Another transcript from John Mathews.
=========================
THE MOUNTAIN EATERS

Series 9, number 5


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

\ ... \ missing from "Pick of the Goons" version


Greenslade: This is the BBC \light program\. (laughter) Away with dull care!

Seagoon: Alright, Wal, let’s dance.

Orchestra: 'Archers' theme music)
(Much background yelling etc, "Get over there" ???)

Spriggs: Stop! Don’t you know it’s dangerous to do a pas de deux in a confined space?

Seagoon: Pas de deux? What’s it mean? What’s it mean, eh?

Milligan: It means you’re ignorant, Jim!

Seagoon: Nonsense, lies, lies, I tell you! Listen to this. Two and two are four, C_A_T_ cat,
D_O_G_ um, um..

Spriggs: D_O_G spells what, Jim?

Seagoon: Correct. D_O_G spells "what Jim" (laughter).  Well done.  A funny thing happened to
me on the way to the theatre today. A man in lilac pyjamas said "Could you direct me to a flower bed?" (applause) Stop!

(voice - Sellers): Mister Seagoon?

Seagoon: Yes. Don’t stand too near, I’ve got money.

(voice - Sellers): Sir, this message just arrived by plumed(???) messenger for you ~~~.

Seagoon: It’s a hand-typed letter. Let me see. (reads) "The governors of the BBC cordially
invite you to throw yourself off London Bridge." (laughter) "Dress optional" (laughter).

Greenslade: This is a great honour for you, Mr Seagoon.

Seagoon: What! They must think I’m a "Charlie".

(Milligan ???) (off): Charlie!

Seagoon: Hello.. oh, that was a slip of the ton-gue! Your turn, Wal. Give us your words
now.

Greenslade: Gentlemen, there’s a jolly hand-written show on the other side of this music.

Orchestra: (Can-can music)

(French voice): It was the year eighteen hundred and nineteen thirty-two, and
Paris was under the iron heal of French domination. (string of gutteral utterances) Along the boules-vardes, women was dressed in acme stupidity \and the cafes were full of Hayworth's(???) ex-husbands \.

F.X.: (oldtime dance music)

Moriarty: (nasal singing)

Grytpype-Thynne: Do you want a bucket?

Moriarty: Come on, merry Grytpype, it’s a beautiful day.

Grytpype-Thynne: Yes.

Moriarty: Look, the sun is shining through the hole in your underwear.

Grytpype-Thynne: Get out of that bath \francish wretch\, and do an impression for me of food.

(French voice): Pardon me, m’sieur. The parton this cafe wishes to inform you that taking a bath in double beds are forbidden in ‘ere.

Grytpype-Thynne: But, they’re both over fourteen and house-trained.

(French voice): I’m sorry, but you see..

Grytpype-Thynne: Do you realize, sir, do you realize who we are?

(French voice): Non.

Grytpype-Thynne: You see those pallid clenched knees arising from the bath water?

(French voice): Oui, m’sieur.

Grytpype-Thynne: They belong to the submerged fear-ridden body of Count Jim "Bubbles"

FX: (bubbling sounds)

Grytpype-Thynne: Moriarty, owner of the world’s greatest collection of fourteenth Century Italian explosions.

FX:  (explosion sound)

Grytpype-Thynne: There’s one now. A genuine Richard the Third.

(French voice): But, m’sieur you've been.. M’sieur, you’ve been living ‘ere for a month without buying a drink.

Seagoon: Stay your hand, mister landlord, m’sieur. I’ll buy these two villians [sic] a drink.
Garcon, (pronounced "garkon") three tins of wine.

Grytpype-Thynne: Thank you, sir, thank you. By your bearing, your dress and your manner, I
presume you are an uncultured oaf.

Seagoon: Aha, very good. May I sit down?

Moriarty: I thought you were.

Seagoon: What, what, what, what, ..(several more, ending in chicken sounds)

Grytpype-Thynne: Apart from Harry Secombe, who are you?

Seagoon: Well, I’m Lord and Lady Debrett, ne Ned Seagoon. And both my legs are licensed for walking.

Grytpype-Thynne: They won’t last, I tell you. No. What are you doing in there (???)?

Seagoon: Well, apart from that, I’m over here on a busman’s holiday.

Grytpype-Thynne: Doing what?

Seagoon: Driving buses. I do it to eke out my fifty pound allowance.

Moriarty: (choking sounds) Fifty pounds? (more typical Moriarty "ow" sounds and others)
He’s got money, he’s got money! 

FX: (slap sound)

Moriarty: Ow!

