The Call of the West (transcript)

Greenslade:

This is the BBC Home Service

Seagoon:

Good! Now, Greenslade, here is that same announcement by a midget.

Grams:

Speeded up version of 'This is the BBC Home Service'

Grams:

Speeded up version of 'This is the BBC Home Service'

Greenslade:

Who's he?!

Seagoon:

I'm a friend of Bert F'tang.

Sellers:

F'tang?

Seagoon:

F'ting!

Sellers:

Findacoo!

Seagoon:

F'too!

Sellers:

Foulzow!

Seagoon:

F'ting

Milligan:

A friend of Bert F'tang!

Grams:

etc F'tangg, F'ting! F'too! F'ting speeded up.

Greenslade:

Dear spon-de-leven. You are listening to the sound track of this weeks wonder ear-film, presenting: Captain Stingo, or ....

Herns:

Goon Law, or anything or Hern.

Orchestra:

Western theme.

Hern:

See, hear and smell hairless midget, Harry Seagoon as Double 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 Milligna as the dying actor.

Fx:

gunshot

Milligan:

Ooowww!

Secombe:

Yes, for the first time on your radio screen, see the hand-operated, electric teeth, of Peter 'Voices' Sellars, as Big Black Beauty, the mad wallpaper stallion.

Fx:

galloping into distance, accompanied by donkey braying

Seagoon:

Listen to the strains of Tex McGlen, and his sons of the bicycle saddle...

Grams:

'Give me a home, where the buffalo roam' - sounds of falling metal, accompanied by cries of 'oh!' and 'oh dear'

Greenslade:

This then is your entertainment for this evening.

Grams:

Screams, cries, feet running away

Seagoon:

Come back, come back!

Orchestra:

Western theme.

Sellers:

'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. A plim plam toof, nobitty nibbitty noo, pleta omnivorous plethora, pletty plom plom tartity to to tooee, fit plor tong tang tit putt putt.... I say, I can't read this rubbish! I - oh!

Grams:

splash

Little Jim:

He's fallin' in da water!

Seagoon:

Yes, sonny, its a tradition amongst drowning men. now, come lets step ashore onto America, the land of plenty.

Bum:

Hey bud, gotta nickel for a cup of coffee?

Seagoon:

You poor man, you must be starving. Here, take that.

Fx:

Thwack!.

Bum: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Oh, buddy.

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| That'll teach him not to be poor in front of me again. fill the horses up with three gallons of hay. hahaha. What a gallant figure I must have made, with my tricorn hat, tricorn trousers, and an unexplodeded first edition of the Union Jack.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Did you say covered wagon?

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yes, here's a photo of me saying it.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| And here is a statue of the word Thank You

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Good! I'll unveil it tomorrow.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Fine, fine! Are you a millionaire?

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| No I'm seven'n'six short.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Blast! Look sir, I too am heading west, with this retired wooden fissssh crate.

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| OOOOwwwwww. Let me out of here, Grytpype, the pound, the pound, Grytpype

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I say

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Let me out of here

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I say, what are those yellow things, champing at the knothole?

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| They are the teeth of a dear friend and confidante, the great French poet and lyric plumber, Count Jim 'Flies' <buzzing fly sounds> Moriarty.

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Why does he travel by fish crate

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Something to do with the devaluation of the Frank, I'm not sure. However, apart from which he is inventing something.

Orchestra: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Comical saxophone riff

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| 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 may continue undisturbed by disturb?

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Well.... there's no bath.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| No bath? Just what the Count likes at the end of a long day.

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Right. Now, where's the rent?

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| In my trousers.

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| He bent down, and sure enough, he had a rent in his trousers!!

Orchestra: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Comical trumpet riff

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| California! Surup of figs, here we come! Get up there.

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Horses trotting

Orchestra: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Western theme

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Whip crack

Max Geldray: |style="vertical-align: top;"| 'She comes from Louisiana...' segued into 'A nightingale sang in Berkley Square'

Greenslade: |style="vertical-align: top;"| That night the wagon train rested in the plain of the plat plong tick tog nick nack paddy whack give the dog a goon. Splish Splish, I, I, refuse to read them, I won't read them <Walks off muttering>

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Howling

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I say... will all those prairie dogs never stop howling?

