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From: josh@pogo.cqs.washington.edu (doc)
Newsgroups: alt.fan.goons
Subject: SCRIPT: "Robin's Post"
Date: 12 Dec 1994 18:31:15 GMT
Organization: University of Washington, Seattle
Lines: 906
Distribution: world
Message-ID: <3ci4tj$73p@news.u.washington.edu>
Reply-To: josh@pogo.cqs.washington.edu
NNTP-Posting-Host: pogo.cqs.washington.edu
Keywords: I'm sorry sir, you cannot park that huge bloated Welsh body there
At long last, my work is completed.
Grams: Ovations, stamping of feet
Stop!
I present for your edification, as well as your idification, and of course,
your undification, a script of the original lantern-slide-type wireless
leather Goon show, entitled...
Robin's Post
Series 6, 6 December 1955
WALLACE
This is the BBC. It feareth not, and holdeth forth not, but it keepeth
friends with alleth.
NED
And a ripe twit thou soundest. What's all this 'them them thou' chat?
WALLACE
Chat? Well, we felt that in strict contrast with the coming brisk
clinical commercial radio, we might introduce an olde worlde
atmosphere.
NED
A good answer, now read the statues on this Monogrammed Water
Buffaloo.
WALLACE
In the absence of entertainment we present --
Orchestra: Tatty gong
PETER
The Great Brown, all the way from mysterious Upper Dicker. No question
is too difficult.
JIM
First question?
HARRY (twitt)
My name is Gladys Clutt.
JIM
There is no cure. Next!
HARRY (twitt)
No, my name is Gladys Clutt spelt with a Masculine G ans in Gee Whizz.
PETER
I'm his friend.
JIM
Just stand in this open crocodile and wait for the first spring
swallow.
NED
Who won the Battle of Waterloo?
JIM
Tom Kretch.
NED
Wrong! It was Lord Wellington.
JIM
It's only your word against mine, Jim.
Orchestra: Taa raaaaaaa ching (on real old cymbal)
PETER (gushing BBC twit announcer)
And this week's 'Worker's Playtime' came from a cake-bottling factory
in Burton Wood. Now, here is the foreman's name --
NED
Tom Hopkin.
Grams: Roars of laughter, goats and cows
WALLACE
That was the sound of the human race -- resignation forms are now
available. Now, to certain things --
PETER (Swede)
Aye aye to that, sirr.
WALLACE
The part of the Cornish idiot was played at short notice by a very
well-known Cornish idiot player.
PETER
Har...narnnnnnnnnnn.
WALLACE
Ta. We present a tragedy -- the story of Lord Seagoon, playboy of the
Western Approaches, great lover, man of action, athlete, slob -- and
great wit.
NED
Who's a great twit?
Orchestra: dramatic chords
Grams: Old time orchestra playing The Lancers in the distance, murmur
of the dancers
SPIKE
Jove, you look lovely tonight, Daphne.
PETER
Oh, you're just saying that.
SPIKE
Let's go into the garden.
NED
Hear that maddening sound of gaiety, music and acting? Huh huh
huh...It took place in Robin's Post, my ancestral home at Hailsham,
Sussex, S.W.3. Now, it's all gone. G-o-n-e pronounced --
Grams: Spike (pre-recorded) saying very fast 'Goneeeeeeeeeee'
NED
I was rich, as you will now hear.
Grams: Ned (pre-recorded) saying slightly faster than normal 'I was
rich'
NED
This is me now speaking, a ruined, broken, crumbling man, going to
pieces.
FX: Length of the tubular bell from the tubular bells, let drop on the
floor
NED
There goes another bit.
PETER
After her, men.
NED
Her? Yes, it was a woman who brought me this low -- that and short
legs.
Grams: quack of a duck
NED
Duck's disease, the curse of the Seagoons. Anyhow, we met years
ago. Her name was Penelope, mine was Ned. Why, I can hear her now.
PETER (old dear)
Hello, Ned dear.
NED
THERE SHE IS!!!! But let's go back to when it alllll started. It was
1901 and I was holding a masked ball.
