THIS IS AN ORIGINAL CLIVE KENT GOON SHOW SCRIPT. A BAD SPELL OF WEATHER. GREENSLADE. This is the DDC Slight Progrum. NEDDIE. What was that again, Wallace? GREENSLADE. I'm sorry Mr Seagoon, but that's what it says on my scrupt, this woak. Laughter. NEDDIE. Let me have a loak! Ahhhhh! Now they've got me rodeing it all wong. Milligan? Come here and sort this lot out! Meanwhile, Mr Greenslade, get on with reading the weather, will you? GREENSLADE. Certuntly! Hear iss zur wethur forcast for today until mudnit tonit. Winds lite to variabul wiv rane in plaices. Snow on hi growned. Laughter. NEDDIE. This is torrible, we must do something aboot it!........ Milligan? MILLIGAN. Yes, Neddie, I've just herd all abate it. We seem to have a problem with our typists. You see, we've still got the old one's we had in the 1950s. They're all in their 90's now and they can hardly see to tip a scropt. Laughter. SELLERS. Well what are we going to do abate it? Good heavens, I'm talking like Prince Charles now! We must act quirkly! Laughter. MILLIGAN. Don't worry, lads, I've sent for the tipist exterminator. He'll be hear in a minuoot or very soon. Which effer cums first! FX. Whooooooooosh! G-THYNNE. Good morning, sir. You called for, The Typist Exterminator? MUSIC. Dramatic cord and cymbul snap. MILLIGAN. Yes, and who exactly are you, sir? G-THYNNE. Well, I'm almost Hercules Grytpype-Thynne, liver and bacon champion of the Queen's Regiment of Feet, and Rock and Roll advisor to the Pope. My assistant here is Count Jim (Pow) Moriarty, tenth in line to the Chelsea season ticket queue! Now, do you need any typists exterminated? MILLIGAN. Yes, I need six tipists removing from the tiping pole. Laughter. G-THYNNE. At once, sir! ........ Moriarty, come, we have a job to do! MORIARTY. Owwwwwwwwww! You got to go, Owwwwwwwwww! G-THYNNE. Here we are, Moriarty, the tiping pole. I'll just look inside to check if we have the right people in here. FX. Door opens. G-THYNNE. Hello Ladies! Are you all here? CAST. Coooooeeeeeee! G-THYNNE. Thank you ladies, we've just come to deliver this nice big box of things. Don't touch it until after lunch, will you? Good bye! CAST. Bye eeeeeeeeeee! GREENSLADE. And so the dirty deed was done. FX. Explosion. Then Whooooooooooosh! G-THYNNE. Job done, sir! That will be Needle Niddle Noo plus vat at 115%. Laughter. MILLIGAN. Neddie, pay the man, I'm on my lunch break. FX. Whooooooooosh! NEDDIE. Oh, very well. Here's a photograph of a twenty pound note. You can keep the chainge. Ahh, it's still huppeninge. Are you quite sure they're all dud? MUSIC. Dramatic chord. G-THYNNE. As a door nule, sir. You wunte have any moor trubbul wiv that lot. MORIARTY. Yes, Nuddie, You no wear to find us if you have any moor problems! Laughter. FX. Door slams shit. NEDDIE. Well, now we've got rud of the old typists, where do we got sum nuw ones from? They'd better bee a lot yunga than the larst lot! I'll look in the yeloow pages for a staff agency who can supply us with lovely young grills as typists! Laughter. FX. Pages shuffled as Ned looks through the Yellow Pages. Oh, I got that bit OK! NEDDIE. Ah, this looks like the one. Crun and Bannister. Modern Office Staff Ltd. I'd better get round there right away! MUSIC. Travelling music. FX. Knock on door. NOK....NOK.....NOK.....NOK! CRUN. Mnk.....mnk.....Come in!.......Or stop k-nocking on the door! FX. Neddie enters and door closes. NEDDIE. Crun and Bannister? CRUN. You can't be! We're Crun and Bannister! NEDDIE. That's what I meant, Mr Crun. My name is Nuddie Sleagine. No, my name is Noddie Seascape! That's not rite, it's Neddie Seacrune! That's near enuff! Laughter. MINNIE. Wot can we dooo for you, Mr Seacrune? NEDDIE. Well, as you can sea, our scrupt tipists are useless, so we need