The Goon Show
The Call of the West
or Captain Stingo, or Goon Law, or Anythinggggg, or Hern!

Transcribed by Julian Visch (
- Seagoon


Wallace: This is the BBC.

Neddie Seagoon: Good! Now, Wallace, here is that same announcement by a midget.

<sped up version of 'This is the BBC'>

Wallace: Who's he?!

Neddie Seagoon: I'm a friend of Bert F'tang.

Peter: F'tang?

Neddie Seagoon: F'ting!

Peter: Findacoo!

Neddie Seagoon: F'too!

Peter: Foulzow!

Neddie Seagoon: F'ting

Spike: A friend of Bert F'tang!

<etc goSinghiz Thingzldegook, sped up slightly.>

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

Hern: Goon War, or anything or hern.

<western theme song. Much trumpets>

Hern: See, hear and smell hairless midget, Harry Seagoon as Captain Rapture. Hard riding, hard shooting, hard up cowboy.

Neddie Seagoon: Hello, you ornery critters!

Hern: This role calls for great audience imagination. See, feel and hit Spike Milligna as the dying actor.


Spike: Ooouch!

Hern: Yes, for the first time on your radio screen, so the hand-operated, electric teeth, of Peter 'Voices' Sellars, as Big Black Beauty, the mad wall paper stallion.

<galloping into distance, accompanied by donkey braying>

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

<'Give me a home, where the buffalo roam' - then much laying about with a metal instrument, accompanied by cries of 'oh!' and 'oh dear'>

Wallace: This then is your entertainment for this evening.

<Screams, cries, feet running away>

Neddie Seagoon:Come back, come back!

<western theme again.>

<Sailors cries>

Wallace: 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, noSinghiz Thingzity niSinghiz Thingzity 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 ruSinghiz Thingzish! I - oh!


Little Jim: He fallin' in da water!

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

Gravelly Hern: Hey bud, gotta nickel for a cup of coffee?

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

<sound of a (strange) blow.>

Gravelly Hern: Oh, buddy.

Neddie Seagoon: 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 version of the Union Jack.

Grytpyte Thynne: Look sir, I too am heading west, with this retired wooden fissssh crate.

Moriarty: OOOOwwwwww. Let me out of here, Grytpyte Thynne, the pound, the pound, Grytpyte Thynne

Neddie Seagoon: I say, what are those yellow things, champing at the knothole?

Grytpyte Thynne: They are the teeth of a dear friend and confidante, the great French poet and lyric plumber, Count Jim 'Flies'

<buzzing sounds>

Moriartyiarty. Apart from which, he is inventing something.

<saxophone sounds>

Grytpyte Thynne: 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 my continue undisturbed by disturb?

Neddie Seagoon: Well.... there's no bath.

Grytpyte Thynne: No bath? Just what the Count likes at the end of a long day.

Neddie Seagoon: Right. Now, where's the rent?

Grytpyte Thynne: In my trousers.

Neddie Seagoon: He bent down, and sure enough, he had a rent in his trousers!! California! here we come! Get up there.

<western theme again, running into harmonica, and Max Geldray.>


Neddie Seagoon: I say... will all those prarie dogs stop howling?

Grytpyte Thynne: They're always howling..... no trees on the prarie.

Neddie Seagoon: Listeners who recognise that joke please keep their traps shut. Well, I'm going to bed. G'night.

<stretching springs sound>

ah, 18 stone, 3. Gads, I'm a heavy sleeper.

Moriarty: Let me out, buddy.

Grytpyte Thynne: Shhhhhh. Quiet in that crate.

Moriarty: Is it night or day?

Grytpyte Thynne: Fool, that sort of thing is only for the rich.

Moriarty: Let me out, oh, buddy.

Grytpyte Thynne: I'll let you out when you've made enough saxophones to sell to the indians.

Moriarty: I've made corud-serc-neef-nook-she saxophones

<chains rattling>

Grytpyte Thynne: Have you? Well, come out. Now, which of all these fish-bones is you?

Moriarty: I'm the one with hairs on.

<indians whooping, continuing over next few lines>

Neddie Seagon: What's that? The indian <garble> by screams! Quick

<gunshots start over war whoops>

Eccles: <garble> I did a mutton shop in Tennessee I dud a myarmya

Neddie Seagoon: What luck! Its Davy Eccles and his goon-shin cat!

Eccles: uraluckum eraluckumuluckaluckumurlum doishinook ow

Neddie Seagoon: You do and you clean it up mate.

Eccles: They're all with me tonight...

