THE BURNING EMBASSYSeries 8, number 3

Transcribed from the "Pick of the Goons" Series version.

Greenslade: This is the BBC. And now the new all-leather Goon Show.

American voice: Alright, kids. Come on, letís make with the music, kids.

Orch: (old-time music)

F.X.: (explosion)

Greenslade: Part 2. An early Gainsborough landscape depicting dawn over Wandsworth fire

station. Lying in bed is a small lithograph of Fireman Seagoon.

Seagoon: Hello (yawns, licks lips) Oooh. Hahaha. Wal, whereís my speaking trumpet?

Ah, there it is. Iíll just empty it. Hello, folks. Calling folks. This is Fire Chief Seagoon speaking, folks. Well, folks, itís a beautiful day here in Wandsworth fire station, folks. The firemen will start their day by unrolling their hoses and watering the flowers. Thatís all, folks. Thatís all, folks. Hullo, Willium.

Willium: Hello. Morning, Chiefie.

Seagoon: Any outstanding fire calls?

Willium: Yeah, well, I got one here, matie, and Iím not too happy about this. It says Ďere

"urgent", it says Ďere. Crystal Palace, itís on fire.

Seagoon: A hoax. An absolute hoax, I tell you. I was up there yesterday morning, and

thereís no such building as Crystal Palace at Crystal Palace. Right, now then. (blows whistle) Fire drill. Light the fire and put the kettle on.

F.X.: (door opens)

Grytpype-Thynne: Gentlemen, bad news. Jane is on fire.

F.X.: (feet running quickly, fire engine starts off, bell clangs, quickly speeding up)

Grytpype-Thynne: Well, that got rid of them, Moriarty. Quick, stick those auction labels on

the furniture and let the crowd in.

F.X.: (crowd mumblings)

Grytpype-Thynne: Gentlemen.

Voice: Rhubarb!

Grytpype-Thynne: Control your rhubarbs. Gentlemen, what am I bid for lot 1?

Voice: Two shillings.

F.X.: (sound of gavel striking)

Grytpype-Thynne: Sold, one auctioneerís mallet.

Moriarty: Aaagh, weíve got off to a good start.

Grytpype-Thynne: Lot 2, complete set of Louis Quinnís firemenís furniture, plus marble

statues of fire engine travelling at speed.

Voice: Four shillings.

F.X.: (sound of gavel striking)

Grytpype-Thynne: Sold for the second time, one auctioneerís mallet. And now, we come to

lot 3 Ė one cannon shell.

Voice: Two shillings.

Grytpype-Thynne: Will you take it, sir, or do you want it sent?

Gravel voice: Sent.

Grytpype-Thynne: Fire!

F.X.: (cannon fire)

Grytpype-Thynne: It will be there when you get home, sir. And finally, gentlemen, finally for

the musical connoisseur, what am I bid for the original bedroom of Fire Chief Seagoon, comprising walls, ceiling and one flock mattress?

Voice: Two shillings.

F.X.: (sound of gavel striking)

Grytpype-Thynne: Sold to the gentleman who keeps changing his voice. Moriarty, time for

your owww.

Moriarty: Owww.

Grytpype-Thynne: Splendid! Now what am I bid for this auctioneerís mallet?

F.X.: (door opens)

Seagoon: Whatís going on here, eh, eh? Whatís going on? I just passed a man on the stairs

carrying my room.

Grytpype-Thynne: Heís taking it to be repaired. Itís got a puncture.

Seagoon: My roomís got a puncture? But, itís only done two thousand miles. Oh, horrors,

oh, horrors, Iíll get my speaking trumpet. Hello, folks. Calling folks. Standing where I am, I can see my entire set of Louis Quinnís firemenís furniture has been stolen. A lifetimeís work ruined!

F.X.: (wailing sounds)

Grytpype-Thynne: There, there, there, there, Neddie and fans. Now, all of you stand in this

bucket of water and let me explain. You see, this is all part of a great plan.

Moriarty: Aaagh. Owww.

Grytpype-Thynne: Shut up, Moriarty, thereís a time and place for owwwwing.

Morairty: Where?

