The Goon Show

The Silver Dubloons

First broadcast on January 21, 1960 (10/5)

Script by Spike Milligan
Produced by John Browell
Announced by Wallace Greenslade
Orchestra conducted by Wally Stott
Guest Appearance by Valentine Dyall

The Silver Duboons is the second-last episode of The Goon Show.

Transcribed by Debby Stark

Milligan:
Anyone want to jump, folks?
Eccles:
[garbled] Aouh!
Seacombe:
[laughs]
Greenslade:
This is the BBC, and the color is cream.
Secombe:
Ah, yes, Wal, the modern cream BBC! I remember the old days when it was brown.
Sellers:
Brown!
Omnes:
Brown! Brown! Brown ...
Greenslade:
Yes, the old brown BBC! Happy days...
Sellers:
Brown is better, it doesn't show the dirt.
Secombe:
Not in this show it doesn't, mate! [laughs] Back to your car, Sellers!
Sellers:
I say... Vroooom!
FX:
[Car sounds, honking]
Secombe:
And now folks of the world, here with a special goatskin microphone announcement, [gibberish]...
Greenslade:
Ladies and gentlemen...
Secombe:
[inaudible]
Greenslade:
...the brown BBC presents the Son of Fun, that old Welsh favorite: Ned, the Seagoon.
FX:
[cheering, singing]
Seagoon:
Stop! Stop!
FX:
[stops immediately]
Seagoon:
Thank you, fellow Welshmen.
Milligan:
Hello, Ned of Wales!
Segoon:
It's Milligan of Poona!
Milligan:
Ned of Wales, how's that old Welsh marriage? [inaudible]
Seagoon:
Me and the little woman are very happy, indeed. Aren't we, love?
Little Woman:
[fast voice] My darling,... [inaudible]
Milligan:
Tell me, what's the little woman's name?
Seagoon:
Ha ha! Hey, I call her simply...
FX:
[whistle and pop]
Spriggs:
What a tune that would make!
FX:
[horn plays pop goes the weasle]
Spriggs:
[inaudible] next dance please?
Seagoon:
[inaudible]
Voice:
Next dance, please.
Omnes:
[inaudible]
Greenslade:
[coming up under the gabbling] Desist this frivolous bandinage! Stop, I say, halt! Hold hard! Withhold, decease!
Seagoon:
Put your head on this anvil!
FX:
[Hammer hits metal.]
Greenslade:
Ahhowww!
Seagoon:
There we are. Let's see your old nut. Good havens, yes! Lumps suit you!
Sellers:
Yes, lumps. Ladies, do your husbands come home late? Then use...
FX:
[Hammer hits metal. High-pitched scream.]
Sellers:
l...umps. Next time you're at your ironmonger, just open your mouth and say... "Lumps."
Charlie (Seacombe):
Yes, I'm grateful to lumps. I had a hat that came down over my eyes, then one night my wife went...
FX:
[Hammer hits metal. High-pitched scream.]
Charlie:
Now, thanks to lumps, I have a clear view all the way round...
Greenslade:
Now, a word from our sponsor.
Sellers:
Drawers!
Greenslade:
Next week, another word.
Thespian (Sellers):
Tonight... Tonight, by the magic of hack writing and worn cliches, we drag you have a half across an hour to [inaudible] down and [gibberish]. Introducing the new brown BBC [shade?], but let the author tell you in his words.
Milligan:
[gabbles]
Thespian:
Those were his own words. Ned of Wales, read the inscription on this crippled mango called flan.
Seagoon:
Hello folks of the world! Hello folks of the world! This is Ned of Wales calling! [laughs] Ned of Wales speaking in the new goatskin microphone, folks! The scene is Nineteen Hundred and Hun, a lonely Sussex fishing village Cornwall!
