Goon Show Script

A Christmas Carol

Series 10, Episode 1

First broadcast on Dec, 24, 1959. Script by Spike Milligan. Produced by John Browell


This episode is available on...

Vol. 15: The Goons at Christmas

[CD from Amazon]
[Download from Audible]



GRAMS:
HOWLING OF COYOTES.

GREENSLADE:
(clears throat) This is the BBC and it's going bald.

FX:
POPGUN POP.

GREENSLADE:
Ooowl, blast. It's come out again.

MILLIGAN:
Arh gee im, nga ngipo.

GREENSLADE:
Rubbish, absolute rubbish.

MILLIGAN:
And it suits you Jim.

GREENSLADE:
Ladies and gentlemen, the BBC have decided to draw back their veil of secrecy and announce to the listeners a merry Christmas and custard.

GREENSLADE:
(sings) Jingle bells, jingle bells ...

FX:
WHOOSH, JELLY SPLOSH.

GREENSLADE:
Ah ooowl. Who threw that second hand Christmas pudding at me eye.

MILLIGAN:
Quick Jock Snagge (???), tie his teeth behind his back before he can eat it.

FX:
STRUGGLES, SOUNDS OF HANDCUFFS BEEN JANGLED.

GREENSLADE:
I'll get you for this.

SECOMBE:
Stop this! Spelt S T O P with a capital gain ... how dare you chain up Wallace's dinner manglers during the greedy guts season lad ... what, what, what, what.

SELLERS:
(off) What, what, ...

MILLIGAN:
Aha ha hor.

SELLERS:
(off) ... (degenerates into hen clucking noises).

SECOMBE:
Just for that mister Sellers, (aside) he's going broody. Just for that mister Sellers I'll let the world hear this recording of your bedroom at dawn.

GRAMS:
REVVING OF LARGE MOTOR CAR ENGINE FADES UNDER:

SELLERS:
(Bloodnok like voice) What! It's all lies, it's all lies I tell you, it's lies ...

SECOMBE:
Well make up your mind. (giggles).

SELLERS:
(building to high levels of mania) It's lies, it's lies, I've given up motor cars I tell you. Haven't been near a car since dawn this morning, last night. I'm cured of cars. I tell you I don't need cars any more. I'm learning to walk with sticks. I'm cured I tell you. I haven't seen a car for days. Cars! I ...

GRAMS:
SOUNDS OF BURBLING CAR ENGINES UNDER:

SELLERS:
(sings) I've got to have cars, lot of loverly loverly cars. You've got to have, ohhhw, OHHH, owlll.

MILLIGAN:
(Indian voice) Hold him, hold down Ned. While I give you this injection of car polish.

SECOMBE:
Peter. This is going to hurt a little.

SELLERS:
So saying he hit me.

FX:
SHARP EXPLOSION, CUT OFF SHORT.

SELLERS:
Oh.

SECOMBE:
That word 'oh' was said by Peter Sellers in the absence of a man called Fred F'Tang. ... But hark! What light through yonder window breaks?

FX:
SMASHING GLASS WINDOW PANE.

MILLIGAN:
(accent?) Message for you.

FX:
POP, WALLOP ON SOMETHING HOLLOW.

SECOMBE:
Ah, merry Christmas bells. And what's this?

FX:
BONGTH BONGTH THHAT THH THAP (HITTING MUTED DRUMS), EXPELATION OF BREATH.

MILLIGAN:
(old breathless voice) The bells.

FX:
BONGTH BONGTH THHAT.

SECOMBE:
He didn't have much of a part.

MILLIGAN:
F'do.

SELLERS:
(music hall type voice) I say, I say, I say, you look like a sporting man. I'll place my half a crown here. Now then can a lady with a wooden leg change a pound note?

SECOMBE:
(music hall voice) Can a lady with a wooden leg change a pound note? Of course she can.

SELLERS:
No she can not.

SECOMBE:
Why not?

SELLERS:
She's only got half a nicker.

FX:
CHORD AND CYMBAL CRASH.

GREENSLADE:
Thank you, and for the poorer people, ta. Part one, will the cast take up their positions? On your Alfred's, get set ...

FX:
STARTERS PISTOL. CLATTER OF SHOES RUNNING OFF INTO DISTANCE.