Grytpype-Thynne: Iíll think of it next week. Neddie, we are from the Ministry of

Psychological. The Government are testing peopleís reactions to sudden disaster.

Seagoon: Theyíve been doing that ever since they got in!

Grytpype-Thynne: Steady now, that microphone might be tapped.

F.X.: (sound of water pipe being struck)

Moriarty: Thereís somebody tapping it now.

Seagoon: Whatís going on then? Iím ruined!

Grytpype-Thynne: Ah, thatís where we Government officials come in, Neddie. With the aid

of this war surplus piano, we bring you the official Government answer to National ruin.

Orch: (piano chords)

Moriarty: (sings) Youíve gotta face disaster with a smile; keep on laughing all the while.

When youíre socked on the head, donít fall down dead, just pick up your face and smile, smile, smile. Pick up you face and smile.

(applause)

Moriarty: Aaagh, owww, aagh.

Seagoon: Ah, thank you. Thank you. Gentlemen, you are right. That Government-type

song has completely restored my confidence.

Grytpype-Thynne: Yes, Neddie, and in your hour of need, let us offer you the Governmentís

full employment scheme. Two pounds ten per week and free laundry.

Seagoon: Free laundry?

Grytpype-Thynne: Yes, you wash our clothes for nothing.

Moriarty: And, better still, you pay us two pounds ten for the privilege.

Seagoon: Eureka, when do I start?

Grytpype-Thynne: Now. Moriarty!

Moriarty: Yes.

Grytpype-Thynne: Take off those hessian underclothes.

Moriarty: Right. (strains)

F.X.: (running feet)

Grytpype-Thynne: Neddie, scrub those and return the barge pole.

Seagoon: Right.

F.X.: (sound of sawing)

Seagoon: Iíll just saw through the crust on his hat. Donít worry, Iíll soon have these

nicotine stains out.

Greenslade: And what more ideal moment than to bring in Max Geldray, who has consented to

play his teeth.

Seagoon: Right, men, round the back for the old water!

(Geldray Ė "It canít be love..")

Greenslade: And now, part 2.

Seagoon: Hardly had I got Moriartyís underpants back to running order, and oiled the hinges

on his socks, when the phone rang.

F.X.: (phone rings)

Seagoon: Hello, Wandsworth fire station here.

Chinese voice: Aha, can I come in please?

Seagoon: Certainly.

F.X.: (door opens)

Chinese voice: Ah, thank you, Thank you, Mister Seagloon [sic]. I have the misflortune

to inflorm you that the Blitish Embassy in China have caught fire, and are blazing mellily away. Oh boy!

Seagoon: Iím innocent, I tell you! I was nowhere near the place. My grandmother keeps a

duck farm in Kent. I was stamping eggs at the time.

Chinese voice: Ah, ah.

Seagoon: Iíve a bad leg.

Chinese voice: Please understand. Chinese Government anxious that you Blitish fliremen

put Blitish Embassy fire all out.

Seagoon: What, and freeze them to death? Weíll do it. How far is it to Peking, lads?

Willium: Ten thousand miles.

Seagoon: Right. Get the long hose out.

Willium: Youíre joking, sir, itís too long.

Seagoon: Oh, then weíll have to form a bucket chain from there on.

Willium: Canít use the bucket. Itís had a puncture, mate.

Seagoon: Curse it, ÖÖ

Willium: (sings) Youíve got to face disaster with a smile; keep on laughing all the while; ..

Seagoon: Stop, you singing fool!

Willium: What. A chance ruined.

Seagoon: I have an idea.

Greenslade: Seagoon has just had the following idea. The water for the fire in China will be

wrapped in brown paper parcels, and marked "Water, this way up.", and posted to Peking.

Grytpype-Thynne: Curse it, Moriarty, did you hear that?

Moriarty: Owwww.

Grytpype-Thynne: You know very well we canít collect the insurance money on the British

Embassy until it has burned to the ground.

Moriarty: Oddza! At last, a plot!

Grytpype-Thynne: Weíve got to stop those parcels of water getting there alive. Link music

please.

Moriarty: Whereís my banjo?

Orch: (chords)

Seagoon: All went well. The water parcels started to flow out of England like water, but

then, bad tidings.