to hire two new ones to type our new Goon Show scrupts. CRUN. Mnk...mnk.... I thunk that we can supply you with wot you need, sirrrrrr. What exactly are you requiremunts? NEDDIE. Well, ideally we would like two beautiful young grills! Laughter. CRUN. Beautiful young grills? I don't think we have any of those on our books! Oh, you mean girls! Well I don't know about that. Most of our staff these days are male, you know! You can't get the girls, you know! They can earn more money working at places called, "Lap-dancing Clubs", whatever they are! Laughter. NEDDIE. Oh all right, if you can't get them then I shall have to have lads, but I would still prefer grills, .....errr, and they must be able to use the latest modern type equipmunnt. MINNIE. We only have the most very modern type staff, buddy. They can use modern things like ball-point pens and staplers. NEDDIE. Yes, but I was thinking more on the lines of computers. CRUN. Computers?........Computers!......Ahhhhhhhhhhhh! MINNIE. Computers, buddy? Oh, you mean those things with built-in television sets? Laughter. CRUN. Yes, Mr Seacrune, our staff are all trained to use computers and other things. NEDDIE. In that case sent two of them round to the DDC as soon as possibul. Goodby. MUSIC. Chord and cymbal snap. GREENSLADE. Back at the DDC, while Nuddie waits for the arrival of the new tipists, he sits back and listens to a string recording of Bob Kerr's Whoopee Band. MUSIC. Bob Kerr's Whoopee Band. Applause. GREENSLADE. A Bad Spell of Weather, part tooooo. The new staff arrive at the DDC. MUSIC. Chord and cymbal snap. ECCLES. Har----low! I'm the famous Eccles! MUSIC. Chord and cymbal snap FX. Frantic cheering, whistling and stamping. ECCLES. Oh, thank you, folks. Oh, it's good to be alive! Now here is Bluebottle! FX. Complete silence. BLUEBOTTLE. You rotten swine audience, you! You give Eccles a big clap, but nothin' for little Blunebottle. Laughter. FX. Whooosh as a bottle is thrown at Bluebottle. CLUNK! BLUEBOTTLE. Aheeey! I have been hitted on the nut by a botule and I've only just arrived. I don't like this rotten game! Combs hair and quickly straightens underpants. Laughter. NEDDIE. Who are you, you little egg stained twit? BLUEBOTTLE. I am a little egg stained twit wot has come to work here at the DDC. My name is Bert Bluebottle, junior office worker of the future, own pencil, and own mouse! Ahey! Laughter. NEDDIE. Mouse? You can't bring pets into work! You'll have to get rid of it! BLUEBOTTLE. No, no, no, Mr Seaclune. I mean a computer mouse, not a real mouse. Anyway, talking about dumb animals, meet my friend Eccles! Laughter. ECCLES. Pleased to meet you, Mr Seagoon! Oh, I got it right! NEDDIE. Do you mean to say, that you two are the office staff sent along by Mr Clun? ECCLES. Yeah! Oh, it's good to be alive! NEDDIE. But I asked for two beautiful young grills! You're not a grill! BLUEBOTTLE. No, I am not a grill, I am a blake! Laughter. NEDDIE. A blake? What's a blake? BLUEBOTTLE. Well I used to be a buoy, but now I'm a bit older, I'm a blake! NEDDIE. Oh, you mean a bloke? BLUEBOTTLE. Yes, that's it, a blake! NEDDIE. Very weel then, you can start work. We've just had two computers installed. I expect you know all about how to werk a computer? ECCLES. Oh yeah! We just had a training course on crumputors. I can switch one on! BLUEBOTTLE. And I can switch it off again! Aheyyyyy! I like this game. Thinks; this is going to be fun, werking here at the DDC. ..... I wonder where Sabrina is? Laughter. NEDDIE. Well you can forget those naughty type thinks, for a start. You're here to type Goon Show scrupts. Sit down and get started. Here are the hand rotten notes from Mr Milligoon. BLUEBOTTLE. I will do it, I will! I shall key the dreaded words onto the cumpooter