This article by John Repsch tells a story from 1949, in the days before the Goon Show hit the airwaves. It was originally published in Issue 124 of the GSPS newsletter in November 2008.
“NEWSFLASH: RARE SELLERS/GOON SHOW SCRIPT TO BE AUCTIONED”
Thus trumpeted an e-mail from the ever watchful Mark Cousins in June, alerting me to the undeniable fact that his all seeing ear is still firmly pressed to the ground.
His missive ran: ‘I have recently been informed by Bonhams that their up-and-coming sale on 18 June features an item of interest to Goons and Sellers fans. Namely the original script of Tatters Castle (better known to us as Sellers’ Castle) and the immediate forerunner to The Goon Show…’
Tatters Castle? Never ‘eard of it. Nowhere in my Goonographies could I find a sniff of the thing, and no one I spoke to was any the wiser. Even Bonhams auctioneers sounded puzzled in the catalogue blurb Mark had sent me:
“This recording can perhaps be described as a pre-pilot and is a step in the development of what would emerge as the legendary Goon Show. The title itself is a revelation as the name of the recording has so far generally been known as Sellers’ Castle.”
The scripts provenance, they said, was one Geoffrey Owen, the sound engineer who was to become head of BBC Radio 2 in 1976.
Bonham’s then went on to describe the Grafton’s public house period in Goon history, and how the script had come about. They based their information on Roger Lewis’s biography of Peter Sellers but, since it was Jimmy Grafton who wrote the script, it was probably Grafton who knew more about it, as described in his essential book The Goon Show Companion.
Nicknamed KOGVOS – Keeper of Goons and Voice of Sanity – he says that, on an early tape recorder of his, he recorded the improvised fantasies that they occasionally performed for the customers in a room upstairs. The old parlour game of ‘Consequences’ was a favourite, with the actors each discretely contributing a slice of storyline based on the last sentence recorded by the previous performer. The disjointed absurdity of these sketches and others was so well received when played back on the magical machine that eventually something in similar vein had to be plotted and scripted, as Jimmy explains:
“By 1950 it seemed to me that we had the ammunition needed to fire our ideas at the BBC. It was time to present them with an actual show. Peter Sellers, the most advanced in his radio career, obviously had to be the figurehead. To accommodate the zany characters of the others, Spike and I chose as a setting a ramshackle castle owned by ‘the twenty-second (FX: SHOT. SCREAM). I beg your pardon, the twenty-third Lord Sellers.’ To assist his impecunious lordship in raising money for the maintenance of his estate, Mike was to play a crazy inventor, while Alfred Marks was an impresario with a singing protégé, Harry. Spike was his usual Eccles character. (‘Who are you?’ – ‘I’m a serf.’ – ‘What’s that man doing on your back?’ – ‘Da – serf-riding.’) Also in the cast were Janet Brown, Peter Butterworth and Robert Moreton. The script of Sellers’ Castle contained story line with a historical flashback to one of Lord Sellers’ ancestors. In retrospect, the dialogue was a mixture of craziness and corn, but the whole thing had a shape and was tailored to the various talents in evidence at the time.”
In another source, Alfred Draper’s The Story of the Goons, it is Bentine and Milligan who are named as the scriptwriters, with help from the thriller-writer Larry Stephens, who had turned to comedy. As for Jimmy, he was credited merely as “a restraining influence and saw to it that while they pushed comedy to the brink, they didn’t topple it over the edge.” However. the fact that Jimmy’s and Spike’s names are on the front page points to their having played the major roles in committing the show to print, probably with contributions from all concerned.
Jimmy then booked the cast into a friends recording studio, Gui de Buire’s in London’s Bond Street, where they recorded excerpts from the script. Asked along to narrate the links on his first Goonish assignment was Andrew Timothy, who had served as a fellow officer in Grafton’s former regiment and was now a BBC announcer.
Next Jimmy offered the recording to producer Roy Speer, – yes, the very Roy Speer who a desperate Sellers had once duped into kick-starting his career. Speer was impressed and asked to see the script, to which Jimmy went one better by arranging for the cast to come in and perform it for him. A few days later they did so at the BBC’s Aeolian Hall and, when they assured him they could supply an entire series, he promised to recommend it to the planners. The next stage would be to record a pilot episode or, as it was called then, a ‘trial recording’. So this Tatters Castle script had to be it.
Off I fled to the pre-auction viewing in Knightsbridge to see this wondrous thing that had come to light, and to make sure we weren’t being sniggled by the man who forged Hitler’s Diaries. Hastily I scanned through the typescript, under the beady-eyed gaze of one of Bonhams’ assistant vultures – in the likely event that I should try to eat it or swap it for a Hancock one.