FX:
[music]
Rough Seaman:
[over-acted] [inaudible] Oh, the Brown Cave, we call it. Tis somewhere in the cliff sides, overlooking the sea, my little beauty, arr har! The old smuggler's cave is right there. On a dark night they do say a ghostly voice -- ghostly voice, arrr! [inaudible] the smell of ghostly cooking [laughs] [suddenly calm] Excuse me, I've got to get back to the Mermaid Theatre, you know.
FX:
[burbling music, under:]
Moriarty:
Quel delicious, quel delicious!
Grytpype-Thynne:
What is that excruciating brew you're sipping with that boot, Moriarty?
Moriarty:
Ohh! Taste! Taste!
FX:
[prolonged slurp]
Grytpype-Thynne:
Gad, what is it?
Moriarty:
Your laundry! It's Fata de la Socks Supreme!
Grytpype-Thynne:
Gad, we Engish have never had it so good! [sings] Hey, what's for afters?
Moriarty:
She hasn't arrived yet.
Seagoon:
[off] Hello! In the absence of the door -- knock knock!
Grytpype-Thynne:
In the absence of a footman, come in!
Moriarty:
In the absence of a roof, hold this umbrella!
Seagoon:
Thank you, lad! Or, if you're French, Yakamakakakoo!
Omnes:
[several variations on] Yakamakakakoo! Yakabakabo!
Grytpype-Thynne:
Wait, wait, wait. You're Neddy Seagoon, the famous size.
Seagoon:
All lies! All lies, I tell you! I'm slimming! My pot belly's nearly gone! I mean, look, I-I-I can still touch my toes!
FX:
[cloth ripping]
Seagoon:
Let me tell you who I am. [dramatic] Ladies and gentlemen, I am... Ned Seagoon! Seagoon the Elephant Man.
Grytpype-Thynne:
Ah, you... you train elephants?
Seagoon:
No, they just call me "Seagoon the Elephant Man." Watch this!
Moriarty:
Stand back.
FX:
[drum roll under:]
Seagoon:
[as an animal trainer in the circus] Hup hey! Hoo-ha, ha hey! Hup ha-ha hey! Hup hah hey! [etc]
Grytpype-Thynne:
Splendid, Neddy, I didn't know you played the drums! You see...
Moriarty:
Arrrggghhh...
Grytpype-Thynne:
...this mess of rag stooping over that fuming pot? None other than the great Moriarty, trapeeze artist extraordinaire.
Seagoon:
Him? A trapeeze artist?
Grytpype-Thynne:
Yes! Moriarty, sketch a trapeeze.
Moriarty:
No, no, I, I... I haven't got the time.
Grytpype-Thynne:
Half-past three.
Moriarty:
Thank you.
Seagoon:
Look, I only came here to borrow a shovel. A-hem, I heard that during the Armada, a Spanish galleon went down off Brown Cove and at low tide you can dig for silver Spanish dubloons.
Moriarty:
Silver? Ahhh! Silver!
Grams:
[overlapping recordings of Moriarty yelling "Silver! Ahhh!". Runs down and stops]
Grytpype-Thynne:
That was the new sterophonic Moriarty.
Seagoon:
Is he ill?
Grytpype-Thynne:
No, but for a fee it could be arranged. For £100 he will contract lurgy. At present the poor Count is suffering from the Irish Krut. Here is a report on his health.
Seagoon:
This is a bank overdaft the statement.
Grytpype-Thynne:
Yes, a terrible disease.
Seagoon:
What's the cure?
Grytpype-Thynne:
Alas, we've run short of the opiate that will restore the roses to his knees. All that can save him, I fear [aside] the groan, Moriarty.
Moriarity:
Aoww...
Grytpype-Thynne:
...His only hope is a fabled spoonful of silver dubloons, three times a day, forced down his unwilling wallet. I fear he'll be dead by sun up, I tell you.
Seagoon:
No, no, now, wait, wait, wait, wait, I, I can try!
Grytpype-Thynne:
Here, then, take this tax-free shovel inscribed Charlie and dig, Neddy. If you find a few dubloons then the ailing son of the Comte of France will give untold riches to the salvator.
