Wal: This is tbe BBC Light Programme. (1) Ladies and gentlemen ...

(Peter plays piano 'Jangling Chord' for 25 seconds)

Harry: Gad. Didn't that music do something to you, Wallace?

Wal: No, but I'd like to do something to that music.

Harry: What? You realise, of course, you're talking of Peter Sellers, the world's greatest outdoor pianist, and voted Mr. Car Catalogue of 1956. (1) Did you hear that build-up I gave you, Mr. Sellers? I say ...

(Peter makes car engines sounds with his lips)

Harry: (over) Don't tell me you're down to that in motor cars! Ha ha ha ha.

Peter: No, I've just ordered a new super splong reversal senna pod twelve horse power covertible. I was only making that noise until it arrived. Then it can do it for me. (makes more car engine sounds)

Harry: How jolly for you, Fred Sellers.

Peter: (quick sputter of car engine sound)

Harry: Hip! Thank you. Now if you'll kindly stop sticking pins in that clay model of Lew Grade (2) we'll prociood with the hern hern and hern. This week the play is entitled ...

ORCHESTRA: Very dramatic rising chords link for 17 seconds

Harry: (anticlimax) I've forgotten what it was, now. Hm.

Wal: Allow me. Allow me.

Harry: Righto.

Wal: You silly little nut.

Harry: What?

Spike: (off) Wait until they stop laughing!

Wal: We present ... we present 'The Flea'. (sings 'Song of the Flea' for 7 seconds) Ah ha ha ha. The flea. Oh ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. The flea.

Harry: (raspberry)

ORCHESTRA: 'Jealousy' for 5 seconds

Wal : The year ... 1665. 1665? Good heavens! I must hurry, I'll miss my bus.

FX: Scratching on paper over next piece

Neddie: (as though writing) Third of December, 1665. Did rise, betimes. Finding much snow without, did put on my belly-binder and warm knees. Sported thereafter with Mrs. Fitzsimmons, and did hie me later to Ward's Coffee House to break my fast.

ORCHESTRA: Tattyrah chord, cymbal snap

GRAMS: Background chatting crowd noise

Peter (Flowerdew): (over) Oh, good morrow, Master Pepys. Cappuccino?

Neddie: No - just coffee, Daisy.

Peter (Flowerdew): Black or white?

Neddie: White, with a dash of milk.

Peter (Flowerdew): Ohhho! You tease!

Neddie: Now, with whom can I make gossip this chilly morn? I see nobody, though, and nobody sees me. What a coincidence. Egad. Be sponned to be sure. Hern hern. Hi diddle dee. Needle nardle noo. Splin splan splon. Ying tong iddle i po, and remember, you've got to go 'oww'.

Grytpype: How very interesting that was.

Neddie: I'm sorry. I didn't see you standing in that coffee pot.

Grytpype: I know, we had the lid down.

Neddie: We? Where's your friend?

Grytpype: He's up the spout!

Moriarty: Oww. You've gotta go 'owww'.

Neddie: Ye cod. He's just been 'owwww'.

Grytpype: Yes, it's all the rage. Now um, have these two seats been taken?

Neddie: No, they're still here. Ha ha ha. Aha ha ha. Aha ha ha. Aha ha ha. (ahem)

Grytpype: A charlie.

Neddie: What, what what what what what what what what what what what what what? What what what? (clucks like a chicken)

Grytpype: I was only ... nearly saying that the other day. This is my friend, the Count Jim 'Thighs' ...

Moriarty: Owwww.

Grytpype: Moriarty, Minister without Underpants to the Principality of Monte Carlo (1).

Neddie: A German diplomat is always welcome in England.

Moriarty: What? Sapristi nyuckoes! Hairy insult! You insult me, a Frenchman! We must fight a duel.

FX: Two pistol shots

Moriarty: Honour is satisfied.

Neddie: And so am I.

Moriarty: Tarah!

ORCHESTRA: Tattyrah chord, cymbal snap

Max: Hi!

Gryptype: Sir, you will excuse this steaming Gaul. He is, er, given to short temper as he has no lodgings for the night.

Neddie:Oh. I can't see a French Count sleeping in the street.

Moriarty: Of course not. I've got up now! Owww, owww.

Grytpype: He's just been 'owww' again.

Neddie: I should like to accomodate you for the night, but ...

Moriarty: We accept!

Grytpype: I second that. Moriarty, go and pack the jam tins.

Moriarty: I gotta go ... (gibbering, fades) Owww.