Grytpype-Thynne: You must pardon the steam Count, he’s in strict training.

Seagoon: For what?

Grytpype-Thynne: His death.

Seagoon: Huh! Gad, he looks in perfect condition for it. He must win.

Grytpype-Thynne: Yes.

Seagoon: Well, I think I will go and blow the fifty pounds on the table.

Moriarty: Fifty pounds again. (moriarty ahh, oww etc over:)

FX:  (various sounds: slaps, wood block, pistol shot, animal noises sped up (monkey?))

Moriarty: Ow!

Seagoon: Is he ill?

Grytpype-Thynne: I, I, I fear he’s got the dreaded pauper’s crut, you know. There is only one
known cure - fifty pounds placed inside the victim’s wallet.

Seagoon: Has he got that much?

Grytpype-Thynne: No, but just by chance he has an empty wallet.

Moriarty: (gurgling sounds) Fifty pounds, fifty pounds

Grytpype-Thynne: We must hurry and find that money. His overacting is becoming
increasingly apparent to us all.

Seagoon: I say, would .. would my fifty pounds be of any use?

Grytpype-Thynne: Well, we can but try, Ned, we can but try. Let me have it.

F.X.: (sounds of coins falling on to a table)

Moriarty: It is a penny short! 

FX: (sound of slap)

Moriarty: Ow!

Grytpype-Thynne: Lord Debrett, you have the steam Count’s undying thanks. We shall go
directly to the Mona Lisa and sign an IOU on the bottom for you.

FX: (whoosh, whoosh)

Seagon: Well, whilst I'm waiting here, I’ll just play this extended-play conk of Max Geldray.

Geldray: Oh boy, my conk is still getting the breaks!

Geldray and orch: "All in the Game"

Greenslade: Part 2 - the Louvre. The well-known double entendre and comic's resort

Seagoon: Ah yes, here is the Mona Lisa, and look Wal, what honest men those two were.

Greenslade: Yes.

Seagoon: There you see, the corner, you see, that the paint’s still wet.

Greenslade: I_O_U fifty pounds, signed "Leonardo da Vinci."

Seagoon: Yes, so that’s what their name was, Leonardo da Vinci. Well, I’ll just slip the
painting into my inside pocket. There!

FX: Slap on pocket

Eccles: (various unintelligible sounds) Hullo, let me stop messing around and we’ll get on
with the show. Comment allez-vous? {How are you?}

Seagoon: Bien, merci. Et vous? {Well, thank you.  And you?}

Eccles: Oh, that’s the end of that. Haha.

Seagoon: Dear listeners, the art connoisseur wore a suit of shredded brown paper
scaffolding around his legs and a body that hadn't been lived in for some time.

Eccles: Well, I’m dressed for the part. I’m going to conquer Mount Snowdon.

Seagoon: It’s been climbed before, you know?

Eccles: Ah, but has anybody eaten it before?

Seagoon: I’ve, I’ve, I’ve never seen it on the menu.

Eccles: Ah, then the way is clear for my attempt. Hold this plate.

F.X.: Clink of plate (sound of unwrapping of parcel)

Seagoon: He opened the parcel and took out a slice of earth labelled Mount Snowdon.

Willium: ‘ere, stop ‘im, stop ‘im! ‘ere, Eccles, put that down now. I told you not to eat
Mount Snowdon ‘til you was fit, didn’t I? Swallow this condition powder.

Eccles: (swallows)

Willium: Now, for the next month you trains only on eating ‘ills.

Seagoon: Are you his trainer?

Willium: Yeah, I am, mate, yeah. I’ve been managing ‘im since ‘e was two, you know. Since then, I been a training ‘im for the biggie. You see, mate, the moment ‘e eats a mountain, ‘ollywood will be screaming for ‘im.

Seagoon: Oh, I say, do you need a stand-in?

Willium: Got any money?

Seagoon: I am expecting fifty pounds.

Willium: Fifty pounds? How much is that then? I mean, which side of ‘alf-a-crown is it on?

Seagoon: The rich side.

Willium: You’re on, mate, you’re Eccles’ stand-in.

Orch: (chords)

Greenslade: The luxurious and naughty Hotel Disgrat (?) in Venice.

Orch: (few bars of "O solo mio")

Grytpype-Thynne and Moriarty: (sing along to the music)

Grytpype-Thynne: Agh, this is it. This is the bonne vie, la [sic] bon mot. Moriarty, pass me another strand of fume spaghetti.

FX:  (sproing)

Grytpype-Thynne: Delicious, delicious. Ah, punden de deplel (?). How much money do we have left Moriarty?