Neddie Seagoon: Now listen.

Eccles: yeah

Neddie Seagoon: We need help

Eccles: yeah

Neddie Seagoon: Those indians are over powering us. Get through to Fort F'tang,

Eccles: F'tang

Neddie Seagoon: ... and fetch help.

Eccles: Ok.

Neddie Seagoon: Here's the fare.

Eccles: ta! Giddup!

<public bus pulling away>

Neddie Seagoon: 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!

<cavalry charging>

Colonel Slocombe: Whoa!

<cavalry stops dead>

There's disChief Investorpline for you.


Lootenant Hern-Hern?

<running, from far away to up close>

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Yes sir?

Colonel Slocombe: Where's your horse?

Lootenant Hern-Hern: You only called me sir.

Colonel Slocombe: Well, thats a good answer son. you must be mighty proud of it.

Lootenant Hern-Hern: It belonged to my father Hern.

Colonel Slocombe: Its a well-worn hern, yeah. Here's a dollarhern.

Lootenant Hern-Hern: A dollarhern? What forhern?

Colonel Slocombe: Its pay as you hearn.

[spits] <ding>

Sargent F'doo? Where's the chapwagonhern?


's..hine, the worst hine, sir, a most.... hawf hine.

Colonel Slocombe: Well, if you say so.

[spits] <sound of spat tobacco hitting and smother F'doo>

I'm sorry, Sarge. Here, catch this lifebelt!

<splashing sound>


thank you!

Lootenant Hern-Hern: We better get going, Colonel - they say that the NoSinghiz Thingzlynee indians are in the viChief Investornty.



I'll be calling you
And I'll answer true

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Its three lone indians!

Colonel Slocombe: Call 'em over, we could do with a loan hern, yeah

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Great Jumping Fanancopants! Its the NoSinghiz Thingzlynee Tribe in full war-paint and wall-paper.

Chief Investor: Ugggg! me Chief Investor - in Wall Street. Chief Sitting Bull and Bear, this is my squaw.

Squaw Wallace: How do you do?

Chief Investor: Ugggg!

Colonel Slocombe: Yes, I thought that too.

Chief Investor: And this nit here is my son, great warrior, Fred Smith, OBE.

Fred Smith: Hello boy, I had eggs for tea

Colonel Slocombe: Yes, he looks mighty tall in the saddle

Chief Investor: That's cos he's on a horse mate!

Omnes: Tada!

Colonel Slocombe: 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: Mmmmm. Ug. All my braves have buffalo hides

Colonel Slocombe: Well, where's yours?

Chief Investor: Where's my what, mate?

Colonel Slocombe: Where's your buffalo hide?

Chief Investor: He's hiding behind that tree mate.

Omnes: Tada!

Chief Investor: Look! Wait a minut! 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!


Fred Smith: That's my dad, boys.

Colonel Slocombe: Watch out Sitting Bull, or I'll get you, sure as my name's Custer.

<horse gallops up>

Eccles: Oh, here, here, here, here! Oh, here, here!

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Holy Smoke! Its something going here, here, here, here!

Eccles: Well, its me going here, here, here, here!

Colonel Slocombe: Steady there son.

Eccles: The wagon-train with your wife onboard is being attacked by the indians!

Colonel Slocombe: My wife! Is she safe?

Eccles: Yeah.

Colonel Slocombe: I never did like them indians.

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Did any follow ya?

Eccles: Yeah, they're shootin' at me all the time, but I just stuck my tongue out at dem.

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Get wounded?

Eccles: Yeah.

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Where?

Eccles: In the tongue. ahaha.

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Well, for no reason at all, FORWARD!

<Sounds of a western musical of some sort - Covered Wagon perhaps>

Wallace: That night the tribes were assembled for war. A white man and his fish crate were the centre of attention.

Gryp: I come as a fellow equity member with all dues paid. First I knock on box, so

[knocks] <saxophone music arises>

Tribes: oh! ah! oh!

Grytpyte Thynne: Yes! We bring you saxophones!

Chief: Me like - me play

<well played saxophone music>

Moriarty: You play lovly, chief

Grytpyte Thynne: Yes, he plays lovly, doesn't he. Could easily pass for music.

Chief: Good! Tonight, me and braves attack white men with saxophones!

Mooohaaaaa! Minnie! Moohaaaaa!

<saxophones and indian whooping combined together>

Colonel Slocombe: Gentlemen, someones supplying the indians with saxophones.


Neddy Seagoon: I think I know who it is.


Colonel Slocombe: Bring that thing closer, will ya? You were saying hern?