GREENSLADE:
If the audience get on their marks, they too will be able to follow the show. Get set ..

FX:
STARTERS PISTOL. CLATTER OF SHOES RUNNING OFF INTO DISTANCE. COWS LOWING. FADES ...

GREENSLADE:
We give you now, the radio adaptation from the dinner of the same name: 'A Christmas Carol by kind permission'.

ORCHESTRA:
FIRST FEW BARS OF A VERY CORNY TRUMPET VERSION OF JINGLE BELLS. ENDING WITH CYMBAL CRASH.

MILLIGAN:
oh you hav ta di da (smacking of lips) oh, (gurgling on with in explicable noises, some quite loud) under:

SELLERS:
(offsite BBC type announcer) And here, at Christmas we see the great venerable offices of Scrooge and Marley, importers and exporters for the great year of eighteen eighty seven.

MILLIGAN:
Aba, ova to you ..

FX:
SCRIBBLING UNDER:

SCROOGE:
Aba da you. Marley is dead, Marley is deaeed.

MILLIGAN:
(accent?) No I'm not ...

FX:
PISTOL SHOT.

MILLIGAN:
Ohhh

SCROOGE:
Yes you are. Ahh. Now to enter certain thingsss in the all weather leather ledgers:

FX:
SCRIBBLING UNDER:

SCROOGE:
One barrel of blungers violent stone and ginger purge. ... One gill (*1) of rare leopard oil! Tin newts. One box of feathered shirt lifters.

FX:
RISING WHISTLE.

SCROOGE:
Owwwoool!

SCRATCHIT:
Knock, knock.

SCROOGE:
Who is it?

SCRATCHIT:
Short man, can't reach the knocker.

SCROOGE:
Ohhh ... Scratchit.

SCRATCHIT:
Where is it itching?

SCROOGE:
On my coo? On my coo!

SCRATCHIT:
So you've got an itchy coo?

SCROOGE:
Ahhh!

SCRATCHIT:
(laughter) Well they're the kind of jokes they told in eighteen eighty seven!

SCROOGE:
Pour me my tea and only two sugars.

FX:
LOUD DEEP SPLASH, SPLASH, SPLASH.

SCRATCHIT:
Blast one too many, I'll recover it. Stand back!

FX:
RUNNING FOOT STEPS ... STEP (SPRING) ... SPLASH, PADDLE.

ECCLES:
Hello, care to join me in a cup of tea?

SCRATCHIT:
What? what? Have you seen three lumps of sugar come this way?

ECCLES:
No, and I've been here since the milk came.

SCROOGE:
Come on now. Get out and get back to you desks, both of you. Except Eccles and Ned.

FX:
PADDLING IN WATER UNDER:

ECCLES:
(off) owll.

SCRATCHIT:
For no reason at all folks: What's the date today?

ECCLES:
Twenty fourth of December. Christmas eve.

SCRATCHIT:
So they both fall on the same day. Must be slippery.

SCROOGE:
Eh, well I don't think we can wait any longer for any more laughs on that one. Ow back to work or I'll belt your nut in!

SCRATCHIT:
But mister Scrooge it's Christmas eve, a time of good will and custard.

SCROOGE:
So it is.

FX:
DISTANT BELLS UNDER NEXT TWO LINES:

SCROOGE:
Merry Christmas Scratchit.

SCRATCHIT:
Merry Christmas.

SCROOGE:
Now get back to you desk or I'll belt your nut in!

SCRATCHIT:
Please Mister Scrooge, can't I go home two seconds early tonight.

SCROOGE:
(conniptions) (gasp, gasp) arngh, two seconds! You must be mad.

SCRATCHIT:
I'm as sane as the next bloke.

ECCLES:
I'm the next bloke folks.

SCRATCHIT:
Please Mister Scrooge, it's Christmas Eve and custard. Why wife is getting the children together for a census, and custard.

SCROOGE:
No! N O pronounced:

GRAMS:
NOOO (SPED UP TO HIGH PITCH).

GRAMS:
VIOLIN UNDER:

SCRATCHIT:
(sobbing) Oh ho ho, what a cruel man. Here I am as poor as a church mouse, but much bigger of course. (violin stops) All I'm paid is one wooden leg a week , and it's only worth half a nicker.

ECCLES:
Remember Neddie, the wages of sin is death.

