The Goodies

[the Goodies have been told there's half an hour to go before the end of the world]

Tim:
At least there's time to do the ironing. [Brings in the ironing board and a basket of laundry] Just think, this is the end of Derby County... and the Muppets!

Graeme:
The Muppets?

Tim:
Yes, when we go, they'll go too, you know... oh, I do hope they don't suffer.

Graeme:
They're not real, you know!

Tim:
Well, of course they're real!

Graeme:
Don't be silly... the Muppets are just dollies!

Tim:
If they're "dollies", how come they can sing and dance and make sophisticated funny remarks?

Graeme:
Look, Kermit the frog is a green sock.

Tim:
[suddenly disturbed] What?

Graeme:
Kermit the frog is a man on his knees with a green sock on his hand! [to demonstrate, he uses a green sock as a glove puppet and imitates Kermit] "Hello frog lovers, and welcome to the Muppet Show! I'd like to welcome our very special guest, Miss Piggy. Yay-ay-ay-ay!"

Tim:
Well she has GOT to be real.

Graeme:
Pair of old y-fronts and a mop head. [He holds up a pair of underpants and a mop head, and speaks like Miss Piggy] "Hello Kermit, spawn of my heart, frog of my dreams!" [as Kermit] "Hi there Miss Piggy, and what can I do for you?" Fozzie Bear is a brown woolly jumper with a hat on! [Holds up a brown pullover and a hat and speaks like Fozzie] "Oh boy, funn-y! Oh Kermit, I hope those two old guys don't heckle me!" [Holds up two sponge balls and imitates Waldorf and Statler] "Boo boo, the bear's a comedian, the comedian's a bear! Boo, boo!" [Waves a feather duster in Tim's face and bellows] "A-NI-MAL!"

Tim:
[Nearly hysterical] No, stop it! Lies! LIES!

Graeme:
[holds up the green sock again and sings] "Halfway up the stairs is the stair where I"...

Tim:
NO! [runs into the kitchen, screaming]

Graeme:
I'll release his inhibitions through anger and violence! My life's work is at an end. I can die a happy man.

[Tim emerges screaming from the kitchen and throws the gas cooker at Graeme]

Graeme:
You shouldn't have hit me with that! You'll ruin the cake!

Bill:
Be fair, I think the GPO have got a very difficult job to do.

Tim:
Yes, that's why they do it so badly.

Tim:
But those aren't art lovers - they're Americans!

Bill:
Listen! If he goes, I go.

Graeme:
It's a deal.

Graeme:
Don't worry, the windscreen won't shatter.

Bill:
How come?

Graeme:
No glass.

Tim:
I do not want money. I do not want wealth. All I ask is that people humbly and honestly sink to their knees and worship me.

Bill:
We're all dead! Dead! D-E-D-D, DEAD!

Tim:
I am going to get married.

Graeme:
What? Who to?

Tim:
The Honourable Lady Amanda Barrington Phipps Ponsonby Ponsonby Paddington Waterloo Charing Cross Crewe Alexandra Accrington Stanley Dave Dee Dozy Beaky Mick and Tich Carruthers Carruthers Smythe Junior. Known to her friends as Big Knockers.

Graeme:
Is she pretty?

Tim:
Pretty? Hmph! She's hideous! She is Horsewoman of the Year - more horse than woman, but then looks aren't everything... and in her case they're nothing! We're gonna get married and breed horses!

Bill:
[disbelieving] That's impossible

Tim:
You haven't seen her!

Graeme Garden:
Y'know, that's a pretty weird garden they've got out there.

Bill Oddie:
Yeah, well, you're a pretty weird gardener!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[after falling in the river] Nanny didn't like that at all; Nanny swallowed a fish!

Cecily:
They even put a curse on me!

Graeme Garden:
[Disbelieving] A curse?

Cecily:
Every time I go out to play, terrible disasters happen to me!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Nonsense! Come, I shall take you out to play.

Bill Oddie:
Yeah? Well, that's one disaster for a start!

Bill Oddie:
[Cecily has gone to bed] Well, I reckon it's bedtime for us, too, eh? Where are we gonna sleep?

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
I'm not sleeping anywhere.

Graeme Garden:
Chicken!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[Nervously] No! Not... not at all. I'm just not tired, that's all. [Stifles a yawn] Anyway I think we owe it to little Cecily to stay awake just in... just in case.

Bill Oddie:
[Equally nervous] That's right, w-w-we do.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
There's nothing to be frightened of; I mean, we're all three, big butch men.

Bill Oddie:
Yes, we are!

Graeme Garden:
Right! [pulls out a deck of cards] How about a game of cards?

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
What should we play?

Graeme Garden:
Happy Families!

Cecily:
Nanny, are you frightened?

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Me? Frightened? Of COURSE I'm not frightened. I'm terrified!

[the Goodies are bouncing around the world on space-hoppers]

Mr. Sparklipegs:
Where were they last sighted?

Minion:
Australia, sir.

Mr. Sparklipegs:
Australia? That's in America, isn't it?

Graeme Garden:
You know, "Sparklipegs" really is a good name for a toothpaste company, mister... mister...

Mr. Sparklipegs:
Sparklipegs.

Graeme Garden:
[sheepishly] Mr. Sparklipegs.

Mr. Sparklipegs:
Yes, the company was named after my father. He started it after his first business went bankrupt.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
And what was that?

Mr. Sparklipegs:
'Cheeky Charlie Sparklipegs: Funeral Director.' It never did very well.