Dated 26 April 1949, the trial recording was 28 pages long and credited the writers James Douglas and Spike Milligan (Douglas being Jimmy’s middle name), with Jacques Brown as producer. The music was provided by Jack Jordan and Stanley Black & his Court Minstrels. The script certainly looked, felt and smelt fossilized enough to have been exhumed from the neolithic 1949 era, and so a few days later I retraced my steps for the auction. Entertainment Memorabilia, Lot No: 114. With a sky-high valuation of £800 – £1200 on it, I was keen to meet the successful bidder. This turned out extraordinarily easier than expected. Since I became one of the two people chasing it, and the £800 final bid would not quite condemn me to eating fishbones for breakfast, lunch and tea, I secured the interview I was after. Talking to myself has never been hard because I’ve always been a good listener.
So this was the script that everything had hinged on. According to Jimmy Grafton, having been guaranteed by Roy Speer that he would recommend the show. “The next step. I knew. would be the making of a pilot episode of Sellers’ Castle for the planners to hear and approve.” The slight confusion here is that the script they would be performing would not be Sellers’ Castle but Tatters Castle. The one would metamorphose into the other.
My subsequent clawing around for clarification amongst the goonographic sources yielded a mess of contradictions, variously stating the year of that first audition as anywhere from 1948 to 1951. The nearest any writer has got is Humphrey Carpenter who hits the date dead on 26 April 1949, but attributes it to when Jimmy Grafton hired the commercial recording studio. Further muddying the waters is Jimmy himself who, although being a star witness, claims that the first audition for the BBC planners – the one produced by Jacques Brown and which he calls Sellers’ Castle – was recorded at the BBC’s Piccadilly Studio. The script states The Criterion Theatre.
Spike’s aforementioned ‘serf-riding’ joke is out, and so apparently is Spike. Out too have gone Alfred Marks, Janet Brown, Peter Butterworth and Andrew Timothy, making way for a new cast list of the Foursome plus Robert Moreton, Doris Nicholls, Bob Bain and announcer Denis Castle. Mike and Harry’s ‘crazy inventor’ and ‘singer’ have blossomed into ballet impresarios. And Peter is now the twenty-second Earl of Sellers, as opposed to the twenty-third. Lord Seller’s lack of cash is never mentioned, and nor is his need to raise money to maintain the castle. However, the script does still contain a historical flashback.
So it comes as no unbearably devastating shock that the Bonham’s blurb was actually describing the wrong document!
Sadly, the sound engineer Geoffrey Owen, whose script it was that was auctioned, died just two years ago. But Bobby Jaye recalls providing the ‘spot effects’ for the show, especially at the start:
ANNOUNCER: Tatters Castle – this worn and aged castle. built by blood, sweat and tears – building contractors – has stood for centuries. To the distant viewer it is distinguished by four massive crumbling towers.
EFFECTS (SPOT): CRASH
ANNOUNCER: Three massive crumbling towers. As the sun rises…
“I was the crash!” declares Bobby. “And I remember while I was doing it saying to myself, Dear God, I’m glad there’s no one from the regiment here can see me doing this now.”
As a retired captain in a cavalry regiment it would probably be considered a little demeaning. I collected a whole pile of cans and piled them all up on the stage. And I had a long iron bar, and at the right time I crashed into it with the bar. And everybody thought that was terribly funny. I shouldn’t think it sounded the remotest bit like a tower coming down! All it needed from me was a bloody great bang, and that was good enough for them.”
Now to the storyline itself. All revolves around Peter the Earl of Sellers. who is sharing his ancestral home with his Aunt Lavinia, his valet Moreton and the duo he refers to as ‘our two crackpots’, the ‘no good’ ballet impresarios Mike and Harry. It’s morning and time to wake his lordship:
MORETON: Ah, Lord Peter – you’re awake at last, sir.
PETER: (Yawning) Hello Moreton. (Yawn) Wassatime?
MORETON: Six-thirty, sir. I was told to call you early.
PETER: Not Early, Moreton – just carry on calling me ‘Sir’.
MORETON: Shall I get your breakfast, sir?
PETER: Yes.
MORETON: Very good, sir.
EFFECTS (SPOT): POP OF BOTTLE CORK
EFFECTS (SPOT): LIQUOR BEING POURED IN GLASS
MORETON: Anything solid to dip into it, sir?
PETER: No thank you, Moreton.
MORETON: Righto, sir. Now I’ll open the window and let in some country air.
EFFECTS (SPOT): WINDOW OPENING
EFFECTS (SPOT): EAR-SPLITTING FARMYARD NOISES
PETER: (yelling) Close that window. I can’t stand it, Moreton, I can’t stand it.
EFFECTS (SPOT): WINDOW CLOSES
MORETON: I beg your pardon, sir – there was a slight draught.
PETER: Mmmmm. Any mail?
MORETON: Oh yes sir, one letter. A very important looking one too.
PETER: Read it to me. It might he an offer from the BBC, for me to do some of my impressions.
MORETON: Can’t be from the BBC sir, it’s got a stamp on.