Moriarty: Ten pounds.

Grytpype-Thynne: That means we can afford to stay on at this hotel for another six moments.
Have you got the cartons stacked, the knotted sheets hanging out of the window?

Moriarty: Yes. I've ...

FX: Knock, knock on not very solid door.

Moriarty: Ah!

F.X.: Running feets. (sound of crash through glass and splash)

Grytpype-Thynne: The coward!

Grytpype-Thynne: Come in. will you

FX: Door knob rattle, opens


Geldray: Don’t move, boy! I’m from the French Surete (without the correct accent!)
police.

\Grytpype-Thynne: It's son of Hilda Baker\

Geldray: \Silence - \You are in the presence of a great man. I am Mr. Max "Conks" Geldray, the world’s greatest Dutch detective.

Seagoon: The world’s worst actor!

Grytpype-Thynne: Please, Ned, please, back to your own bed! Now tell me, why has your
conk forsaken its place in safety behind your harmonica?

Geldray: The Mona Lisa has been stolen, boy. Stolen from the ahh.. how do you pronounce this?

Grytpype-Thynne: Louvre. L, O, U, V, R, E, pronounced Louvre (exaggerates the "re")
Louvre, louvre, louvre, .. (getting faster and slightly different each time). There, you have a choice of twenty.

Geld ray: Well, it’s been stolen by a short, fat man.

Grytpype-Thynne: Neddie with the Mona Lisa, gad!

Geldray: By golly, I swear I’ll get it back. Til then, my conk will never rest. Farewell,
boys, farewell.

Orch: (chords)

\Greenslade: He was very good you know, very good. He's never done
any acting before you know.\

\Seagoon: Now we know why mate\

\Greenslade: Please Mister Seagoon Please\

\Seagoon: Rhubarb]\

Greenslade: Now, if listeners will bend down, they will see quite clearly a meeting with a
piano accompaniment.

Orch: (chords, piano)

Old man: Gentlemen, I am, I am glad to announce..

Old woman: Speak up!

Old man: .. that ..

Old woman: Speak up!

Old man: I’m glad to announce that since 1893, no other (???) mountain eating has occurred in England. (applause) Now I propose .. (chokes and falls)

Crun: Oh dear. Oh. He’s dead, Min.

Min: What, again?

Crun: Gentlemen, the chairman has just died. (applause) We will send a fresh husband
to the widow as soon as the weather permits. Now, as he was saying, ..

F.X.: (chicken sounds)

Crun: Oh dear, Min, Min, oh Min, hold this chicken. Be careful, she’s ..

Min: I’m sorry, dear, I don’t know why you have to carry a chicken around, Henry.

Crun: Well, It’s the fog, Min. I always carry one when there’s a fog.

Min: What, what for?

Crun: Because chickens can’t see where they are going in the fog. Unless it’s a fog
chicken, and there’s no such thing as a fog chicken.

Min: What are you talking about? There was no fog today.

Crun: Well, this isn’t a fog chicken.

Min: What?

Crun and Min: (degenerates into an argument about fog and fog chicken)

Seagoon: Get on with the meeting! \I've got a cricket ball to
catch!\ 

Crun: Gentlemen, to prevent mountain-eating in England, we are raising the license fee
to fifty pounds sterling.

Eccles: Oh, mate, you’ve ruined my mountain-eating chances.

Seagoon: I’m free (???) as a mountain-eating stand-in.

Eccles: Oh.

F.X.: (violins and crying)

Seagoon: No money for a mountain-eating license. No signs of Leonardo da Vinci’s fifty
pounds back. Aaagh, I have been forced to live with a fifteen shilling (?) a week suit. I in the jacket, and Eccles in the trousers.

Eccles: Open the window! Now, I’ll start my new diary. What’s it say here? Tuesday the
second. What will I write? Ah, today is Saturday. Oh, no, I don’t know what to write. Today ..

F.X.: (knock on door)

Eccles: Ah, that’s it. Today I heard a knock on the door. Is this a record?

Bluebottle: No, it’s me, you twit! Open up you twit.  I’m freezing out here. 

FX: Door knob rattle, door opens

Bluebottle: Are Good evening sir. Is you the man who just opened the door?

Seagoon: Yes, I am, lad.

Bluebottle: Cor, what a memory you’ve got.

Seagoon: Ah, yes, yes. I remember things, Magna Carta 1215, ..

Bluebottle: You’ve had a good life, haven’t you?

Seagoon: Yes, who are all these crutty herberts with string bags?

