquet.

FX: Cork pop.

SEAGOON: (Tasting) Good heavens, this is English Channel nineteen Ė oh Ė two!

GRYTPYPE: One of their best years Neddie.

SEAGOON: Really?
GRYTPYPE: Yes, and thereís more where that came from wasnít there Moriarty?

MORIARTY: Plenty more!

GRYTPYPE: Allow me to present the sommelier who was responsible for bottling that rare vintage sea-water, Count Jim ĎGrapeí Labour-exchange Moriarty, leaper supreme and all-England crab champion.

SEAGOON: I am both honoured to know a man of such exquisite boots.

MORIARTY: Merkie mon ami, merkie, merkie. And here in return, free of charge, is the deeds to the English type channel.

SEAGOON: You mean youíre offering me free of charge the deeds to the English channel?

GRYTPYPE: He heard you Moriarty.

MORIARTY: Do you accept the English channel then, le channel englais?

SEAGOON: Yes. I only hope I can live up to it.

GRYTPYPE: Iím sure you can Neddie. However, one slight formality Neddie. For your own protection of course, the jokal style of protection, you must insure it lad.

SEAGOON: Insure it against what?
GRYTPYPE: Fire Neddie

MORIARTY: Yes, fire Neddie. And fortunately for vous we happen to be strolling insurance agents of no fixed percentage.

SEAGOON: What is the premium?
MORIARTY: Tell him.

GRYTPYPE: Well, let me see. Youíve got eighteen shillings havenít you?


GRYTPYPE: Well thatís it. Eighteen shillings in sterling lad.

SEAGOON: How much do I get if the channel catches fire?

GRYTPYPE: Forty-eight thousand pounds!

SEAGOON: Where do I sign?
GRYTPYPE: On the dotted line of this cheque Iíve just found in your pocket here.

FX: Pen nib on paper.

MORIARTY: Er, donít worry to fill in the amount. Weíll fill in that later. (Goes off singing.) April in PareeÖI can see it all now!

SEAGOON: Dear listeners. These men think Iím a fool. Little do they know that the moment their backs are turned Iíll be down to that channel, set fire to it and collect the forty-eight thousand nicker!

GRYTPYPE: Right. To give him time, here is Max ĎWorriedí Geldray and his electric nose.

SEAGOON: Right, round the back for the Ďol brandy there.

GRAMS: Boots running off at speed.



GRAMS: Wind and waves.

SEAGOON: I wonder how many listeners noticed that while Max Geldray was playing I caught a road to Normanís Bay Halt and am now addressing you from the beach at Pevensey Bay where the great English channel meets the great English sewerage system.

MILLIGAN: Phooooo!

GREENSLADE: And so saying, Seagoon prepared to ignite the English channel, devil that he was.

GRAMS: Further burst of wind and waves.

SEAGOON: Yes, it was bitterly cold as I walked through the thick winter snow to the waterís edge. Suddenly I noticed, lazing in a deck chair, a gentleman in ankle length swimming trunks, sunglasses and sun-tan oil.

ECCLES: He Ė eello! Well, well, well, my good man, are you on holiday too?

SEAGOON: With that statement folks I realised that the case of The Crown verses Eccles was proven.

ECCLES: What a day this has been! What a day!

(Sings) With a smile on my face

I belong to the human raceÖ. (raves)

What a day! What a scorcher of a day itís been.

SEAGOON: This is a scorcher?

ECCLES: This is a scorcher.

SEAGOON: Then whatís the snow doing on the beach?

ECCLES: Itís on holiday as well.

(Sings) England my island home

Land of the freeÖ

SEAGOON: Listen, blue shivering frost covered figure, what gives you the ideas that itís hot today?

ECCLES: Well, my grandad he phoned up this morning and he said "Out of bed, lad! Out of bed! Itís a beautiful day."

SEAGOON: Where is he?
ECCLES: He was phoning from Bermuda and who am I to argue?

SEAGOON: Dear grandson Eccles, sit down on this fossilised shooting stick.

ECCLES: (Agony) Oooooo! Thatís an old gag but a new stick. Thank you my good man.

SEAGOON: Now let me put you right unless you freeze to death. Itís summer in Bermuda but itís winter over here.

ECCLES: You canít fool me Neddie. Look at the reading on this thermometer.

SEAGOON: A hundred and thirty degrees?


SEAGOON: This thermometer has a temperature. We must get it to a doctor at once!

ECCLES: And with that remark folks, the case of the Crown verses Neddie Seagoon was proven.

SEAGOON: A-hem, a-hem.

ECCLES: (Sings &c) Oh, the thermometer.

SEAGOON: Wait a minute. You took the thermometer out of a hot water bottle.

ECCLES: Of course. I always keep it in there. If I didnít it would drop below zero and weíd freeze to death.

SEAGOON: Are you the Chancellor of the Exchequer?

ECCLES: No. Oh, the Chancellor of the Exchequer! Oh well, I can understand because Iíve often been mistaken.