SCRATCHIT:
You've just been paid haven't yuh (giggle)

ECCLES:
What what! You mind what you say. My fathers influencal, did I write that? Influential! He's got a finger in every pie.

SCRATCHIT:
What's his name?

ECCLES:
Sweeny Todd. Ha ha ha. For the next joke folks, will you put this school cap on and bend down? 'Cause I'm going to chastise you. Now lad this is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.

SCRATCHIT:
So saying he hit himself.

FX:
SNAP OF RULER HITTING SOMETHING.

ECCLES:
Owwww.

FX:
THWACK, THACK.

ECCLES:
Owww, owww.

FX:
TWACK.

ECCLES:
ow.

FX:
THWACK THWACK.

ECCLES:
Oww.

(fades into background hitting and owwing).

GELDRAY:
Boys, boys. This is the ideal time for me. Hello folks, and this is the spirit of Christmas nose. Merry nose and custard folks. Wally boy? Play that nose and custard music. Spluugie.

INTERVAL:
Jingle bells on mouth organ, with sleigh bells, speeding up to jazzed arrangement with orchestra ...

(applause) (9:18k)(8:38b).

GREENSLADE:
And so we leave happy 'Conks' Max Geldray with a white Christmas and a red bank statement. Christmas carol and custard part two. On you marks, bluuom.

FX:
STARTERS PISTOL: RUNNING SHOES, THEN SPEEDING UP INTO DISTANCE.

GREENSLADE:
The office of Scrooge at knocking off time.

ECCLES:
Who's knocked off my sandwiches?

SCRATCHIT:
I was hungry and custard Eccles.

ECCLES:
(off) oooh.

SCRATCHIT:
Look at my poor emaciated thin body.

ECCLES:
Thin? You're thin? Stand on these talking scales.

FX:
MECHANICAL NOISES, CLATTER OF A SPRING AS IT GOES OFF SCALE.

MATE:
Owwwh. Get 'im off, ohh!

SCRATCHIT:
It's a lie and custard I tell you.

FX:
WHISTLE GOING DOWN.

SCRATCHIT:
Look I'm so thin my slacks have come down, I'll pull 'em up.

SCROOGE:
Caught you slacking. You're fired. F I R E D pronounced.

FX:
EXPLOSION.

SCROOGE:
Here is a weeks notice in lieu of money.

SCRATCHIT:
What about my wooden leg?

SCROOGE:
Put treacle on your head and go as a toffee apple. Now then Eccles, I trust you.

ECCLES:
Gee, so do I.

SCROOGE:
Good, well take this Christmas pudding and lodge it in my bank on your way home. You'll remember that?

ECCLES:
ya lumb go beck an ya da la dum eca da ecabula ...

SCROOGE:
Well it's near enough for jazz.

ECCLES:
Yeah.

SCROOGE:
Little does he know the pudding's full of gold threepenny bits, worth nearly fifty thousand pounds.

ECCLES:
Too rich for me folks. Come on Ned, I'll walk home with you.

SCRATCHIT:
Right. Come on.

FX:
THREE FOOTS STEPS ON COBBLES.

SCRATCHIT:
It wasn't far, was it?

ECCLES:
He remembered the way too.

SCRATCHIT:
I'll knock on the door of my old fashioned H P (*2) home , number nine Downing Street.

FX:
DOOR KNOB RATTLE AND DOOR OPENED.

SELLERS:
(MacMillan) (*3) You've never had it so good.

FX:
DOOR SLAMMED.

SCRATCHIT:
Wrong home.

ECCLES:
Oh ~~ this the one (???) ...

FX:
THUMP ON DOOR.

SELLERS:
(campy female voice 'Crystal Jollybottom') What is it sailor?

SCRATCHIT:
Hello my darling. Merry Christmas and custard.

SELLERS:
Oooooh. Who are you then?

SCRATCHIT:
I'm Ned, your husband.

SELLERS:
Ah hoo! You can come in, your dinner's in the oven.... Oh dear, oh stop it Ned.

SCRATCHIT:
Well it's Christmas.

SELLERS:
Ah ha ho hol.

SCRATCHIT:
This is Eccles my work mate.

ECCLES:
Hullo there misses Scratchit.

SELLERS:
Ah hoool ho ho hool!

ECCLES:
It's Christmas i'n't it, ha hol.