Neddy Seagoon: I know who they are. Moriarty and Thynne.

Colonel Slocombe: Where's they hiding?

Neddy Seagoon: America

Colonel Slocombe: Sargent, make a note of that, of the address will ya?

Sargent Eccles: How, how do you spell it?

Colonel Slocombe: Don't bother how to spell it, just write it down

Sargent Eccles: Ookay...


Colonel Slocombe: Now read it back to me

Sargent Eccles: umbalalarlackum

Colonel Slocombe: That sounds like the place to me. Alright men! Search America and look under the beds!

<Western musical again>

Moriarty: Grytpyte Thynnepyte, they've got wind of us! We've got to get away, I tell you!



Grytpyte Thynne: 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 bit}

Wallace: 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.

<Bloodnok theme!>

<indian whooping, buSinghiz Thingzling liquids, small fireworks, explosions, all mixed together>

Bloodnok: 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 Dennis Bloodnok, late of Harley St, Twickenham. Now then, I've cured the aristocrats of the plin, and the plarmers. 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!

<crowd noises>

Singhiz Thingz: Wait, wait, wait a moment sir.

Bloodnok: You'll try some? Give him a big hand!

<thunderous applause and cheering, cut off suddenly>

Singhiz Thingz: Thank you sir, thank you.

Bloodnok: Now then, Mystic Son of the East, sip this small sulphur and licorice bomb

<lip smacking>

Look! Ooo! Before my eyes, before my military eyes, the colour is coming back to his pallid loincloth!

<train noises, whistles blowing, heavy traffic, sirens, explosions, people yelling, and running feet, all mixed up>

How do you feel, Prince of the East?

Singhiz Thingz: I don't feel well, I feel, I, I, I feel very, very ill.

Bloodnok: Ill!?

Crowd: You're a quack, mister, you're a quack!

Bloodnok: Steady, yankee doodles, or I'll have the red-coats on you!

<angry crowd, running feet>

Careful there! ooo! Careful there!

<gunshots, running feet, Bloodnok yelling, merges into "She'll be coming round the mountain", on an old piano, western style, people whooping>

Grytpyte Thynne: I say, barman? Drinks, for my lady.

Moriarty: Yes, I'll have a glass of fish and chips.

Grytpyte Thynne: And see you put a good head on it!

Barman (Ellington): Well, we don't keep and drinks called Fish and Chips.

Grytpyte Thynne: What! Come, Moriarty, we shall take our trade, and malnutrition elsewhere.

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Hold everything! 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 musiChief Investorans.

Moriarty: gickaboohickgickkccaSinghiz Thingzooo.


Lootenant Hern-Hern: Pardon me, ma'am - your wigs's fallen off.

Grytpyte Thynne: Wig! How dare you sir? The unfortunate woman just happens to have gone bald suddenly. Its obviosly a case of the new lightning French allepiChief Investora (sp?) from the song of the same name.

Moriarty: Thats right, thats right, [singing]: AllepiChief Investora, lightning allepiChief Investora AllepiChief Investora, <garble> your hair

Grytpyte Thynne [singing]: First you get it on your nut.

Moriarty: First you get it on your nut!

<wooden bonk sound>

On my nut!

Grytpyte Thynne: On his nut!

Moriarty: On my nut!

Omnes: Ooooh! AllepiChief Investora, lightning allepiChief Investora AllepiChief Investora, <garble>

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Hold it!

Omnes: [dribble off to a halt, ending in Moriarty, then Bloodnok]

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Stop that allepiChief Investora! One moment, you two, I seem to recognise your face sir. Take off that false nose!

Grytpyte Thynne: What!

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Ahah. Now them false ears

Grytpyte Thynne: I protest!

Lootenant Hern-Hern; Now that false suit. And that false chest.

Moriarty: ooww.

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Hahaha. Just as i thought - I don't know who you are. Who are ye?

Grytpyte Thynne: Lord Nelson

Lootenant Hern-Hern: He had one arm missing.

Grytpyte Thynne: I have - I used to have three

Eccles: Hello, fellas! ulaluckumberdoy. Care to have a hand of cards?

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Poker, pontoon or rummy?

Eccles: Yeah, and cards?

Colonel Slocombe: Well, alright, fellas, I pass

Lootenant Hern-Hern: I pass

Eccles: Well, now its up to me now folks. Its up to me now folks. I'm callin' ya fellas!

Bluebottle: Ohh, he's callin' us all fellas. I shall reChief Investorpromedicate. 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.