Major Cheeseburger:
Well I'll be horn-swoggled!

Graeme:
Your personal life is no concern of ours.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Those aren't art lovers! They're Americans!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
The British people demand to see this painting in the national gallery!

Minister for the Arts:
Oh don't be screwy! There hasn't been a British person in the national gallery for years!

[Tim is on his high horse, passionately trying to stop a painting by Vilasquith from being bought by foreigners]

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
We owe it to our country to keep this painting here, as proud Englishmen!

Bill Oddie:
[Backing him up] Englishmen!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
And Vilasquith was a proud Englishman!

Bill Oddie:
[Under his breath] He was Spanish.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[Under his breath] Never mind!

[the Goodies are admiring a painting of a reclining nude woman]

Bill Oddie:
Who's that?

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Renoir.

Bill Oddie:
I thought he was a fella?

[Bill discovers he's been replaced by his fiancee]

Bill:
Mildred!

Mildred Makepeace:
Yes, William.

Bill:
[astonished] Wha...? My job? Her?

Graeme:
Yes, William.

Bill:
But we're gonna get married, aren't we? [crestfallen] Aren't we?

Mildred Makepeace:
No, William, that's quite out of the question. I have my career to consider now.

Bill:
But I made... I made your dad laugh.

Mildred Makepeace:
You make me laugh, too, but I'm not going to marry you.

[Tim gestures toward a rather fine desk clock as he speaks]

Tim:
William... Old pal... As a token of our appreciation for all you've done in the past, we would like you to accept... from us... this magnificent...

[Tim sets the clock aside to reveal a:
]

Tim:
Piece of cheese. Yes we all know how fond you are of beth Blue Stilton, heh, but this is mousetrap. However, as you can see, we've had it engraved. "To William Edgar Oddle..." Oddle? Oh well, never mind, close enough. "William Edgar Oddle, Good Riddance."

[Bill has disappeared in a fit of depression]

Graeme:
Oh, if only he'd left a note!

Tim:
He did.

Graeme:
How do you know?

Tim:
It's in my pocket. [awkward pause] I'd better get it out and read it, shouldn't I?

Graeme:
Oh, I just hope he hasn't gone off to do something silly.

Tim:
[reading] "Dear Tim and Graeme: I have gone off to do something silly."

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
It's all a con!

Bill Oddie:
Uh, no. I prefer to use the word rip-off.

Graeme Garden:
[Graeme's voice-over on the advert for their new business] This is Goodie Hols calling! Are you bored with traditional holidays? Wouldn't you rather go big game hunting, or shark fishing? Or perhaps you'd fancy a week's brain surgery? Well, anything is possible if you book for a new-style Goodies Adventure Holiday - holidays for the specialist, arranged by people who KNOW!

Graeme Garden:
[after the boys have convinced the Detective's Club the train is real, Graeme and Tim convene in the livestock car] Now the problem is, we need a crime. A crime for them to solve.

Bill Oddie:
[Comes in, inexplicably wet] That's easy - I'm gonna kill you!

Graeme Garden:
[Pinches his nose to block a bad smell] Whoo! Dear...

Bill Oddie:
What? It's not me! It's not me! It must be the goat! You naughty goat, what have you done? You...

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[pinches his own nose when Bill comes close] Bill, eeew...

Bill Oddie:
Oh, shut up! Come on, please! Honestly! It was snowing, wasn't it? It was snowing! So I have to shelter somewhere, don't I? So what do I do? I climb under the train, don't I? And while I'm there under the train, all of a sudden, SWOOSH! I get a ruddy great load of...!

Graeme Garden:
Shhh, shhh, shhh...! [the train engine starts chugging]

Bill Oddie:
Don't shush me, mate! I've had enough, I tell you! And you can have your train record back! [Hands it to him] No more "Woo-Woo!" No more running up and down in trees! I'm fed up!

Graeme Garden:
Bill, this is my train record!

Bill Oddie:
Yes it is! And no more humping cows up and down, or I shall kill you! I...

Graeme Garden:
Bill, my train record is in here, and yet I can still hear the sound, as of a moving train!

Bill Oddie:
Listen, I don't care about that, mate! As far as I am concerned, the "Orient Express" stops RIGHT HERE! [Goes to step outside and as the train is indeed moving is thrown out onto the side of the tracks]

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[Two groups of detectives have been killed and he's scared] Who's gonna be the next to go?

Hercule Poirots:
[all four speaking at once] Who can tell? The assassin, whoever he or she may be, could strike at... how you say...? [They all fall dead of cyanide poisoning from the wine they were drinking]

Graeme Garden:
[Sniffs a bottle marked "arsenic"] The characteristic smell of bitter almonds!

Bill Oddie:
Isn't that cyanide?

Graeme Garden:
Precisely! This arsenic has been poisoned!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[the Goodies are frustrated with being bored while on holiday] Being on holiday is no picnic!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[On the phone] Hello? Is that the Minister of Health, no less? It is. Good. I want to complain about the National Health Service.

[a rapid stream of angry jabbering issues forth for about two seconds, followed by a loud click]

Bill Oddie:
What'd he say?

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
He said, how dare we complain about the National Health Service. If they are a bit slow, that's because they keep being pestered by sick people and, as we do anything anytime, why don't we help out by studying medicine ourselves and going to work for the National Health Serivice, so there.

Bill Oddie:
He said all that just then?