Bluebottle: Do not call them that, sir. They are men of the third Finchley wolf cubs in mufti.
Men, by putting knees together all the way down, atten-shun!

Orch: (xylophone sounds)

Bluebottle: Steady, men, steady there! I say, Jules, why don’t you use your handkerchief?
From the right, number!

(voices): One, two, three, . . .

Seagoon: Here, hold on, those three end cubs are girls!

Bluebottle: Don’t give us away, mister. After all, it’s cheaper than television, isn’t it? You’re
a man of the world. You understand.

Seagoon: I do now, ha ha.

Bluebottle: We’re collecting for the East Finchley Poor Mothers' Christmas Pudding Club jumble sale
fete.

Eccles: Here, Neddie, I just phoned that number and there’s nobody in.

Seagoon: What number?

Eccles: Magna Carta 1215.

Bluebottle: Oh, look, it’s silly old Eccles. Hello, silly old Eccles.

Eccles: Hullo, ‘bottle, hullo. (aside) I’ll get him.

Eccles: Ah, hullo, silly old ‘bottle. That got even with him.

Bluebottle: 'ere, Why aint you got no clothes on?

Eccles: Well, I’ve just been making a phone call.

Bluebottle: You don’t have to undress for that.

Eccles: Aha, we learn something new every day.

\Bluebottle: You going to give the Young Mothers something then?\

\Eccles: (expectant maniacal laugh)\

Seagoon: Yes, Here’s Ray Ellington, and there's a bottle of brandy. Aaaaagh (fades into distance)

FX: Whoosh

Ellington: I wonder where he keeps that stuff.

(Ellington and quartet - "There will never be another you")

Sexy female voice: Hello, mothers, housewives. Good news. Did you know that Ray
Ellington is now on sale in the shops? At three and four a pound, he is really wonderful value. Better than those silly old two and four-penny husbands. And remember, Ray Ellington lasts the whole drink through. Get Ray Ellington today. Oooh! (applause)

Greenslade: Mr. Sellers hastens to add that he’s only doing an impression. And now, the Mountain Eaters, part 2. Mr. Secombe!

F.X.: (sound of running feet, getting closer)

Seagoon: Whew, sorry I’m late, Wal. 

Wal: That's all right mate

Seagoon: I couldn’t get the cork out. Here! Where we up to there, Wal there ~~~?

Greenslade: Well now, We have discovered that eating mountains in India requires no license. \So - well listen to this.\

\FX: Door opens\

\Banerjee: Mr Lalkaka, Mr Lalkaka where are you man, where are you - making an appearance please.\

\Lalkaka: What, what - Mr Banerjee what are you doing here in the ~~~ season\

\Banerjee: I'm telling you, I'm telling you. Indeed gregarious and incurruptable news has been reaching my Hindu ears, man.\

\Lalkaka: There have reached there have they. Good heavens - you must hurry, hurry man, you must hurry man. You know\

\Banerjee: I have heard a rumour that Mount Everest is getting shorter.\

\Lalkaka: Well - if its getting shorter, its no suprise to me. Not at all. Look lets face it man - Mount Everest has had a good run for its money. All good things must come to an end, you understand.\

\Banerjee: Most dupedubly, I'm understanding, I'm understanding Lalkaka: ????\

\Banerjee: ... but ???? investigating reason for Mount Everest demise - now come along - swallow this mango currey and off we go.\

\FX: Whoosh\


Orch: (Bloodnok introduction music; shot/thunder)

Bloodnok: Oh dear, oh dear, oh, oh, oh. Oh, oh dear, dear. I’ve never had them so bad, you know.
Ellinger, Ellinger, bring me ointment - me boots are squeaking.

Chief Ellington: ("foreign" words)

Bloodnok: Ooooh, you too, eh? I’ll get rid of them for you. Hand me me military saxophone and civilian drum.

Orch: (saxophone and drum marching music)

Seagoon: Hey, hey you, put a sock in it!

Bloodnok: I’ve got two socks in it and it’s hell in there, sir.

Eccles: Shut up that (imitates marching music)! Stop the music!

Bloodnok: I say, you aren’t by any chance a millionaire, are you?

Eccles: One, two, three, thruppence. No.

Bloodnok: Well, it was a shot in the dark.

Seagoon: I hope it hits him. \Listen you brown blatherer - \We’re trying to eat a mountain and we must have silence for it. S, I, L, E, N, C, E, pronounced (silence).

