Ned's Atomic Dustbin
By Spike Milligan
Broadcast 5th January
1959 (series 9 episode 10)
Greenslade: This is the
BBC Light Programme. To add seasonal cheer to the broadcast I've
had written permission to wear a small holly leaf in my button
hole.
Seagoon: Whup! There's white
top courage for you
Greenslade: What what what
what what
Seagoon: Don't you realise
Wal boy, that the Druids used the holly leaf for certain unsavoury
ritualistic rites.
Greenslade: Oh
dear...
Seagoon: Indeed
Greenslade: ...well I'd
better hurry and get that word cleared by the BBC censorship
department. Gid up there!
Grams: Horses gallop off very
fast
Seagoon: There he goes... And
in his space we see Peter Sellers...
Sellers: Schizig. If
listeners will stand up and place both hands on their partners
shoulders, they will actually pick up the sound of the all-powerful
BBC censorship department. [gurgle]
Grams: Fanfare
Fx: Knock on door
Secombe: (older than God)
Ahhh... mara... ahh comeeee... ahhhh... ahhh ... ahhhhhhh.
Minnie Bannister: He's
trying to say 'come in'.
Henry Crun: Male hormones
forever! Ahhh... hha (collapses) Ahhhhh... mr...
Fx: Thud of body & bits of
body scattering. Ball bearings marbles roll along floor. Hand full
of forks. Metallic resonant nuts and bolts falling.
Henry Crun: Oh clear he's
disinteregated Min... I'll have to take over his trousers.
Fx: Door opens. Galloping
hooves at great speed (coconut shells).
Greenslade: Ahoy...
Minnie Bannister: Ahoy
youuuu!
Greenslade: ...I've come
to get clearance on a word.
Henry Crun: What is the word,
sir?
Greenslade: Well its er
um... um. Yes.., 'Holly'!
Henry Crun: What's wrong with
it sir?
Greenslade: Well it is
believed to have an undertone of eroticism.
Henry Crun: Oh Dear...
Minnie Bannister:
Ohhh.
Henry Crun: Could you write,
mnk, this word down?
Minnie Bannister: Blindfold
yourself Henry, don't look!
Greenslade: Yes...s I
could.
Fx: Writing
Grams: Loud startled cluck of
chicken...
Henry Crun: (aside) Blast! He
can write on chickens. You want us to see if this word is fit to be
said?
Greenslade: I fear
so.
Henry Crun: Ohh dear, well
that puts us in a rather nasty spot doesn't it. We don't like
committing ourselves.
Greenslade: Well it's
alright, but you're the Censors.
Henry Crun: Ah but we don't
like that sort of thing you see. We don't do it.
Secombe: (Yorkshire)We don'y
like it at all. Mr Lord Scradds, you're the oldest, what do you
think of this word?
Lord Scradds: Ahhhhh.. .
ahhhhh, ahh I'll I won't commit myself at this ahhhhhhhhh at this
stage... I... I'll... go along, Yes...I...I'll go along...
Henry Crun: Who will you go
along with?
Milligan: Ahhhhh, anybody
a...
Sellers: (Aussie) I think I'm
with you there, I'm with you all the way, I'll go along with
that.
Milligan: (Hooray) I ratar
mark the omplication the most of the mam arve bwin time waste and
non the far the plo Car there at Dawn.
Secombe: Does anybody agree
with that?
Sellers: (Aussie) I agree
with that.
Greenslade: Look, look,
look, look what are you all agreeing about?
Henry Crun: Ha ha ha you
devil-you devil.., you devil.. So then it's agreed that we all
agree? Now what was the question?
Greenslade: The word
'holly', is it -?
Minnie Bannister: Canteen's
open!
Henry Crun: Canteen!
Cast: Screams of
'teaaaaaaa'...
Grams: Great rush of boots
departing. Distant slamming doors very fast...
Seagoon: Well, well, well
they've escaped under cover of stupidity.