Greenslade: This is the BBC Spon Service. Here is the news. On reaching the Middle East,

parcels of water intended for the blazing Embassy in China have completely evaporated.

Seagoon: Evaporated? Are you sure?

Greenslade: Positive.

Seagoon: Send a radiogram to the British Embassy, Peking.

F.X.: (sounds of Morse code)

Seagoon: Water supplies held up. Try to keep fire going until it arrives. Now, I must catch

a plane. Hand me that butterfly net.

Greenslade: And, so saying, Seagoon, collecting an ice pick and a life jacket, set off on a

defrosting flight to the Middle East. And now, over to the British military adviser to the Abyssinian Girlsí School in Addis Ababa.

Orch: (Bloodnok introduction music, interrupted by ..)

Bloodnok: Wait, wait a minute! I havenít got my trousers on yet. Please. Aha, oh, thatís

better. Now, Ö

Orch: (Bloodnok introduction music concludes)

Bloodnok: Oh. Blast these flies! Get out of it, get out of it, you flies! Shun! Keep ..(?).. as

you are. Sinjers! Sinjers-Thingh!

Sinjers-Thingh: I am coming, sir.

Bloobnok: Take these flies out and sell them.

Sinjers-Thingh: Come on, boys, letís go. Come on, boys, hurry along.

Bloodnok: Now, having got that matter over, now to my private matters of the day. Dear

madam, reference your advert in shop window and well-known photography magazine, and as a keen student of photography, I would like to ..

Sinjers-Thingh: Pardon me. There is a European fireman hiding in the waiting room.

Bloodnok: What? Well tell him to wait in the hiding room while I paste these photographs in

my hat. Paste! Paste! Well, thereís no sound effect for paste, is there?

F.X.: (door opens)

Seagoon: No, there isnít. But, there is one for doors opening. Good morning. Are you

Major Bloodnok?

Bloodnok: How dare you mention that name in this house! Step outside.

Seagoon: Well, are you Major Bloodnok?

Bloodnok: Yes, come in.

Seagoon: Thank you. Iím Neddie Seagoon.

Bloodnok: Of course, one of the Queenís Beasts. Welcome to Abyssinia.

Seagoon: Thank you, Major. The British Embassy in China is on fire.

Bloodnok: What? I must have a look.

F.X.: (door opens)

Bloodnok: Gad, so it is.

Seagoon: Good heavens, can you see it?

Bloodnok: Of course not. I take your word for it. And now, to the Burning Embassy, part 3.

Orch: (chords)

Seagoon: That didnít take long, did it?

Bloodnok: I donít know who you are, sir, or where you come from, but it did me a power of

good, that, a power of good. Now, I suppose Ö (Milligan laughing in background) I suppose .. (laughter) I suppose youíre worried about those parcels of water evaporating.

Seagoon: Not really. Iím just acting!

Bloodnok: Well, acting, so thatís what it is? Donít worry, lad, your secret is safe with me.

Seagoon: Now, youíre in condition tonight, Major.

Bloodnok: Thank you. Ohoho. Thereís only one way to stop evaporation in this heat. Send

your water by a cooler route.

Seagoon: For instance?

Bloodnok: Over the North Pole, through the white hell off Fitzbaloo, across Outer Mongolia,

and finally a 3-4-9 tram to the Embassy.

Seagoon: By the time we took that route, the fire would be out.

Bloodnok: See, success from the start! Eight guineas, please.

F.X.: (sound of cash register)

Bloodnok: I thank you. And the next, please? Now, my dear, whatís your problem?

Seagoon: These parcels of water Ė what causes the evaporation?

Bloodnok: The sun, the sun.

Seagoon: The sun?

Bloodnok: Yes.

Seagoon: We must get rid of it. I know, we shall (rubbish sounds, like "scrap, and screw

these scrum")

Moriarty: Did you hear that, Grytpype? Another part of the plot.

Grytpype-Thynne: Donít worry, Moriarty. The sun is safe.

Moriarty: Are you sure?

Grytpype-Thynne: Yes, I have put a fire guard in front of it.

Noriarty: Suppose the sun is attacked?

Grytpype-Thynne: Not a hope, Moriarty.