ELLINGTON:
Hullo there daddy darling.

SCRATCHIT:
Ahh Gladys my golden haired daughter. ... My, how you've changed.

ELLINGTON:
Daughter? I'm you son.

SCRATCHIT:
You have changed. ... No more mixed bathing for you!

ELLINGTON:
(off) What?

SCRATCHIT:
Oh darling wife, I just remembered, I forgot the Christmas pudding.

OMNES:
(Crying, wailing, sobbing).

MORIARTY:
Hello daddy, when do we have that nice Christmas pudding, daddy? Hello daddy, hello daddy.

SCRATCHIT:
Who is this darling wretched, cruddy little, unshaven creature in the pram?

GRYTPYPE:
This is your first set of twins Neddie.

SCRATCHIT:
Twins? There's only one of him?

GRYTPYPE:
They had a merger, more economical you know.

SCRATCHIT:
The last voice came from a man, seven foot tall, wearing a nappy.

GRYTPYPE:
I am you first born, Ned, that's why I'm older than you, heh hah hah ha.

SCRATCHIT:
Now I know you're lying, I never had a first child. We started with the second.

GRYTPYPE:
That's right. I'm your first, second child. You mus'n't doubt your ability daddy. huh ha ha. Merry Christmas Moriarty.

MORIARTY:
You said that last year!

FX:
SLAP.

MORIARTY:
Ahhhh.

GRYTPYPE:
Now to certain things. Let me help you with that naughty heavy Christmas Pudding little daddy. hi hmm.

GRYTPYPE:
(desperate voice) Got it?

MORIARTY:
(little jim voice) Yes.

GRYTPYPE:
Quick Moriarty head for part three, I've got friends there.

FX:
WHOOSH, .. WHOOSH.

SCRATCHIT:
Stop him. Quick my silent movie piano. Gid up there.

ORCHESTRA:
PIANO: TINKLING UP AND DOWN KEYS. FADES.

GREENSLADE:
If the audience will all get there pianos ready. They two can join the chase. Ready go.

ORCHESTRA:
GALLOPING UP AND DOWN KEYS (OTHER INSTRUMENTS IN BACKGROUND).

GRYTPYPE:
You hear that Moriarty.

MORIARTY:
Owwl.

GRYTPYPE:
We're being pursued by pianos.

MORIARTY:
Oooh.

GRYTPYPE:
We've got to throw them off the scent.

MORIARTY:
ah uh.

GRYTPYPE:
In the bath.

MORIARTY:
Ow ee.

FX:
SPLASH.

MORIARTY:
ah ah

FX:
SCRUBBING UNDER:

GRYTPYPE:
Now scrub those crutty knees.

MORIARTY:
Be careful.

GRYTPYPE:
Why?

FX:
SCRUBBING CONTINUES FOR A FEW SECONDS WITH NO ONE SPEAKING.

SECOMBE:
(Nugent Dirt) Pardon me sir, sorry to interrupt your honey moon, hu ho, but have you got any windows you'd like cleaning an' dat?

GRYTPYPE:
What, what, what's that, no I'm sorry I haven't got one on me. But wait, is that your ladder?

SECOMBE:
Yes. Licensed to carry two people and custard.

GRYTPYPE:
Could we hire it?

SECOMBE:
It doesn't go any higher, it's fully grown.

MORIARTY:
Is it for sale, is it for sale?

SECOMBE:
Well make me an offer?

FX:
GREAT CLATTERING OF SHEET METAL, OCCASIONAL CHINKS OF HAMMER DROPPING ONTO CONCRETE?

MORIARTY:
And, and there's more where that came from.

SECOMBE:
Oh, loverly. A ton of reeking contemporary rubbish. Just what I want, you see, I bought the wife a dustbin for Christmas and I don't want to give it to her empty.

GRYTPYPE:
Sentimental fool, Moriarty start the ladder and balance that bath on top.

FX:
SINGING OVER MOTOR AND BUBBLING/POPPING NOISES FADE OFF INTO DISTANCE.

GRAMS:
FADE IN OF DRUNKEN PIANO NOTES, WINDING DOWN TO POPS, DUCK CALL, CLANKS.

SECOMBE:
Ah (gasping) Ah, blast, run out of music, just when I was over-taking them.

MATE:
Who's that standing on my nut?

