Big musical introduction.
Sound of door opening, and Bluebottle (B) runs up to microphone,
where the Secombe (S) is waiting.


B:Oh! Hello everybody! <boos, rasperberries>
S:Just the lad I've been looking for.
B:Oh!
S:<sings>
Clamber in my head, Fred
Whence all but you have fled, Fred
There is no contesting,
I've no way of manifesting
How much I'd prefer you dead, Fred
B:Oh I'm glad you like me, my Captain
Because I trust you too.
S:Gratifiy your wim, Jim.
B:Jim? What happened to Fred?
S:He changed his name.
B:What to?
S:Chunky.
Tell me, can you swim Jim?
B:No, Jim can not swim.
S:Then step upon this plank, son
On the river bank, son
Which I have carefully arranged
so it will suddenly tip up and throw you
into thirty feet of muddy water
when you upset the trim by stepping on
the rim, Jim.
B:I say, it's not for deading me, is it Captain?
S:Oh course not, dear boy! Just walk along it a bit further!
B: Righty-ho then.  Ahh. Here I am on the edge of the nice
little wooden-type plank.  It is a lovely day for
a naughty blank.  <SPLASH!> Arg! Oh!

YAHHH! You've drowneded me.
I do not like this game.

<sings>
I've got those "When I say I trust you I do not want to be drownded
because I do not like those kind of game" Blues.
I don't like tricks that go sploogy-splat
(They say harm can come to a young lad like that)
And I do not like explosions that blow me back to Christmas (?)
Out of my el-seaside pudding queue (???)
I don't like being wetted by nasty April showers
And I do not like being nutted by Eifel and Blackpool towers
So I do not want to be drowned, nutted, deaded, hitteded, splatted
pledded!
I don't like that kind of type blues -- I don't like that
I've got them Bluebottle Blues.

S: Still alive?
Take this cigarette, pet.
B:Oh ta
S:No, don't light it yet, pet.
<off> All right, now you can light it.
B:Are you sure I won't be deaded or nothing, Captain?
S:<off> No, no -- don't be frightened!
B:All right then, I'll just put a match to it,
and .... < BOOOM>

< over explosion >

You rotten swine you!  You deaded me again.
I shan't play this rotten game no more.

Picks up fretted knee caps, replaces lugging lug hole
And exists through little hole in middle of record

<sound of Bluebottle doing same>

<Heavy boots approaching microphone>
(Milligan, unaccompanied) I'm walking backwards for Christmas
-- oh no, that's on the other side!