Grams: surge up the dancers and the music. then down
Omnes: odd lines of chatter. 'Gad, she's got a trim ankle', etc.
THYNNE (approaches laughing)
Ha ha ha, tell me Lord Seagoon, why are you holding that masked ball?
NED
This is no ordinary ball.
THYNNE
Don't frighten me, Ned.
NED
This man was the powerful Lord Thynne, pwer behind the throne, owner
of The Times, Peer of the Realm and relief pianist at the Hackney
Empire.
MORIARTY
Tell me, Neddie, what is that ball made from?
NED
Oh, silly old gold.
Grams: Moriarty (pre-recorded) series of screams and yells about
gold. take three overlapping tracks.
FX: slapstick fast twice
THYNNE
Steady, Moriarty, it's only gold. Come let's weigh it on this set of
scales I happen to have handy...there.
Grams: squeak of scales
THYNNE
Fourteen carrots, three turnips and a mango -- gad, it's worth its
weight in greens.
NED
But what does it mean to me, Lord Thynne, me, a man of means?
ECCLES
Hello Neddie, Hello Neddie. Ho, phew, I've danced every dance since it
started. Lancers, eightsome reels, tango, waltz.
NED
Who was the lucky girl?
ECCLES
I didn't bother about them, I did it on my own. I'm not the idiot you
think I am.
THYNNE
Oh, which idiot are you then?
ECCLES
Ummmmmm, what I mean is, I'm a great thinker.
THYNNE
For instance?
ECCLES
For instance, I think...er...I think...I think I'll go home.
THYNNE
You thought of that all by yourself?
ECCLES
Well, if you put it like that -- yes.
THYNNE
Mmmmmm -- time for Conks Geldray.
FX: slapstick
Max & Orchestra: music
MAX
That was the music of Conks Geldray, folks. Conks lets in the air.
WALLACE
Mr. Geldray wishes it known that the Conks Anonymous Club is now open
for membership. Part Two of our Tragedy.
Grams: Old time music as before. Music stops - polite
applause. Laughter of dancers leaving the floor
NED
Between dances we sat on the balcony smoking port and drinking sherry.
THYNNE (aside)
Moriarty - stand by the light switch. Now, Ned, let's have a look at
the golden ball.
Grams: Crackling of electricity. Dancers reaction
NED
Don't panic, folks. It's only the gas mantles fused - carry on
dancing.
PETER (Geraldo)
What do you mean, man? The boys can't see to play in the dark.
NED
Come on now, you can busk.
PETER
Only from music. In the dark we're strictly a load of schmose.
NED
Nonsense. Hand me an instrument, I'll play. Waltz, please.
Orchestra: Drums play waltz tempo
NED
And so the magic of my waltz rhythm rang through the hall. (Sings)
Fertang, fertang, fertang tang tang - but in the rosy light of dawn, I
discovered myself sitting in the middle of a field in full evening
dress playing the drums. I took immediate action - I stopped playing -
Grams: Ned (Pre-recorded) saying normally 'Next dance pleaseeeeeee'
NED
- I said.
MATE (to self)
Hello, we got a right twit 'ere.
NED
Ah, good morning, Constabule.
MATE
Hello, sonny, lost the band?
NED
No, someone has stolen Robin's Post, my ancestral home.
MATE (slowly)
'Ere, you haven't escaped from anywhere, have you?
NED
What do you mean?
MATE
You know - one of them. (Puts finger in mouth - wobbles) Wo wo wo wo.
NED
I say, how do you do that?
MATE
Wo wo wo wo.
NED
Here, let me try...Wow wo wo wo...ha ha ha ha...let's do it together.
NED & MATE
Wo wo wo wo.
NED
I say, this IS fun.
MATE
And it's tax-free, mate. Now, come along, off to the station.
Grams: Ned (pre-recorded) protesting 'No no no wo wo (speed up slowly)
I'm not wo wo wow - let me go'
MATE (over grams)
Come on, a few powders and you'll be all right on it.