Bloodnok: Beautifully pronounced! But, dear little Welsh titch of no fixed trousers, you
don’t think that I play that military saxophone without reason, do you? Oh, good heavens, no. It’s the only way of keeping boils away.

Seagoon: Rubbish!

Bloodnok: What, have you ever seen a saxophone with boils?

Seagoon: No.

Bloodnok: Well, let’s hear no more of it, then ~~~.

Orch: (saxophone and drums)

Seagoon: Stop! Stop! Aaagh! If I give you this, will you stop?

Bloodnok: What, what, where’s me old ex-WD glasses? I_O_U fifty pounds, Leonard da Vicki, no, Vinki. Oho. Oho, end of part 2.

Orch: (chords)

George Chisholm (???): (sings) I’m in love with an old trombone.

Orch: (trombone music)

Voice (Sellers sexy woman voice): Get some today!

Greenslade: It is a month later.

Seagoon: (chews and swallows) We’ve done it, Eccles, we’ve done it. We’ve eaten Mount
Everest. All we've got to do now is to wait for the Hollywood offers roll in.

Eccles: Yeah, all we got to do is wait for Hollywood offers to roll in. Yeah, to roll in.
(mumbles) They’re taking a long time, aren’t they?

Seagoon: Nonsense, it just seems a long time because that’s what they’re taking.

Eccles: Oh.

Grytpype-Thynne: Hello, Neddie.

Seagoon: It’s two men called Leonardo da Vinci.

Grytpype-Thynne: Thank you, three men called Seagoon.

Seagoon: Well, you got my, you got my fifty pounds, eh?

Grytpype-Thynne: No, Neddie, now you’re a naughty boy. Did you know the fifty pounds
you lent us was very ill?

Seagoon: Ill?

Grytpype-Thynne: Yes, But don’t reproach yourself, Ned. Nevertheless, it was, so as an act
of charity, we took your fifty pounds to Italy for a holiday.

Seagoon: Is it better?

Grytpype-Thynne: Oho, so much better, Neddie. Wonderful, it's bronzed, wears shorts, and can whistle
the Maiden’s Prayer.

Moriarty: Now, Neddie. Now, Neddie. Do you still have our nice I_O_U on the Mona
Lisa?

Seagoon: You’ll laugh at this. You see, I didn’t think you were coming back.

Moriarty: Owww.

Grytpype-Thynne: You mean you doubted our obvious insincerity? Who’s got it?

Seagoon: Major Dennis Bloodnok, the well-known exploder.

\Banerjee: Look - there are two men - arrest them, arrest them.\

\Seagoon: What, what. You can't arrest me, I've got a doctor's certificate saying prisons are bad for me.\

\Banerjee: Never mind the chat man. One of you two men must have eaten Mount Everest. Come on now (mutters)\

\Seagoon: I'm not going to split - me - a gentleman - never. I refuse to tell you.\

\Eccles: Well stop pointing at me then.\

\Banerjee: Arrest him in Hindu\

\FX: Footsteps running away \

Grytpype-Thynne: Come, Moriarty, next stop, Bloodnok.

Moriarty: Aaagh!

F.X.: (whoosh)

Bloodnok: Oooh! Oh, who are you, what are you doing?

Moriarty: Neddie, Neddie wants his silly old Mona Lisa back, Dennis.

Bloodnok: Oh, it’s, it's, it's sold. You don’t think old Dennis didn’t know the value of that
painting, did you? Oho, yes. Look at this little crisp wad here. Three pounds ten!

Moriarty: You fool. That painting was worth five hundred thousand pounds!

Grytpype-Thynne: Yes.

Moriarty: Who bought it?

Bloodnok: The Finchley wolf cubs.

F.X.: (whoosh, whoosh)

Min: (mumbles)

Grytpype-Thynne: Just there, Moriarty. That spotty cub’s got it.

Spotty cub: Roll up, roll up. What am I bid for this old painting?

Grytpype-Thynne: This is just going to be too easy, Moriarty. Start the bidding.

Moriarty: Ah, little boy. Two shillings for that silly old painting.

Cub: Two shillings? Ho, ho, ho. Sorry, more than that, you know. We have a fixed
price on it.

Grytpype-Thynne: Oh, dear, dear. How much is it then, sonny?

Cub: Five hundred thousand pounds.

Grytpype-Thynne: Moriarty, these wolf cubs are getting smarter every day. Come.

Moriarty: Aaagh!

Orch: (chords)

Greenslade: I say. I did enjoy that. Well, must be off home to the little woman. Goodnight, all, goodnight.

Orch: (marching music)

Greenslade: (sign off - not on tape)