Moriarty: Owwww.

Grytpype-Thynne: Itís guarded by two Interpol sun worshippers.

Moriarty: Iíll get my .. (mumbles)

F.X.: (sound of flames crackling)

Bluebottle: Eccles! Throw another twig on the sun. We donít want it to go out on us, do we?

Eccles: Youíve got to be careful.

Bluebottle: Yes.

Eccles: The sun went out last night, and it stayed out all night.

Bluebottle: Oooh, it must be a tom.

Eccles: Oh, so thatís what his name is.. Tom Sun.

Bluebottle: Yes. Ahehehehe.

Eccles: I wish I knew all those clever things that you know, Bluebottle.

Bluebottle: Well, it all takes time, you know, my good man. Did you know that ..(pause)

donít do that, Ecles, itís not nice.

Eccles: (aside) I donít get away with Ö

Bluebottle: Do you know, Eccles, ..

Eccles: I know Eccles? Oh, thatís me.

Bluebottle: .. we are growing older all the time?

Eccles: What, what, what, what?

Bluebottle: I say, we are growing older all the time.

Eccles: Even when we are standing still?

Bluebottle: Yes.

Eccles: Well, thatís not fair. I didnít know anything about this.

Bluebottle: Well, you have got to face up to it, my good man.

Eccles: I canít .. I canít believe it, I .. I canít believe we are getting older all the time. Iíll

tell you what, ..

Bluebottle: Itís true.

Eccles: Oh, ho. Let me have a little test.

Bluebottle: Alright then.

Eccles: You stand there and Iíll watch and see if you get any older.

Bluebottle: Fair dues, fair dues.

Eccles: Alright then, ready?

Bluebottle: Yes.

Eccles: Go! (pause) Still look the same to me. Thereís no difference at all, my good

man.

Bluebottle: I know why. Thatís Ďcause youíve been getting older as well. Thinks to self, ..

Eccles: Oh, I better go away then.

Bluebottle: .. yes. I must admit I didnít notice Eccles getting older either. I will experiment.

Says aloud .. Eccles.

Eccles: Ya, ya.

Bluebottle: You know what I will do? I will time us getting old with my Tiger Tim watch.

Ready?

Eccles: Iíll just put my hat on. Okay, ready.

Bluebottle: Go! (pause) There! You just got ten seconds older.

Eccles: Oh, did I?

Bluebottle: Yeah.

Eccles: It didnít hurt at all. Here, this is fun!

Bluebottle: Yes.

Eccles: Weíve done it here. Letís stand over there and get older now.

Bluebottle: Yes, letís get older over there.

Eccles: You stand over there. Ready.. go!

Greenslade: And here to make everyone older, is Ray Do-it-yourself Ellington and his rapidly

decaying quartet.

(Ellington: "Iíve got a rose between my toes, Ö")

Greenslade: And now, a smoke-filled room at the British Embassy, Peking.

Min: Oooh! Yip bum bin goddo. Theyíre driving me crazy! Iíve got onions on my

bunions. (more rubbish)

Crun: Stop it! Stop it! Stop that sinful singing, Min! How can you perform those

sensuous gyrations in those revealing low-cut brown elastic-sided boots?

Min: Iíve got the measurements for dancing, buddy.. 41, 18, 36.

Crun: Oooh, what a figure, Min.

Min: Those are my leg measurements.

Crun: What?

Min: Wow.

Crun: Who did you allow to measure your legs?

Min: Who? Iíll tell you. Iíll tell you.

Crun: Oooh.

Min: Mrs. Milli-tuly.

Crun: Mrs. Milli-tuly? Iíll kill him! Iíll put an end to your brown leather rhythms.

Now, Iíll just get this gas stove onto my head Ė aaagh Ė and put these lead pipes down my trousers Ė there. Let that be a lesson to you.. you, you sinful .. Whatís burning, Min, whatís burning?

Min: Oooh! The soles of my feet are on fire!

Crun: You shouldnít stand with your back to the Embassy. Swallow this tablet of water.

F.X.: (hissing of steam)

Min: Ooh, thatís better, buddy, oooh. Oooh, thatís better.