FX: Scratching on paper under next piece

Neddie: (As though writing) Did return home with the two gentlemen. Did not sport with Mrs. Fitzsimmons, owing to the cold weather, and the presence of the French Count and his manager, who occupied my second-best bed.

Grytpype: You ... you heard that nice gentleman, Moriarty. Put on your second-best pyjamas.

Moriarty: Owww.

Grytpype: There he goes again. He never thinks of anything else these days. By the way, Moriarty, did you notice the brass nameplate on our host's door?

Moriarty: Yes. I've got it here.

Grytpype: Hm, you clever ... you clever little vandal, you. You see what it says? 'Samuel Pepys, Secretary to the Navy.' We couldn't have picked a better charlie for our plans.

Moriarty: Ohooieoww, owwwwwowww. Sapristi nadgers! If it works, we'll get reach beyond the dreams of Olwen. Ohioh. The moolah! The grisby. Oww yee oww owww oww. Oww.

Grytpype: He's gonna have one of his turns again.

Neddie: Is he?

Grytpype: Yes.

Neddie: I'd better go then.

FX: Door closes

Moriarty: He's gone!

Grytpype: Yes (2) Now, where's François, the flea?

Moriarty: François the flea is inside my sock. He likes to travel on foot. Ho ho ho ho ho. Hai.

Grytpype: Now, Moriarty, are you sure this flea is reliable?

Moriarty: Reliable? Mon repos! This flea has bitten all the crowned heads of Europe. And sometimes lower than that.

Grytpype: You mean ... that this flea has royal blood?

Moriarty: Ooie, ooie!

Grytpype: In that case he mght be fussy. We shall have to blindfold him. He must never know who he's biting. Let's have a look at him.

Moriarty: I'll just unchain him. Voila!

Grytpype: (sniffs) Mm. Let's see him jump.

Moriarty: Right. François, hup!

FX: Striking bent saw blade for 'boing' , a few times

Moriarty: (over) Steady, steady. Save your energy, boy. Save it. Steady, steady. Whoa.

Grytpype: I see he favours the Western Roll. Now, action Moriarty! Chain him to your nightshirt.

Moriarty: Right.

FX: Chains

Moriarty: (over, strains) Ah. Oh.

Grytpype: Now, during the night, on a given signal, François will bite you.

Moriarty: Owww! (2) I'm too young!

Grytpype: Moriarty, the reward will be great. You'll be able to retire François to stud on a dog of his own. He'll be able to go ...

Moriarty: Owww.

Grytpype: Thank you. Now, off you go to ninny-byes, while I strum Max Geldray.

Moriarty: Oww. Max Geldray.

MUSIC: MAX GELDRAY plays 'Lady Be Good'

Moriarty: (after intro, over) Play that melody.

APPLAUSE

Max: (over) Thank you.

Moriarty: Thank you, and now ... (pain) ahhhahhahoo!

FX: Door opens

Moriarty: My pectorals!

Neddie: What happened?

Moriarty: Ohoohoo!

Neddie: What ails my merry screaming guests?

Moriarty: Owww!

Grytpype: Mr. Pepys, the Count Jim 'Thighs' Moriarty has been bitted by one of your English fleas.

Moriarty: Yes. This means war between Monte Carlo ... (1)

Neddie: A physic on you! (2) There are no fleas in my house.

Grytpype: No? Moriarty, bend down and show the gentlemen the bites.

Neddie: Nonsense. This bedding is flea-free. It's burned twice a day.

Gryptype: Oh ... then what's this on the sheets?

Neddie: Let me see. 'Siberian Railways'.

Moriarty: Proof positive. No wonder there's fleas.

Grytpype: Master Pepys, I must warn you. Anything you take down will be uprooted, replanted at Trafalgar Square, and used in evidence against you.

ORCHESTRA: Tattyrah chord, cymbal snap

Max: Hai!

FX: Pause, then scratching on paper under

Neddie: (as though writing) Fifth of December. Did sport with Mrs. Fitzsimmons, and then ... to the Law Courts.

ORCHESTRA: Tuning up, scattered notes

FX: Tapping of gavel

Ray: (over) Silence! Silence in Court! Silence! The Court will now rise for the Lord Chief Justice, Jim Spriggs.

OMNES: Murmurs

Harry: (off, among murmurs) Rhubarb. Rhubarb, rhubarb.

Spriggs: Be ... be seated, please. The case is Count Jim 'Thighs' Moriarty, Minister Without Underpants to the Principality of Monte Carlo, (1)) versus the British Crown with underpants. Will the plaintiff open the case?

