Greenslade: This is NOT the BBC. (fx- raspberry) Tiddly pong. I will
now introduce a cardboard and string model of Peter Sellers, who will
declaim thusly, and in that order. Ta.

Sellers: Oh yes, yes. It has been brought to the attention of the Beeb
Beeb Ceeb, Heaven branch, that Sir Ned of Wales - amateur jam tin
hurler and whopping great pouf - has contracted that fatal lurgi.

Greenslade: Let us now imagine Sir Seddie Neagooooooon arriving at a
certain famous pair of gates.

Seagoon: No need to imagine, young Wallace! I am here, in all my
glory! (fx- cheers) Thank you!

Cobbers: 'Ere. Y' can't park that 'uge, bloated Welsh bum dere.

Seagoon: It's Willum Cobbers, disguised as Peter Sellers!

Cobbers: Right, mate! 'Ere... what're y' doing up 'ere, mate?

Seagoon: Didn't you read the script?

Cobbers: Yeah, mate. It were delicious, it were.

Seagoon: Ying tong iddle I po!

Heavenly chorus: GOOD!

Seagoon: Direct me, spotty old chattering wreck, to Saint Peter, that
I may gain entrance to my eternal reward!

Grytpype-Thynne: You'll starve.

Seagoon: Hercules Grytpype-THEEN, it has been far too long.

Grytpype-Thynne: You should have consulted a doctor. Ned, dear Ned,
welcome to the choir invisibule. There.. is just one small problem.

Seagoon: What, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what, what?
(trails off into chicken noises)

Grytpype-Thynne: You reckless continental, you. Ned, the smule problam
is that you must now pay a fee.

Seagoon: A fee?

Grytpype-Thynne: Yes, little Neddie. A fee of scrinshun scranshun, to
be paid in fting ftang ftong monthly installments, and in that order.

Seagoon: Dear listeners... where was I to procure such a vast amount
of scrinshun?

(orch: Bloodnok's theme)

Bloodnok: OHHHh! Ohhh! OHheeOOHhHEeeohHOOOHHH! Ohh.. Ooohh... oh.. oh,
dear. I'd have thought that would have gotten fixed, here. (fx-
knocking noises) OOHHHH! Abdul, get her out the back! Ahem. Come in!

Seagoon: Major Bloodnok! It is I, Sir Ned!

Bloodnok: It must be hell in there.

Seagoon: No, it's hell down there! AHAHAHA! It's hell down there!
It's... ahem.

Bloodnok: Always searching for a good joke, Ned, and never finding
one.

Seagoon: Major Bloodnok, Grytpype-THEEN tells me I must pay an
entrance fee to heaven of scrinshun scranshun!

Bloodnok: Now, Ned...

Seagoon: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes?

Bloodnok: Please.. don't do that. Now, Ned, for a loan of scrinshun
scranshun, I must ask you for a security deposit of the full contents
of your naughty old naughty wallet. (fx- cash register) Hmm.. a used
ticket to Follies Bergers, a half eaten OBE, and a jam tin. (fx- cash
register) Oh, fair money. Ohohoho...

Seagoon: Please, Major, I need scrinshun scranshun that I might gain
entrance to my...

Bloodnok: Yes, yes, yes. I shall send forth for mine assiTANT, that he
may fetch forth a life sized oil painting of a copy of scrinshun
scranshun. Ahem. Archangel Throat?

Throat: #Yes#.

Bloodnok: My assitant, if you please.

Throat: #Right#. (fx-whoosh, slap)

Bluebottle: EEEHeee! You hitted me on my cardboard halo! Enter
Bloonbuttons, junior trainee cherub. Pauses for audience applause,
even in 'eaven not a sausinge.

Bloodnok: Bluebottle, you spotty herebert, fetch forth a life sized
oil painting of a copy of scrinshun scranshun for Sir Ned.
Ohheeroohh..

Bluebottle: I will do dat, I will! Charge! (fx- galloping bagpipes,
into orch: incredibly bad attempt at "Amazing Grace")

Bloodnok: OHHHH! It's.. it's... can it be... yes it is! It's...

Seagoon: God himself?

Voice: Greetings, Neddie.

Seagoon: John Snagge! RUN FOR IT!