Orchestra: Soft sad long dull chord. Two bar hot break on trombone
WALLACE
Very puzzling. Part Two. [three? - JAH]
FX: rattling iron door
NED
Let me out of this place! Take this jacket off! (Interrupts behind
Wallace)
WALLACE
Lord Seagoon had been incarcerated in a gentlemen's rest home in
Sussex on a charge of going 'Wo wo wo wo wo', illusions of grandeur,
and duck's disease. Wow wo wo wo wo - I say, it's not difficult - wo
wo wo wo wo.
MATE
In you go, too.
Grams: Iron door slams
WALLACE
You can't lock me away, I'm from the BBC - wo wo wo wo wo wo.
MATE
Oh, you're just the right type, mate. Wo wo wo wo 'em, mate.
NED
It's no good, Wal. We'll plot to get out of here - I'll bake a cake,
put a file in it and post it to myself -
JIM
Parcel for you!
NED
It's arrived!
FX: rapid ripping open
NED
And here's the file. Now, while I claw a hole in the wall with my bare
hands, you cover up the sound by filing through your teeth.
FX: filing
BLOODNOK
I say, are you filing your teeth?
WALLACE
Yes.
BLOODNOK
Well, put 'em under "T".
NED
Bloodnok! How did you get in here?
BLOODNOK
I have the OBE and a parcel of steamed squids.
NED
Shut up man - help me dig a tunnel.
Grams: digging up rocks by hand
BLOODNOK
Ohhhhhhhhhhh....Ohhhhhhhhh -
NED
You've GOT to get rid of these rocks -
BLOODNOK
I'm eating them as fast as I can!
NED & BLOODNOK (grunting)
Grams: Rocks being piled
WALLACE
What are you doing, Mr. Seagoon?
NED
Twit! I'm trying to tunnel out.
BLOODNOK
Now, Ned of Wales, Bloodnock of Anywhere will get ou out of this home
provided you sign the contract on this boiled egg.
NED (dry)
Is this contract binding?
BLOODNOK
A real eye-waterer. Now, let's have your deposit - this set of drums
will do - gad, they look in fine military condition. I'll do a
parrididdle on 'em.
NED
Don't you dare!!
Orchestra: drums play a military beat. Side drum and undampened bass
drum
BLOODNOK (over orchestra sings his favourite military melody. All fade
into distance)
NED
He's escaped by military drums. Thank heavens - he's gone.
BLOODNOK
And thank heavens - he's back again. "The Return of Bloodnok", Part
Three. (Acts) Hello, Neddie of Wales. Look, we've all been imprisoned
here for wo wo wo and unlawfully detained as retired stud horses.
NED
Yes, why should we spend the rest of our time here?
BLOODNOK
True. I mean, I can still pull a cart and whistle the Queen. (whistles
tunelessly)
NED
Look, this is my plan.
Grams: series of electronic sounds
BLOODNOK
Oh. It sounds infallible, when do we start?
NED
Now. First we must contact a solicitor. Contact.
CRUN
Contact.
Grams: propeller-engined plane roars into life then slurs to a stop
CRUN
Contact made. Welcome to Whacklow, Futtle, Crun and Bannister -
Solicitors for Oaths, Thin Oil and Certain Thingsssssssss.
MINNIE
Thingsssss!
Orchestra: All join in 'Thingsssssssss'
CRUN
Thingssssssss are catching onnnnnnn, Min. Now Sir, what, apart from
your plasticine nose, is the trouble.
NED
My wife left me.
CRUN
WHERE did she leave you?
NED
At home.
CRUN
What was her name?
NED
Mrs Seagoon.
CRUN
So, she's a married woman? There's a clue. Have you a description of
her?
FX: rustling of plans
NED
Here's a complete set of plans of her.
CRUN
These are the plans of a house.
NED
She's inside.
FX: door opens
NED
Anybody in?
RAY (off)
Yes, there is.
CRUN
What is your name, Madam?
RAY
I can't see, the lights are fused.
FX: door closes
NED
You see? All we have to do is find that house and there she'll be.
CRUN
Krermunck. Thingssssss...of Mongolia?
MINNIE (off)
I won't be a second.
CRUN
Good, there's no money in the boxing game. Min of Mongolia, this man
in the mosquito net hat is a new client.
