From: oscar@maths.tcd.ie (Owen Carter) Subject: another script Message-ID: < 1993Apr13.074041.26204@maths.tcd.ie> Organization: Dept. of Maths, Trinity College, Dublin, Ireland. Date: Tue, 13 Apr 1993 07:40:41 GMT Lines: 406 ====================================================================== The Statue in the Sahara Desert ------------------------------- < sound of water dropping into a bucket over the top of ...> Greenslade: This is the BBC Light Programme and the roof leaks. < sounds of anguish from audience> Sprigs: Good heavens! Greenslade: Yes, even worse I have a severely shattered shirt tale Secombe: Say that again, Wal Greenslade: Severly shattered shirt Secombe: Steady on, remember what happened at rehersal Sprigs: He got a better laugh that way too, Jim Secombe: STOP! Sprigs: OK I'll stop [??] Secombe: What's this approaching? It's a lorry driven by a rolls royce, isn't it -- yes. It's that great thesbian star of bru -- ve-a-von Sellers! < applause and other excited-type crowd noises -- about 30-50 second of> Sprigs: He's not as popular as he used to be I'll sing that bit folks. < sings> He's not as popular as he used to be (eeeeeeeeeeeee) Sellers: < gibberish ending in 'prune'> < Now in a very _bad_ French accent> Next week I shall be appearing in 'The Impotence of Being Earnest' by Oscar Wilde the blagard of Redding Jail. Yours Neddie... Secombe: Ta! Sellers: Te! Secombe: Ti! Sellers: To! All together All: Tooo! Sellers: Oh what it is to have friends! Sprigs: Ah ... I know I once ... Next question please. Secombe: Dear Sir, My wife has just made a pancake 30 foot round. Is this a record? Milligan: < sounds like Bloodnock> I don't know -- try playing it on the gramophone. Sellers: Together -- the band Band: Traaaaa! Sellers: Ah! Caught with their instruments down! Secombe: And now folks take up the slack while we unwrap this brown paper parcel. Look! < inane giggling> Sprigs: < quietly> What's that next song [??] Secombe: It is a lifesize Goon Show in imitation plastic. Sprigs: And what are these little round things? Secombe: Gads! It is a set of spare glass jokes Sellers: Let us hear one, Tom F/X: < smashing glass> Sprigs: That's an old one, Jim Greenslade: Ah, Gentlemen... Springs: Gentlemen? What's up with you then? Greenslade: This registered brazzie has just arrived by female Sprigs: From a bossom friend! I got it in quick there -- Thank you, thank you it won't last long, folks And now here is an impression of Tom Sellers reading it Sellers: Ta, te, to, too. This message shows this week's story of the French wine yards entitled "I Like Claret < sings> and to hell with Burgandy" Sprigs: Oh and now, here wearing a three knot river is Page 1 Secombe: Hello folks. My name is page 1, but it is spelt differently. Sprigs: What do you mean it is spelt differently? Secombe: d i f f ... Sprigs: Yes, yes, yes. But how do you pronounce it? Secombe: It is pronounced 'Bang', but it is spelt... F/X: Loud bang Secombe: But the 'e' is silent Sprigs: Silent? Silent as in what? Secombe: There is no 'e' in 'what'? Sprigs: Yes there is, Jim. Oh yes there is < something> It is spelt w h a t eee Secombe: That is pronounced whateee Sprigs: Not if the 'e' is silent Secombe: Lets' hear a silent 'e' Sprigs: Right -- a silent 'e' < scilence> Secombe: Perfect! Sprigs: Right -- we all saw it coming, didn't we Now then a word from Peter Sellers: Sellers: < loudly> DRAWS!!! Sprigs: Next week -- another word Sprigs: < sings, going up at end> For no reason at all My stand in will answer that Forward stand in Secombe: My name is Spike "stand-in" Milligan But the knees are silent as in trousers Sellers: No trembler? Secombe: Tu-sha Sellers: Mr Greenslade, answer that for me as me Greenslade: My name is Peter Sellers Secombe: Who's playing you ??: Mee! Secombe: Then who is Peter Sellers? Sprigs: I am! But the 'i' is silent as in 'looking' [Yes I get it -- do you?] Secombe: Would you care to elaborate? Sprigs: Yes Secombe: Well you will have to wait. Sprigs: He gets them in some how. It's a joke folks! Oh ha, ha, ha Secombe: And 'Oh ha, ha, ha, ha' is the right answer So say 'Ahhhh' F/X: Bullet shot Sprigs: < smaking chops> 303 -- my favourite bullet Secombe: Do you like it? I fired it myself Sellers: Too much salt for me Secombe: Who heard of too much salt in Sellers? Sellers: I am not salt cellars -- my name is Peter Sprigs: Salt Peter! Secombe: That's an explosive! F/X: Explosion Sellers: Ohhhh!!! There I go!!! Sprigs: Thank you. Trimph of matter over mind Secombe: < American> And now from Peterbrough, 17 year old Max Galgray And here he is .. 