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
No, I left out the rude bit.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
'Bout time, too. Where have you been?

Graeme Garden:
We've been to the hospital. Sorry, they kept us waiting.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
For three weeks?

Bill Oddie:
Yeah, and even then we were lucky, you know. Bloke ahead of us died.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
For a sprained ankle?

Bill Oddie:
[indicating the cast on his leg] And, what is more, they put this on the wrong leg! Mmm. [points at Graeme] Should've been his.

Bill & Tim:
[as rabbits] Nnnyeeehh

Graeme Garden:
[Serves them a whole lot of carrots] There we are eat 'em all up. [Bill and Tim refuse, showing a great dislike for the carrots] Aw c'mon, if you're real rabbits you can't get enough of those.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Course we're not real rabbits; [suddenly realise] Oh, did I say that?

Graeme Garden:
[Pleased, and slightly cocky by this reaction] It's wearing off isn't it?

Bill Oddie:
No it is not!

Graeme Garden:
[Adamant] In that case eat your carrots!

Bill Oddie:
Naw, c'mon, even rabbits need a change of diet now and again.

Graeme Garden:
All right then, 2 tons of lettuces. [Further disgust and refusal from Bill and Tim]

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Why not... Fish and chips?

Graeme Garden:
[Again pleased by the response] It is wearing off isn't it?

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
No! We're still the sworn servants of Big Bunny. [Bill and Tim raise their arms in a 'Heil Hitler' gesture] .

Graeme Garden:
Aw well, if you're still the sworn servants of Big Bunny, you probably won't want a slice of this delicious pie. [Affirmative murmurs from Bill and Tim, a few words such as "pie?" and "scrummy" can be heard] Oh all right, there you are [serves them slices of pie] eat up. Nice isn't it?

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Great, what is it?

Graeme Garden:
[Triumphantly as he shows them a pie with rabbit ears sticking out of it] . Rabbit pie!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Oh no! You mean like... you made us cannibals? [Feigned sobs from Bill and Tim. The door opens to reveal a rabbit]

Big Bunny:
Stop! Stop!

Bill Oddie:
Huh? Who said that?

Big Bunny:
It is I your leader.

Bill & Tim:
Big Bunny.

Graeme Garden:
[Indicates Big Bunny] Well?

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Well... [Bill and Tim pick up cutlery from the table]

Bill & Tim:
Dinner! [the two of them chase after Big Bunny,then the end credits start to roll as they chase Big Bunny down the road]

Bill Oddie:
Surely you're not resentful to a little kindness to one of our dumb friends!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Well the only "dumb friend" I've got is YOU!

Bill Oddie:
[offended, sarcastic] Well, thank you very much! After I went and made supper for you, as well...

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Well, we can hardly afford to feed ourselves, and you start giving four-course meals to flaming guinea pigs!

Bill Oddie:
Temper, temper!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Well, since when have we eaten that well?

Bill Oddie:
Since when indeed, yes... What did we get last time YOU cooked supper, eh? A bowl of cornflakes. [Tim sulks] Yes! AND they were burnt.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Well, better than YOUR soggy lettuce and potato peelings!

Bill Oddie:
On the money you give me, you're very lucky to get anything at all, I can tell you! Ooh, I've a good mind to go back to mother...

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Well, go!

Bill Oddie:
I shall!

Graeme Garden:
[Has had enough] Now LISTEN!

Tim Brooke-Taylor, Bill Oddie:
[Perfect unison] And you keep out of this!

Graeme Garden:
[Reassuring Tim about Twinkle] It's not a monster, it's a kitten! Anyway, it's time for his vitamin pills. [Opens the cage to find it empty] He's gone... someone's taken him! [suddenly attacks Tim, shrieking at him] You! YOU! You've done something to him, haven't you? You never liked him! What have you done with my p*ssy?

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[while being shaken violently by Graeme] I haven't touched him! I wouldn't dare go NEAR him!

Bill Oddie:
Oh, it wasn't him; it was me.

Graeme Garden:
What?

Bill Oddie:
It wasn't him. He's all right, I only put him "out".

Graeme Garden:
[screams] YOU DID WHAT?

Bill Oddie:
You should always put the cat "out" at night. So I... I did.

Graeme Garden:
YOU IDIOT! THAT CAT... [grabs and throws away the Bush Baby, which has attached itself to him again] THAT CAT IS STILL GROWING! [Runs to get his clothes] Come on! We gotta find him, and catch him before he eats someone he shouldn't!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[Amused by Graeme's "slip-up"] Ah! You mean some THING he shouldn't.

Graeme Garden:
[Voice of Doom] I know what I mean.

Tim Brooke-Taylor, Bill Oddie:
Oh heck...

Bill Oddie:
[Referring to Tim, last seen stuck up a tree] Haven't seen him for a heck of a long time.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[Barges in] FOUR DAYS! Four ruddy days I've been up that tree!

Bill Oddie:
[Tries not to laugh] I'm ever so sorry...

Bill:
Allow me to elucidate.

Graeme:
You do and you clean it up yourself.

Graeme:
[the boys find a song about the Jollyrock Lighthouse in a sea shanty compilation and eagerly start to sing it] Oh the winds they do blow, and the seas they do roar...

Tim, Graeme, Bill:
[singing]... when you're stuck on a lighthouse, ten miles from the shore. But you've heard of the Jollyrock, of that I am sure. Go there and your loved ones, will see you no more.