The letter is from the Ministry of Rural Replanning, notifying him in rampant gobbledygook that the castle is being considered for compulsory requisition, and that their representative, Mr T. Muckswold Quince, will be calling round and expecting accommodation to be laid on. Peter decides on at plan of action. He and the others will fetch the ancient armour that he keeps in the dungeons, and that night they will dress up as ghosts and scare Muckswold out of his wits, out of the castle and out of any further thoughts of taking it over. However, doing such ghost impersonations seems a trifle unnecessary when we are introduced to Angus McCabre, Peter’s actual, real-dead Scottish ancestor who lurks around down there. Unfortunately he’s timid and easily scared:
ANGUS: Ye gave me an awfu’ fright, all of you. I thought you were ghosts.
MORETON: Oh Angus.
ANGUS: Aye, Mr Moreton?
MORETON: Be careful when you haunt the North Wing – it’s just been painted.
ANGUS: Aye – I will. And Mister Moreton, would you mind closing the door of the Great Hall after midnight – there’s a terrible draught. It blows right through me. Well, I must be awa’ the noo. I’m taking Annie Laurie to a dance.
HARRY: What – the Annie Laurie?
ANGUS: No -just anny lorry that comes along.
Soon their unwanted guest Muckswold Quince arrives, and he is offered the usual hospitality:
PETER: Make yourself at home, Mr Quince. Do you drink?
MUCKSWOLD: Well, he-he-he, it has been said that I have the thirst of a sponge.
PETER: The thirst of a sponge, eh? Moreton, what do you suggest?
MORETON: A glass of bath water, sir?
MUCKSWOLD: Oh, he-he-he, a capital quip. I smoke as well, you know.
PETER: Like a chimney?
MUCKSWOLD: No thanks, an ordinary cigarette will do.
Later Muckswold Quince suspects them of plotting, but he doesn’t suspect they suspect he’s suspicious. After being shown into his old, decrepit bedchamber – “If you want anything,” says Moreton,“scream” – he later goes downstairs for dinner. He finds the meat delicious, but doesn’t enjoy it so much when told it was once a ballerina:
MORETON: He’s fainted sir, see if this brandy will help.
PETER: Fine, Moreton. (Gulps) Now get one for Mr Quince.
MIKE: Bring him over by the fire.
PETER: Harry, quick take his legs.
HARRY: O.K. (Grim!) I can’t. They are fixed to his body.
After Muckswold comes round, they seek some light entertainment [and probably a chance to fill some airtime] by switching on the radio. The ‘Charlie Chestnut Show’ affords Tatters Castle an interlude, with the cast performing some distorted music hall numbers.
Eventually Muckswold retires to his bedchamber, only to find a ghostly shape there which wasn’t there before:
MUCKSWOLD: Good heavens, what’s that white thing near the bed?
ANGUS: It’s me – Angus McCabre.
MUCKSWOLD: Angus McCabre? Who are you, how long have you been here?
ANGUS: About two hundred years.
MUCKSWOLD: Now look here, I know what you’re up to. I can see through you, you know.
Unfortunately for Muckswold, he really can see through him, and the sight of Angus demonstrating his talent for walking through walls rounds the story off by sending him running screaming into the empty moat, accompanied by EFFECTS (SPOT): THUD OF BODY FALLING.
Tatters Castle is still light years away from The Goon Show world of lunatic fantasies and logical twaddle. But the first flickerings are definitely there, amongst puns aplenty flying around the heads of the family ghost and the crystal ball-gazing Aunt Lavinia. Although most of the show’s sound effects are of doors opening, creaking and closing, there are signs of things to come with such mind picture promptings as “sound of cock waking”, “noise of heads hitting roof” and “ghostly howls, chains rattling, laughter”. And were we to replace the castle’s residents with the characters we were later to grow more familiar with, it wouldn’t be hard to get the goonery going.
Unfortunately Jacques Brown turned out to be the spaniard in the works. Ironically he was the producer whose pioneering Marx Brothers-style Danger – Men at Work earned generous praise from Spike years later: “Men at Work was one that grabbed me. It’s forgotten now but it’s what put The Goon Show on the road.” But that same pioneer producer of radio comedy first drove this one into the ditch. Jacques felt that recording any radio comedy with an audience was unnecessary.
Jimmy Grafton strongly disagreed. Arguing that this revolutionary show needed all the help it could get, and that laugh-starved it would sound flat. So they reached a compromise. Jacques would record his non-audience version first. and this would be vetted by them and re-recorded with an audience if desired.
But then he changed his mind, and as it had been with Danger – Men at Work, so it would be with Tatters Castle. After recording the non-audience version, Jacques sneaked off to play it to the planners. They rejected it as “too crazy”. The lads would have another two years wait before their next trial recording, The Junior Crazy Gang, cracked it.
Jimmy never forgave him, but that wasn’t the end of Jacques. He would he invited back years later to produce The Missing Prime Minister and the audienceless The Reason Why. And one recorded episode of Danger – Men at Work still survives, so we can judge for ourselves what these shows are like when audience laughter takes a holiday.
The Goon Show Preservation Society 