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The Flea
Greenslade: This is the BBC. Ladies and gentlemen, The Goon Show.
Fx: lots of piano music
Seagoon: Gad! Didn't that music do something to you Wallace?
Greenslade: No, but I'd like to do something to that music.
Seagoon: What? You realise, of course, you're talking of Peter
Sellers? The world's greatest outdoor pianist? Did you hear that
build up I gave you, Mr Sellers?
Sellers: [snoring/brrrrr car-type noise]
Seagoon: [over] I say... Don't tell me you're down to that, in
motorcars?
Sellers: No , I've just ordered a new super-spon reversal senna
pod, twelve horse power convertable. I was only making that
noise, until it arrived. Then it can do it for me. [brrrrrr
car-type noise]
Seagoon: [over brrrr-ing] How jolly for you, Fred Sellers.
Sellers: [brrrrrr-up] Hup!
Seagoon: Thankyou. We'll persue to the herm herm and the herm.
[that first bit was heavily edited. Probably unfunny adlibbing
that was cut] This week the play is entitled...
Fx: great build up fanfare
Seagoon: I've forgotten what it was, now... [giggles]
Greenslade: Allow me...
Milligan: [off] [over] Al-ow ow ow...
Greenslade: ...allow me, you silly little nit.
Milligan: [off] [garbled]
Secombe: [off] What? [hysterical laugh]
Greenslade: We present, we present, The Flea.
Milligan: #Ah, ha, ha, The Flea. Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,
ha ha ha ha ha, The Flea.#
Seagoon: [raspberry]
Fx: music
Greenslade: The year: sixteen sixty five. Sixteen sixty five?
Good heavens, I must hurry, I'll miss my bus!
Fx: quill and parchment noises
Seagoon: [writing] [garbled] December, sixteen sixty five. Did
rise, [garbled], finding much snow without, did put on my belly
binder, and warm knees. Sported thereafter with Mrs Fitsimmonds,
and did [garbled] me later, the Ward's coffee house, to break my
thirst. [?]
Fx: fanfare
Voices: mutter mumble
Daisy: [camp] Oh, good morrow, master Peeps. Cappuchino?
Seagoon: No. Just coffee, Daisy.
Daisy: Black, or white?
Seagoon: White. With a dash of milk.
Daisy: Oh hoho! You tease!
Seagoon: Now, with whom can I make gossip, this chilly morn? I
see nobody, though, and nobody sees me. What a coincident, egad,
spon, to be sure. Hern hern. Hi diddle dee. Needle nardle noo.
Splin splan splon. Ying ton iddle-i-po. And remember, you've got
to go owwwww!
Grytpype: How very interesting that was.
Seagoon: I'm sorry, I didn't see you standing in that coffee pot!
Grytpype: I know, we had the lid down.
Seagoon: We? Where's your friend?
Grytpype: He's up the spout.
Moriarty: Owwwwww. You got to go owwwww!
Seagoon: [garbled] He's just been owwwwed.
Grytpype: Yes, it's all the rage! Now, erm, have these two seats
been taken?
Seagoon: No, there still here! Hahahaha! Ahahaha. Ahaha. Ahahaha.
Ahaha. Ha-ahem.
Grytpype: A charlie!
Seagoon: What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What?
What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What?
Bwark! What? What? What? Bwark! [chicken noises]
Grytpype: I was only...
Seagoon: Bwark!
Grytpype: ...nearly, saying that, the other day! This is my
friend, Count Jim 'Thighs' Moriarty.
Moriarty: Oww.
Seagoon: A German diplomat is always welcome in England.
Moriarty: What? Sapristinockows! Hairy insult! You insult me, a
Frenchman! We must fight a duel.
Fx: bang bang
Moriarty: Honour is satisfied!
Seagoon: And so am I!
Moriarty: Tah dah.
Fx: fanfare
Moriarty: Hoy!
Grytpype: Sir, you will excuse this, steaming Gaul. He is er,
given to short temper, as he has no logings for the night.
Seagoon: Er, I can't see a French Count sleeping in the street!