Tim, Graeme, Bill:
[singing, suddenly worried] Oh, don't go to the Jollyrock, whatever you do. I wouldn't go near it if I was you.

Graeme:
[singing] So away from the Jollyrock I advise you to race.

Tim:
It's utterly apalling [Confused]

Tim:
and not at all nace?

Bill:
[singing, worried] For nasty things happen there, it's such a disgrace...

Tim, Graeme, Bill:
[singing, now really worried] 'Cause people get killed there all over the place! OH, don't go to the Jollyrock, whatever you do. I wouldn't go near it, if I was you.

Tim:
[completely hysterical] Oh, the next verse is censored because it's too horrible even to talk about!

Tim:
[runs out] I don't feel well!

Bill:
[singing, halfheartedly] Well your blood will run cold , and your heart fill with dread.

Graeme:
[singing, halfheartedly] For the Jollyrock is plagued with the souls of the dead!

Bill:
[singing] If you stay there one night... [speaks, terrified] you'll go clean off your head!

Graeme, Bill:
[singing, weakly] And in no time at all you will probably catch mumps... [Double-check the line]... Mumps?

Tim:
That doesn't even rhyme!

Bill:
What a rotten, blasted, lousy job this is. I hate it!

Graeme:
I'm sorry, okay? I admit it's my fault. I just misread the advert, that's all. I thought it said, "a little light housekeeping."

Tim:
IWill you please stop just going round in circles?

Bill:
Well, not much else to do in a lighthouse, is there, mate? I mean, everything's round in a lighthouse. Look at it. The room, carpet, chairs, window - it's all round! I can't stand it much longer! Five years? I'm in here five minutes and I've had enough! It's round, it's round, it's round, it's round, IT'S ALL ROUND! It's round!

Tim:
Well, put on a nice record, then.

Bill:
[Picks up record] It's round! [Smashes it to pieces]

Tim:
All right, I'll give you a game of chess.

Bill:
[Picks up - oddly enough - a round chessboard] ROUND! [Throws it away]

Tim:
Here's your supper... [mutters indistinctly to himself as he puts the plate down]

Bill:
[Proceeds to throw each item across the room or onto the floor in turn] Look at this. Hamburgers - ROUND! Peas - ROUND! Carrots - ROUND! The plate! A ROUND PLATE! What about this? Look at that tray! You know what shape the tray is? The shape! Of the tray! Is ROUND! The table! The table... now let me guess, let me guess, don't tell me, I bet it's round, I bet it. OH-HO! What a surprise! [Proceeds to bang fists on table in a tantrum] IT'S ROUND! IT'S ALL ROUND!

Tim:
Well, you can't complain about this - your favorite pudding! Lemon meringue pie!

Bill:
What shape's that?

Tim:
[Suddenly afraid]... Square...?

Bill:
No it isn't. It's round.

Tim:
Square-ish!

Bill:
It is not. It's round. Give me that. [Takes pie] It's round, isn't it? And it's going right in your round face!

Tim:
[as Bill chases him around the table] It's not round! It's square! It's not round! It's not round! It's not round! [Gets the pie right in the face]

Bill:
You know, I feel curiously better for that...

Bill:
Where's the foghorn?

Graeme:
I've eaten it...

Graeme:
[Through megaphone] Attention all shipping! It is rather foggy, so mind how you go! Ahem! There is a lighthouse here, so watch out that you don't bump into it! [Imitates Siren] It's very foggy now, so look out!

Graeme:
[When Tim reveals his cigarette lighter is empty] Thousands of tons of coal, and we can't light it for a thimbleful of petrol!

Tim:
Petrol... oil... [Gets an idea. Yells down the mine shaft to Bill] Keep on drilling, go on!

Bill:
What?

Tim:
Keep on drilling!

Bill:
Why?

Tim:
You might strike North Sea Oil! [Right on cue a fountain of oil shoots up and hits Tim right in the face, getting all over him]

Bill:
[Climbs out of the mine shaft] Tim! Tim! You'll Never guess! I've struck... [sees the state Tim is in] Oh, you would! Ha ha ha!

Graeme:
[Starts laughing with Bill and jumping around] Black Gold!

Graeme, Bill:
Texas "T"!

Graeme:
Fill the lighter!

Tim:
It IS full.

Tim:
[Put in isolation in the top of the lighthouse] Hey fellows, can I come down now, please? One side's nearly better! I haven't really got mumps now - at most, I've only got A mump! [Starts shaking the door] Please don't leave me locked up here! Please! [No response] Can you hear me? [No response] CAN! YOU! HEAR! MEEEEEE?

Bill:
[Playing cards with Graeme downstairs] Tim's very quiet up there, isn't he?

Graeme:
[In agreement] Not a peep.

Tim:
[Boat's horn sounds and he jumps] What was that?

Graeme:
The QE2.

Tim:
[Panicked] The QE2?

Graeme:
Don't worry, it's missed us... by a couple of feet.

Tim:
[subsides weakly into a chair] A couple of FEET? Oh, I'm not well, I'm not well...

[Sees self in mirror]

Tim:
I'm WORSE! My mumps have gone worse! I look like a flippin' hamster now!

[Tries to calm down]

Tim:
It's my nerves. It's a nervous complaint, this, you know.

[Loses it again]

Tim:
I SHOULDN'T BE UPSET LIKE THIS! I need to calm down, I need peace and quiet. That's what's doing this! I need peace and quiet!

Graeme:
[Mocking] You need "peace and quiet"...