Seagoon:
Yes, yes, yes, yes [laughs] I'll get a French OBE and a Parisian Lord Tavenor's tie. Don't worry, I'll get the dubloons!
FX:
[whooshes off]
Greenslade:
That traditional BBC whoosh terminates part 1. We will now unpack Mr. Max Geldray's nose and let him feel the full benefit of it.
FX:
[honk]
Voice:
Oh, boy, look! I've got that old Dutch conk! Am I going to have fun!
Max Geldray and Orchestra
[Musical interlude]
Greenslade:
Part Ongy. The Spanish Dubloons. Ole! By the way, that "ole" was my own idea, I'm not entirely without wit.
Seagoon:
Ah, oh! Oh folks! Whew! I've been digging up dubloons for three weeks to save the French prince. The weather was bitter cold and the snow lay three feet on my feet.
Greenslade:
Now a phone call in blue.
FX:
[ring]
Seagoon:
Ah, the old-fashioned hand-cranked sea-shell phone. Hello! Hello!
Grytpype-Thynne:
Hello, Ned of Wales, Thynne of Paris speaking. You've heard of Paris...
Seagoon:
What does it sound like?
FX:
[music]
Moriarty:
[sings gibberish over music]
Seagoon:
Sounds foreign to me.
Grytpype-Thynne:
It's a French phone, Neddy. Ned, we want you to send the next load of silver dubloons care of the Yumka Hotel, Paris.
Seagoon:
Yumka? How do you spell it?
Grytpype-Thynne:
Y-M-C-A
Seagoon:
Right. I must say I'm worn down to an 18-stone shadow by digging, you know.
Grytpype-Thynne:
[snarls] You ungrateful 18-stone shadow! [calm again] Ned, look... where do you live?
Seagoon:
The basement of Bloodnok's military flats.
Grytpype-Thynne:
Right. You go home and I'll arrange a holiday with tax-free legs and... certain things.
FX:
[Major-style music. Simplteon playing piano throughout following exchange.]
Bannister:
Henry? Henry!
Crun:
Dear, dear. What is it, Min?
Bannister:
Is that you playing the... pianola?
Crun:
No, Min, no...
Bannister:
[babbles] The piano, ah...
Crun:
It's not me, it's the piano tuner
Bannister:
Oh... Phew! What's that tune he's paying?
Crun:
Pardon me, Mr. Prune, what is that tune you're playing?
FX:
[piano stops, crackling, breaking noises start]
Piano Tuner (Uncle Oscar):
Ahooohahhoh?
Crun:
What is that tune?
Tuner:
Ahoooohah... The note of E flat...
Crun:
It's called the...
Bannister:
[inaudible] What's it called?
Crun:
It's called "The Note in E Flat," Min.
Bannister:
It'll never be a hit with that title.
FX:
[piano resumes]
Bannister:
Ah! Oh! Is that you, Henry?
Crun:
No, no...
Bannister:
Hey, [inaudible]
Crun:
What? What's that? That is the piano, Min.
Bannister:
Piano?
Crun:
It's got wool on to keep a tune warm.
Ninnie:
I thought our piano was stollen.
Crun:
What?
Bannister:
Stooooolen!
Crun:
It was, Min! [to piano tuner] Pardon me, sir, I don't want to worry you but we haven't a piano. You're probably supposed to be tuning the one next door.
Tuner:
Ahhh... I am next door.
Crun:
Min!
Bannister:
Aoooh! What?
Crun:
We're in the wrong house again! [to piano tuner] Sir, we had a piano like that stolen. What color's the keyboard?
Tuner:
Black and white.
Crun and Bannister:
It's ours! It's ours! Our piano! [babble] Aaaaaah, ting!
Greenslade:
Ta. Now, over to Bloodnock's room where the windows are never closed.
FX:
[bed sounds]
Bloodnok:
Oh, this bed! It's terrible!