Moriarty: Of course not! I've got up now! Owwwww owwww oww.
Grytpype: He's just been oww, again!
Seagoon: I should like to accomodate you for the night, but...
Moriarty: We accept!
Grytpype: I second that! Moriarty, go and pack the [garbled].
Moriarty: Owwwa'm gonna go an' go an' erm owwwwoooowwoowwo...
Fx: quill and parchment noises
Seagoon: [writing] Did return home, with the two gentlemen. Did
not sport with Mrs Fitsimmonds, owing to the cold weather, and
the presence French Count and his manager, who occupied my second
best bed.
Grytpype: You er, you heard that nice gentleman, Moriarty, put
on your second best pyjamas.
Moriarty: Owwwwww...
Grytpype: There he goes again. He never thinks of anything else,
these days. By the way, Moriarty, did you notice the brass name
plate on our host's door?
Moriarty: Yes! I've got it here!
Grytpype: Hmm, you clever, you clever little vandal, you! You see
what it says: Samuel Peeps, Secretary to the Navy. We couldn't
have picked a better charlie, for our plan.
Moriarty: Hoiooioioiooooo! Owwwooowooow. Sapristi nadgers! If it
works, we'll get rich beyond the dreams of Alwin! [?]
Grytpype: Now, where's Francoise, the flea?
Moriarty: Francoise the flea, is inside my sock. He likes to
travel on foot! Hoihoihoihoioooooo! Hoi!
Grytpype: Now, Moriarty, are you sure this flea is reliable?
Moriarty: Reliable? Mon [garbled]. This flea has bitten all the
crown heads of Europe, and sometimes lower than that!
Grytpype: You mean, that this flea has royal blood?
Moriarty: Ouiiiii, ouiiiii.
Grytpype: In that case, he might be fussy. We shall have to
blindfold him. He must never know, who he's biting. Let's have
a look at him...
Moriarty: I'll just unchain him. Whola!
Grytpype: Mmm! Let's see him jump.
Moriarty: Er, Francoise, hup!
Fx: boing boing boing boing boing
Moriarty: [over] Steady, steady. Save your energy, boy. Save it!
Steady, steady. Woooaa.
Grytpype: I see he favours the western role. Now, action
Moriarty! Chain him to your nightshirt.
Moriarty: Right!
Fx: chains
Moriarty: [over] Ahh, ah, ow!
Grytpype: Now, during the night, on a given signal, Francoise
will bite you...
Moriarty: I'm too young!
Grytpype: Moriarty, the reward will be great! You'll be able to
retire, Francoise, to stud, on a dog of his own. He'll be able
to go..
Moriarty: Oooww, oww.
Grytpype: Thankyou. Now, off you go to ninny byes, while I strum,
Max Geldray.
Moriarty: [over Max] Oooww, Max Geldray...
Max Geldray
Moriarty: Thankyou. And now, ooooiohohooo!
Fx: door opening
Moriarty: [over] My pectorals!
Seagoon: What oh-s, what oh-s, my many screaming guests.
Grytpype: Mr Peeps! The Count Jim 'Thighs' Moriarty has been
bitten by one of your English fleas.
Seagoon: There are no fleas in my house.
Grytpype: No? Moriarty, bend down and show the gentleman the
bites.
Seagoon: Nonsense! This bedding is flea free. It's burnt twice
a day!
Grytpype: Oh! Then what's this on the sheets?
Seagoon: Let me see... [reading] Siberian Railways.
Moriarty: Proof positive! No wonder there's fleas.
Grytpype: Master Peeps, I must warn you. Anything you take down,
will be up-rooted, replanted in Trafalgar Square, and used in
evidence, against you.
Fx: fanfare
Moriarty: Hoi!
Fx: quill and parchment noises
Seagoon: [writing] Fifth of December. Did sport with Mrs
Fitsimmonds, and then, to the law courts.