[Uses megaphone to shout down Tim's ear]

Graeme:
BELT UP!

Bill:
Oi, Graeme! Chuck me down the lighter, will you?

Graeme:
Here it is. [Throws the lighter down the hole where Bill is drilling for oil] What do you want it for?

Bill:
Oh, well, I wanna light me candle. It's a bit dark down here.

Graeme:
Okay. [Realizes] NO! Don't light your candle, you'll... [Smoke billows from the hole and Bill comes scrambling out of it] Oh...

Bill:
Graeme, I, uh, I shouldn't have lit my candle, should I? Because there's an awful lot of oil...

Graeme:
[Covering his ears as the lighthouse shoots into orbit] 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, we have liftoff!

Tim:
[enters in a panic after the lighthouse shoots into orbit] What's happening? I've just looked out the window, the sea's gone!

Bill:
Shhh, shhh...

Tim:
The sea's gone!

Bill:
[trying to calm him] You're delirious, Tim.

Tim:
The sea's gone!

Bill:
Tim, it is the mumps talking!

Tim:
The sea's gone!

Bill:
THE SEA HAS NOT GONE! It's just... uh... a little bit... um... farther away than it was. That's all.

[Due to being overly charitable, the Goodies are in financial difficulty. They have just heard a knock on the door and assume it's a customer]

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Now if they want us to do something for free, what do we say?

Bill Oddie, Graeme Garden:
[Vehemently] NO!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
No!

Bill Oddie, Graeme Garden:
NO!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Right!

[Tim opens the door and all three Goodies are speechless to discover that their new 'customer' is an extremely beautiful young woman]

Hazel Nuts:
Hello, I was wondering if you could help me? I'm afraid I haven't any money.

Bill Oddie, Tim Brooke-Taylor, Graeme Garden:
Oh that's alright! Come in!

[the Goodies are on a trecherous expedition to find a lost tribe with Hazel Nuts. They have just bedded down for the night in their multi-room tent]

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
I don't know why we have a woman on an expedition like this, anyway.

Bill Oddie:
I'll think of something!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
She'll sprain her ankle.

Graeme Garden:
Now look! Hazel is as fit and healthy as any of us! Just think of her as one of the boys.

Bill Oddie, Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[In agreement] One of the boys!

[the Goodies lie down to go to sleep. A few seconds later, Hazel walks through the main area of the tent in her nightie. She steps over the Goodie's heads and, presumably, gives all three of them a good look up the bottom of her nightie. After she leaves, all three Goodies sit upright with stunned expressions on their faces]

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Uh, one of the boys just went through.

Graeme Garden:
Yeah, I know. I saw him.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
I wish we could get our central heating going.

Bill Oddie:
Oh well, that's his fault, isn't it? [Gesturing at Graeme]

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Yeah, a nice little gas fire would have done us, and you have to install a *nuclear generator*.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Wait a minute, I thought I recognised you! You're... you're... you can't be!

Professor Nuts:
I am! Professor Nuts, the educated comic.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Well I'll be! But why didn't you tell us your name was Nuts, Hazel?

Hazel Nuts:
I try to keep it to myself.

[the Goodies are preparing to go on a dangerous expedition in to the Orinoco, in search of Hazel's lost father]

Hazel Nuts:
There is just one thing...

Graeme Garden, Bill Oddie:
Yeeeees?

Hazel Nuts:
I must go with you!

Graeme Garden:
But the south American jungle is no place for a little gal!

Hazel Nuts:
I'm not a little girl. I'm a mature woman.

Graeme Garden:
[Chuckling wickedly] That's alright then!

Bill:
[after watching an old film] There! Now why don't they make good FILMS like that anymore? With people like Buster Keaton, Lavatory Meadows...

Graeme:
Lavatory Meadows?

Tim:
[tiredly] He means W. C. Fields.

Bill:
What I said!

Tim:
[addressing the film directors in the style of a school master] Sit down because I've got a lot to say to you. I said sit down, please. *Sit!* That goes for you too, Kubrick. I and my colleagues have just spent 18 hours marking your work and we extremely displeased. It is not the sort of thing we expect these studios to be turning out. Stop giggling, Zeffirelli. We can honestly say that 50 percent of what we have been watching has either been extremely boring or extremely pretentious, and in many cases both... yes I am looking at you, Fellini! Don't do that at me. It simply is not enough to stick together a few unrelated images, a white faced clown and half a dozen dwarves and expect to win the Cannes Film Festival. Well yes, I know you did. You may be able to con the Froggies but you don't impress me. Now one thing... Warhol, will you stop filming me when I'm talking. Which brings me to the subject of sex, perversion and... Warhol, I shan't tell you again... and violence. I'm simply will not... give me that camera. Come on, give me that camera! [takes Warhol's camera] There seems no point in me going on. Clearly none of you has a responsible attitude. You've brought the whole studio, in fact the whole industry into... I'm ashamed of you! You're all fired. Yes, that's what I said. You're *all fired!* If you're going to cry, Russell, kindly go outside. All of you get out! Go on, I never want to see any of you ever, *ever again!*

Bill:
Buster Keaton? He must have spent three weeks painting the whole town black and white, and then when that house falls on him he doesn't make a sound! Not so much as a "My God, that was close"...

Tim:
I'm going to make a complaint to the very highest authority.

Graeme:
[shocked] Not...

Bill:
[also shocked]... David Frost!

Tim:
No, not that high, no... no...