Ellinga (Ellington):
Um, your breakfast, Major.
Bloodnok:
Breakfast? What year?
Ellinga:
The vintage, 53.
Bloodnok:
One of their finest years.
FX:
[door opens]
Blooknok:
Aaaaahoooh!
Seagoon:
Major Bloodnok! I saw a light in your window and a frown in the doorway, so I came in, glasses first.
Bloodnok:
Great news, Ned! Grytpype's paying you to go on holiday. Have you any warm clothes?
Seagoon:
No, but I can get some cold ones and put them in the oven.
Bloodnok:
Ah! Here are your tickets, lad.
Seagoon:
First class lift? Where am I going?
Bloodnok:
Up to the seventh floor, Ned, away from it all! You know, on a clear day you can see the clothes line opposite and Mrs Puge in the bath? [Laughs] Bye, Ned, bye. Elinga, go down and rifle his room with a rifle. Bye, lad.
Seagoon:
Gad, folks! Fancy a free trip to the 7th floor by first-class lift!
Upper-class Twit (Sellers):
Are you going far?
Seagoon:
7th floor.
Twit:
Oh. Penelope and I went there last year, didn't we, dear?
Penelope Twit (Milligan):
Yes, darling.
Twit:
Trouble is, it's full of people from the basement, wasn't it, dear?
Mrs. Twit:
Yes [inaudible]
Seagoon:
Is this the little woman?
Twit:
Yes, she's 2 foot 6.
Willium:
[announces floor inaudibly]
Twit:
[inaudible]
Willium:
...and all kinds of stewed fruits and mutton. Would you like a bit of stewed fruit and mutton?
Seagoon:
No, thank you, I brought my lunch, you know.
Twit:
[inaudible]
Willium:
[inaudible] Got your ticket right... Here, 'ang on. This ain't it, this ain't it... It says here your weight is 19 stones, 3 pounds!
Seagoon:
Give me that! It's all lies, I tell you! I'm slimming, I tell you! I've never been so light!
FX:
[elevator falls]
Willium:
Ground floor again...
Seagoon:
It wasn't [inaudible], I tell you! I'm as light as a feather!
FX:
[crashing sounds]
Seagoon:
Aaaaah!
Bloodnok:
Neddy! Welcome back to your old basement! Have a nice time? Did you have nice weather or haven't you washed? For the second part of your holiday... Ellington? Fire us up a coach and four and take Mr. Seagoon's parcel, in two!
Ellington:
[inaudible] Hey-oh, Silver [inaudible]
Seagoon:
Along the King's Highway we rumbled, our ducks at a full gallop. It was mid-January and, for the sake of the story, the coach was full of me and Ray Ellington.
Ray Ellington Quartet:
[Musical interlude]
Bluebottle:
Thank you. For my next impression...
FX:
[splosh on face]
Bluebottle:
Aieeee!
Greenslade:
Now, The Spanish Dubloons, part the hair. The stage coach.
Ellington:
Gee-up! Whooooooaaaaa! Fat [inaudible]
Seagoon:
What's the matter, driver? Why have we stopped?
Ellington:
One of the horses got a puncture.
Seagoon:
Which one?
Eccles:
Me.
Seagoon:
What are you doing as a horse?
Eccles:
I've gotta make a living, too.
Seagoon:
But you look frozen!
Eccles:
I'm an ice-Eccles [laughs]. Okay, you win folks. I like doing impressions of horses. That's my hobby.
Bluebottle:
Yeah, he's a hobby horse, hee-hee!
FX:
[splosh again]
Eccles:
Oh, exactly right [inaudible]
Bluebottle:
I never said nothing...
Eccles:
Oh...
Seagoon:
Look! Over there in Part 3! An old manor! I wonder who lives in it?
FX:
[scary old manor-type music & screams]
Dyall:
A-ha! There is a coach from Part 2 stopped outside.
FX:
[owl hoots once]
Dyall:
Hark! The hoot of an owl. She only gives one. Obviously she doesn't give two hoots! Ha ha ha!