Wal (French): My Lord, we claim damages of forty thousand golden crowns for a savage attack by an English flea residing under the roof of Mr. Samuel Pepys, Secretary to the Navy.

Spriggs: Oh. Well acted. Now then ... what is a Navy?

Neddie: A Navy, my Lord, is an army entirely surrounded by water.

Spriggs: (after applause) Silence! Silence, please, or I'll have the court cleared.

Neddie: (raspberry)

Spriggs: Thank you very much. Now then, what makes you think the British Crown should pay for this flea bite?

Grytpype: It was a British flea, my Lord.

Neddie: M'Lord, I object! I move that the flea's nationality be proven before this case proceeds.

Spriggs: Agreed. Call the flea!

Ray: The flea!

Wal: (off) The flea!

Minnie: (off) The flea!

FX: Coconut shells 'galloping', getting closer

Willium: (over) Wayohh off, off, mate.

FX: Coconut shells stop

Willium: Ohh, ohh, whoa.

Spriggs: Great Jupiter, mate! Is that thing a flea?

Willium: No, it's an 'orse, mate.

Spriggs: A horse?

Willium: Yes.

Spriggs: Take his hat off.

Willium: There.

Spriggs: You're right ... it is a horse. Now where ... now where's the flea?

Willium: 'E's on the 'orse, mate. I thought 'e'd get 'ere quicker that way, you see.

Spriggs: I see. Now then, as he's not riding side-saddle, I presume he's a male flea.

Willium: Yes, yes.

Spriggs: So now, will the flea ... will the flea raise his right leg, and swear to tell the truth.

FX: Bent saw blade struck - 'boing'

Spriggs: Thank you. Thank you, thank you. Now, Mr. Pepys, will you please take the ... the flea in the palm of your right hand and see if you can identify him.

Neddie: My Lord, I can honestly say I have never seen this flea before in my life. I claim that he is a foreigner!

OMNES: Concerned murmurs, including 'rhubarbs'

Harry: (over murmurs) Rhubarb, rhubarb. Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb. Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb.

Moriarty: (aside) Grytpype, suppose they discover François is French.

Grytpype: (aside) Impossible. I destroyed his passport, I tell you.

Spriggs: Silence! It is the opinion of this court that the flea will be ... will remain in custody while a description of him is circulated to Interpol.

Wal: Dear listeners ...

Spriggs: (continues gibberish in background)

Wal: (over) I spring forward at this momoent to mention to those of you who have not been in 'jug' on the Continent, that Interpol is an International Organization of Policemen. I do hope you find these little snippets of information helpful. If they are, then my job has been well worthwhile.

ORCHESTRA: Tattyrah chord, cymbal snap

Spriggs: (off) Continue, please.

Wal: And now, 'The Flea', part two. In which Moriarty and Grytpype hie them to a Flea Circus, with a plan.

GRAMS: circus-type steam organ plays in background, crowd murmurs)

Minnie: (over) Roll up!

Henry: Roll up!

Minnie: Roll up!

Henry: See the greatest Flea Circus, on now.

Minnie: Every one man fit, buddy.

Henry: Come and see 'War and Peace' done by a cast of fleas.

Minnie: Roll up.

Henry: Flea dialogue, with human sub-titles

Minnie: Roll up.

Henry: Roll ...

Minnie: Roll up, you people. Here 'ere ...

Grytpype: Did you hear that, Moriarty? A flea circus.

Moriarty: Yes. Let's go and buy one, quickly.

Gryptype: Buy one? What do you think I brought this dog along for?

Moriarty: Explain to me, and the listeners.

Grytpype: We're going to look for a British flea with exactly the same markings as François.

Moriarty: And then, we change them over.

Gryptype: There goes the plot, listeners.

Moriarty: (smacking of lips)

Grytpype: Come, let's do a recce.

Moriarty: OK.(3)

GRAMS: Background murmurs of crowd

ORCHESTRA: Drum roll, cymbal crash

Henry: Ladies and gentlemen, the hero of tonight's performance of 'War and Peace' is the wonder flea, star of knee, thigh and chest, who has just returned from a highly successful tour of Mrs. Fitzsimmons ... here he is, Little Jim!

GRAMS: Background dogs barking crowd cheering

FX: (over) Saw blade 'boing', many times

Minnie: (off, over) Get those dogs out of here.

Grytpype: Moriarty, hand me those lorgnettes. What luck! Little Jim is the living image of François, even to the scar on his chin.

Moriarty: What now?

Gryptype: After the performance, we take this shaggy dog backstage. No flea could resist a ride on a dog like this.