Fx: orchestra tuning up, followed by a gavel
Ellington: Silence! Silence in court. Silence. The court will now
rise, for the Lord Cheif Justice, Jim Spriggs.
voices: [moans] Er, Rhubarb! Rhubarb rhubarb.
sp: Please, please sit [garbled]. The case is come to Jim
'Thighs' Moriarty. Minister without underpants, versus the
British Crown, with underpants. Will the plaintive open the case?
Greenslade: [french accent] My lord, we claim damages of forty
thousand golden crowns, for the savage attack by an English flea,
residing under the roof of Mr Samuel Peeps, Secretary to the
Navy.
sp: Ahhh. Well acted! Now then, what is a Navy?
Seagoon: [shouting] A Navy my lord, is an army, entirely
surrounded by water!
sp: Silence! Silence please! Or I'll have the court cleared.
Seagoon: [raspberry]
sp: Thankyou very much. Now then, what makes you think the
British Crown should pay for this, flea bite?
Grytpype: It was a British flea, my lord.
Seagoon: [shouting again] My lord! I object! I move that the
flea's nationality be proven, before this case proceds!
sp: Agreed! Call the flea!
Ellington: The flea!
Milligan: [off] The flea!
Sellers: [off] The flea!
Fx: horse galloping toward us
Crun: [over, as horse slows to a stop] Wooooa, wooa mate.
Woooa-ooh-oh.
sp: Great Jupiter! Mate. Is that thing a flea?
Crun: No, it's an 'orse, mate.
sp: A horse?
Crun: Yes.
sp: Take his hat off.
Crun: Yeah.
sp: You're right, it is a horse. Where, where's the flea?
Crun: He's on the 'orse, mate. I thought he'd get here quicker
that way, you see.
sp: I see. Now then, as he's not riding side saddle, I presume
he's a male flea...?
Crun: Yeah, yes.
sp: Ah ha, will the flea, will the flea raise his right leg, and
swear to tell the truth.
Fx: boing boing
sp: Thank you. Thankyou, thankyou. Now Mr Peeps, will you please
take the, the flea in the palm of your right hand, and see if you
can identify him.
Seagoon: [still shouting] My lord! I can honestly say, I have
never seen this flea before in my life! I claim, that he is a
forgeiner!
voices: [moans] Rhubarb, rhubarb. Rhubarb, rhubarb. Rhubarb,
rhubarb. Rhubarb, rhubarb.
Moriarty: Gridpype, suppose they discover Francoise is French.
Grytpype: Impossible! I destroyed his passport, I tell you.
sp: Silence! It is the opinion of this court, that the flea will
re-, will remain in custody, while a description of him, is
circulated to Interpol.
Greenslade: Dear listeners, I spring forward at this moment, to
mention to those of you who have not been in jug on the
contenent[?], that Interpol is an international organisation of
policemen. I do hope you find these little snippets of
information, helpful. If they are, then, my job has been well
worthwhile.
Fx: fanfare
Milligan: [off] Continue please...
Greenslade: [over] And now, The Flea, part two, in which
Moriarty, and Gridpype [garbled], to a flea circus, with a plan.
Fx: drum roll
Crun: Ladies and gentlemen, the hero of tonight's performance of
War and Peace, is the wonder flea, star of knee, thigh, and
chest, who has just returned from a highly sucessfull tour of Mrs
Fitsimmonds. Here he is! Little Jim!
Fx: dogs barking, boing boing boing boing boing boing
Grytpype: Moriarty, hand me those [garbled]. What luck! Little
Jim is the living image of Francoise, even to the scar on his
chin.
Moriarty: What now?
Grytpype: After the performance, we take this shaggy dog
backstage, no flea could resist a ride on a dog like this.
Moriarty: You're right...
Greenslade: [over] Er, excuse me, please. Excuse me, just a
moment. Excuse me please. Ladies and gentlemen, at this stage,
the BBC are concerned about the possibility, of this show causing
listeners some, erm, irritation. I should like to state,
therefore, that there are no real fleas taking part in this
programme. The parts of all the fleas, are taken by small
grasshoppers, painted black.
Secombe: Are you done?
Greenslade: Yes.
Secombe: Thankyou.
Seagoon: December the sixth.