SEAGOON: For the Chancellor?
ECCLES: No, Iíve just often been mistaken, thatís all. Well, Iíd better get back to the match factory.

SEAGOON: Matches!


SEAGOON: Curse, Iíve forgotten to bring any. Perhaps I can make use of this maladjusted human barometer. A-hem, a-hem, a-hem. You work in a match factory, donít you?

ECCLES: Yeh. Iím a dipper.

SEAGOON: You put the heads on?

ECCLES: No, I put the gloves on. Theyíre boxing matches. Ha ha ha ha! (Laughs &c) Thank you my friends. Itís all free.

SEAGOON: Get in this catapult.


GRAMS: Whoosh

ECCLES: Owwww!

GRAMS: Distant splash.

SEAGOON: Now to burn the channel.

ECCLES: (Distant) He Ė eeeeeeelp! Help, Iím drowning. Iím drowning in the water.

CRUN: Min. Min. Mnk, mnkÖ Wake up Min.

CRUN & BANNISTER: Rhythmic waking up.

BANNISTER: Get over your side of the bed. I was having a lovely dream Henry. I dreamt I was asleep.

SEAGOON: Those voices are coming from the Pevensey Bay life-boat shed.

CRUN: Min, Min, Min, Min, wake up Min.

BANNISTER: Ok, buddy. Iíll wake up!

CRUN: You heard what the gentleman said. Our voices are coming from the Pevensey life-boat shed.

BANNISTER: Oh. Weíd better get over there as quickly as possible.

ECCLES: (Distant) He Ė eeeeeelp! Help folks, Iím drowning.

CRUN: What did you say sir?

ECCLES: (Distant) I said, he-eeeelp, he-eeeelp, he-eeeeelp! Iím drowning. He-eeeelp!

CRUN: I canít hear you sir.

ECCLES: (Distant) Just a minute.

GRAMS: Splashing. Growing quickly louder.

FX: Boots hurriedly running over planks. Rapid knocking on door. Door opens.

CRUN: Yes?

ECCLES: (Close) He-eeeelp!

CRUN: Thank you. Get back in the water and weíll be out in a flash. Min, Min, Min, Minnie Min! Prepare the life-boat.

BANNISTER: Alright Henry. Quick. We must hurry. A manís drowning.

CRUN: Yes. Get that long piece of wood and lay it down. Now thatíll be the keel.

FX: Genteel hammering.

BANNISTER: Right Henry.

CRUN: Thatís right Min. Nail those pieces of wood on each side of the tar-tee!

FX: Genteel hammering continues under.

BANNISTER: Hot rhythm singing and hammering.

CRUN: Min, Min! Please leave off that sinful brown singing. Leave it to coxswain Ray Ellington.

SEAGOON: Yes girl. Get your skates on and round the back for the Ďol brandy there.



GREENSLADE: If listeners with pneumatic drills will kindly lay them aside, theyíll be able to hear this announcement. A-hem. Mr. Seagoon, hell bent on burning the English channel, stoops low over a tinder box and struggles to make a fire.

GRAMS: Seagulls. Distant sea.

FX: Match striking.

SEAGOON: Curse this wind. I should never eaten those balloons.

GRAMS: Fire engine pulling up. Fire bell.

BLOODNOK: Aeeeeeoooooough! Oh! Oh! So! Caught you in the act you incendiary fool you.

SEAGOON: The speaker was dressed as a fireman, riding a tricycle and carrying a photograph of a fire bell.

BLOODNOK: Allow me to introduce myself with this gramophone record.

GRAMS: (Recording) BLOODNOK: Have you put me on?

BLOODNOK: Yes! Tell him who I am.

GRAMS: (Recording) BLOODNOK: A-hem. This is Major Bloodnok, winner of the Golden Richard and Eye-Watering Champion supreme.

BLOODNOK: So thatís who you are.

SEAGOON: No. Thatís who you are!

BLOODNOK: What! Nonsense. I am sir, the fire prevention officer for the Pevensey sewerage farm.

SEAGOON: Now listen Bloodnok.

BLOODNOK: Donít talk to me about ĎlisteníÖ Iíve got better thingsÖ

SEAGOON: Ten thousand pounds is yours if you help me set fire to the English channel. Hereís a shilling on account.

FX: Cash register.

BLOODNOK: Thank you. Now, you ahead lad and Iíll turn a deaf ear.

SEAGOON: I didnít know you had a deaf ear.

BLOODNOK: Yes, I found it on the floor of a barberís shop in Penge. Now NeddieÖ

ECCLES: (Distant) He Ė eeeeeelp folks! He-eeeelp.

BLOODNOK: Shut up you fool.

ECCLES: (Distant) Shut up you fool but he-eeeelp!

BLOODNOK: Shut up as well. Neddie, light that channel.

SEAGOON: Right. Letís start a fire with these two twigs here.