Thug 1:
We have come to frighten you off! Ready Lads? 1... 2... 3...

Thug 1, Thug 2, Thug 3:
BOO!

Graeme:
We don't frighten that easily!

Answering Machine:
[When Tim gets his call through] Hello. Complaints Department, here. This is a recorded message. Whatever your complaint is, our official answer is either A- We are sure Mr. Powell didn't really mean it. B- It's time the Trade Unions knew where they belonged. C- What we do with your taxes is our business, so there! And, D- Yes, there is a pollution problem. Please address all inquiries to the Ministry of Pollution in Eastbourne. Hello. Complaints Department, here. This is a re...

Minister for Pollution:
Effluence means Affluence!

Graeme:
[Bill comes indoors bringing a cloud of smoke and exhaust with him] Hello! Been out for a breath of fresh air?

Bill:
[Coughing] Yeah, I have.

Tim:
Don't breathe on the parrot!

Bill:
[Still trailing fumes from outside behind him] Why not? It won't do it any harm, will it? [to their pet parrot] Hello! Pretty Polly, Pretty Polly! Who's a cheeky thing, then? Who's a cheeky thing, then? Who's a cheeky... [the parrot falls from its perch, dead] Who's a dead bird, then?

Tim:
[after the magic grass seed has made their hair into grass, he sticks a "Keep Off" sign in his hair] Is my notice straight?

Tim:
[Graeme has just finished designing a pirate post office] Gosh, that was quick work!

Graeme:
Well, just like our post office, the quickest, and most efficient in the country.

Bill:
You're being a bit optomistic, aren't you?

Graeme:
Well, it's a work of genius.

Bill:
[Bill's been sacked] All right, I'm going. But I'm going to take industrial action. And I'll tell you, you've got right up my nose!

Tim:
And what are you gonna do?

Tim:
Picket!

Graeme:
[holding a sheaf of paper in his hand] Just look at these end of year expenses!

Tim:
Yeah, you're right.

[looks up]

Tim:
Bill?

Bill:
[lounging on the sofa] Yeah?

Tim:
You're fired!

Bill:
Okay.

[sitting up]

Bill:
What?

Graeme:
[Discussing TV programs] You know what they put on instead? Prudence Kitten... and Muffin the Mule!

Graeme:
I enjoy Muffin the Mule!

Bill:
You can be locked up for that, you know!

Tim:
[annoyed at declining visitor numbers after Tony is shot] Stuff Tony Blackburn!

Bill:
[excitedly] That's an idea!

Tim:
The visitors would notice.

Bill:
No they wouldn't. Hardly any difference!

Graeme:
[reading from the Book of Stars] Rolf Harris... Number of legs... variable

[In the sex education film that the Goodies have made for young children. A picture of Tim is being displayed]

Graeme Garden:
[Narrating] This is a man.

[Picture changes to a shot of some anonymous woman]

Graeme Garden:
...And this isn't.

[Picture changes to a shot of Tim and the woman standing side-by-side]

Graeme Garden:
This is a picture of a man and a woman. Do you know what the difference is? Yes, that's right; men are better at football. But, you know, there are other differences, as well...

[Graeme is narrating a sex education film for young children]

Graeme Garden:
In order to understand how the man and woman will make a baby, we need to know more about the erogenous zones, or what you and I would call "the rude bits."

[Graeme is narrating a sex education film for young children. At this point he is discussing human sex organs]

Graeme Garden:
Now that we all know about the rude bits, aren't they rude? And as we get older, they get ruder and ruder.

[Graeme is brewing an antidote for his new, improved Snooze formula, which is an extremely powerful sedative. He is documenting his work on a Dictaphone]

Graeme Garden:
...and that should produce the correct antidote. Yes. Now to test it. First, I take a big swig of new improved Snooze...

[He drinks from a nearby cup of Snooze]

Graeme Garden:
...and now for the anti... [passes out before he can reach the antidote]

Rupert Windcheater:
I'm sorry for bursting in like this, but I'm a frightfully busy man and my secretary didn't have time to make an appointment.

Bill Oddie:
There's no need to apologise. Get out!

[the Goodies accidentally poured too much of Graeme's antidote in to the London reservoir. Now everybody is extremely hyperactive as a result]

Rupert Windcheater:
The only way to calm them all down again is to give them all snooze! The government has come down on Beachrow Products like a ton of bricks, and I can tell you something!

Bill Oddie:
What?

Rupert Windcheater:
The prime minister at ten times is usual speed is not funny!

Bill Oddie:
Oh, he must be!

[Graeme's new Snooze formula has sent everyone who's tried it to sleep almost instantaneously]

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
What about him? [Referring to Bill]

Graeme Garden:
Well, it only sent him to sleep.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
For three days?

Rupert Windcheater:
[very hyper, addressing the wrong one as he says each of their names] Tim! Graeme! So good to see you! So glad you could make it! Now, listen, the directors and I have got some great news. Somebody's developed a new, improved "Snooze."

Graeme Garden:
I know, I did.

Rupert Windcheater:
Yes, you did. Great!

Graeme Garden:
And I sent you a sample this morning.

Rupert Windcheater:
But the important thing is, we got a sample this morning...

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
HE sent it!

Rupert Windcheater:
And he sent it.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
You do realize you've knocked out the entire board of Beech Row Products, and they're not going to take that lying down! This will ruin us!

Graeme Garden:
Look, don't worry. The effect's only temporary. It'll wear off... in two or three weeks.