Fx: quill and parchment
Seagoon: [writing] Did sport with Mrs Fitsimmonds...
Milligan: Owwww....
Seagoon: ... and, being suspicious of Gridpype Thinne, I did
place two, stalwart guards, outside the accused fleas cell in
Newgate Prison.
Fx: footsteps and jangling keys
Fx: boing, boing, boing
Bluebottle: Have you ever guarded a flea before Eccles?
Eccles: No. This is the first big job I had. Just a minute...
[off] Hoi!
Fx: boing
Eccles: That made him jump! Did you hear that? [garbled] Doi!
That's him, when he go... Doi! Hego, hego,
doing! Doing, he do that all the time. He does the lum...
Bluebottle: You're a naughty cruel thing, Eccles. You hould not
do that! You may have fleas of your own, one day.
Eccles: Oohhh, I'm, I'm sorry 'bottle.
Bluebottle: Lance Corporal 'Bottle, to you!
Eccles: Sorry, Lance Corporal 'Bottle to you.
Bluebottle: I should jollyd well think so too. Stand, stand to
cardboard attention!
Eccles: Owwwowowow.
Bluebottle: Chin up! Chest in!
Eccles: But it hurts!
Bluebottle: Thinks: I will teach this naughty man a lesson.
Eccles?
Eccles: Yeah?
Bluebottle: Raise right leg!
Eccles: O.K.
Bluebottle: Now raise, left leg.
Eccles: Right.
Bluebottle: Ohhhh! How is it that you got three legs, Eccles?
Eccles: 'Cause the forth one fell off. Oww, oow.
Bluebottle: Well, we've given them enough Terrance Rattigan-type
dialogue. It's time to exercise our flea-type prisoner. Private
Eccles, open flea pit!
Fx: creak of flea pit hinges
Eccles: [over] Oohh! Here, do you think it's safe to take his leg
shakles off?
Bluebottle: Do not worry, Eccles. I will keep him covered with
this flea powder.
Eccles: Oh dear, O.K. well, I'll, I'll run the flea round the
yard on his lead.
Fx: boing, boing, boing, boing, boing,
Eccles: [over] Oh oh! Steady! Wooa. Wooa, stop, please. Wooa,
steady, steady now. Woa, woa. Woa, woa.
Bluebottle: Eeoeah! Eccles, don't let him come near me! I don't
want to be bited. I'm an East Finchley-type boy, and, there are
no fleas in East Finchley. Flealess Fincherly, they call it!
Eeehehe! I don't like this game! I'm all itchy-coo!
Greenslade: Er, listeners, er, we should like to reassure you
once again, that at no stage in this drama, do genuine fleas take
part. To allow you to relax, here is Ray Ellington, and his
D.D.T. quartet.
Milligan: [over Ray] [garbled] Ho!
Ray Ellington
Fx: music (1812 overture)
Seagoon: Eighteen twelve? And in sixteen sixty five! Ahahaha! So
much for humor. Well now.
Fx: quill and parchment
Seagoon: [writing] December the splon. Did sport with Mrs
Fitsimmonds. Haa-mm. Suddenly...
Fx: door opening
Bluebottle: Captain, Mr Peeps, sir. Hello, Mrs Fitsimmonds.
Captain, two men crept up on us, from behind, and overpowered us
with a quarter of Pontefract cakes.
Seagoon: They nearly had you on the run!
Bluebottle: Yes! Then, thinking that I... that em... thinking
that they had, made us unconcious, we the dredded Prontelfracts,
they switched fleas and made off with our one! Hello, Mrs
Fitsimmonds!
Seagoon: So, Moriarty's flea, was a forigener. We must stop it
leaving the country, or the crown will loose the case. To the
Millitary!
Bluebottle: To the Millingtree! Good bye Mrs Fitsimmonds.
Fx: fanfare
Bloodnok: Ooooohooohoooo! Ohhohooo! Ohhh! Oh you caught me out
then, lads, you did!
Fx: knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock,
knock, knock,
Bloodnok: Ooohohhoo! Out the back, Mrs Fitsimmonds, dear. Ohoho!