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| They're always howling..... no trees on the prairie.

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Listeners who recognise that joke please keep their traps shut. Well, I'm going to bed. G'night.

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Stretching springs

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| ah, 18 st 3. Gad, I'm a heavy sleeper.

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Let me out, buddy.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Shhhhhh. Quiet in that crate.

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Is it night or day?

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Fool, that sort of thing is only for the rich.

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Let me out, oh, buddy.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I'll let you out when you've made enough saxophones to sell to the indians.

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I've made corud-serc-neef-nook-she saxophones

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Chains rattling

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Have you? Well, come out. Now, which of all these fish-bones is you?

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I'm the one with hairs on.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| My goodness, the sea trip has done you a power of good. You'll soon be strong enough to lie down Count.

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Indians whooping.

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| What's that? The indians are attacking us by screams! Quick

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Gunshots, War whoops.

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I did a mutton shop in Tennessee I dud a myarmya

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| What luck! Its Davy Eccles and his goon-shin cat!

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| uraluckum eraluckumuluckaluckumurlum doishinook ow

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| You do and you clean it up mate.

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| They're all with me tonight...

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Now listen.

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| yeah

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| We need help

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| yeah

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Those smelly old indians are overpowering us.

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Hold your nose then buddy, hold your nose

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Very good, yes. Get through to Fort F'tang.

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| F'tang

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| ... and fetch help.

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Ok.

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Here's the fare.

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Ta! Giddup!

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Bus pulling away

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| 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! Ha Ha Ha!

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Charging cavalry

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Whoa!

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Cavalry stops dead

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| There's discipline for ya. [spits]

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Ding!

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Lieutenant Hern-Hern?

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Footsteps running closer

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yes sir?

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Where's your horse?

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| You only called me sir.

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Well, thats a good answer son. you must be mighty proud of it.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| It belonged to my father Hern.

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Its a well-worn Hern, yeah. Here's a dollar Hern.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| A dollar Hern? What for Hern?

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Its pay as you hearn. [spits]

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Ding!

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Sergeant F'doo? Where's the chuckwagon |style="vertical-align: top;"| Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"|?

Sergeant F'doo: |style="vertical-align: top;"| 's..hine, the worst hine, sir, a most.... hawf hine.

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Well, if you say so. [spits]

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Spitting tobacco, Splat!

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I'm sorry, Sarge. Here, catch this lifebelt!

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Kersplash!

Sergeant F'doo: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Thank you!

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| We better get going, Colonel - they say that the Knobbly Knee Indians are in the vicinity.

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Let's hope we don't get the wind up.

All: |style="vertical-align: top;"| [singing] When I'm calling you oooh ooh ooh

Greenslade: |style="vertical-align: top;"| [singing] ..and I'll answer true oo oo oooh

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Its three lone Indians!

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Call 'em over, we could do with a loan |style="vertical-align: top;"| Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"|, yeah!

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Great Jumping Fanacapants! Its the Knobbly Knee Tribe in full warpaint and wallpaper.

Chief Investor: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Ugggg! How! Bugg! Toof Nuff Vim, Ooh Bugg Me

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I reckon there must be an easier way to make a living ya know! How Hern!

Chief Investor: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Me Chief Investor in Wall Street. Chief Sitting Bull and Bear, this is my squaw.

Greenslade: |style="vertical-align: top;"| How do you do?

Chief Investor: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Ugggg!

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yes, I thought that too.

Chief Investor: |style="vertical-align: top;"| And this nit here is my son, great warrior, Fred Smith, OBE.

Fred Smith: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Hello boy, I had eggs for tea.

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Hey, he looks mighty tall in the saddle

Chief Investor: |style="vertical-align: top;"| That's cos he's on a horse mate!

All: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Tada!

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| 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 an old buffalo hide

Chief Investor: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Mmmmm. Ug. All my braves have buffalo hides.

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Well, where's yours?