NED
Now do you do.
MINNIE
I didn't catch the name.
NED (dry)
I haven't dropped it yet.
FX: tubular bell dropped on stage with a telegraph pole clang
NED
That's it.
MINNIE
Mr. Steel, he's coming, he's coming nearer, he's almost here, he's
arrived.
NED
Who?
MINNIE
Ha ha ha ha.
CRUN
Now, Ned, that will be a pound. Come and see us in ten guineas' time.
NED
Have you got change of a hern - no? Then to hell with you.
Grams: wolf howl
RAY
Man, that sounds like my cue and I don't like it, I don't like it at
all.
The Ray Ellington Quartet: Music
WALLACE
That was Ray Ellington who is seven feet tall and covered in ginger
hair, known in Woodside Park as - 'Gor, look at 'im!'. Part Three of
'Certain Thingssss'. Mr. Thynne - will you summarize?
THYNNE
The secret of Ned's missing home is simple. We have lifted it lock,
stick and birrle on the back of a tank transporter. The dance inside
continues. We intend to ransom the more important guests to Eastern
Potentates, to be held as political hostages who will become the
centre of international political tension at a reduced fee of ten
guineas a day until World War Three, or the price of avocado pears is
reduced to he ore fourteen minimum. Now for my next impression -
Grams: tank transporter rumbling along the road
MORIARTY
Driving along the king's highwayyyyy.
THYNNE
Happy, Moriarty?
MORIARTY
Owwwwwww.
THYNNE
Look, there's something in the road ahead.
MORIARTY
It IS a head, with a body attached.
BLUEBOTTLE
It's mine, Bottle of Finchley. Can you give me a lift to London Town?
MORIARTY
Go on, hop it.
BLUEBOTTLE
It's too far to hop it.
ECCLES
Hullo, Bottle.
BLUEBOTTLE
Cor, look at him, in brown evening dress. Eccles of Lengths.
ECCLES
He's OK, Moriarty, he's a friend of mine. Come on.
BLUEBOTTLE
Ta, Eccles. Here's a cigarette card of Newt, and here's one of a King
Edward potato at two months old.
ECCLES
Oh, just what I need for lunch (Gulps) Ohhhhhh...
BLUEBOTTLE
I been doing life-guard duties on the Splon beach at Ratsgate.
ECCLES
I didn't know you could swim in water.
BLUEBOTTLE
I had to learn to swim at two weeks old.
ECCLES
Why?
BLUEBOTTLE
The vicar dropped me in the font.
Grams: Splash and bubbles --
BLUEBOTTLE
-- I went. My next impression will be of a goose.
Grams: Peter (pre-recorded): Screammmmmmm
BLUEBOTTLE
Ohhh, hello everybody, I didn't see you there. One - two - three...oh,
not such a big crowd tonight. (Thinks, panic) Is - is poor Bottle
losing the public that has kept him in liquorice and long shorts for
all these years? Am I a fallen idol? Another has-been? Nooooo! I shall
go on from triumph to triumph.
FX: Swanee whistle down, and thud very fast
BLUEBOTTLE
Oh, my trousers have come down! Never again will I trust knitted
string from Freda Milge.
ECCLES
Never mind, have a brandy.
Grams: long pouring from a three gallon tin into a glass, then a long
syphon of soda
BLUEBOTTLE
No thank you. Ringggg-ringgggg-ringgggg - the phoneeeeeee. Hello?
NED
Hello, Bottle, help me, where is Robin's Post?
BLUEBOTTLE
It's on a lorry going down the Great North Road.
NED
You will be rewarded for this with a twill nightie and a spare
sock. Gid up!
Grams: Dick Barton Theme - then Paul Temple theme - then The Archer's
theme - then Mrs. Dale's harp
NED
It's pick of the flops! With that music behind me and my horse
underneath -
Grams: Lone Ranger - William Tell theme - goes under--
HERN
Yes, a fiery horse, a flash of light, two pounds of potatoes, a sack
of kneees and ho Silver and the Lone Ranger.
FX: coconut shells
NED
Gid up, proud beauty.