SCRATCHIT:
What, what, what, what, what? Where are you then?

MATE:
I'm down this 'ole man.

SCRATCHIT:
What, ooh, I'm sorry, to think I was travelling on a head? ha ha. Hullo.

MATE:
Sewer-man Sam they calls me mate.

SCRATCHIT:
Good luck chum.

MATE:
Taa, 'ere. You haven't got a cloths peg handy have yah?

SCRATCHIT:
No, have you?

MATE:
No, no. What other game can we play now?

SCRATCHIT:
Have you seen two men on thin steaming legs pass this way.

MATE:
Owwl, yeah'n, yeah'n. They leaves 'ere on a ladder. One twit was balancing a bath on top of it, and the other twit was clutching a Christmas pudding 'twixt his knees.

SCRATCHIT:
That's them all right.

MATE:
Owwl, I was only guessing. Ah well, I'll come up for a smoke. 'Ere mate would care for a toe rag?

SCRATCHIT:
Thank you, just what I need. Wait! This isn't a toe rag, it's a cigarette!

MATE:
Oh, I, I don't know, I don't know, I ...

SCRATCHIT:
Now look. Whose is ..., whose is that two seater pile of rubbish and custard?

MATE:
It's mine mate, a present from an enemy.

SCRATCHIT:
Want to rent it?

MATE:
Cost you one wooden leg.

SCRATCHIT:
Here's half a knicker.

FX:
TEARING.

BANNISTER:
owwwll, mind what you're doing sailor.

SCRATCHIT:
Min of Balham! What are you doing in that pram?

BANNISTER:
Owl, it makes me look younger.

SCRATCHIT:
The pram look older (giggle).

BANNISTER:
Never you mind Ned , if it can happen to Lolita, it can happen to me.

SCRATCHIT:
I must be off.

BANNISTER:
Be off then!

GRAMS:
BRRMMMM OF CAR, WITH TAMBOURINES, AND MALE VOICE SINGING SPEEDING UP AND FADING INTO DISTANCE.

BLUEBOTTLE:
'ere, I was underneath that car, cleaning it! What a twinnick I look lying on my back in the middle of the road, one arm held up clutching a piece of oily rag. Supposing a police man had asked me what I was doing? I would say, consderble, I can not tell a lie, I'm breaking the world's record for oily rag clutching. ... Ah, hello everybuddy, I didn't see you all dere. Merry Christmas and custard to you all. Are you all getting nice things in your stockings? I'm getting legs in mine. (sings) good hem, da dar da ..

FX:
WHOOSH, JELLY SPLOSH.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Mnk. ah huur ha! Who! .. who threw that junior spaceman Christmas pudding at me?

ECCLES:
Merry Christmas bottle.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Eccles you twit.

ECCLES:
Hup! Splasshhh!

BLUEBOTTLE:
What you doing swimming up the pavement.

ECCLES:
Nuthin like a dip in the morning, hup slash.

BLUEBOTTLE:
You dive under the pavement?

ECCLES:
Yah.

BLUEBOTTLE:
You must be mad.

ECCLES:
Can't argue with facts folks.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Ignorance is no excuse Eccles.

ECCLES:
How about stupidity?

BLUEBOTTLE:
Well, come on then, show us how you can dive under the pavement Eccles.

ECCLES:
Well, ummm.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Come on show us.

ECCLES:
It's one of my secrets. Ok then, alright then watch.

FX:
RUNNING FOOTSTEPS, HUP, WHISTLE UP, DINK, BONK.

ECCLES:
Owwwl owwwl. Owwwsh, my secrets out ... I nearly went unconscious then.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Don't you worry Eccles, I can cure that unconsciousness.

ECCLES:
Owwwl.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Stop ad-libbing man. Hand me that tax free hammer. Now then close your little eyes.

ECCLES:
Right.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Now close your big ones.

FX:
THUMP!

ECCLES:
Owwwl Owwwl Owwwl! Oww Ow oww (fading).

BLUEBOTTLE:
Ladies and gentlemen: My subjects head is now unconscious. By using the blunebottle special waiting method I will restore him to health. Why we are waiting, um, we will wait. (sings) ah he har de, ar de dar de, nowl. I wonder what the folks back home are doing?

SCRATCHIT:
We're not doing anything.

