In 2011 the GSPS celebrated the 60th Anniversary of the first Goon Show with a large scale get together and plaque unveiling at the Strutton Arms (better known before and after as the Grafton Arms). Once he’d recovered, John Repsch wrote up the story of the day for our September 2021 newsletter.
“There’s another anniversary next year, don’t forget.”
Incredulous, I looked at the genius who had uttered these words. We were in The Strutton Arms, it was mid-morning on Saturday 28 May, and I was busy filling another bucket of sweat getting the 60th anniversary event together: What was going where? Would our sound-man arrive in time to set up? Would we have a full cast of actors for the Goon Show performance? Would the audience be overwhelmingly vast? Was it going to rain? Would I remember to say what I wanted to say at the plaque unveiling?
“Yes,” he continued, like one of those Marty Feldman characters. “Next year will be the 40th anniversary of the GSPS…” But before he could launch into what he was going to launch into, I got him off the subject by telling him I preferred battling with one anniversary at a time, and the next one would have to wait. We can jump off that bridge when we come to it.
Mercifully things started slotting in nicely. The oh-so-appropriate Tim Watson, grandson of Jimmy Grafton, turned up in good time to set up the sound; the full complement of thespians arrived; the audience turn-out was in the region of a manageable 75; and it wasn’t going to rain! As for the speech, that remained to be heard, so out we went.
A good place to start was the burglar alarm. Perched about 20 feet up on The Strutton Arms wall, embarrassingly close to where the plaque was curtained off, AIS Total Security couldn’t be allowed to outshine our little masterpiece. So I pointed out that unfortunately we had all missed the alarm box’s official unveiling the week before. (We are promised that it is soon to be transplanted to the other side of the building.)
Then it was time to regurgitate a helping of Goon history. Sixty years ago to the day, the very first Crazy People was broadcast. Jimmy Grafton, the scriptwriting landlord of this highly esteemed watering hole, had lit the fuse, without which certain things might not have happened. At that time, the frantic foursome included the formidable talent of Michael Bentine, whose Professor Osric Pureheart was to play a radioactive role in getting the Goons off the ground.
Over the years, Spike and Larry’s slaving in the scribbling department would be shared by Eric Sykes, John Antrobus and Maurice Wiltshire (whose son Rowan was in the crowd). The Goon Show’s surreal anarchy had gone on to draw a peak listenership of 7 million.
Unfortunately, the show has also caused offence. Accusations of racism have been accepted and the offending lines edited out. Quite rightly so. There are also elements that are distinctly ageist and a bit sexist, and really these should be cut out too, along with various homophobic references and unsavoury humour at the expense of people who are intellectually challenged. With these amendments made, we will be able to switch on, sit back and enjoy: “This is the BBC Home Service,” taking us straight into the marvellous Ray Ellington Quartet and the wonderful Max Geldray. And then: “That was The Goon Show.” Just four minutes, though not quite so funny.
There was then a plug for BBC Radio 4 Extra which, under the command of Mary Kalemkerian, was right now blitzing the nation with an anniversary of Goonery.
Rounding it off was a rallying cry to support The Strutton Arms. Goon pictures have started appearing on the walls, as in days of yore, and its metamorphosis into a theme pub is underway. (Any thoughts on this or making it more Fifties-style, perhaps with a regular comedy slot and/or reverting to the name of Grafton’s, would be received with unseemly relish and picked clean. Incidentally, is the pub the oldest London comedy venue?)
It was then high time for the Prince of Wales’s message, and who better to read it than Laura Camuti? She had paddled her piano across the Atlantic especially to attend the celebration, and brought her best New York accent with her:
Clarence House
“Needless to say, I am incredibly sorry to be missing the 60th anniversary celebrations of The Goon Show, but what has alarmed me is to realize that I am actually older than the Show.