Moriarty: You're right.

Wal: Er ... excuse me, please. Excuse me just a moment. Excuse me please.

Grytpype: What?

Wal: Ladies and gentlemen. At this stage, the BBC are concerned about the possibility of this show causing listeners some, um ... irritation. I should like to state, therefore, that there are no real fleas taking part in this programme. The parts of all the fleas are taken by small grasshoppers painted black.

Neddie: 'Ave ya done?

Wal: Yes.

Neddie: Thank you. December the sixth.

FX: Scratching on paper, under

Neddie: (as though writing) Did sport with Mrs Fitzsimmons.

Grytpype: Ahh.

Moriarty: Ohh.

Neddie (as though writing) And, being suspicious of Grytpype-Thynne, I did place two stalwart guards outside the accused flea's cell in Newgate Prison.

GRAMS: Boots walking on concrete, chains

FX: (over) Saw blade 'boing' a few times

Bluebottle: Have you ever guarded a flea before, Eccles?

Eccles: No. This is the first big job I had. Just a minute. Hoi!

FX: Saw blade 'boing'

Eccles: That made him jump! Did you hear dat! Look over dere. Doingg! That's him. When he go ... doingg! He goes ... he goes doingg! Doingg! He goes dat all de time, he goes dalum ...

Bluebottle: You're a naughty cruel thing, Eccles. You should not do dat. You may have fleas of your own one day.

Eccles: Oh. I'm ... I'm sorry, Bottle.

Blebottle: Lance Corporal Bottle to you.

Eccles: Sorry, Lance Corporal Bottle To You.

Bluebottle: I should jolly well think so too. Stand ... stand to cardboard attention.

Eccles: Oh.

Bluebottle: Chin out, chest in.

Eccles: But it hurts.

Bluebottle: (aside) Thinks: I will teach dis naughty man a lesson. (calls) Eccles.

Eccles: Yeah?

Bluebottle: Raise right leg.

Eccles: OK.

Bluebottle: Now raise left leg.

Eccles: Right.

Bluebottle: (pause) Ohh. How do you do dat?

Eccles: Three legs. Three legs.

Bluebottle: Oh. Oh. (1) How is it dat you got three legs, Eccles?

Eccles: Er ... da fourth one fell off. Aha ha ho ho. Aha ho ho ho. Aha ho ho.

Bluebottle: Yee hee hee.

Eccles & Bluebottle: (both laugh as above for 23 seconds)

Eccles: Wait a minute, wait a minute. What are you laughin' at?

Bluebottle: Well, I don't like to be left behind. (2)

Eccles: Well, yeah.

Bluebottle: Well, we've given dem enough Terence Rattigan-type dialogue. It's time to exercise the flea-type prisoner. Private Eccles, open flea pit.

FX: Door unlatched

Eccles: (strain) Ooh.

GRAMS: Door creaks open

Eccles: 'Ere, do you think it's safe to take 'is leg shackles off?

Bluebottle: Do not worry, Eccles. I will keep him covered with this flea powder.

Eccles: Oh dear. OK. Well, I ... I'll run then the flea 'round the yard on his lead.

FX: Saw blade 'boing's, a few times

Eccles: (over) Oh, oh. Steady! Whoa! Whoa, stop pullin'! Whoa! Steady, steady now. Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!

Bluebottle: Wooie! Eccles, don't let him come near me. I don't want to be bited. I'm an East Finchley-type boy, and ... there are no fleas in East Finchley. Flealess Finchley dey call it. Yee hee hee! I don't like dis game ... I'm all itchy coo!

Wal: Er ... listeners. We should like to reassure you once again that at no stage in this drama do genuine fleas take part. (Before commencing it, all actors were searched by John Snagge. (2) To allow you to relax, here is Ray Ellington and his DDT Quartet.

MUSIC: RAY ELLINGTON sings 'You Do Something To Me'

APPLAUSE.

ORCHESTRA: '1812 Overture' for 12 seconds

Neddie: 1812? And in 1665. Aha ha ha. So much for humour. Well now ... December the splong ...

FX: Scratching on paper

Neddie: (as though writing) Did sport with Mrs. Fitzsimmons. Mm. Suddenly ...

FX: Door opens

Bluebottle: Captain Mr. Pepys, Sir ... (pause) Hello, Mrs.Fitzsimmons. Captain, two men crept up on us from behind, and overpowered us with a quarter of Pontefract Cakes.

Neddie: They nearly had you on the run.

Bluebottle: Yes. Den, thinking dat I da ... thinking that dey had made us unconscious, with the dreaded Pontilfrakes, dey switched fleas and made off with our one. Hello, Mrs. Fitzsimmons.