and print them off, onto the paper type paper. Come, Eccles, let us show the man wot we can do with his loverly new equipmant. Ahey! ... Switches on mains! FX. BUUUUUUUUZZZZZZ. Electric shock from Computer. BLUEBOTTLE. Aheeeeeeeeyyyy! You rotten swine, you! I have been electrificated by the naughty type equipment! Hair smoking and finger nails melting onto floor! Thinks; they didn't tell us about this at Miss Cringingnut's typing classes! Laughter. NEDDIE. Bluebottle, stop playing about with the computer and start work. BLUEBOTTLE. All right my Capitain, I shall do the job, I will! Thinks; you rotten swine! ECCLES. Yeah, come on Bottle, let's show him dat we can do this tiping, OK? BLUEBOTTLE. Right, Eccles, shall we have a race, to see who can finish this script type script first? Thinks; I wonder if Sabrina really is here? Aheeeeeeey! Laughter. ECCLES. You naughty man, Bottle! OK, we'll start the race, now! GREENSLADE. So Eccles and Bluebottle bash out their first efforts at typing a script on the new computers. Dear listeners, hands up all those of you that think that something is bound to go wrong! Very good! Now put them down again! NEDDIE. After two hours, I returned to see how the new typists were getting along. BLUEBOTTLE. Hello Capitain, we've finished these scroopts. Do you want to have a look at dem to see if they're all right? NEDDIE. Yes lad, give them here. I must check these pages carefully! (Reads) Hummm! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! What what what? ECCLES. Something wrong, Mr Sleagrune? NEDDIE. Something wrong? You've made a real mess of these pages! I can hardly read anything that you've written! You can use English, I presume? BLUEBOTTLE. Yes, of course, Captain, but we are the new, cool, modern type kids on the block. We use all the latest methods and text shortening type words. Laughter. NEDDIE. I can see that! Ahhhhh! How can the cast read a script like this? Listen; (reads.) William. Wot U want me 4, mate? Crun. We want U 2 clean 8 the drains. Minnie. That's rite, buddy, giv it sum stik. MUSIC. Chord and cymbal snap. NEDDIE. You're both fired! Pronounced FIEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRREEEDDDD. Laughter. FX. BOOM of Cannon. THROAT. Record for you. NEDDIE. Thank you, put it on quickly! BLUEBOTTLE. (On record) You rotten swine youuuuuuuuuuuu! Laughter. GREENSLADE. With Eccles and Bluebottle sacked, who is Neddie going to get to type the new Goon Show scripts? Personally I couldn't care less, so there! NEDDIE. Mr Greenslade, that's not very nice of you! Just think, Wal, if there's no script then we won't need an announcer, will we? You'll have to go back to your old job as boot cleaner to John Snagge! GREENSLADE. Oh, please don't send me back there! I'll do anything if you'll let me stay! NEDDIE. Anything, Wal? Even type the scripts for the next Goon Show? GREENSLADE. But I can't type, Neddie. But, for you.....I'll have a go! NEDDIE. Good lad, Wallace! Here are your notes, now, get on with it! GREENSLADE. Dear listeners, this might be a useful turn of events. Naughty type thinks; If I type out the scripts then I can write myself a bigger part! Oh Wallace, you can become a star! I like this game! Exits left looking for computer............ Laughter. BLUEBOTTLE. You rotten swine Grunsludge, dats my type of sayinge wordings! Laughter. GREENSLADE. Meanwhile in an abandoned NAAFI hut in Piccadilly Circus, an Army Major of uncertain years and dubious habits was examining an instruction book about how to survive an air attack and cook lunch! MUSIC. Bloodnok's theme and explosions. BLOODNOK. Ahhheeough! Quick nurse, the screens! I must get these khaki underpants washed at once! You can't tell when they need cleaning when they're this colour! I'm sure three months is too long, you know! Now, where's that new colour supplement? Ahhhh! Ooow! She's a big girl, you know, but she'll catch her death of cold like that! I wonder if she needs a minder? Laughter. FX. Knock on door. BLOODNOK. Ahhheoueugh! Arrrhhgghghgh! Splat me nurglers, it's somebody k-nocking on me door in English! Just to be on the safe side, I'll open it in French! FX. Door opens. MORIARTY. Bon-sewer, Mon-sewer! BLOODNOK. What do want, you naughty type frog eater? MORIARTY. Oh, you're English! I'm sorry, I thought you were French! You opened the door in French so I naturally used the Gallic! BLOODNOK. You filthy swine you! I suppose it's all that foreign type cooking? Laughter. MORIARTY. Major, I said Gallic, not Garlic, but enough of this semi-religious chatting. I have some information that might be right up your street! BLOODNOK. Information? What about? Don't tell me Sabrina is doing another Television Special? It's fine now we've got wide screen sets, you know! Oooooooww! Laughter. MORIARTY. No, Major, we have k-nowledge that Ned Seagoon needs new typists for the Goon Show. We have exterminated his old team and now he is in desperate need of new office staff. The idiots that Crun and Bannister sent him were no good, so why don't you send him a couple of your old staff? Ha ha ha ha! BLOODNOK. You don't mean,......... William and Flowerdew? MORIARTY. The very same, Major! You can charge him the earth! Ho ho ho! Good bye! FX. Door slams shut. BLOODNOK. So, Ned needs new office staff, does he! This looks like a job for, Supercon! Laughter. MUSIC. Chord and cymbal snap. GREENSLADE. Dear listeners, while Major Bloodnok travels to the DDC by anteater, we can use the time by either listening to Bob Kerr or cutting our toenails. MUSIC. Chord and cymbal snap. GREENSLADE. Did you finish cutting them in time for part the ping? Exactly as I thought! Bloodnok arrives at Neddie's office at the DDC. FX. Knock on door. NEDDIE. Come in, Sabrina! BLOODNOK. I'm not Sabrina! NEDDIE. It never is, but it's worth a try! ... Now, who are you and what do you want? BLOODNOK. The name is Hermarny Drootswergler, but you can call me Major Bloodnok! Laughter. NEDDIE. Bloodnok? Bloodnok? Now where have I heard that name before? BLOODNOK. How about every week on this same show? NEDDIE. You're right, you must be that crooked, swindling, cowardly, womanising old creep that gets me into trouble in most shows! Laughter. BLOODNOK. Compliments, compliments, ahhhh, I love 'um! Now, Neddie, I hear that you need some new office staff to type Goon Show scripts? NEDDIE. Yes, by gad, I do! Have you got anyone I can use? BLOODNOK. Well just by chance, I happen to have a couple of idiots on my books, that I use from time to time. I suppose that I could let you have them for a small fee. Say, £100 per day each. NEDDIE. (Amazed) ..... One hundred pounds per day, each? BLOODNOK. You said it beautifully, Neddie. Sign this blank cheque and I'll get hold of them at once. Thank you, and here is a plastic bottle top as a receipt. Laughter. NEDDIE. Ahhhh, this going to cost us a lot of money, but we must get these scripts typed at any cost. Milligan will pay! MILLIGAN. Oh no I won't! CAST. Oh yes you will! MILLIGAN. Oh no I won't! CAST. Oh yes you will! Laughter. NEDDIE. Oh yes you will! Now, perhaps we can get back to normal, whatever that is? Now, where's Greenslade? He was supposed to be typing out a script! GREENSLADE. I'm here Neddie, and here is the new script typed by yours truly! NEDDIE. Very good, Wallace, now let me quickly peruse it! Hum, ummm, owwww! What? Wal, this isn't the script that I gave you! This is not The Goon Show! It's more like the Wallace Greenslade Show! How dare you use this problem of ours, to boost your own part in the show! You're fired! Pronounced..... FIREEEEEEEEED! Laughter. GREENSLADE. Very well then, I shall return to my old job as a chicken sexer at Bernard Matthews' factory in Norfolk! .......... See if I care! ............ Phertang! NEDDIE. To cover the departure of Mr Greenslade, here is Bob Kerr's Whoopee Band! MUSIC. Bob Kerr's Whoopee Band. Applause. NEDDIE. Later that day Major Bloodnok brought along the two new office workers. BLOODNOK. Here we are, Neddie, your new Goon Show typists. This is Flowerdew! NEDDIE. How do you do! FLOWERDEW. I'm not quite ready for all this yet. I've run out of eye-shadow and blusher. Perhaps I could pop out to the beauty shop in the coffee break? Laughter. NEDDIE. Beauty shop? Coffee break? Look, you're here to work, not look pretty! FLOWERDEW. Oooow! I bet you wouldn't say that if I were a beautiful young girl! NEDDIE. Hummmm! Now, Major, who is your other worker? BLOODNOK. This, Neddie, is William Cobblers, ex Northampton Town footballer and champion road sweeper to the Neasden Borough Council. WILLIAM. Hallo, mate! NEDDIE. Gad, a genuine cockney idiot! Now, mate---can you type, word type words onto a computer, mate? WILLIAM. Yearst, mate, just let me git at it! Laughter. NEDDIE. Very well, both of you can sit a test of your typing skills. Away you go! GREENSLADE. And so William and Flowerdew type a couple of pages of a script. I bet they won't be as good as mine! My scripts are superb! Oh, Wallace, you genius, you! How can they not appreciate the quality you bring to the show! MUSIC. Long musical raspberry. GREENSLADE. Thank you, and now back to this week's very weak plot. Neddie reads the scripts that William and Flowerdew have typed. NEDDIE. Right, William, we'll read your effort first, give it here! WILLIAM. Right, mate! NEDDIE. (Reads) The Grune Shooowe, part wun. Enter Nuddie Slecroone. Nuddie. 'ere mate, wot abart gooin' up the apples and pears. Bloodnok. No, weir going darn the frog an toad. Laughter. WILLIAM. Well mate, what do yer fink to it den? NEDDIE. Well, I'd say it was excruciatingly obnoxious. WILLIAM. That's very nice of you to say so, mate. Thank you! Laughter. NEDDIE. No, I meant that I couldn't read it. WILLIAM. What? A man in your position wiv no education? That's terrible, mate! Laughter. NEDDIE. No, William, I meant that I can read English, but not what you've written. WILLIAM. Ohhh, see what you mean, mate. Me usin' the old Cockney Rhyming Slang! Well, Apples and Pears is Stairs and the Frog and Toad is the old Road there! NEDDIE. Is there a Cockney Rhyming Slang word for Being Fired? Laughter. WILLIAM. I don't know, mate, why? NEDDIE. Well, go home and find out. Then, when you've found it out you'll know what has just happened to you. Good bye! Laughter. FLOWERDEW. Do you want to see my script now, Mr Seagoon? NEDDIE. Yes, Flowerdew, and I hope it's a bit better that William's effort! FLOWERDEW. Of course it is, cheeky. I don't use Cockney Rhyming Slang! Here you are! NEDDIE. Thank you! Now to read.......What? Where? Who? Oh no! Flowerdew! Where did you learn to write? The Barbara Cartland School of Slush? FLOWERDEW. How did you know that? Isn't it just divine? Laughter. NEDDIE. No it's not! It's rubbish! Get out both of you! You're fired! Pronounced FIRRRREEEEEDDDDD! Laughter. WILLIAM. Well if that's how you feel abart it mate, I'm leavin'. FLOWERDEW. Well, I've never been so insulted in all my life! NEDDIE. Are you sure? FLOWERDEW. Well, there was that time in Portsmouth when.....