FX: Matches

BLUEBOTTLE: Yeeougheeehehe! You rotten swines you. Those are my legs! I was practicing knot tying under a pebble when my legs were attacked.

SEAGOON: Why! Itís a pudding bowl haircut with loose boots.

BLUEBOTTLE: Do not insult Bluebottle. You do not know that I am the brains behind the Finchley Motherís Christmas Drawers.

ECCLES: (Distant) He Ė eeeeeelp!

BLUEBOTTLE: Shut up Eccles!

ECCLES: (Distant) Shut up Eccles but he Ė eeeeeelp!

BLUEBOTTLE: Shut up Eccles! Shut up Eccles! If you donít shut up Iíll hit you with this water.

GREENSLADE: Meantime in the Royal Suite at the Y.M.C.A. at EastbourneÖ

VIOLIN SOLO: (Very amateurish with lots of out-of-tune notes.)

GRYTPYPE: Ah, play on Moriarty. How delightful. Who wrote that tune?
MORIARTY: Fritz Kreisler.

GRYTPYPE: Youíre not going to let him get away with that are you?

MORIARTY: Ok, little Grytpype. Weíve got Neddieís eighteen shillings insurance money and the world lies before our feet, and thereís room for itÖ

FX: Knocking on door.

GRYTPYPE: Quick Moriarty, cover the soap dish.

MORIARTY: But itís empty.

GRYTPYPE: We donít want people to know that. Entrays, silvoo plate!

FX: Door opens.

SEAGOON: Hands up you devils. That fire insurance you sold me was a fake.

GRYTPYPE: What do you mean Neddie?

SEAGOON: This morning I accidentally dropped fifty lighted matches in the channel and it wouldnít accidentally catch fire.


GRYTPYPE: It - er, must be damp Neddie.

MORIARTY: Yes. Thatís it Neddie. The English channel must be damp. Itís all this rain weíve been having.

SEAGOON: Gentlemen, I want my eighteen shillings back, or I aim to shoot to fire to kill.

BLUEBOTTLE: Yes, we aim to shoot to fire to kill. BANG, we will go. BANGÖ

SEAGOON: Get outÖ.

GRAMS: Body falling into water.

LITTLE JIM: Heís fallen in the water.

GRYTPYPE: Neddie, you devil instrument incarnate. Why did you throw that child into the sea?

LITTLE JIM: Yes, why?

SEAGOON: To give brown Milligan a chance to say his new catch phrase. Thatís why.

GRYTPYPE: Now look here NeddieÖ

ECCLES: (Distant) He Ė eeeeeelp!

GRYTPYPE: Shut up, you brown fool.

MORIARTY: Neddie, you must give the channel a chance to dry out.

GRYTPYPE: Yes, I tell you Ė you flannelled fool. One hot summer and the English channel will be a fire trap.

SEAGOON: Well, alright. Iíll wait till then.

GRYTPYPE: Thank heavens. Thatís put him off.

MORIARTY: Yes, thatís put him off. Thatís the end of our bit of the story.

GRYTPYPE: Alas. Alas.

SEAGOON: Letís listen to the rest of it on the wireless, eh?

GRAMS: Radio set being tuned in.

GRAMS: (Recording) GREENSLADE: Insurance Ė the White Manís Burden part three.

GRAMS: Distant waves. Sea breeze.

GRAMS: (Recording) GREENSLADE: With Neddie fobbed off, coxswains Crun and Bannister pull Eccles ashore.

ECCLES: (Approaching) Oooohh! Oh, thank you Min and Hen for pulling me out of the English channel. Another month out there and Iíd have drowned of starvation.

CRUN: Min, would you join me in the next line?

BANNISTER: Yes, Iíll help you Henry.

CRUN & BANNISTER: Yes. Weíd never have got the boat out to you if we hadnít pumped a thousand gallons of oil on the sea to calm it. Yes Henry. Weíd better set fire to it to get rid of it.

FX: Match being struck

GRAMS: Loud explosion. Flames etc.

MORIARTY: Grytpype! Turn that radio off. Didnít you hear? The channelís on fire!

SEAGOON: What a bit of luck. My policyís matured. Forty-eight thousand pounds!

GRYTPYPE: Yes! (Moriarty, pack the jam tins and open the door.)

MORIARTY: Iím off.

GRYTPYPE: Yes Neddie. Forty-eight thousand pounds. But before we pay you the forty-eight thousand pounds you must Ė for your own protection, insure it.

SEAGOON: Against what?


GRAMS: Massed boots running away.

SEAGOON: Curse! Fooled by insurance the white manís burden, and the Goon Showís end.

COMMISSIONAIRE: Your brandy bottleís at the stage door sir.

SEAGOON: Thanks.

GRAMS: Pair of boots running off.

GREENSLADE: Well, you can tell itís getting near the end of the series canít you. Good night.


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 and Larry Stephens, announcer Wallace Greenslade, the programme produced by Pat Dixon.