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Who are you, stranger? Speak up.

Bluebottle: I am... I'm Marshal Matt Dillon, of 23 Flub Avenue, East Finchley, north 12

Lootenant Hern-Hern: I never seen you in Dodge City before. How did you get here?

Bluebottle: I came on the forty-nine bus from High Street.

Lootenant Hern-Hern: There ain't no busses run out here...

Bluebottle: No, it only took me as far as the Odium, and I had to walk all the rest of the way myself

Eccles: What about the game?

Lootenant Hern-Hern: Ok, then, you're calling Mad Dan - what kind of hand you got?

Eccles: Four fingers and thumb.

Bluebottle: I beat you, Mad Dan - I got four fingers, two thumbs, and a toes!

Eccles: A toe? There ain't no such hand!

Bluebottle: Do you think i'm a cheat?

Eccles: No, I think you're deformed

Bluebottle: No man can call Bluebottle deformed, unless he's a specialist! Eccles, I'm runnin' you in.

Eccles: I've been run in, I've done 10,000 miles.

Lootenant Hern: Come on Mad Dan. Are you going quietly or do we have to use ear-plugs?

Eccles: ohhohhh

Bluebottle: 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 cutout pistols...

<door opens>

Bluebottle's Mum: There you are, you dirty little tramp!

Bluebottle: Oh, mum!

Bluebottle's Mum: 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?

<blows of bits>

Bluebottle: Oh mum, you spoiled my game! Bye bye, Eccles!

Eccles: Goodbye!

Grytpyte Thynne: And so perish all enemies of the queen.

Moriarty: And there's more where that came from.

Lootenant Hern: Now I recognise that voice by the shape of those words!

Grytpyte Thynne: Run for it, mori, they know us

Moriarty: Agh!

<double whoosh>

<dramatic chords>

Wallace: This then was the situation: Bloodnok pursued by the mob; Grytpyte pursued by the 9th cavalry; and Bluebottle pursued by his mother. With this in mind, will the listeners please take in their slack, and listen to the occupants of Fort Ftang, preparing for the indian assault...

<locks and chains>

Minnie Banister: Lock us well in, Hen

Henry Crun: Oh, yes. They won't quell old Hen Crun by surprise. Min? Stand against that wall for a certain test.

Minnie Banister: oh. Ok, cockie.

<enormous gunshot>

ooooh, ohh dear, ohhhh

Henry Crun: Did that hurt, Min?

Minnie Banister: Yes!

Henry Crun: Good, then this is a gun, Min.

Uncle Oscar: arrrrrrrr arrr orrrrrarrrrrrg

Henry Crun: Oh, Uncle Oscar! What are you doing out of your grave?

Minnie Banister: He must be feeling better, Henry

Uncle Oscar: Iiiiiaaaaaarrrrr oooohhhhh aarrr I

Minnie Banister: oooh oh who oooh!

Uncle Oscar: oooo

Henry Crun: Oh, Uncle! At your age. You've been at the hormones again.

Uncle Oscar: Narrrr mine aaaa ooorrr aaaaaaaarrrrr

<tinkling sound of something on metal>


Henry Crun: There go his teeth, Min. That means more dinner for us.

Minnie Banister: Yes.

<indian whooping, under the next few lines>

Minnie Banister: What's that!

Henry Crun: oooo

Minnie Banister: oo hooo

Henry Crun: Do you hear that Min?

Minnie Banister: What's that? pishtoo!

Henry Crun: Pishtoo!

Minnie Banister: Whats that?

Henry Crun: Its the war-whoops of the Nakatacka Indians!

Minnie Banister: Are they the ones that commit atrocities?

Henry Crun: Yes, Min.

Minnie Banister: I'll go upstairs and get ready

Henry Crun: Stop it, Min, do you hear?

Minnie Banister: What?

Henry Crun: You know that's for me to say!

Uncle Oscar: aaarrrr arrr arrrr!

Henry Crun: He remembers, Min. He's remembered in leather. Now, Uncle, get inside that coffin and defend it with your life! I shall just announce the next part of the program. Ladies and Gentlemen, I have pleasure in announcing a knock at the door.

<doorbell ringing>

Blast, there's been a change in the program. Who is it?

<opening door>

<indian whoops, mixed with saxophone playing, and hoofbeats>

Minnie Banister: oooooo

Colonel Slocombe: And so folks, with rivers of blood being shed, arson, rape, murder everywhere, we say: Goodnight from Happydrome



They got me folks. Another unhappy ending, especially for me.

[spits] <ding>


<End tune>


The End