The Goon Show
Created | Updated Jan 28, 2002
Before Monty Python, even before Beyond The Fringe, the ne plus ultra of madcap British comedy was The Goon Show, which blessed BBC radio audiences throughout the 1950's. The Goons were a small ensemble of Harry Secombe, Spike Milligan, Peter Sellers and, during the first few years, Michael Bentine. Aided and abetted by an announcer (Andrew Timothy and Wallace Greenslade did the lion's share of that job) and their musical acts, harmonica player Max Geldray and singer Ray Ellington and his Quartet, the Goons produced a weekly half-hour of near-Surreal humor. Oh, and let's not forget the orchestra, conducted by Wally Stott.
The Goons were ostensibly fronted by Ned Seagoon (Mr. Secombe), a hapless Charlie who never seemed to get the best of whatever situation he was in. Whether he was tricked into stealing Napoleon's piano from the Louvre, or disguising himself as an American Indian to claim Manhattan as his own, Neddy ended up on the short end of the stick. Harry Secombe did a few other voices, but his own full-bodied tone was hard to mistake, and Neddy was his primary character.
Not so for Messr's Milligan and Sellers. They appeared as character after character: the aging couple of Minnie Bannister (Milligan) and Henry Crun (Sellers), two twits extraorinaire, Eccles (Milligan) and Bluebottle (Sellers) and those semicompetent villains, Count Jim Moriarty (Milligan) and Hercules Grytpype-Thynne (Sellers). Spike Milligan wrote most of the scripts himself, with occasional help from others.
If you happen to hear an episode, and are wondering just when it aired originally, listen for these two telltale signs. First, Spike Milligan's characters, especially Eccles and Count Moriarty. Can you understand what they are saying? Then you may well be listening to an episode from the early or mid-50's. By the later years the characters grew more and more exaggerated, spouting rubbish that drew laughs regardless of clarity.
Second, listen to the plot. In a similar devolution, Goon Show plots became more digressive and loose as time went on. Not to say that they weren't just as uproarious - a sure sign of comic genius is how far you can take your audience without losing them. The Goons went very far indeed, and left a mark on British humor that, thankfully, has been difficult to expunge. Harry Secombe is now Lord Secombe, and is, hopefully, doing to British politics what he did to radio audiences.
The Goons were ostensibly fronted by Ned Seagoon (Mr. Secombe), a hapless Charlie who never seemed to get the best of whatever situation he was in. Whether he was tricked into stealing Napoleon's piano from the Louvre, or disguising himself as an American Indian to claim Manhattan as his own, Neddy ended up on the short end of the stick. Harry Secombe did a few other voices, but his own full-bodied tone was hard to mistake, and Neddy was his primary character.
Not so for Messr's Milligan and Sellers. They appeared as character after character: the aging couple of Minnie Bannister (Milligan) and Henry Crun (Sellers), two twits extraorinaire, Eccles (Milligan) and Bluebottle (Sellers) and those semicompetent villains, Count Jim Moriarty (Milligan) and Hercules Grytpype-Thynne (Sellers). Spike Milligan wrote most of the scripts himself, with occasional help from others.
If you happen to hear an episode, and are wondering just when it aired originally, listen for these two telltale signs. First, Spike Milligan's characters, especially Eccles and Count Moriarty. Can you understand what they are saying? Then you may well be listening to an episode from the early or mid-50's. By the later years the characters grew more and more exaggerated, spouting rubbish that drew laughs regardless of clarity.
Second, listen to the plot. In a similar devolution, Goon Show plots became more digressive and loose as time went on. Not to say that they weren't just as uproarious - a sure sign of comic genius is how far you can take your audience without losing them. The Goons went very far indeed, and left a mark on British humor that, thankfully, has been difficult to expunge. Harry Secombe is now Lord Secombe, and is, hopefully, doing to British politics what he did to radio audiences.