Greenslade: Oh dear oh
dear, very well. In place of the word 'Holly', here's an excerpt
from my latest long-player called 'Suddenly it's the news'
Seagoon: Get off that
gramophone. In place of that...
Cast: [Chaotic utterances]
Seagoon: Here is a conundrum.
What is this sound?
Sellers: It is I, Tom.
Secombe: Yes, it's old 'it is
I Tom', Peter Sellers - playboy of Old Finchley tube station and
friend of West End managements.
Sellers: I see a vision,
Tom.
Seagoon: Well, hold this song
and accompany this next announcement.
Sellers: (sings idiot tunes
behind Greenslade)
Greenslade: Ladies and
Gentlemen, what kind of Christmas has it been. Let us recount one,
two, three...
Grams: Eccles singing 'Good
King Wenceslas'. (The choral one).
Terry France: Hello
Listeners. Terry France here. We're going over now to the services
station in the Christmas Islands. So over to them...
Grams: Atom bomb...
Secombe: (kid) Look Mum,
another Atom Bomb.
Sellers: (mum) You lucky boy,
that means Dad will be home early from work.
Seagoon: Here in London we
interview passers by . . . Excuse me, sir, do you believe in a
White Christmas?
Ray Ellington: Are you
kiddin'?
Seagoon: Ha ha ha yes, and...
and you, madam, do you believe in an old, fashioned Christmas by
the fire?
Sellers: (whoops dear) Oh,
not harf dear.
Seagoon: Conks? Play that
arrangement for nose and harmonica, me? I'm for the old brandy
there.
Grams: Great rush of receding
boots...
Max Geldray and Orchestra - "It's Got To Be
You"
Greenslade: Tar Tar...
Thank you. Now over Christmas a great story broke, being no
newspapers it missed the headlines, but here it is in all it's
monkey para toot toot pin pon pee pee peee, tiddley. I doe too is
the Story of the Tun tack tock!
Orchestra: Dramatic
chords...
Milligan: It is Christmas
and somewhere in a goatskin flat in naughty Wales, a young hairy
titch is working on a painting of a painting!
Seagoon: (fade in) (sings) I
painted her, IIIII painted her haha ha, now a dab of red here and a
touch of puce, here.
Cynthia Fruit: Ohhhh!
Seagoon: Steady Miss Fruit,
keep still .
Cynthia Fruit: It's awfully
cold posing like this.
Seagoon: I've got the candle
on! Now, there! There we are, you can relax. It's a
masterpiece.
Cynthia Fruit: What is
it.
Seagoon: The plans of a new
British dustbin.
Cynthia Fruit: And you've had
me posing nude for that?
Seagoon: It's something to do
with my unhappy childhood. Now off you go and change behind that
glass screen... ahahaha There she goes, T.V. was never like this.
.. Knok, knik knack knock knockitty knokck knock knock... It's an
impression of a door knocker. Come in!
Henry Crun: Impression of
Innn.
Seagoon: Steaming Pud, it's
me old wrinkled retainer Uncle Crun in his new Kingsize
nightshirt.
Henry Crun: Here master Ned.
A night's quince jelly for you.
Seagoon: Ohh, it's not
set.
Henry Crun: No, Min warmed it
up. It's no good eating cold jelly on a windy night you know.
Grams: Whoosh of wind
Henry Crun: Ohhhhhhhhh.
Secombe: I wonder where that
draught's coming from.
Henry Crun: I don't know
where it's coming from but I know where it's going to. Ah ah ah ah
ah Christmas Cracker Joker!
Grams: Whoosh of wind again.
(as before)...
Henry Crun: Ohhhhhhhhh...
this nightshirt is too big for me, the wind is...
Seagoon: Wait, there's
another pair of legs sticking out of the bottom.
Henry Crun: Ohhhh, who's that
in there, come out or I'll...