(fades) Laughter. FX. Door slams. NEDDIE. Now what am I going to do? I really need to get some proper office staff. GREENSLADE. Mr Seagoon, there is a Professor Stanley Unwin on the phone for you. NEDDIE. Oh, thank you, Wal! (Takes over the phone) Hello, Ned Seagoon here! UNWIN. Deep Joy goodly mord, is it you needy-most for a typey fingold of the scriptic Goony showdown? Laughter. NEDDIE. Pardon? Oh, yes, we need a new script typist. UNWIN. Well, I'm most surely confidential that I'm the perslode for it. Passy throom to me and try it, oh yes! NEDDIE. Well, I don't know, Mr Unwin. What language do you speak? UNWIN. Basic Engly Twenty Fido of course! What a questy-how, ungratefoldeeee stuffit up the bokus, so there! Laughter. NEDDIE. Thank you, Mr Unwin, we'll let you know, good bye! UNWIN. And goodly byelode to you! Laughter. FX. Phone down. NEDDIE. Well that was a waste of time, whatever next? FX. Knock on door. NEDDIE. Come in, Sabrina! FX. Door opens. SABRINA. Hello Mr Seagoon, how did you know it was me before I opened the door? Laughter. NEDDIE. Gulp! Sabrina! AHHHHH! I'm seeing things, and aren't they just beautiful? It is Sabrina, isn't it? I'm not dreaming, am I? Tell me I'm not dreaming! Laughter. SABRINA. No, you're not dreaming, Neddie darling, I'm here to apply for the job as your script typist. NEDDIE. Just a minute, I need to sit down. FX. Neddie picks up phone and dials. NEDDIE. Milligan, grab Sellers and get in here at once! I've got Sabrina in my office! FX. WHOOOOOSH! WHOOOOOOSH! Door opens. SELLERS. Sabrina! How lovely to see you, I........ MILLIGAN. Out of the way, Sellers, and let a real man in! My dear, I'm the man that writes all this rubbish so you'll be working for me! NEDDIE. Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat? What about me, folks? SELLERS. Wait 'till we tell the little wife in Wales, Neddie lad! Laughter. NEDDIE. No, no, no, you can't do that to me! MILLIGAN. Well, Miss Sabrina, you will have to take a typing test, is that OK? SABRINA. Yes, of course. Just give me the notes and I'll do it at once. GREENSLADE. And so Sabrina sits down at the computer and types out the first page of the latest Goon Show script. FX. Door opens. Bluebottle and Eccles rush in. BLUEBOTTLE. Ahey, it is right, what they told me den. Sabrina is in here workin' at the naughty compooter! Thinks; I wish I was the keyboard she's touching with her finegers. Oooooowww! I like this game! Laughter. ECCLES. Shut up, Bluebottle, shut up! You naughty, naughty man, you! Let the fellow do his work! NEDDIE. Yes, you're right, Eccles. Bluebottle, let Sabrina finish her work. FX. Door bursts open. Bloodnok enters. BLOODNOK. Ahhhhhh! Ooooghghghgh! It really is, isn't it? It's Minnie Bannister! Laughter. NEDDIE. No, you Military Fool, this is Sabrina! BLOODNOK. Sabrina? Ooooowww! So she is real after all! Well, most of her! SABRINA. No, Major, ALL of me is real! Laughter. BLOODNOK. Ooooooh! (Faints) SABRINA. There you are, Mr Seagoon, I've finished. Read that. NEDDIE. Right! Thank you! Hurrr hurr hurr! (Reads) ............................... Nuddie. Witwitwitwitwitwit? G-FIN. Plese, don't do thit. Mor-i-r-t. Yu gota go oooooww! CAST. Round of applause. NEDDIE. Excellent my dear, you're hired! Laughter. BLUEBOTTLE. I like this game! MUSIC. End of Goon Show music. Applause. GREENSLADE. THE END. That was a recording by the Midlands Goons of, "A bad spell of weather". Script by Clive Kent. Original Goon characters by Spike Milligan. Music by Bob Kerr's Whoopee Band. Richard Green as Bloodnok. Grytpype-Thynne. Sabrina. Flowerdew. Sellers. Throat. John Percival as Neddie Seagoon. Prof Stanley Unwin. Sam Kempe as Henry Crun. Count Moriarty. Jim Spriggs. Milligan. Robert Webb as Eccles. David Waddoups as Minnie Bannister. Clive Kent as Greenslade. Bluebottle. William. Produced by Clive Kent. Recorded by Tony Wilding. MUSIC. End music again. Applause. *****************************************************************************************************