Chief Investor: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Where's my what, mate?

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Where's your buffalo hide?

Chief Investor: |style="vertical-align: top;"| He's hiding behind that tree mate.

All: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Tada!

Secombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Sounds like Monkhouse and Goodwin got here first!

Chief Investor: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Look! Wait a minute! Me no like what white man offer. You go, or my braves go on four-lane warpath. And I'll give you biff and conk! biff!

Fred Smith: |style="vertical-align: top;"| That's my dad, boys.

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Watch out Sitting Bull, or I'll get you, sure as my name's Custer. [Spits]

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Ding!

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Horse gallops up

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Oh, here, here, here, here! Oh, here, here!

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Holy Smoke! Its something going here, here, here, here!

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Well, its me going here, here, here, here!

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Steady there son, steady. You and me get a hold of your coconut shells!

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I've been through hell to get here.

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| There must be a cooler route, son, I reckon!

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| The wagon-train with your wife onboard is being attacked by the indians!

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| My wife! Is she safe?

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yeah.

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I never did like them indians.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Did any follow ya?

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yeah, they're shootin' at me all the time, but I just stuck my tongue out at dem.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Get wounded?

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yeah.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Where?

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| In the tongue. ahaha.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Well, for no reason at all, FORWARD!

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Western type musical speeded up

Chief Investor: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Ah! White man gone and leave no tip, come we go on warpath! Take partners for next war dance

Orchestra: |style="vertical-align: top;"| 'Tea Dance music'

Greenslade: |style="vertical-align: top;"| That night the tribes were assembled for war. A white man and his fish crate were the centre of attraction.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Redmen, I come as a fellow equity member with all dues paid. In this fish crate are what Redmen need.

Brave: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Red women?

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"|Later Chief, later! But plenty of it, later. First I knock on box, so [knocks]

Orchestra: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Saxophone snake charming music

Tribe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| oh! ah! oh!

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yes! We bring you saxophones!

Cast: |style="vertical-align: top;"| {singing] From out of the sky, my brother and I.

Chief: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Ug Me like - me try play

Orchestra: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Saxophone music

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| You play lovely, Chief

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yes, he plays lovely, doesn't he. Could easily pass for music.

Chief: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Good! Tonight, me and braves attack white men with saxophones! Mooohaaaaa! Minnie! Moohaaaaa!

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Saxophones and Indian cacophany

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Gentlemen, someones supplying the indians with saxophones. [spits]

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I think I know who it is.

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| ding

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Bring that thing closer, will ya? You were saying Hern?

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I know who they are. Moriarty and Thynne.

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Where's they hiding?

Seagoon: |style="vertical-align: top;"| America

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Sargent, make a note of that, of the address will ya?

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| How, how do you spell it?

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Don't bother how to spell it, just write it down

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Ookay...

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Scribbling

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Now read it back to me

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| umbalalarlackum

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| That sounds like the place to me. Alright men! Search America and look under the beds!

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Western type musical speeded up

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Grytpype, they've got wind of us! We've got to get away, I tell you!

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Smack!

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"|ooooaaaaoaooaoaoaaa!

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| 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: |style="vertical-align: top;"| 'You'd better know it'

Greenslade: |style="vertical-align: top;"| 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: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Bloodnok theme!

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Indian clebrations...

Bloodnok: |style="vertical-align: top;"| 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 Denis Bloodnok, late of Harley St, Twickenham. Now then, I've cured the aristocrats of the plin, and the farmers. Let me read this testimonial, sir. 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!

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Crowd noises

Singhiz Thingz: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Wait, wait, wait a moment Sir.

Bloodnok: |style="vertical-align: top;"| You'll try some? A Hindu Raja, give him a big hand!

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"| thunderous applause and cheering, abrupt ending!

Singhiz Thingz: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Thank you sir, but I'm only a coolie.

Bloodnok: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Coolie? Give him a small hand would you?

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Sparse applause

Bloodnok: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Now then, Mystic Son of the East, sip this small sulphur and licorice bomb

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Lips smacking.