Grams:
[diabolical laughter]
Dyall:
Ah ha ha! They don't write tunes like that anymore!
FX:
[door bell]
Dyall:
Open the door!
Servant:
All right, sir...
FX:
[Door approached and broken open laboriously]
Dyall:
You forgot the key, didn't you?
Seagoon:
Ah! Good evening!
Dyall:
You ought to know, you're outside.
Seagoon:
You're inside, in the warm.
Dyall:
It seems a pretty healthy arrangement. Here's half a nicker.
Seagoon:
Gad, a wooden leg!
Bluebottle:
I don't like this man...
Seagoon:
I don't like him, either.
Eccles:
I don't like him, too.
Dyall:
How do you think I feel!? I happen to be him!
Seagoon:
Look here, our story has broken dowm and we're stuck for lodgings.
Dyall:
You certainly are. What you want, bed and breakfast?
Seagoon:
Yes, please.
Dyall:
I'll leave it outside. In the garden.
Seagoon:
Can we have shelter?
Dyall:
Very well, come in. Wipe your feet -- and your boots!
Eccles:
[inaudible] Hello.
Dyall:
[sotto voce] Gad, what a beautiful woman!
Eccles:
Get away from me, you naughty man!
Dyall:
You're the living image of my first, second, third, fourth and fifth wives!
Eccles:
Yer... I do impressions.
Dyall:
Ha-ha! You joking devil...
Eccles:
[laughs as though tickled].
Dyall:
Come, let's all sit round the fire! My name is Count Valentine Dyall. I have one boy.
Eccles:
That must be your son-Dyall! [laughs]
Bluebottle:
Well done, Eccles! You're toppng them all away! Hooray for [gerkins?].
Eccles:
[gerkins?]?
Dyall:
Yes, my son-Dyall's a strange boy. He spends all his life collecting the silver milk bottle tops. Sacks of them. He takes them away, heaven knows where, and buries them.
Seagoon:
There goes the plot, folks!
Dyall:
For years he lived in South America on safari. For months he was trapped in the Amazon!
Seagoon:
Couldn't he get the door open?
Dyall:
No! He was collecting rare South American pianos for the zoo. This one is stuffed! Let me... let me let you hear the exotic, stuffed beauty of it.
FX:
[muted piano plays Moonlight Sonata as Dyall sings diabolically]
Dyall:
There, that mellow, exotic, delicate, beautifully played Peruvian melody. I composed it especially for myself.
Seagoon:
What do you call it?
Dyall:
I call it... "Fred"! [manic laugh, under:]
Seagoon:
Suddenly, Count Dyall's face took on a maniacal aspect. He advanced on us, laughing insanely. Look out! He's got a knife! Eccles!
Bluebottle:
And a fork!
Eccles:
And a spoon!
Bluebottle:
He's going to eat you, Neddy!
Seagoon:
What? I'm off!
Dyall:
And so, folks, because Neddy was off, I didn't eat him.
Bloodnok:
Don't you worry, folks, better pay offs are being arranged at this very moment.
Greenslade:
This story started with silver dubloons. Let us join Thynne as he dines at the Hotel Splendide...
FX:
[Pigs at trough, ballroom music]
Grytpype-Thynne:
Mmm! An excellent meal, Moriarty.
Moriarty:
Why do you keep me chained under the table?
Grytpype-Thynne:
Waiter, the bill.
Waiter (Greenslade):
Oui, monsier. It is 10,000 francs in French.
Grytpype-Thynne:
Will these silver Spanish dubloons suffice?
FX:
[Pours out bag full]
Waiter:
These are milk bottle tops.
Grytpype-Thynne:
Curse! Foiled by filk mottle bops!
Orchstra:
[Ta daaaah chord]
Greenslade:
There now, folks. That didn't hurt, did it? Incidently, I played the part of the French waiter. Good night.
Orchestra:
[end music; no end credits]