17 year old Max Galgray from Peterbrough Galgray: Oh boy! At last the breaks! < Musical number> Greenslade: Ta. Now the Goon Show proper I have in my left ventricle a copy of the Adict of Nanties holding an elephant's cardigin. Through the hole drilled up the bottom I can see the House of Commons. In the Strangers Gallery disguised as strangers are two sinister figures rampant on a cloth of fillited Spon. Moriariy: Spon!!!!! F/X: Scratching noises Moriarity: < over scratching> Oh! Ah! The plin, the plin, oh GTT: Moriarity, will you stop that revolting buttock scratching in the Strangers Gallery. M: But I've got strangers in my gallery! GTT: Stop this noise in Parliment, do you here! Do you want to wake them up? Secombe: < As Uncle Harry?> As I was saying .... ??: What? GS: Here! Here! Se: As I was saying ... ??: What? GS: Here! Here! Se: As I was ... was saying. Do you realize that the British Atomic Commission ... ??: Bravo! Se: You'd better tell them Lord Puel Sellers: < very upper class> The British Atomic Commission have no idea what the effect of an atom bomb would be on a nude Welshman holding a rice pudding Milligan: Do the Russians have this information? Secombe: No. < some gibberish> Sellers: Would Mr Beaven have any comment on that? F/X: Sounds of a donkey (jack ass? :) Sellers: Thank you. Milligan?: < Now Indian> Gentlemen, Gentlemen, the Government are willing to pay (thankyou) to pay 1000 pounds in cloth for any Welshman who is willing to stand naked holding a rice pudding and hit by the power of an atom bomb. GTT: Moriarity? I know the very man -- come F/X: < Two whoshes> GS: Sure enough, those woshes were pointed at an early Anglo-Saxian leaping house in Picidilly. Within two men are repairing the ravages of Roman occupation. F/X: < sawing and things falling> with... William: < singing over this> Seagoon: William! What are you doing in there? W: Cutting me toenails, mate. When I gets in bed at night they tears the ceiling, mate. F/X: Knocking Bloodnock: I say! You in there! S: It's Bloonock -- professional soldier and ametuer landlord. B: Have you got a woman in your room? S: I certainly have not! B: Well get out of here will you! This is not that kind of a house! Do you hear! S: Now he tells me -- after all those nights of rafia and fret work! M: Knock, knock, knocky knock, chum S: Knock, knock, knocky knock, chum? M: Yes! S: That's the private number of my door knocker. Come in! F/X: Door opening and Feet stampeding in M: Hello Needie S: I recognise those octagonal shins. Of course. Its Count Jim "Thighs" Moriarity. G: The Steam Count < woosh by M> has been commissioned to do a statue of the Sahrara Desert holding a rice pudding and he wants you Needie to pose for it. S: Me? Pose as a desert? M: Certainly -- you are just the right size. And twice as barren! S: Do I have to pose N-U-D-E? G: Of course you do. The Sahrara never wears clothes. S: Not even for supper? G: Malicious rumors, dear boy S: But you can't sit down to dinner nude. Supposing there are ladies present? Throat: Ohhhhhhhh M: Yow!!!! S: To continue. How long would I have to hold the pose for. G: You don't have to hold any pose, Ned. You can move at will -- just as long as you don't move. Now for salary. You will be paid in the current Bank of England cigarrete card series of famous criminal footballers. S: I accept! < Ta, Te, Ti, To, Tooo! again> G: All togther! < Tooo!