Graeme Garden:
[Voiceover in one of the "Snooze" adverts] My dog's full of energy. Always on the go. A right little tearaway. Never still for a minute - howling all night, scratching all over the place, won't come when he's called, eats my trousers - he never stops! That's why I give him "Snooze". That keeps the stupid mutt quiet!

Bill Oddie:
[singing the sleepwalking song] Don't know where I'm going, got my eyes closed! Don't know what I'm doing, I can't see! Don't know where I'm going now, but it's so far away! Please! Help! Me! Show me the way, Show me the way! Somebody show me the way! I'm lonely, and lost, and I wanna go home - Somebody show me the way!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
The whole country's completely paralyzed!

Graeme Garden:
Well, every new invention has it's little setbacks.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
We've got to wake everyone up, before they starve! [runs to the door, shrieking] WAKE UP, EVERYBODY! EVERYBODY WAKE UP!

Bill Oddie:
[Stops him] It must be late - you'll wake the neighbors!

Tim:
[reading sign] South African Tourist Board. Through door and turn white.

[all the non-whites have left South Africa, throwing the nation into turmoil]

Travel Agent:
That's why the government have introduced a new form of segregation.

Bill:
Ah, that's exactly the sort of thing this country needs, mate, I'll tell ya.

Travel Agent:
[portentously] I'm glad you agree.

Bill:
I agree...

Travel Agent:
[revealing to Tim and Graeme] "Apart-Height."

[Tim, Graeme, and the Agent start cackling among themselves]

Travel Agent:
Here, read the instructions!

[Graeme and Tim start cackling at Bill, who obliviously laughs back]

Graeme:
[reading] "Instruction Number One: Pin up wall chart."

Bill:
[pinning up the chart] Pin up wall chart, I can do this, I can do this, eh?

Graeme:
"Instruction Number Two: Stand by chart."

[Tim stands next to the chart, clearing the mark]

Graeme:
"If you are taller than the mark, all right."

[Bill enthusiastically takes his turn at the chart]

Graeme:
"If you don't reach it..."

Bill:
Yeah?

Graeme:
"Tough luck."

[Bill tries standing on a stair to clear the mark]

Graeme:
"And no cheating. Now that all the non-whites have left, congratulations! You are one of the lucky new band of second-class citizens."

Bill:
[shocked] What, me?

Graeme:
"Yes, you, short-house. All the rules previously applied to non-whites will now apply to you."

Travel Agent:
Good man. And here's your camera.

Graeme:
Ah. Black and white?

Travel Agent:
[deeply offended] Just white.

Bill Oddie:
Do you really think I could make it? To the top?

Isabel Chintz:
Well I've done it before. Tom Jones.

Bill Oddie:
Tom Jones?

Isabel Chintz:
Oh yes. I gave him that butch, tough, he man image, you know. When I found him he was doing a drag act in Merthyr Tydfil.

Isabel Chintz:
Tonight you're going to perform the big show-stopping amazingly tasteless number on Top of the Pops. Oh kids, when Tony Blackburn sees it he's going to drop dead with embarrassment.

Graeme Garden:
Oh well, at least some good will come of it.

Tim:
So tomorrow night when the owls do hoot and the moon is full, we must journey to the abode of the living dead.

Bill:
Aw, we're not going to Bognor again, are we?

Tim:
Graeme, let's just give up! There's no gold here!

Graeme:
No gold here? There's always gold in the Wild West!

Bill:
Graeme! We are in Cornwall!

Graeme:
I've been out looking around, and you'll never guess what I just found in an old tin mine.

Bill:
Gold?

Graeme:
No, old tins.

[empties a bag of empty tin cans on the floor]

Graeme:
[producing a rock] And... This!

Bill:
What?

Graeme:
[confidently] Gold ore.

Tim:
Ore?

Graeme:
[less confidently] Or something else.

Tim:
[the Goodies are trapped in their office for the rest of their lives, and Tim has just discovered he won't be able to have children] But... but... a man isn't a man unless he's able to exercise his ability to have children!

Bill:
You can exercise it all you want, mate, but it won't get you anywhere!

Graeme:
We all know that our society is built up upon three different class of people - the ruling class, the scientists, and the workers. And we are lucky in the fact that we have here a representative for each different class.

Bill:
Go on then, name the names.

Graeme:
Well, I am the scientist.

Bill:
Because you wear glasses.

Tim:
[jumps up] And I am evidently the ruling class.

Bill:
That's 'cos you've got poncy blond hair and no chin.

Tim:
Well... yes.

Graeme:
And YOU, Bill, are the worker.

Tim:
Because you're shorter than us. And we need someone to clean the shoes.

Bill:
[angrily] And why can't you clean the shoes?

Tim:
Because I am obvious a lord! And lords don't clean shoes; it's a well known fact.

Tim:
[Bill is drunk] Pay no attention to him. He's pissed.

Graeme:
Has he?

Tim:
Yes.

Graeme:
Well, are going to...? [Makes slashing motion across throat]

Tim:
I thought you were going to...? [Ibid]

Graeme:
No, no... I'm doing the sauce.

Graeme:
Then there's aversion therapy, but I dunno, I've been put off that!

Vicar:
Just a moment... You've been here before! Quite some time ago, I believe.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Yes, I was only four at the time.

Vicar:
I thought your face looked familiar! You haven't changed a bit.