Crun: Be careful, Min, careful. Donít let that steam get up your legs, or youíll get the

dreaded Manchu knee cramp!

Min: Listen, we canít keep this Embassy burning much longer, buddy. The neighbours

are starting to talk.

Crun: Oh, then weíd better pull the curtains, Min.

Min: Okay, buddy.

F.X.: (knock on door)

Min: Oooh, ooh! Answer that burning door.

F.X.: (door opens)

Moriarty: How, meow. Pardon me, honourable sire. A parcel of water for you.

Min: At last!

Crun: Wait a moment, sir. This water smells like petrol.

Moriarty: (cackling sounds) Yes, it was disguised as petrol to get it through Customs.

Crun: Thank you.. Now, Min let us throw this parcel on Ö

Seagoon: Stop! Saved in the nick of time. The forces of evil are foiled.

Omnes: Hooray! Hooray! Hooray!

Seagoon: Give me that parcel. Pour it into the tank of this car. Right.

F.X.: (car speeds off, pause, then car screeches to halt)

Seagoon: Just as I thought. This car runs on water. But, apart from that, that parcel contains

petrol.

Grytpype-Thynne: Weíve got him worried, Moriarty. Heís muffing his lines.

Seagoon: (laughs) You should talk! My lines? Mr. Crun, weíre having difficulty getting

water to this fire.

Crun: What!

Seagoon: It would help if you could load the Embassy onto a lorry, and meet us in Addis

Ababa outside the Odeon at 7 oíclock on Thursday night.

Crun: Oh, oh. How can we recognize you?

Seagoon: I shall be driving a red fire engine. Goodbye.

Min: Goodbye.

Orch: (chords)

Eccles: Oooh, oooh, ha, oooh, oooh, oooh.

Seagoon: All of which means Iíve arrived back in Africa.

Bloodnok: Yes, Neddie, and weíve solved the evaporation problem.

Seagoon: You mean youíve frozen the water into ice blocks, and placed them in a giant cold

storage van?

Bloodnok: Yes, and it saved me saying it. Now, put those furs on because Ö because, inside

the van, itís forty below.

Seagoon: Gad, yes, and three foot of snow on the entire cast dressed in furs.

Bloodnok: Gad, what a sight! If only this was coloured radio!

Seagoon: Right. Willium, insert that steering wheel under your dentures and away we go.

F.X.: (sound of van driving off)

Orch: (chords)

Eccles: Ah, ha, ha, oh, oh. As the refrigeration van bumped along, folks, the heat outside

was one hundred and twenty degrees, but inside the van ..

F.X.: (howling gale, huskies, whip)

Nasal voice: Mush, mush. Must keep the dogs at the gallop.

Seagoon: Whatever for?

Nasal voice: We donít want to be left behind.

Seagoon: Left behind? But weíre inside the lorry.

Nasal voice: Yes, but what if it goes faster than we do?

Seagoon: Gad, youíre right. Mush! Mush!

Bloodnok: Oooh, itís too cold in this van. Iím freezing. Itís forty degrees of frost.

Seagoon: It is a bit parky, isnít it? Iíll get the temperature turned up. Eccles stay where you

are.

Eccles: I ainít done nothing! Turn the thermometer up, right.

Min: Next ..

F.X.: (African drums)

Bloodnok: Oooh, oooh.

Seagoon: The temperatureís up too high.

Eccles: Oooh, Iíll turn it down.

F.X.: (wolf howls)

Bloodnok: Too low, weíre being attacked by timber wolves.

Eccles: Iíll throw Ďem some timber.

Seagoon: You fool, turn the temperature up again.

F.X.: (African drums)

Bloodnok: Too low.

F.X.: (wolf howls)

Bloodnok: Too high.

F.X.: (African drums)

Bloodnok: Too low, too high, (quickens) too low, too high, too low.

Orch: (dance music)

F.X.: (explosion/crash)

Greenslade: There was an accident this morning at the cross-roads, High Street, Addis Ababa.

A lorry with a blazing British Embassy on the back was in collision with a cold storage van containing twenty-three sun-burnt and frost-bitten men. Would anyone who witnessed it, please Ö

Orch: (rollout music)

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 Charles Chiltern.

Orchestra: (music playout).