The Call of the West

or

Captain Stingo, or Goon Law, or Anythinggggg, or Hern!

First broadcast on January 20, 1959

Script by Spike Milligan
Produced by John Browell
Announced by Wallace Greenslade
Orchestra conducted by Wally Stott

Various bits from the book version of the script left out -- this is the tape version.

Book Introduction
(reprinted without permission)

THRILL to the noble atrocities of illiterate Captain Slokum and the 9th U.S. Calvary!

SIGH to the romantic strains of Tex MacLength and his sons of the bicycle-saddle!

STRAIN to the unrestrained rhythms of Bloodnok's thunderpills!

Yes, here for the first time on the wide-screen of the wireless, the true story of how the wild-west was won. Set in East Finchley, the drama recounts how the Indian tribes cut off supplies from Fort Fertanggg with just 29 explosive saxophones and a crate of fish bones. Hindered by the insanitary exploits of "mad Dan" Eccles aboard the No. 49 bus, Bluebottle massacres the entire tribe single-handed with his cardboard cut-out pistol.

Note: Miss Miriam Reene of 33 Croft Street, East Finchley, has been left out of the script in order to protect a man called Tom Mountain.

Greenslade:
This is the BBC.
Seagoon:
Good! Now, Wal, here is that same announcement by a midget.
FX:
[sped up version of 'This is the BBC']
Greenslade:
Who's he?!
Seagoon:
I'm a friend of Bert Fertangggg!
Seagoon:
Fertungggg.
Peter:
Findacoo!
Seagoon:
F'too!
Peter:
Foulzow!
Seagoon:
F'ting
Spike:
A friend of Bert F'tang!
Grams:
[carry on the above sounds at a higher speed]
Greenslade:
Dear Spontellibons, you are listening to the soundtrack of this weeks wonder ear-film. Presenting: Captain Stingo, or...
Hern:
Goon Law, or, or anythinggggggg, Hern...
FX:
[western theme song. Much trumpets]
Hern:
See, hear and smell hairless midget, Harry Seagoon as Captain Rapture. Hard riding, hard shooting, hard up cowboy.
Seagoon:
Hello, you ornery critters!
Hern:
This role calls for great audience imagination. See, feel and hit Spike Milligner as the dying actor.
FX:
[gunshot]
Spike:
Ooouch!
Hern:
Yes, for the first time on your radio screen, see the hand-operated, electric teeth of Peter 'Voices' Sellers as Big Black Beauty, the mad Wallpapered stallion.
FX:
[galloping into distance, accompanied by donkey braying]
Hern:
Listen to the strains of Tex MacLength, and his sons of the bicycle saddle...
Goons:
[all sing, "Give me a Home". Faster than normal. All laid out by the sound of three tubular bells belting them on the head. All fade off groaning. "Oh me nut", etc.]
Greenslade:
This then is your entertainment for this evening.
FX:
[the whole audience scream and run for the exits.]
Seagoon:
Come back, come back!
FX:
[western theme again, then sailors cries]
Greenslade:
It is 1867 and dead on time. The harbour of Boston is a hive of inactivity, as English immigrants bring their shattered bank accounts to the New World. Along side is the Good Ship Venus [hern Ed. -- rhyming slang for penis]. The Pling-Plang toof noppity nippity noo, plita. Omnivirous, plethora.Platty plong plong ta te ti to tue... fnit, poll. Tong, tangting, putt putt... I say, I can't read this rubbish, I... Oooh!
FX:
[splash]
Little Jim:
He fallen in da water!
Seagoon:
Yes, sonny, its a tradition amongst drowning men. Now, come! Let's step ashore onto America, the Land of Plenty.
American Bum:
Hey bud, gotta nickel for a cup of coffee?
Seagoon:
You poor man, you must be starving. Here, take that.
Grams:
[electronic bash in the face. Add jelly splosh.]
American Bum:
Owwww! Ooh, buddy.
Seagoon:
That'll teach him not to be poor in front of me again. Fill the horses up with three gallons of hay. Ha ha ha. What a gallant figure I must have made, with my tricorn hat, tricorn trousers, and an unexpurgated first edition of the Union Jack.
Grytpype-Thynne:
Look sir, I too am heading west, with this retired wooden fish crate.
Moriarty:
OOOOwwwwww. Let me out of here, the pong, the pong, Grytpype! Let me out, I say!
Seagoon:
I say, what are those yellow things champing at the knothole?
Grytpype-Thynne:
They are the teeth of a dear friend and confidante, the great French poet and lyric plumber, Count Jim "Flies"...
FX:
[buzzing sounds, Moriarty ooooohs]
Grytpype-Thynne:
...Moriarty. Apart from which, he is inventing something.
Grams:
[alto Sax plays "Sax O Phun"(As heard from inside a Crate. Played back faster).]
Grytpype-Thynne:
Listen, he's working on it, my dear sir. E'en now, he treads the keys of his Adolf saxophone. Could we hire, perchance, a room on your covered wagon, so that the Count my continue undisturbed by disturb?
Seagoon:
Well... there's no bath.
Grytpype-Thynne:
No bath? Just what the Count likes at the end of a long day.
Seagoon:
Right. Now, where's the rent?
Grytpype-Thynne:
In my trousers.
Seagoon:
He bent down, and sure enough, he had a rent in his trousers!!
Orchestra:
[tadaaa! type chord]
Seagoon:
California! Here we come! Get up there!
Orchestra:
[western theme plus horse & wagon noises, running into harmonica playing "Oh, Susanna", and into...]
Max Geldray & Orchestra:
[music: A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square]
FX:
[howling]
Seagoon:
I say... will all those prarie dogs never stop howling?
Grytpype-Thynne:
They're always howling.... no trees on the prairie.
Seagoon:
Listeners who recognise that gag please keep their traps shut. Well, I'm going to bed. G'night.
FX:
[stretching springs sound]
Seagoon:
Ah, 18 stone 3. Gad, I'm a heavy sleeper!
Moriarty:
Let me out, buddy.
Grytpype-Thynne:
Shhhhhh. Quiet in that crate.
Moriarty:
Is it night or day?
Grytpype-Thynne:
Fool. That sort of thing is only for the rich.
Moriarty:
Let me out, oh, buddy.
Grytpype-Thynne:
I'll let you out when you've made enough saxophones to sell to the Indians.
Moriarty:
I've made corud-serc-neef-nook-she saxophones. [raves]
FX:
[chains rattling]
Grytpype-Thynne:
Have you? Well, come out. Now, which of all these fish-bones is you?
Moriarty:
I'm the one with hairs on.
FX:
[indians whooping, continuing over next few lines]
Seagoon:
What's that? The Indians are attacking on the new wide screen!
FX:
[gunshots start over war whoops]
Eccles:
[singing] Born on a mountaintop in Tennessee born in... [mumble]
Seagoon:
What luck! It's Davy Eccles in his goon-shin cat!
Eccles:
Want luck it's calven cleccet nil in glone sklint atamt... [gurgles]
Seagoon:
You do and you can clean it up, mate.
Eccles:
They're all with me tonight...
Seagoon:
Now listen.
Eccles:
Yup?
Seagoon:
We need help...
Eccles:
Yup.
Seagoon:
Those Indians are over powering us. Get through to Fort Fertang...
Eccles:
Fertang...
Seagoon:
...and fetch help.
Eccles:
Ok, ta.
Seagoon:
Here's the fare.
Eccles:
Giddup!
FX:
[public bus pulling away]
Seagoon:
Fortunately for us folks, a bare ten miles away, the US 6th cavalry were in the area. And a bare ten miles in America is equal to three fully-clothed miles in France!
FX:
[cavalry charging]
Colonel Slokum:
Whoa!
FX:
[cavalry stops dead]
Slokum:
There's discipline for yer. [spits]
FX:
[spitoon goes ding!]
Slokum:
Lootenant Hern-Hern?
FX:
[running, from far away to up close]
Lootenant Hern-Hern (Seacombe):
Yes sir?
Slokum:
Where's your horse?
Hern-Hern:
You only called me, sir.
Slokum:
Well, thats a good answer son. You must be mighty proud of it.
Hern-Hern:
It belonged to my father Hern.
Slokum:
It's a well-worn hern, yeah. Here's a dollar Hern.
Hern-Hern:
A dollar Hern? What for Hern?
Slokum:
It's pay as you Hern. [spits]
FX: [ding]
Slokum:
Sergeant Fladoo? Where's the Chuck Wagon Hern?
Fladoo:
's...hine, the worst hine, sir, a most... hawf hine.
Slokum:
Oh. Well, if you say so. [spits]
FX:
[sound of spat tobacco hitting and smothering Fladoo]
Slokum:
I'm sorry, Sarge. Here, catch this lifebelt!
FX:
[splashing sound]
Sergeant Fladoo:
Thank you!
Hern-Hern:
We better get going, Colonel -- they say that the Nobblynee Indians are in the vicinity.
Max, Wallace and Ra:
[singing] I'll be calling you-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou...
Greenslade:
And I'll answer...
Max, Wallace and Ray:
tooo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo...
Hern-Hern:
It's three lone Indians!
Slokum:
Call 'em over, we could do with a loan hern, yeah.
Hern-Hern:
Great Jumping Fernakerpans! It's the Nobblynee Tribe in full war-paint and wall-paper.
Chief Investor:
Ugggg! Me Chief Investor -- in Wall Street. Chief Sitting Bull and Bear. This is my squaw.
Squaw (Greenslade):
How do you do?
Chief Investor:
Ugggg!
Slokum:
Yes, I thought that too.
Chief Investor:
And this nit here is my son. Great warrior, Fred Smith OBE.
Fred Smith (Max):
Hello boy, I had eggs for tea.
Slokum:
Eh, he looks mighty tall in the saddle.
Chief Investor:
That's because he's on a horse, mate!
Omnes:
Tada!
Slokum:
Chief, we wanna do business. We're willing to knock all your teeth out for nothin', and give you genuine false ones in exchange for your old buffalo hides.
Chief Investor:
Mmmmm. Uggggg. All my braves have buffalo hides.
Slokum:
Well, where's yours?
Chief Investor:
Where's my what, mate?
Slokum:
Where's your buffalo hide?
Chief Investor:
He's hiding behind that tree mate.
Omnes:
Tada!
Chief Investor:
Look! Wait a minut! Me no like what white man offer. You go, or my braves go on four-lane warpath. Now give you biff on conk! Biff!
Fred Smith:
That's my dad, boy.
Slokum:
Watch out, Sitting Bull, or I'll get you, sure as my name's Custer.
FX:
[horse gallops up]
Eccles:
Oh, here, here, here, here! Oh, here, here!
Hern-Hern:
Holy smoke! Its something going here, here, here, here!
Eccles:
Well, its me going here, here, here, here!
Slokum:
Steady there son.
Eccles:
The wagon-train with your wife on board is being attacked by the Indians!
Slokum:
My wife! Is she safe?
Eccles:
Yeah.
Slokum:
I never did like them Indians, y'know...
Hern-Hern:
Did any follow ya?
Eccles:
Yeah, they were shootin' at me all the time, but I just stuck my tongue out at dem.
Hern-Hern:
Get wounded?
Eccles:
Yeah.
Hern-Hern:
Where?
Eccles:
In the tongue.
Hern-Hern:
Well, for no reason at all, FORWARD!
Grams:
[troop of calvary gallop off, singing the "Texas Ranger Song" from Rio Rita. All at speed. Fade.]
Greenslade:
That night the tribes were assembled for war. A white man and his fish crate were the centre of attention.
Grytpype-Thynne
I come as a fellow equity member with all dues paid. First I knock on box, so...
FX:
[knocks, saxophone music arises]
Tribes:
Oh! ah! oh!
Grytpype-Thynne:
Yes! We bring you saxophones!
Chief (Seacombe):
Me like -- me play
Saxophone:
[desperate attempt to play Indian Love Call or Ramona]
Moriarty:
You play lovely, chief.
Grytpype-Thynne:
Yes, he plays lovely, doesn't he? Could easily pass for music. And I'd pass it.
Chief:
Good! Tonight, me and braves attack white men with saxophones! Mooohahahaaaa! Minnie-ha-ha haaaa!
FX:
[saxophones and indian whooping combined together]
Slokum:
Gentlemen, somebody's supplying the Indians with saxophones. [spits]
Seagoon:
I think I know who it is.
FX:
[ding]
Slokum:
Bring that thing closer, will ya? You were saying Hern?
Seagoon:
I know who they are. Moriarty and Thynne.
Slokum:
Where's they hiding?
Seagoon:
America.
Slokum:
Sergeant, make a note of that, of the address will ya?
Eccles:
How, how do you spell it?
Slokum:
Don't bother how to spell it, just write it down
Eccles:
Ookay...
FX:
[scribling]
Slokum:
Now read it back.
Sergeant Eccles:
Umbalalarlackum
Slokum:
That sounds like the place to me. Alright men! Search America and look under the beds!
Grams:
[repeat Of Rio Rita]
Moriarty:
Grytpyte, they've got wind of us! We've got to get away, I tell you!
FX:
[smack]
Moriarty:
Ooooaaaaoaooaoaoaaa!
Grytpype-Thynne:
Don't panic, Count. Get into this woman's disguise kit, while Ray Ellington releases his power of song on an unsuspecting world.
Ray Ellington Quartet:
[musical Interlude]
Greenslade:
Meantime in Dodge City, television centre of the old west, a quack hawks his wares and 'wares his hawks -- whichever way is the better, I wouldn't know.
Orchestra:
[bloodnok theme!]
FX:
[indian whooping, boiling liquids, small fireworks, explosions, all mixed together]
Bloodnok:
Ohhhh! Ohh, that's done me a power of good folks! And there's more where that came from! Citizens of Dodge City! Bloodnok's the name! Dr. Dennis Bloodnok, late of Harley St, Twickenham. Now then, I've cured the aristocrats of the Plinn and the Farmers. Now, let me read this testimonial: Dear Sir. Since taking your course of Thunderpills, I feel like a new man. Signed, Mrs Ivy Chandler. Now then, who will be the first to try it, I say, who will be the first?
Omnes:
[murmurs among the crowd]
Singhiz Thingz:
I'll try some of that, sir.
Bloodnok:
You'll try some? Give him a big hand!
FX:
[thunderous applause and cheering, cut off suddenly]
Singhiz Thingz:
Thank you sir, thank you.
Bloodnok:
Now then, Mystic Son of the East, sip this small sulphur and licorice bomb.
FX:
[lip smacking]
Bloodnok:
Look! Ooo! Before my eyes, before my military eyes... Oh! The colour is coming back to his pallid loincloth!
FX:
[loud train noises, whistles blowing, heavy traffic, sirens, explosions, people yelling, and running feet, all mixed up]
Bloodnok:
How do you feel, Prince of the East?
Singhiz Thingz:
I don't feel well, I feel, I, I, I feel very, very ill.
Bloodnok:
Ill!?
Crowd:
You're a quack, mister, you're a quack!
Bloodnok:
Steady, yankee doodles, or I'll have the red-coats on you!
FX:
[angry crowd, running feet]
Bloodnok:
Careful there! ooo! Careful there!
FX:
[gunshots, running feet, Bloodnok yelling, merges into "She'll be coming round the mountain", on an old piano, western style, people whooping]
Grytpype-Thynne:
I say, barman? Drinks, for my lady.
Moriarty:
Yes, I'll have a glass of fish and chips.
Grytpype-Thynne:
And see you put a good head on it.
Barman (Ellington):
Man, we don't keep and drinks called Fish and Chips.
Grytpype-Thynne:
What! Come, Moriarty, we shall take our trade, and malnutrition elsewhere.
Hern-Hern:
Hold everything! I'm Lootenant Hern-Hern of the US cavalry. Resonable charges to regular customers, they'd like to meet you two sirs. We lookin' for two men who have been selling contraband saxophones to the Red Indians, thereby causing unemployment amongst white musicians.
Moriarty:
Gickaboohickgickkccaooo.
FX:
[thud]
Hern-Hern:
Pardon me, ma'am -- your wigs's fallen off.
Grytpype-Thynne:
Wig! How dare you, sir? The unfortunate woman just happens to have gone bald suddenly. It's obviosly a case of the new lightning French alopecia from the song of the same name.
Moriarty:
Thats right, thats right, [singing to tune of "Alouette"]: Alopecia, lightning alopecia, alopecia... happens everyday...
Grytpype-Thynne
[sings, as do the next few] First you get it on your nut.
Moriarty:
First you get it on your nut!
FX:
[wooden bonk sound]
Moriarty:
On my nut!
Grytpype-Thynne:
On his nut!
Moriarty:
On my nut!
Omnes:
Ooooh! Alopecia, lightning alopecia. Alopecia happens everydayyyy!
Hern-Hern:
Hold it!
Omnes:
[dribble off to a halt, ending in Moriarty, then Bloodnok]
Hern-Hern:
Stop that alopecia! One moment, you two, I seem to recognise your face sir. Take off that false nose!
Grytpype-Thynne:
What!
Hern-Hern:
Ahah. Now them false ears.
Grytpype-Thynne:
I protest!
Hern-Hern:
Now that false suit. And that false chest. Hahaha. Just as I thought -- I don't know who you are. Who are ye?
Grytpype-Thynne:
Lord Nelson.
Hern-Hern:
He had one arm missin'.
Grytpype-Thynne:
I have -- I used to have three
Eccles:
Hello, fellas! Ulaluckumberdoy. Care to have a hand of cards?
Hern-Hern:
Poker, pontoon or rummy?
Eccles:
Yeah, and cards?
Slokum:
Well, alright, fellas, I pass.
Hern-Hern:
I pass.
Eccles:
Well, now it's up to me now, folks. It's up to me now. I'm callin' ya, fellas!
Bluebottle:
Ohh, he's callin' us all fellas. I shall recipromidicate. It's the Call of the West, partner! (Chews plug of Hopalong Cassidy cardboard string tobacco -- licorice-type.) Spit, spit, spitty. Ooohhoi. It's gone right down the front of my shirt.
Who are you, stranger? Speak up.
Bluebottle:
I am... I'm Marshal Matt Dillon of 23 Flubb Avenue, East Finchley, North 12.
Hern-Hern:
I never seen you in Dodge City before. How did you get here?
Bluebottle:
I came on the forty-nine bus from the High Street.
Hern-Hern:
There ain't no buses run out here.
Bluebottle:
No, it only took me as far as the Odeon. I had to walk all the rest of the way myself.
Eccles:
What about the game?
Hern-Hern:
Ok, then, you're calling Mad Dan -- what kind of hand you got?
Eccles:
Four fingers and thumb.
Bluebottle:
I beat you, Mad Dan -- I got four fingers, two thumbs, and a toe!
Eccles:
A toe? There ain't no such hand!
Bluebottle:
Do you think I'm a cheat?
Eccles:
No, I think you're deformed.
Bluebottle:
No man can call Bluebottle deformed, unless he's a specialist! Eccles, I'm runnin' you in!