Eccles: No I'll come out,
'ello Neddie, 'ello Uncle Crun ... 'ello, I been slummin'.
Seagoon: Eccies, what you
doing in that nightshirt?
Eccles: Nuttin'. Everythings
marked 'don't touch'.
Henry Crun: Yes. Antiques,
you know. But how did you get in? That's what I want to know.
Eccles: I got a map of your
legs.
Seagoon: Come on out at
once.
Fx: Door opens
Seagoon: A door in the
nightshirt opened and out stepped a street with a man in it.
Grytpype: I say, what is.all
this noise? There's people in that nightshirt trying to sleep you
know.
Seagoon: What what what...
you'll get a biff on the knee. Explain that Knutty hand operated
mattress.
Grytpype: That mattress Sir,
contains the princely string and nut-bound body of such stuff as
steams are made of, none other than the Count Jim 'Wakey
Wakey'...
Fx: Colossal slap on bare
skin
Grytpype: ... Moriarty.
Fx: Scratching
Moriarty: Owwwww...
greetings my loyal subjects and all...
Fx: Slapstick
Grytpype: Stop that revolting
scratching will you Count. The dear Count is plagued this year with
a return of the Royal Strains you know.
Seagoon: Does he really own
that nightshirt.
Grytpype: Yes. 'een now, see
how he walks the battlements... Of course he only rents the
top.
Seagoon: What about the rents
in the bottom?
Grytpype: Ned, old jokes will
get you nowhere. Look what it did to the Count.
Seagoon: Oh, I apologise for
my altitude.
Grytpype: It is low, Ned,
could we sell you an extra three feet?
Seagoon: Just what I
need.
Grytpype: Moriarty, saw three
feet off your wooden leg.
Moriarty: No, I'm going to
the ball as a toffee apple.
Grytpype: It's for
money!
Fx: Furious Sawing. End drops
off.
Grytpype: There Ned, three
feet.
Fx: Till
Seagoon: Thank you. I'll tie
it to my head and put my hat on it.
Moriarty: Ohh Sapristi
nabowlas. He looks like...
Grytpype: Don't tell
him!
Seagoon: Now I must get my
plans of the dustbin up to London. Where's the nearest
station?
Grytpype: In this cupboard.
Admission thruppence.
Fx: Till cupboard door
opens.
Grams: Station
Willium: 'Ere. Shut that door
will yes. . . you want me train to catch cold?
Seagoon: When's the next one
to London town divine?
Willium: Arsk that hairy
doggie over der.
Seagoon: Ask the doggie? Does
he speak?
Willium: Does he what? Does
he speak? - 'ere listen, listen to this. 'Ello dog, 'ello doggie,
go on tell him dog... No, he don't speak.
Seagoon: How does he know
when the train goes?
Willium: I told 'im. Ohh! I
can feel a low stabbin' pain in the seats of me underpants. That
means it's 9.20! Time to go in it... Hold tight.
Fx: Guards whistle
Grams: Train whistle. Then
horse clops slowly away.
Seagoon: Bit short of coal
aren't you?
Willium: Yer, you ain't got a
bit on you 'ave you?
Seagoon: No, I gave up
carrying it.
Willium: Cor, taking chances
eh?
Grams: Train whistle.
Greenslade: On arrival in
London town divine, Neddie rushed to 10 Downing Street.
Fx: Knock on door. Door
opens.
Ray Ellington: (African
chief) What you want man?
Seagoon: Here, who are
you?
Ray Ellington: I'm the
Foreign Secretary, man.
Seagoon: Yes, you do look a
bit foreign.
Ray Ellington: Oh steady
man, that could mean war with Ghana.
Prime Minister: I say Basil,
who is that blotting out the sun with his head?
Ray Ellington: It's a man
with a wooden leg tied to his nut with a hat on top.
Prime Minister: Oh, that'll
be Lord Hailsham, I expect.
Seagoon: No indeed sir, I'm
Ned Seagoon. I've got plans.