Neddie: So ... Moriarty's flea was a foreigner. We must stop it leaving the country, or the Crown will lose the case. To the military!

Bluebottle: To the military! Goodbye, Mrs Fitzsimmons.

ORCHESTRA: Very fast Bloodnok's Theme, lasting 4 seconds

Bloodnok: (over) Ahhohhohhohoo. Ahhoho. Oh, you caught me out then, lads, you did.

FX: Knocking on door

Bloodnok: Oh. Ohho. Er ... out the back, Mrs. Fitzsimmons, dear. Oh. (calls) Come in!

FX: Door opens

Neddie: Now, Major Bloodnok ...

Bloodnok: Ohho. Oohh.

Neddie: Hello, Mrs Fitzsimmons. Any signs of these men with the fugitive flea?

Bloodnok: No, no, no.

Neddie: It's not good enough, Major.

Bloodnok: What?

Neddie: Are your men reliable?

Bloodnok: Whh ... my men reliable? My ... Captain Carruthers, tell him.

Carruthers: Ah ... well, er ... the er ... ah ... ah, men sir ... ah ... you see, er ... well, er, ah ... I ... I ... I ... I ... I suppose the, er ... ah ... well um ... ahhh ... ahh.

Bloodnok: Well, Seagoon ... does that answer your question?

Neddie: I can't remember the question, well ...

Carruthers: Neither can I.

Neddie: Thank you.

Bloodnok: Thank you.

Neddie: Excuse me a moment, Major.

Bloodnok: What?

FX: Door opens

Carruthers: Ah.

FX: Scratching on paper, under

Neddie: (as though writing) Did retire to adjacent room, where did briefly sport with Mrs. Fitsimmons.

FX: Door opens

Spike: Oh, not again.

FX: Door closes

Bloodnok: Oh, what cunning.

Ray: Excuse me, Major. A company of my Highlanders have caught two men trying to slip past on a banana skin.

Bloodnok: Bring them in, McGregor.

Neddie: How did he get in a Scottish regiment?

Bloodnok: He lied about his age.

Ray: Come on.

Moriarty & Grytpype: (grumbling and murmuring)

Ray: (over) Come on, you two there. Come on. Come on, get in there, you two.

Grytpype: Stop pushing us. Don't push.

Ray: Don't worry.

Grytpype: Ah, you steaming ...

Moriarty: Take your filthy hand off my filthy neck.

Ray: Make one false step and I'll report to Victor Sylvester.

Moriarty: Oww. (2)

Neddie: That's him! I recognise him by his ...

Moriarty: Oww.

Neddie: Now, where's that French flea?

Grytpype: Outside, on a sheep dog.

FX: Door opens

GRAMS: Dogs barking

Neddie: Ah. Forty long-haired sheepdogs. Which one is he on?

Bloodnok: I'll soon find him, in a military way. Dogs, from the right, number!

GRAMS: Cast bark as dogs, singly, seventh one yelps in pain

Bloodnok: (over yelper) That's the one! That's the one! Search him!

FX: Saw blade 'boing'

Moriarty: (over) RIght.

Neddie: Hep, hep!

Bloodnok: Now into the dustbin with him.

FX: Dustbin lid placed on bin

Neddie: Ah. Got him!

Moriarty: They've got the flea in there.

Neddie: Ah, got him there. Well, Grytpype ... ha ha ha. This is the end of your nefarious career.

Moriarty: Oww.

Grytpype: Yes, and yours.

Neddie: What, what what what what what what what what what what what what ?

What, what, what? What, what, what? (softly) What do you mean?

Grytpype: Mr. Pepys, we've found a diary. Let me read you a sample extract. 'December the third. Whilst the King was away, did sport madly with Nell Gwynn.'

Neddie: (gulp) Oh, come, chaps. You're joking. Aha ha ha. Let's forget everything, eh? Let's ... let's ... let's go 'owww' together. Aha ha ha.

Moriarty: Yes. For one thousand pounds.

Neddie: Owwww.

Grytpype: He's just been 'owww'.

Moriarty: One thousand pounds, please.

Neddie: Owwww.

ORCHESTRA: 'Lucky Strike'

Wal: (over) 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 program produced by Pat Dixon.

ORCHESTRA: (playout (2)

(1) In UK original transmission, not in Transcription Service original, TS Reissue, LP
(2) In UK original and TS original, not in TS Reissue, LP
(3) In UK original, TS original and TS Reissue, not in LP