Eccles:
I've been run in, I've done 10,000 miles. [mutters]
Hern-Hern:
Come on, Mad Dan. Are you going quietly or do we have to use ear-plugs?
Bluebottle:
Go for your guns, Mad Dan.
Eccles:
Ohhohhh
Bluebottle:
I'm warning you -- see the panther-like movements of my mittened hands, as they curl towards the cardboard-and-string triggers of my cutout pistols...
FX:
[door opens]
Bluebottle's Mum:
There you are, you dirty little tramp!
Bluebottle:
Oh, mum!
Bluebottle's Mum:
I'll give you "oh mum". Your father's been looking everywhere for his trilby hat! Where's all the shopping I sent you for?
FX:
[blows of bits]
Bluebottle:
Oh mum, you spoiled my game! Bye bye, Eccles!
Eccles:
Goodbye!
Grytpype-Thynne:
And so perish all enemies of the queen.
Moriarty:
And there's more where that came from.
Hern-Hern:
Now I recognise that voice by the shape of them words!
Grytpype-Thynne:
Run for it, Moriarty...they know us
Moriarty:
Agh!
FX:
[whoosh whoosh]
Orchestra:
[dramatic chords]
Greenslade:
This then was the situation: Bloodnok pursued by the mob, Grytpyte pursued by the 9th cavalry, and Bluebottle pursued by his mother. With this in mind, will the listeners please take in their slack and listen to the occupants of Fort Fertang preparing for the Indian assault...
FX:
[locks and chains]
Bannister:
Lock us well in, Hen, lock us well in.
Crun:
Oh, yes. They won't quell old Hen Crun by surprise. Min? Stand against that wall for a certain test.
Bannister:
Oh. Ok, cocky.
FX:
[enormous gunshot, crashes, under...]
Bannister:
Oooooh, ohh dear, ohhhh.
Crun:
Did that hurt, Min?
Bannister:
Yes!
Crun:
Good, then this is a gun, Min.
Uncle Oscar:
Aarrrrrrrr arrr orrrrrarrrrrrg
Crun:
Oh, Uncle Oscar! What are you doing out of your grave?
Bannister:
He must be feeling better, Henry.
Uncle Oscar:
Iiiiiaaaaaarrrrr oooohhhhh aarrr I...
Bannister:
Ooooh oh who oooh!
Uncle Oscar:
Ooooo...
Crun:
Oh, Uncle! At your age. You've been at the hormones again.
Uncle Oscar:
Narrrr mine aaaa ooorrr aaaaaaaarrrrr
FX:
[tinkling sound of something on metal]
Uncle Oscar:
Narckarohow
Crun:
There go his teeth, Min. That means more dinner for us.
Bannister:
Yes.
FX:
[indian whooping, under the next few lines]
Bannister:
What's that!
Crun:
Ooooo
Bannister:
Ooo hooo
Crun:
Do you hear that Min?
Bannister:
What's that? pishtoo!
Crun:
Pishtoo!
Bannister:
Whats that?
Crun:
Its the war-whoops of the Nakertacker Indians!
Bannister:
I'll go upstairs and get ready
Crun:
Stop it, Min, do you hear?
Bannister:
What?
Crun:
You know that's for me, I tell you!
Uncle Oscar:
Aaaarrrr arrr arrrr!
Crun:
He remembers, Min. He's remembered in leather. Now, Uncle, get inside that coffin and defend it with your life! I shall just announce the next part of the program. Ladies and Gentlemen, I have pleasure in announcing a knock at the door.
FX:
[doorbell ringing]
Crun:
Blast, there's been a change in the program. Who is it?
FX:
[opening door. Indian whoops, mixed with saxophone playing, and hoofbeats]
Bannister:
oooooo
Slokum:
And so folks, with rivers of blood being shed, arson, rape, murder everywhere, we say: Goodnight from Happydrome!
FX:
[gunshot]
Slokum:
Ooooo! They got me folks. Another unhappy ending, especially for me. [spits]
FX:
[ding]
Slokum:
Oooh!
Orchestra:
["I Want To Be Happy" Playout]
Greenslade:
The Goon Show was presented by the BBC... [etc]