Prime Minister: Eh? Let's
have a look.
Fx: Unrolling plans
Prime Minister: Nothing
here.
Seagoon: The drawings on the
other side.
Prime Minister: Oh, that's a
clever idea, who'd have guessed? Ahhhh live and learn... plans of
new anti-atomic dustbin... Ohhh.
Seagoon: Yes, you see, in the
event of radiation, this dustbin will keep your garbage atom
free.
Prime Minister: What
rubbish!
Seagoon: Indeed.
Prime Minister: Well, here's
a CBE on account. Now, would you like to try for the Knight-Star
and Garter?
Seagoon: If it's okay with
you sir, it's alright with me.
Prime Minister: Good. Come
back tomorrow with Hughie Green. Until then a sailor's
farewell.
Grams: SPLASH
Fx: DOOR SLAMS
Seagoon: Whoop! Steady
there!
Prime Minister: I say, what
an ideal intro for Rain Elungton.
Ray Ellington "I'm
Getting Married In The Morning"
Greenslade: Hardly had
that music ceased and the wind gone up the chimney, when the PM
presented a new atom proof dustbin to a meeting of high ranking
idiots.
Fx: Toy bear's growler
sound.
Prime Minister: Gentlemen.
This dustbin has great potential, potonsil and potunshal.
Idiot 1: Can it go to the
moon?
Prime Minister: No. But from
small beginnings though...
Cast: Hear hear.
Idiot 2: Is that the
prototype?
Prime Minister: No. That is
the dustbin.
Fx: Dustbin lid.
Idiot 2: It sounds like a
dustbin.
Fx: Dustbin lid.
Prime Minister: Ha ha ha - I
say it's not difficult at all, is it?
Fx: Dustbin as above
Secombe: (ageing) Let. . .I
say fellas . . . let me try now.
Fx: Dustbin different tempo to
denote that someone else has taken over
Secombe: (ageing) Oh ha ha ha
oh dear, oh dear, why didn't we get one of these before, eh?
Prime Minister: Now me
again.
Fx: Dustbin
Cast: All laugh, excited noises
about banging the bin
Fx: Add dustbin to the above
laughter
Prime Minister:. Yes, ahem,
now Lord Stron, tell the House of your plan.
Lord Stron: Yes, we intend
to find if it's possible for a man to go over the Niagara Falls in
a dustbin. (cries of here here) We've got to keep it pretty dark,
otherwise the Russians will start putting dustbins into orbit on
the Volga rapids. Gentlemen, if you'll all step into this
train...
Lord Stron: We'll attend the
first attempts of the dustbin.... [gobbeldy gook]
Fx:. Sound of iron bar
clanging
Greenslade: Believe it or
not, that was the sound of the Kremlin.
Seagoon: You'll just have to
believe us, but there it is.
Greenslade: Now. Pardon me
while I stand behind this freshly painted suit.
Spottovitch: Comrade
Spondovitch, there is a man outside to see you.
Spondovitch: Quick. Swallow
this desk then secretary. Prepare for a long siege.
Spottovitch: {garbled} The
man claims to be the son of Mata Hari.
Toolsvitch:{garbled} Is he
persistent?
Milligan: You ask
me...?
[cast crack up]
Spottovitch: He persisted
that he was Mata Hari herself until I called the doctor.
Spondovitch: Comrade
Toolsvitch, send him in.
Toolsvitch:Come in, son of
Mata hari.
Fx: Door opens
Grams: Series of fast
approaching footsteps
Bluebottle: The Black Eagle
is sitting on the Red Flower Pot.
Toolsvitch:The
password!
Bluebottle: Oh? All is well.
Comrades, Bluebottleski is here with cardboard to spare.
Spottovitch: Tell us
Comrade, what kind of undercover work have you been doing?
Bluebottle: (naughty) Ohh, I
couldn't tell you that. Oh, I don't know though... Well I was
look-out for the Finchley Wolf Cubs.