> G: Yes, coming on very nicely, thank you And now to contact the British Saharra Desert Atomic Centre But first Ray Ellignton will (um) sing through his mouth < Musical number> GS: Ta! By placing a microphone near GTT's trousers we pick up the thread which shows Ned in the Saharra Desert G: Now then Ned -- off with your clothes, Neddie F/X: Great rippings S: Ohhh! There! How do I look? M: Owwww! G: I suppose he makes _somebody_ happy Hold this rice pudding! M: < whispered> GT, GT Only three minutes to zero hour before they drop the bomb -- hurry. < aloud> Now Neddie ... G: Yes M: ... just stand on this bulls eye and don't move! F/X: < woosh away, two off> S: < tightly> 'Don't move', he said. Right. < normal> Dumm-de-dumm. Gayd if only my mother could see me now, posing for a statue of the Saharra. What a proud day for Wales -- not to mention sardines and kippers. < giggling> < quietly> It's a bit early in the show isn't it, now? GS: Ta. Seeing Mr Seagoon is in a state of de sa be ... S: Cheeky GS: ... it would be appreciated if old ladies with binoculars would all listen with your backs to the wireless or place a dark cloth over the speaker. Minnie: < over howls of protests from old ladies, sounding like her> Oh dear -- it's not fair you know. Not fair... G: Gayd this is living. Now, what was it that Mortiarty said? F/X: Woosh up to us M: I said 'Don't Move!' F/X: Woosh away from us G: Ta S: Wait -- what is this approaching across the desert. Eccles: Dumm, de dung, dlang etc S: The ragged solider carried cement sacks, playing an imaginary piano. He must be one of ours! < To Eccles> Good morning. E: Morning < continues playing, and then pauses for a second and carries on> S: Gayd that sun's hot E: Well you shouldn't touch it S: Well its touched you! < to auidence> Just then I caught a glimse of the label on his hat it said "Early English Idiot circa 1899' E: I'm not an indiot. Ask me any question -- I'll show you I'm clever. We are clever -- C L E X L X FER. Pronounced Grams: < gibbersish that sounds like CLEVER as spelt above> S: All right then -- What's your name? E: Ahh -- the hard ones first, eh? S: Come on man! Your name! E: < repeating> Come on man! Your name! My name. That's funny, I had it on the tip of my tounge S: Stick it out then Ahh yes -- Fred Smith, Esq. So you are Fred Smith, Esq E: No -- that's the name of my tounge S: We must be related. Smith is the madien name of my right elbow E: Well I had better be getting back to the barracks How far is it to the fort, Fort Doom S: Thirteen miles E: Thirteen? That's unlucky S: Oh alright then -- fourteen miles E: See -- it was unlucky. I'm a mile further away now I shall go amoung you Grams: < singing and music speed up, approaching> E: Look -- the rifts! S: I thought they were aboard! E: I'm off! S: Now -- I mustn't loose my head. If I keep dead still the fiendish Arabs will think I am a statue of a statue. Grams: Horses drawing up and music stops Ellignton: < as Arab> Ahhhh -- look -- statue of fat man holding rice pudding. Just what I need to put in my harem. Keep wives happy 'till I get TV or more time. Get him up on horse. Grams: Musics starts again and fades into distance GS: Dear listeners. What a stroke of luck for Mr Seagoon. Another thirty seconds and the A bomb would have burst on that very spot. But wait -- someone approaches the danger zone. < two male voices (Sellers and Secombe) singing very badly, under this:> Idiot [Milligan] It's the long lost number eight touring company of the desert song. Singer 1: Ahh my dear. Look at the peaceful scene. Let us rest here, in the shade of this grass hopper's leg. Ohhh inspiration. I feel a song coming on my dear. < sings> Because of .... F/X: Bomb coming down and going off Various bits hitting the ground etc Two wooshes up to us M: < panting> Look Gryphe-Thype. He's there -- a direct hit. But he is in bits. Otherwise he is alright. GTT: Yes M: Come on Neddie, it was only an atom bomb. Ha ha ha ha GTT: Let me. Allow me Mortarity. I was always rather good at jigsaw puzzles. Now that bit goes in there. This leg goes there. That bit in there. And this goes in there! Minnie: Nooo! GTT: No it doesn't. Wait a moment. This knee fits here. Gayd! M: What? GTT: Horrors of mutation! He's changed -- he's turned into more than one person! M: Well there was always enough of him! GTT: Let's get him to the atomic centre! M: Right -- we get him there! Orchestra: Some music GS: There then we have the situation. But the capture of the nude Neddie soon came to the