ECCLES:
Owwwl, that laid an egg, what happened?

BLUEBOTTLE:
See he is conscious!

ECCLES:
owl

BLUEBOTTLE:
I have cured ... I have cured him of the unconsciousness.

GRAMS:
CORNY CHORD AND CYMBAL CRASH.

ECCLES:
How much do I owe you doc?

BLUEBOTTLE:
Nothing.

ECCLES:
That's cheap.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Yeah, I don't know how I keep going. If you're struck down in the future, here's my card in case.

ECCLES:
Oh, a card in a little case.

BLUEBOTTLE:
Keeps the rain off. He he he. Bye, bye Eccles.

ECCLES:
Bye, bye Bottle. There goes a clever man. (sings to him self) da dump a do ...

ELLINGTON:
Man these introductions get worse allll the time.

INTERVAL:
Ray Ellington Quartet: 'Bring out the beast in me'


(applause) (22:58k)(21:30b).

MILLIGAN:
(Baby crying under:)

GREENSLADE:
That was Beethoven's fifth and Ray Ellington's third, Remember ladies Ray Ellington is now on sale in the new four ounce tins.

SELLERS:
Yes, Ray Ellington lasts the whole drink through. ... Hmmm Ellington Fong.

GREENSLADE:
It doesn't get any clearer.

SECOMBE:
You can say that again. (laughs)

SELLERS:
(off) What about the old brandy there.

GREENSLADE:
However from the privacy of my own Christmas trousers, I announce the last part of Christmas tails - you lose. The scene: Two criminals are approaching the home of a mister Watt, a Welsh expert on Dickens.

SECOMBE:
(Welsh accent) What the Dickens they call me (laughs). I was sitting in my farm house in Breckon, when ah.

MORIARTY:
Look Grytpype there's a man sitting in his farmhouse 'n breakin win' ah.

GRYTPYPE:
What? Must me fifty mile away, I'll knock.

MORIARTY:
(loudly) Knock, knock.

FX:
DOOR KNOB, DOOR OPENING.

SECOMBE:
(high pitched) Owwl, A couple of English scrags and a ladder.

MORIARTY:
arrg.

GRYTPYPE:
Sir, we are two impoverished professional Christmas Pudding eaters.

MORIARTY:
Please sir, all we ask is a nice table, and two chairs facing inwards.

SECOMBE:
Well seeing how it's Christmas and custard come in. (calling) Van wee? (*4).

FX:
DOOR CLOSED.

SECOMBE:
This is my wife.

GRYTPYPE:
She sounds like a door.

VAN WEE:
(Geldray) Hello darling boys. Welcome to a real Welsh home bach (*5). It's a warm bruc moon lich nigh tunigh tu noo. I can't help loving that man of mine.

GRYTPYPE:
It must be hell in Wales.

SECOMBE:
How dare you talk about my old Dutch like that.

GRYTPYPE:
Don't you move hairy Welshman, you and that Dutch thing in drag get into the cupboard. Hurry man, you're due at the door any second in your role as Scratchit.

FX:
THREE BANGS ON DOOR.

SCRATCHIT:
You're right, there I am now.

GRYTPYPE:
Quick Moriarty swallow that pudding down wind.

MORIARTY:
hu arr.

SCRATCHIT:
No you don't. Don't move Moriarty. This match, recognise it?

MORIARTY:
That match, that match is the one that belongs to Thynne and me.

GRYTPYPE:
Hello match:

SCRATCHIT:
And that folks is how Moriarty and Grytpype met their match!

ORCHESTRA:
CORNY CHORD AND CYMBAL CRASH.

MILLIGAN:
Nearly finished folks.

SELLERS:
(off) nearly finished us folks.

SECOMBE:
Finish of that voice. Part three all's well that ends well.

SELLERS:
(off) By Jove yes.

SCRATCHIT:
Folks, I return home with my Christmas Pudding intact, doing my own continuity.

OMNES:
General hubbub of voices and blowing those party things - party noise under:

SCROOGE:
Welcome home Scratchit.

SCRATCHIT:
Mister Scrooge and custard, what are you doing here, wearing a funny paper hat, a ginger wig, and a three legged cardboard suit.

SCROOGE:
I've changed drastically, I'm no longer a miser. Here Ned a present for you.

SCRATCHIT:
What I've always wanted - a white spotted bowler.