Toolsvitch:(keen) ahhh, what
did you spot?
Bluebottle: I spotted Mrs
Evans and the Milkman.
Toolsvitch:What did you get
for that?
Bluebottle: A clout on my ear
'ole.
Spottovitch: Is that a
decoration?
Bluebottle: No, that's why I
wear one on each side of my nut.
Toolsvitch:There is a tin
rouble, get the plans of the British anti-atomic dustbin... or you
will lose your deposits.
Eccles: What's goin' on
here.
Toolsvitch:Who are you?
Eccles: Stalin.
Fx: Pistol Shot
Eccles: Owwwwwww!
Bluebottle: You twitt,
Ecclesavitch. Come wid me... farewell comrades. Nothing but death
can stop Bottleski from the plans. Farewell.
Fx: Door slams... Door
opens
Bluebottle: Here, dere's a
big spider out dere, Oh!
Eccles: I ain't frightened
of big spiders. I'll fix him.
Fx: Door slams
Grams: Terrible battle.
Eccles: [Yelling for
help].
Fx: Thuds bangs etc.
Grams: Great roaring of a lion
aroused.
Fx: Door slams
Bluebottle: 'Ere where's all
your clothes?
Eccles: Bottle, say after
me, I must learn the difference between a lion and a spider.
Bluebottle: Ohh... ah
ha.
Orchestra: Dramatic link
Seagoon: Hello folks, Neddie
here folks; meantime the plans went ahead to test my dustbin over
the Niagara Falls. For this the Government brought the Niagara
Falls to London and put it up at the Savoy. In charge was a master
of nuclear explosions.
Orchestra: Last part of
Bloodnok Theme
Grams: Bombs exploding
etc
Bloodnok: Ohhhhhh. It's a
good job the room's sound proof, poor old Frank Sinatra upstairs,
my goodness.
Grams: Atom bomb
Bloodnok: Oh, that was the
biggest explosion of the series.
Seagoon: Was it Christmas
Island?
Bloodnok: No sir, Christmas
pudding.
Seagoon: Bloodnok, grand
news. We have managed to send an elephant up the Falls in the
atom-proof dustbin, and it lived.
Bloodnok: What? No other
dustbin has ever done it and lived.
Seagoon: Now next, we want a
human being to go in it.
Eccles: I'm safe
folks!
Bloodnok: They've called you
men, the flower of England and the flower of flunge, to volunteer.
Come now, remember it's for England men.
Seagoon: Hahaha. Can't you
think of a better reason? Hahaha. Like mummy...
Bloodnok: Cowards you are,
cowards all! Anyway...
Bloodnok: ...we'll draw lots
for it now. Eccles, write your name on fifty pieces of paper, and
put them in a hat.
Eccles: Right, dere.
Bloodnok: Now, draw it
out.
Eccles: Right
Bloodnok: What's it
say?
Eccles: Mrs Gladys
Smith.
Bloodnok:. You imposter
sir... you're not Mrs Gladys Smith, I am!
Eccles: I don't want to
die.
Bloodnok:. You don't want to
die, you suspicious fool, you superstitious mule you... You won't
die Eccles. Roll up your trousers!
Grams: Wooden slat blind pulled
up
Bloodnok: Ohhhh. . . just as
I thought, legs that reach the ground.
Bloodnok: You know what
that's a sign of?
Eccles: Legs?
Bloodnok: It's the sure sign
of a long liver.
Eccles: I got a long
liver.
Bloodnok: Yes. And I'll bet
you five pounds that you'll live forever starting... now!
[silence]
Bloodnok: You've done it!
You've lived forever.
Fx: Till
Bloodnok: Now strap him in
that dustbin for the test.
Eccles: No no, let me go!
Take your filthy hand off my filthy arm I...