Last year, for my birthday, some kind person gave me a collection of several Goon Show recordings, and I have been happily convulsed by laughter by listening to them in the mornings when I get up – a welcome antidote, from time to time, to the depressing news and current affairs. That, of course, was the whole joy of the Goons’ humour; it wasn’t complicated or unkind, nor did it rely on a surfeit of smut. Instead, it relied on brilliantly witty plays on words and a gloriously eccentric form of imagination that, with the aid of irresistible sound effects, helped create hysterical visual images in the minds of listeners. The end result of all this was invariably to raise the spirts and make people feel better.
Hence, I suppose the Goons provided a kind of psychosomatic service all of their own – something from which some of us have been benefiting ever since, largely thanks to the continuing efforts of the Goon Show Preservation Society and its equally well-preserved Chairman, John Repsch. We owe him a great debt of gratitude for his dedication and enthusiasm, not to mention his remarkable capacity to remember a great many more important details from the old Goon Shows than his Patron can!
This brings you all my most special wishes and congratulations on the occasion of the 60th anniversary, and may there be much ram-pant hysterics in memory of the late, lamented originators of that great British invention – The Goon Show.”
HRH The Prince of Wales
The speech earned a standing ovation, though that may have been because everyone was already standing. In grovellingly humble acceptance of the Prince’s generous sentiments, may I add that although I know a lot more about The Goon Show than a lot of people, a lot of people know a lot more about it than I’ll ever know!
Next it was Spike’s brother Desmond’s turn to take centre stage – this time in the shape of Tina Hammond. (It’s that word again: metamorphosis.) Desmond lives in Woy Woy, Australia because that is where his home is.
Then it was plaque time. Of dear old Eric Sykes there was no sign, so that other legend in his own lifetime, Charles Chilton, stood up and stood in, pulling the cord with the words: “I name this ship ‘The Goon’, and God bless all who drink in her.” That was the cue for a loud sound effect from Fred the Oyster, but it didn’t happen. Fred clammed up, so we had to do a re-run with a flatulent donkey instead!
Hunt Emerson, cartoonist extraordinaire, was at last able to peer up at his masterly caricatures of the four actors, and deemed the plaque “very nice”. It was an opinion probably shared by most of those present, but the manufacturer’s failure to make the caricatures stand out in relief, as per the order, deserves a visit from Major Bloodnok with his blunderbuss.
Incidentally, the idea of installing a commemorative plaque was prompted by a moment of desperation last year at The Strutton Arms. I had just been told that to book our day at the pub for a complimentary private party meant guaranteeing a minimum of fifty people. Impossible, I thought. We’d have to bring the boys back to life. Then I noticed one of those ‘thinks’ bubbles floating above my head, and it had a plaque in it.
Meanwhile, various people had been lined up against the wall awaiting interrogation. They were the VIPs who were seated there on the pavement in front of the pub, and now it was time to extract a few sound-bites. Charles Chilton reminded us of how Spike’s radio debut in The Bowery Bar happened by accident: “Five minutes before we were on the air, I said, ‘Right, everybody set? Where’s the star?’ The star isn’t there. Len Young had got stage fright and had locked himself in the lavatory. So we went to try to get him out, but we couldn’t. So I said, ‘What are we going to do?’ And Spike said, ‘I’ll do it, I’ll do it!’ He’d written the script, so I thought he must be able to do the show. And he did. And that’s the first show he ever did: The Bowery Bar.”
When Burt Kwouk was asked what it was like to do a rehearsal with Sellers in the Pink Panther series, he replied, “Rehearsal – what’s that? We never talked about what we were doing, we just did it. Peter would say, ‘You stand there, I’ll go over there and when I come out you jump on me, all right?'” He added, “I was rather sad when Peter died, for a great many reasons. One of them was the pay cheques stopped coming!”
Joe McGrath recalled a television comedy he had directed, and two reasons why it is never shown: “I did a series with Milligan – if the BBC is listening – called O In Colour. And a year or so ago I wrote to them asking why they never repeat it. I got a letter back saying, ‘It’s racially intolerant and we can’t possibly show this stuff.’ They also quoted one of Milligan’s lines in it, which is absolute Goon. [It’s set in] this place full of British soldiers who’d been arrested hiding from the enemy, and we’re at the castle there – ‘The Castle Lovier or, as they say in France, Chateau Lovier’ – ‘Yours sincerely, the BBC’.”