[off] Come in!
Fx: door opening
Seagoon: Now, Major Bloodnok.
Bloodnok: Ohohoho! Oho!
Seagoon: Helllooo, Mrs Fitsimmonds! Any signs of these men, with
the fugitive flea?
Bloodnok: No, no no.
Seagoon: It's not good enough, Major.
Bloodnok: What?
Seagoon: Are your men reliable?
Bloodnok: Myuk!? My men reliable? My...? Captain Curhuthers. Tell
him.
ct: Ahhh, well, er, they are, er, eraahhh, men sir, arr, well,
you see, er, well, aaaaahhhhhh, I- [giggles], I, I, I suppose
they arrrrrhhhh, well um, you, ahhhhhhhhhhhahhhhhhhhhh.
Bloodnok: Well Seagoon. Does that answer your question?
Seagoon: I can't remember the question....
ct: Nether can I!
Seagoon: Thankyou.
Bloodnok: Thankyou.
Seagoon: Excuse me a moment, Major!
Fx: door opening.
Bloodnok: What?
ct: Yeahhhhh...
Fx: door closing, followed by quill and parchment
Seagoon: [writing] I retired to adjacent room, with a breifly
sport with Mrs Fitsimmonds.
Fx: door opening/closing
??: [over and off] Oh not again!
Seagoon: Ahemm. Well now, Major Bloodnok. We suspect, that the
er, forigen flea, might be an exact replica of the flea I've got
in this horse box.
Bloodnok: Oooh! What cunning...
Ellington: [off] Er, excuse me Major, a company of my highlanders
have caught two men trying to slip past on a banana skin.
Bloodnok: Bring them in, McGregor!
Seagoon: How did he get in a Scottish regiment?
Bloodnok: He lied about his age.
Ellington: Come on! Come on you two, there! Come on! Come on get
in here angels.[?] Come on.
Moriarty and Grytpype: [moans of resentment]
Grytpype: Stop pushing us! Don't push.
Ellington: Come on!
Moriarty: Ahhh!
Grytpype: Steaming nit!
Ellington: Get up.
Moriarty: Take your filth hand of my filthy neck.
Seagoon: That's him! I recognise him by his...
Moriarty: Ooowww!
Seagoon: Now. Where's that French flea?
Grytpype: Outside on a sheepdog.
Fx: door opening, dogs barking
Seagoon: Ahhhh! Forty, long haired sheepdogs! Which one is he on?
Bloodnok: I'll soon find him. In a military way! Dogs, from the
right, number!
Fx: woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, howwwwl!
Bloodnok: That's the one! That's the one! Search him!
Fx: boing
Bloodnok: Ohh, ahhh, now, into the dustbin with him.
Fx: clang
Bloodnok: Ha! Got him!
Moriarty: They've got the flea in there!
Bloodnok: Ahh, got him there!
Seagoon: Well, Gridpype, ahahahaha, this is the end of your
nafairious career!
Moriarty: Ooowww!
Grytpype: Yes, and yours!
Seagoon: What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What?
What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What? What?
What do you mean?
Grytpype: Mr Peeps, we've found a diary. Let me read you a sample
extract. [reading] December the third. Whilst the King was away,
did sport madly, with Nel Guin.
Seagoon: [swallows] Oh come, chaps, you're joking! Hahaha-nelly!
Let's forget everything, eh? L-l-l-l-l-l-lets go owwww, together!
Ahahaha!
Moriarty: Yes. For one thousand pounds.
Seagoon: Oooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
Grytpype: He's just been ooooooowwwwww'd.
Moriarty: One thousand poinds....
Fx: closing music
Seagoon: [over] Ooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwww!
Greenslade: That was the Goon Show, a BBC recorded programme,
featuring Peter Sellers, Harry Secombe, and Spike Milligan. With
the Ray Ellington Quartet, Max Geldray, and the orchestra
conducted by Wally Stott. Script by Spike Milligan, and Larry
Stevens. Announcer Wallace Greenslade. The program produced by
Pat Dixon.
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