Bloodnok: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Look! Ooo! Before my eyes, before my military eyes, the colour is coming back to his pallid loincloth!

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Train noises, whistles blowing, heavy traffic, sirens, explosions, people yelling, and running feet, all mixed up.

Singhiz Thingz: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Good, Good, Oh Good Heavens, Good Heavens! Where are my trousers and loin cloth gone?

Bloodnok: |style="vertical-align: top;"| How do you feel, Prince of the East?

Singhiz Thingz: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I don't feel well, I feel, I, I, I feel very, very ill.

Bloodnok: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Ill!? You ungrateful swine!

Crowd: |style="vertical-align: top;"| You're a quack, mister, you're a quack!

Bloodnok: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Steady, yankee doodles, or I'll have the red-coats on you! I'm a personal friend of Billy Butlin you know!

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"|angry crowd, running feet

Bloodnok: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Careful there! ooo! Careful there!

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"| gunshots, running feet, Bloodnok yelling, merges into 'She'll be coming round the mountain', on an old piano, western style, people whooping

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I say, barman? Drinks, for my lady.

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yes, I'll have a glass of fish and chips.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| And see you put a good head on it!

Barman: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Well, we don't keep any drink called Fish and Chips.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| What! Come, Moriarty, we shall take our trade, and malnutrition elsewhere.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Hold everything!

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Moriarty, you hold the Piano, and I'll feel the table

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I'm Lootenant Hern-Hern of the US cavalry. We sell 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: |style="vertical-align: top;"| gickaboohickgickkccasiooo.

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Thud!

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Pardon me, ma'am - your wigs's fallen off.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Wig! How dare you sir? The unfortunate woman just happens to have gone bald suddenly. Its obviously a case of the new lightning French alopecia from the song of the same name.

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Thats right, thats right, [singing] Alopecia, lightning alopecia, alopecia, aply on your hair

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| [singing] First you get it on your nut.

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| First you get it on your nut!

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Wooden clunk

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| On my nut!

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| On his nut!

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| On my nut!

Cast: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Ooooh! Alopecia, lightning alopecia, alopecia...

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Hold it!

Cast: |style="vertical-align: top;"| [Singing dies down...]

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Stop that alopecia! One moment, you two, I seem to recognise your face sir. Take off that false nose!

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| What!

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Ahah. Now them false ears

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I protest!

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Now that false suit. And that false chest.

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| ooww.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Hahaha. Just as i thought - I don't know who you are. Who are ya?

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Lord Nelson

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| He had one arm missing.

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I have - I used to have three

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Hello, fellas! ulaluckumberdoy. Care to have a hand of cards?

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Poker, pontoon or rummy?

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yeah, and cards?

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Well, alright, fellas, I pass

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I pass

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Well, now its up to me now folks. Its up to me now folks. I'm callin' ya fellas!

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Ohh, he's callin' us all fellas. I shall recipromedicate. I shall call him a fella. Helloo fella!

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| 'ere, what's that under there? Bottle! I didn't see you under that big black hat with that cotton moustache.

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Its the Call of the West partner! Chews plug of Hopalong Cassidy cardboard - string tobacco - licorice-type. Spit, spit, spitty. Ooohhoi. Its gone right down the front of my shirt.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Who are you, stranger? Speak up.

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I am... I'm Marshal Matt Dillon, of 23 Flub Avenue, East Finchley, North 12.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I never seen you in Dodge City before. How did you get here?

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I came on the forty-nine bus from the High Street.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| There ain't no buses run out here...

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| No, it only took me as far as the Odeon, and I had to walk all the rest of the way myself.

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| What about the game?

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Ok, then, you're calling Mad Dan - what kind of hand you got?

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Four fingers and thumb.

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I beat you, Mad Dan - I got four fingers, two thumbs, and a toe!

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| A toe? There ain't no such hand!

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Do you think i'm a cheat?

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| No, I think you're deformed.

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| No man can call Bluebottle deformed, unless he's a specialist! Eccles, I'm runnin' you in.