A young girl’s eye-view was provided by Jimmy Grafton’s daughter Sally, who had watched the Goons trying out their early shows: “Rehearsals were in what was our dining room, with a stage under the window looking out onto the flat roof at the back. They were quite funny. We had an audience of other show business people, and I think they were very glad when my father got off the ground.”
Before we could have at the next victim, a voice from the crowd introduced its owner as Brad Ashton. Back in the Sixties, Brad had been in partnership with Dick Vosburgh and had shared the office above Spike’s at Associated London Scripts. He said that after six years he had had enough of Dick, and decided to take a break in America: “While I was there, Dick wrote a pilot show for the BBC – the Dickie Valentine show called How About You? And they said, ‘Right, we’re going to do a series.’ Dick’s wife wrote to me and said, ‘While you’re enjoying yourself in America, my husband is doing all the work, and you’re benefiting, you bastard.’ I wrote back and I said, ‘Dear Dick, as your wife says I’m a bastard, I think it’s time to break the partnership.’ And I got a letter back from Spike saying, ‘As senior member of Associated London Scripts, I understand you are complaining because Dick’s wife has called you a bastard. In show business the term ‘bastard’ is a term of endearment. Go home, you old bastard!'”
From one funny “old bastard” to Marcel Stellman. It was the rocketing popularity of The Goon Show that had sparked Marcel into getting the three onto disc. But there was a problem: “I phoned Johnny Franz [Harry’s producer at Philips] and I said, ‘Can I have Mr Secombe?’ He said, ‘What for?’ I said, ‘I’d like to have him record with the Goons.’ He said, ‘He can’t sing. He sings for me, and that’s it.’ – ‘Well, can I have him?’ – ‘You can, on one condition. He can shout, he can blow raspberries, he can say anything you want bu, butt he cannot sing a note.’ – ‘I’ll have him because without him I don’t have the Goons.'” Oh, what wonders came to pass when Harry wasn’t singing!
Twenty years and a stack of Decca tracks later, Marcel did it again with their final record: “Peter was in Japan to make a movie; Harry was in Wales making a concert; and Spike was the only one I had. And I was asked to make one last record. Spike said, ‘I’ve got an idea – fruit. ‘The Raspberry Song’.” So Peter came back from Japan. Harry came back from Wales to make the recording and go back the next day. My claim to fame was to get those three genii together in one room at one time. To record them is the only thing that I did in my life that I’m really proud of.”
We could almost have finished it all off on that high note, but there was another one to come. Sixty short years had galloped by since that first Crazy People broadcast and it was time to resurrect the script. Les Drew had been masterminding the operation, tweaking the odd line, casting the cast and foraging for noises. That morning the Sussex Goons Phil Ladd and ‘Desperate’ Dave Withal, along with Peter Stanford, had been suffering from Chronic Lack of Rehearsals Syndrome, but they found themselves in good company when the famous Goon Again actors Jon Glover and Jeffrey Holland climbed aboard. Jon and Jeffrey had not even seen the script! A huddled read-through or two in one of the pub’s nooks should, it was hoped, save everyone’s bacon.
I had been on standby in case of any actors suddenly pulling out and any barrels needing scraping. Sorry to confess, having studied the script, I had found it dated and pun-heavy, and I had expected the audience to lapse into embarrassed silence. So I suffered a very pleasant seizure when the ancient mummified text suddenly came alive, inciting laughter and applause, right from the off:
ANNOUNCER: What is the zaniest comedy show on the air today?
SPIKE: Er – yesterday in Parliament?
ANNOUNCER: No, it’s those ‘Crazy People’, the Goons.
And a few tasters for those who missed it:
HARRY: At that time I was living in dire poverty – have you ever lived in dire poverty, friend?
PETER: No, I have a little flat in Finchley.