Orchestra: Dramatic
chords
John Snagge: This is London
calling in the uncut bicycle service of the Ba Be See. This
afternoon, the Prime Minister, told an eager half-empty House that
today, England would launch an atomic dustbin into the Niagara
Falls, with a highly qualified pilot at the controls. There were
demonstrations at the dustbin launching base, when a million barber
electricians carrying soup tureens laid down in the road, with
socks full of grit. The driver of the steam roller said 'It was so
tempting, I'm sorry, I won't do it again' . . . Arsenal 8 -
Tottenham 87... (fade)
Grytpype: Hear that Neddie?
They're debasing the original use of your dustbin.
Seagoon: I'll get my
revenge.
Moriarty: No, I'll get
mine.
Seagoon: No no no, thank you,
but my revenge is stronger and it lasts the whole drink
through.
Seagoon: Don't forget folks.
When you want your own back - Get revenge. Today!
Seagoon: and Moriarty: [sings advert sytle]
"Get your own back, Get.. Revenge.. Today.."
Grytpype: Ned, for no reason
at all, I will become your solicitor. Take a letter on uncut limo.
'Dear Bloodnok.,.
Fx: Nailing down lino.
continues under dictation.
Grytpype: Unless you return
the plans of Ned's dustbin, Iwill be forced to charge my client a
higher rate.' Signed Thynne. Now let me hear that back.
Grams: Grytpype: 'Signed Thynne' played
a little faster.
Grytpype: Splendid. Now, go
and lay that under his military kippers.
Seagoon: Ha ha ha, he who
laffs liffs loofs las, ahem; he who har hees, laffs loose lifs. Hee
farewell.
Grams: Speeded up footsteps
running away
Grytpype: Gad!I never knew
his legs would move so fast
Seagoon: Neither did I. I
better get after 'em!
Fx: Whoooossshhh!
Seagoon: Bloodnok!
Bloodnok: Ohhhhhhh
Seagoon: Ha ha ha this lino
means curtains for you.
Bloodnok: Lino curtains? What
a quaint seasonal custom.. but wait, this is solicitors lino.
You'll hear from my linoleum layer in the morning sir. Meantime,
take that!
Grams: Jelly splosh!
Seagoon: What is it?
Bloodnok: I don't know sir.
It was dark when I trod in
it..
Seagoon: Gad, it's a banner
with a strange device, and clutched by a lad in snow and ice.
Bluebottle: Get your hands
up.
Seagoon: Bluebottle, take
that silly rice-paper off.
Bluebottle: You touch one
hair of dat and Splashoul. The disintergrater ray gun will speak in
my hand, ha ah ha.
Fx: Clang
Bluebottle: Oh, the 'lastic's
come off the trigger.
Seagoon: Don't cry Bottle,
here, have the suspender off my sock.
Bluebottle: Oh thanks...
no... no! That suspender is just a glittering Western prize to make
me forget my mission. Now Seagoon, look into my eyes, toot toot
toot. . . little daggers come out and point all the way along my
eyes to his, too-tooty toot toot. . . the secrets of Bottles
mesmerism is bending Ned to my will. . .. strainnnnn strainnnnn
powers of eyes, powers of eyes... Ohhh squint, squint, squinteeee..
. Squin.. . ohh, my nose has started to bleed.
Seagoon: You've crossed your
eyes, you nit...
Bluebottle: Oh no! Den I'm
finished with Russia, I am.. I can't go out wid birds when my eyes
are crossed.
Seagoon: We've no time to
lose.
Bluebottle: We must save
Ecdes from a death worse than fate
Seagoon: Yes, we must save
Eccles,
Bloodnok: Ah, but they never
did. . . oh dear dear dear. . . to think you poor people came all
this way just for that! Diddle diddle dum... Where are the pay offs
of yesteryear?
Orchestra: "Old Comrades March"
Playout
Orchestra: "Crazy Rhythm"
Outro
Transcription and HTML by Kurt Adkins: kurt@thegoonshow.co.uk