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I've been run in, I've done 10,000 miles.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Come on Mad Dan. Are you going quietly or do we have to use ear-plugs?

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| ohhohhh, what's the charge.

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| The murder of Julius Caesar

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I wasn't alive when he was murdered

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| No, I know dat, I know dat, that is why, errrr, we had to wait 'til you was born before we could arrest you

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Down with Caesar!

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yes!

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| You won't take me dead or alive

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| And how are we gonna take you den?

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Sorta in between.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| He's there now, let's get 'im!

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| What!

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Go for your guns, Mad Dan. I'm warning you - see the panther-like movements of my mittened hands, as they curl towards the cardboard and string triggers of my shredded wheat cutout pistols...

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Opening door

Bluebottle's Mum: |style="vertical-align: top;"| There you are, you dirty little tramp!

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Oh, Mum!

Bluebottle's Mum: |style="vertical-align: top;"| 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: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Clips around lug'ole

Bluebottle: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Oh mum, you spoiled my game! Bye bye, Eccles!

Eccles: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Goodbye!

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| And so perish all enemies of the queen.

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| And there's more where that came from.

Lieutenant Hern-Hern: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Now I recognise that voice by the shape of them words!

Grytpype Thynne: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Run for it, Moriarty, they know us

Moriarty: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Agh!

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Whoosh, Whoosh!

Orchestra: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Dramatic chord

Greenslade: |style="vertical-align: top;"| This then was the situation: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Bloodnok pursued by the mob; Grytpype pursued by the 9th cavalry; and Bluebottle pursued by his mother. With that in mind, will the listeners please take in their slack, and listen to the occupants of Fort Ftang, preparing for the indian assault...

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Chains clanking together.

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Lock us well in, Hen

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Oh, yes. They won't quell old Hen Crun by surprise. Min? Stand against that wall for a certain test.

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| oh. Ok, cockie.

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Shotgun blast

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| ooooh, ohh dear, ohhhh

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Did that hurt, Min?

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yes!

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Good, then this is a gun for the redskins, but just in case I'll get a gun ready for the blueskins and the greenskins.

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I hope they attack soon, because the dinner's getting burnt.

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| They'll never attack a burnt dinner Min, I tell you!

Uncle Oscar: |style="vertical-align: top;"| arrrrrrrr arrr orrrrrarrrrrrg

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Oh, Uncle Oscar! What are you doing out of your grave?

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| He must be feeling better, Henry

Uncle Oscar: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Iiiiiaaaaaarrrrr oooohhhhh aarrr I

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| oooh oh who oooh!

Uncle Oscar: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Oooo

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Oh, Uncle! At your age. You've been at the hormones again.

Uncle Oscar: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Narrrr mine aaaa ooorrr aaaaaaaarrrrr

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Teeth dropping in saucepan.

Uncle Oscar: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Narckarohow

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| There go his teeth, Min. That means more dinner for us.

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yes.

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Indian war whoops

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| What's that!

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| oooo

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| oo hooo

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Do you hear that Min?

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| What's that? pishtoo!

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Pishtoo!

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Whats that?

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Its the war-whoops of the Nakatacka Indians!

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Are they the ones that commit atrocities?

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Yes, Min.

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| I'll go upstairs and get ready!

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Stop it, Min, do you hear?

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| What?

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| You know that's for me to say!

Uncle Oscar: |style="vertical-align: top;"| aaarrrr arrr arrrr!

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| He remembers, Min. He's remembered in leather. Now, Uncle, get inside that coffin and defend it with your life! Min, get inside your best red flannel draws and defend them to the end. I shall just announce the next part of the program. Ladies and Gentlemen, I have pleasure in announcing a knock at the door.

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Doorbell rings

Henry Crun: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Blast, there's been a change in the program. Who is it?

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Door opens

Grams: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Indian war whoops and saxophone playing!

Minnie Bannister: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Oooooo!

Colonel Slocombe: |style="vertical-align: top;"| And so folks, with rivers of blood being shed, arson, rape, murder everywhere, we say: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Goodnight from Happydrome

Fx: |style="vertical-align: top;"| Gunshot|}