HARRY: What a merry place to be sure – continuing my story – I was very, very poor, worry turned me grey. This gave me a peculiar appearance as I was completely bald at the time.
One of the shows sketches tells the story of how British motor racing started:
MICHAEL: Splutmuscle, here’s five thousand pounds. I want you to go to Italy and bring back the finest motoring brains that money can buy.
PETER: Righty-ho!
MICHAEL: Three weeks later he arrived back with a glass jar. In it were the finest motoring brains that money could buy.
If you are ancient enough to remember Dick Barton! Special Agent! this may sound unfamiliar:
GRAMS: ‘Devil’s Gallop’
HARRY: In our last episode you will remember we left Dick, Jock and Snowey trapped in a gas-filled sewer (which you’ll remember was beneath a haddock-stretching factory in Park Lane). You will remember they were suspended by their feet. (You will remember they had feet.) Jock works himself free and cuts Dick and Snowey down.
PETER: Good work, Jock.
HARRY: Ohhhhhhh!
PETER: Good heavens! Snowey’s fainted. Quick, Jock, you take his legs.
SPIKE: I can’t, they’re joined to his body.
While our actors were conjuring up a cacophony of characters, sound effects maestro Les was at his wit’s end in squeezing so much as a squeak out of his steam-driven tape machine. Naturally, the more troubles Les had, the louder the laughter. After all, it was The Goon Show, so what did we expect?
The performance was followed by an ‘on-the-house’ buffet, prepared courtesy of the resident cordon bleu, Lyndsey Lynch, and ravenously devoured courtesy of all present. Also thrown into the mix was a birthday cake, baked and cleverly covered with Goon Show ingredients by Mrs Steed, wife of Mr Steed.
Rounding things off were more quick-fire interviews, including one with the captivating Sandra Caron, always in danger of being up-staged by her hat (Did anyone get a photo of it?), and followed by a raffle in aid of the starving plaque. And really putting the old tin lid on it was a 29-second clip of our day’s depravities paraded on BBC’s London News just before closing time.
Now, when did he say the next anniversary is?
Before we go, here’s a video Ann Perrin made on the day
The Bit at the End where the Credits Roll
We render our deepest gratitude to all the VIPs for entertaining us. And hearty handshakes to Mike Brown for capturing Brad Ashton, and to chauffeur deluxe Terry Freedman for driving Burt Kwouk and Charles & Penny Chilton to distraction (via West Hampstead).
Great also to see Ann ‘Telegoons’ Perrin, with Eccles and movie camera unleashed (see above), and Gina Marks, a distant cousin of Peter Sellers, sadly the nearest to a Goon family member that we were able to entice.
Well done the travelling players Les, Phil, ‘Desperate’ Dave, Peter and especially Jeffrey and Jon, fresh from their recent gig from ten years ago in Goon Again.
Many thanks to Tim ‘grandson of the grandfather’ Watson for making things audible; to BBC camera-operator Angie Walker for filming the show; and to Mark Adams for digicaming the outside bit. A multitude of thank-yous to Dave & Lyndsey Lynch, Ian and the rest of the Strutton Arms staff for strutting their stuff, and pulling the pints and strings to help make it happen.
Tumultuous thanks to those who donated to the plaque appeal – another £750 to go. And to the illustrious illustrator Hunt Emerson whose Goon faces are on it.
And a poignant thank you to David ‘Mate’ Smith, on marshalling duty outside, for making sure that any people being run over or falling down drains were kept to a minimum.
Also best wishes to those who said they’d be unable to attend, including Lady Secombe (right as rain again after a bad cough and cold); John Antrobus (who to our blessed relief has sent packing a very nasty case of muscular dystrophy of the throat); Jimmy Grafton and Graham Stark (both a lot better since the anniversary than before it); Richard Lester (who was helping speed up convalescence in the family).
Christopher Timothy, enslaved by rehearsals for Alan Ayckbourn’s Haunting Julia; and the evergreen Barry Cryer, who was on tour and “really p——- off that I can’t make it.”
And finally Sandra Caron’s hat.
The Goon Show Preservation Society 