attention of the OC Fort Bowls Orchestra: Bloodnok theme, followed by the usual collection of disgusting noises and crys from Bloodnok B: Oh! Oh! Oh dear, dear. Oh, there must be a cure for it, Oh dear! Secombe: Knock, knock B: Come in 'Knock, knock' Se: < slightly different accent> Good morning, Mayor B: Gayd!! It's Secombe playing a different part. Curse these small budget shows. What's in that envelope? Milligan: < high pitched idiot> The next part of the plot and a messanger in the plain wrappers. B: So it is! Come out B: Then I was right! Even as I spoke the native plunged his hand into his lunch basket and drew out a glass ball. (A daring move on his part). SDA: It's a fortune tellers' ball B: What! Why weren't we invited!? Oh I can't resist them! Hand me the turbin. Look at the crystal ball -- now what can we see? Turn up the brightness... Ah!! Its a nude Welsh man holding a rice pudding, being abducted into Red Bladder's harem. Action! Bugler -- sound the sound of the buge Milligan: < several unsuccessful attempts to buge, followed by a gun shot> Orchestra: Serious music B: Left, right, left ... < speed up and slowing down> ... Secombe: Engisn! Ensign! Bluebottle: Yes, captain! What is it! < applause -- real> Se: How far from Red Bladder are we? Bb: I think we must be within ear shot Se: Why? Bb: He just shot off one of my ears! < applause and recorded voices singing 'For he's a jolly good fellow!'> Thank you. Thank you Bluebottlers I'm glad to be back. And the good news now. During the summer hols guess what happened -- I started to grow hairs on my little legs! Nature is preparing me for marriage! Horrah! And for my next part I will ... F/X: slap Bb: You hit me again like that and see what happens F/X: slap Bb: See what happens? F/X: Sound of steam train drawing up Se: Look! B: Gayd! It's the 4:20 Arab Fort from Islignton -- dead on time. Take cover lads! Se: Theres the Red Bladder on the battlements. B: Do you think he is going to capitulate? Se: I don't know but I should stand back in case he does B: Eccles -- you speak the language. You challange him E: OK. Red Bladder! You can't frighten me! F/X: Gun shot E: Ow! He frightened me! B: Bladder!!! I give you to dawn to get out and surrender or the new rent act will come into force. Orchestra: more serious music GS: Meanwhile, the PM addresses the house PM: Hons, mims, ma'ams and momes. I have just received great news. The Atomic Commission have assitatained that when a nude Welsh man holding a rice pudding is struck by an atomic bomb, he turns into a fully clad number eight touring company of 'The Desert Song'. Voice: < milligan> Then Britian leads the world!!! Grams: Land of Hope and Glory Voice: < milligan again> Soon all over England reactors were set up and atomic furnances were turning nude Welshmen into number 8 touring companies of The Desert Song. Song, song, song ... ding, ding F/X: Morse code coming in over the last bit of that... Voice: Oh they have taken over... Voice: < American, Sellers> And it was assitained that England now leads the world in the production of number 8 Desert Song touring companies. GS: And what of Neddie? GTT: To this day he stands stuck still as a statue in a harem. One move would mean, well, the unkindest cut of all. GS: I think they have finished. So would you all leave quietly. Thank you. F/X: Sounds of auidence leaving. We can just hear a little dialog between Henry and Minnie. This slows, then comes to a grinding halt and 'pops' off to total silence GS: I expect you were surpised but that was 'The Goon Show'. In real life they are disguised as Wally Stotts (sp?) Orchestra, the Ray Ellignton quartet, Max Gelgray, Harry Secombe, Peter Sellers and Spike Milligan -- who also writes the thing. The only unreal persons in this recording were, Wallace Greenslade, announcer, and the producer John Browl -- who prefers to be called ... Orchestra: Suddenly into theme music -- ############################################################################## #Owen Carter # "I put on my cloudiest suit... _o_ # #oscar@maths.tcd.ie # Size five lightening boots too... |< # #oscarter@unix1.tcd.ie # ...and now, shooting into the night..." #