PETER (old dear)
All right, dear.
THYNNE
Ring ring ring in the direction of Ned.
NED
What's that? It sounds like a telephone. (Tastes) It tastes like a
telephone. What number does it taste like?
BLOODNOK
Hastings 1066.
NED
That's us. Hello?
MORIARTY (distorted)
Listen, Neddie, I'm warning you not to follow us. We've had beans for
dinner.
NED
What what what? Arrest that phone, the man on the other end is a
criminule.
FX: handcuffs and chains on the telephone
NED
There! Hello? Hello? Blast, he's escaped, this phone is empty. Tarara!
BLOODNOK
It's near enough for jazz.
NED
We'll never catch them on a horse. But, just as I said that, folks,
and old Indian hooker drew up on a nearby canal.
LALKAKA
Hello hello hello hello, Mister Man.
BANAJEE
Yes, Hello. We are Hindu bargees, Lalkaka and Banajee Limited. Here is
our card.
NED (reading)
Jim Hones and Tom Squat, Printers.
BANAJEE
Yes, they are the men we bought the cards from.
LALKAKA
We got them second hand.
NED
Right. Cast offffffff.
Orchestra: Open sea music. Shouts of 'Aye the Spon', etc.
NED
Now, then, who's our navigator?
ECCLES
I am.
NED (panic)
Man the boatssss! Neddie and children first!
ECCLES
Wait a minute...Major.
BLOODNOK
Let me explain. This man is brilliant at cartography and astral
navigation - ask him any question. Eccles did you know that the mouth
of the Amazon is one hundred miles wide?
ECCLES
Oh, yer.
BLOODNOK
And the coast of Albania is ten thousand miles long?
ECCLES
Oh, yer.
BLOODNOK
You see? He knew the answer to both questions.
ECCLES
Yer, here's a map of the route.
NED
What's the scale?
ECCLES
Doh ray me far so la te dooooooo.
NED
Perfect. (Calls) Set course for Ferpudden!
ECCLES
What's Ferpudden?
NED
Prunes and custard.
BLUEBOTTLE
Wind's coming up.
Orchestra: Ta raaaaa
BLOODNOK
Caught with their instruments down. Ohh, not long to the pay-off now,
folks. Now, Neddie, pick a card - don't show it to me. What is it?
NED
Jim Jones and Tom Squat, Printers.
BLOODNOK
Correct.
JIM
Heloo, Jim, hello Jimmmmmm.
NED
Helooooo Jim.
JIM
Look what I found floating in the canal - the pay-off.
NED
It's the front door of Robin's Post.
FX: door opens
Grams: old fashioned orchestra - as beginning of story - sound of
dancers
NED
Stop the music!
Grams: slow music down to a blur
NED
Where's my wife, Bulgarian Meg? Ahhh - Meggggg - kis kis kis kisssss.
RAY
There MUST be some mistake.
PETER (Meg the Bulgar)
Neddie, Neddie darling, your back - your front - you brought them both
with you.
NED
I carry them for sentimental reasons - I -
Grams: Great avalanche of rocks
NED
She's fainted.
Peter (doctor)
Stand aside, I'm a doctor, I specialize in fainting. Groannnnnn.
FX: body falls to ground
NED
So he does.
THYNNE
Neddie, you disrespectful swine - standing there with two fainted
people - take your shoes off.
Grams: two small explosions
THYNNE
Do you have to wear such loud socks?
NED
Yes, I've got deaf feat.
THYNNE
Yes, folks, exploding socks - it's the new noise clothes. Why not get
your grannie a pair of red flannel drawers that go --
Grams: great cackling of startled hens
WALLACE
And with Lord Seagoon's wife safely fainted, and a good laugh on a
pair of cackling drawers, we say farewell from page thirteen of
another Goon Show.
BLOODNOK
Is there no end to it! Ohhhhhh!
Orchestra: Old Comrade's March
Josh Hayes josh@cqs.washington.edu
Disc Golf Page: http://www.cqs.washington.edu/~josh/discgolf.html
Now, unlock your wigs, let the air out of your shoes,
and prepare for a period of simulated exhiliration