SCROOGE:
Yes, the Trafalgar Square special.

SCRATCHIT:
Let's giv'em the second version of that gag shall we?

SCROOGE:
Why not? Here Ned is a present for you.

SCRATCHIT:
A white spotted bowler.

ELLINGTON:
Yeah, next year I'm playing for the West Indies.

SELLERS:
(woman) First time was better, wasn't it?

ORCHESTRA:
NEW BLOODNOK THEME UNDER:

BLOODNOK:
Left, left, left right left, and on the other legs available ... halt! (music stops). Oh, now to certain things, are you ready Eccles? Now tell me, have you ever been hit by a sockfull of grit?

ECCLES:
No!

FX:
THUMP, WALLOP

ECCLES:
Owwwl.

BLOODNOK:
In future the answer will be yes! ... Are you ready? One two.

FX:
SLOW BRASS BAND DRUM BEAT

BLOODNOK:
(singing) Good King Wenceslas last looked out ... look out Wenceslas! On the feast of Stephen ...

ECCLES:
And then the snow ...

BLOODNOK:
Shut up Eccles.

ECCLES:
Shut up Eccles.

BLOODNOK:
(singing under next line) When the snow lay all about, round and crisp and ...

SCRATCHIT:
Ah, listen, a military carol singer. A merry Christmas to you sir. ... A merry Christmas to you sir.

BLOODNOK:
To hell with all that rubbish sir. What about the money.

SCRATCHIT:
Great bazookas.

BLOODNOK:
argh, where!

ECCLES:
Where?

SCRATCHIT:
Major Dennis Bloodnok in the flesh.

BLOODNOK:
It's only a temporary arrangement I assure you. I happened to be passing, and I heard the sound of a merry X certificate Christmas party. Feeling no pain and having no fear.

BANNISTER:
Ohhhh.

BLOODNOK:
What?

BANNISTER:
Dennis, Dennis of Doo-Lally.

BLOODNOK:
What.

BANNISTER:
My old steaming sweetheart.

BLOODNOK:
What! Min of Mongolia!

BANNISTER:
~~~ ~~~ ~~~.

BLOODNOK:
Oh me puckes (???).

BANNISTER:
Dennis look, (sings) I'm underneath the mistletoe

BLOODNOK:
Oh, ho ho ho.

BANNISTER:
It's all free. All free.

BLOODNOK:
Now then.

BANNISTER:
Ready.

BLOODNOK:
Close your eyes Min.

BANNISTER:
Readyyyy.

FX:
RIFLE SHOT AND RICOCHETS.

BLOODNOK:
Right in the old seasonals. Now then Ned of Wales, what is this that I hear about you and a four eyed woman?

SCRATCHIT:
Four eyed woman?

BLOODNOK:
I heard you sing it on some record: (sings) 'I love you for eye' you were saying.

SCRATCHIT:
A song! A Christmas song, just what we need to avoid a funny play off. he he he, they're grand, heh he he. Go on let us all pull together, this is the time of agreement among men.

ECCLES:
Agreement.

SCRATCHIT:
Let us sing of white Christmas. One two.

(all singing differently totally out of harmony, and different words)

SCRATCHIT:
(sing) I'm dreaming of a whi..

BLOODNOK:
Hark the herald angles ...

BANNISTER:
No, no no, what about you filling in ...

GREENSLADE:
And as the Goons bluff through the playoff, we wish a merry Christmas and custard to human being everywhere, and it appears to me that they are just about everywhere, what a pity. Goodnight.

FX:
WALLOP (JELLY SPLOSH).

GREENSLADE:
Arrgghh owwl.

ORCHESTRA:
TRYING TO GET GOING, NOISES OF HORSES AND THUNDERING HOOVES, THEN COME UP WITH VERY BAD CHRISTMAS CAROL MUSIC, WITH NOISE OF DROPPING METAL, BONKS AND OWWS, SLIDING INTO PLAYOUT TUNE.

Notes:

1) Gill = liquid measure, 1/4 pint.

2) H P = Hire purchase

3) On 22 July 1957 he Macmillan was quoted in the Times saying "Let's be frank about it: most of our people have never had it so good". That became a slogan of his Conservative government.

4) Van Wee is a short form of the name Myfanwy

5) (Welsh) bach = mate