[the vicar is describing the strange goings-on that have driven everyone else out of town]

Vicar:
...and then one night we heard strange sounds coming from Penrudden hill, and the next morning old Jed Tredinnick climbed up there to investigate. Gentlemen, he returned a mindless raving idiot!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
I remember old Jed Tredinnick... He always was a mindless raving idiot!

Vicar:
True. But the people of Penrudden cove are a superstitious lot.

[the vicar is threatening the Goodies with a shotgun]

Vicar:
If I've got to go, I've got to go. But I'm taking one of you with me!

Bill Oddie, Tim Brooke-Taylor, Graeme Garden:
[All pointing at each other] TAKE HIM!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[to the suicidal zookeeper they just rescued] We'll be kind and considerate and help you in any way we can, but if you don't tell us what the problem is...

Bill Oddie:
[Interrupts]... we'll chuck you back in the river!

Tim Brooke-Taylor, Graeme Garden, Bill Oddie:
[singing, trying to convince the tourist board agent they're Scottish] Roamin' in the gloamin' on the bonny banks o' Clyde Roamin' in the gloamin' wi' my lassie by my side When the sun sinks in the west That's the time that I love best When oor boots are roamin' in the glo-ho-ho-hoamin'... och hoots!

Tourism Agent:
Y'must be English tourists...

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Listen you two! [Puts on a record of "Land of Hope and Glory"] This is a royal cage, and it's going to be a royal occasion! SHE is going to be there, and SHE is going to expect a monster. And I deem it a great honor that we have a chance to provide one for her. And if we succeed, I'm sure that she will not forget us, when it comes to handing out the you-know-whats! [Record runs out]

Graeme Garden:
You'd do anything for an O.B.E., wouldn't you?

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Yeah.

Graeme Garden:
Tim, don't move!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
What?

Graeme Garden:
Don't. Move. An. INCH!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
Aaaah! What is it?

Graeme Garden:
It's the Giant Bagpipe Spider! It's deadly! Keep absolutely still - one bite from that, and you dance the Highland Fling until you drop dead!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
[nervously] What if the monster attacks us? What about self defense just in case... just in case it might attack us?

Tourism Agent:
Ah! That's a very good point, 'cause Nessie's a fearsome beastie when she's roused. But if she does attack you, just frighten her away. Mind you, it's no good shouting out "Boo!" because she's stone deaf.

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
How do we frighten her away, then?

Tourism Agent:
[Holds up sign that says "BOO!"] You show her this!

Bill Oddie:
[singing] If you bring him back alive, you let the people see he isn't all he said he was, so let him free! Oh-oh-oh! Should've seen the one that I let go! Way-hey-hey! Ooh-ooh! The one that got away! Hey!

Tourism Agent:
[after being charged with false advertising] Well, the eggs! Where did you think I'd get eggs that size?

Bill Oddie:
They're fakes!

Tourism Agent:
They're not, they're not, they're NOT! He wouldn't pay five pounds for a fake egg!

[to Tim, who just bought an egg earlier]

Tourism Agent:
Would you?

Graeme Garden:
Oh yes he would! He only got O level biology!

Tim Brooke-Taylor:
How do we recognize the monster? What does it look like?

Tourism Agent:
Dinnae ask! Dinnae you ask me that! I only saw it the once - never again! Oh-ho, never again!

Bill Oddie:
Why, what happened?

Tourism Agent:
Well, it was like this, y'see. One night... one night I went down to the water for a wee peep. And I listen, and I hear nothin'. The birds have stopped chirpin'. The wind has dropped, and an eerie hush has fallen round about the loch. I looked across the water, and there I see it rising up from the deep - a great humpity back, a monstrous head with slaverin' jaws and great mottled bleary eyes starin' doon at me!

Bill Oddie:
[whimper] I'm frightened...!

Tourism Agent:
And then I see the huge teeth on it - grindin' up a pair of wee cow that it's caught, and spatted out the bones like grape pips! There I stood, face to face, with the legendary monster of Loch Ness. [beat] Of course, I could have been mistaken!

[Tim unpacks a curious artifact to decorate his part of the office]

Bill:
What's that?

Tim:
An elephant's foot umbrella stand.

Bill:
[offended] Wha...? El- Elephant's foot? Oh, you're not having that in here. I mean, that's cruel! I'll report you to the RSPCA.

Graeme:
Oh, leave him alone.

Bill:
No, I'm not!

[Bill mutters something as he opens the door to the foyer and starts tugging at an elephant's trunk]

Bill:
Come on, in ya come. Right...

Tim:
Wha... What's that?

Bill:
Three-legged elephant.

[Tim looks aghast]

Bill:
I just hope it makes you feel guilty.

Builder:
Well, if you're going to build your own, you'll need some land, and I've got the very thing. A real bargain at a hundred thousand pounds.

Tim:
Ooo. Hundred thousand. Well, how much have we got?

Graeme:
[rooting through his pockets] I've got, uh... What? Fifty-five pence...

Tim:
And that's eight... eight and a half pence... That makes sixty-three and a half pence. Bill?

Bill:
[with enormous pile of cash] Uh, ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine pounds, thirty-six and a half pence.

Tim:
That's a hundred thousand pounds exactly. Hoo, that was lucky!

The Music Master:
[holds up a tiny circle of plastic] I used to produce records like this - The Best of Rolf Harris

Tim:
But... but there's nothing on it!

The Music Master:
True...

The Music Master:
[the music master is showing off all the world-famous musicians he's already kidnapped]... and in the next chamber, my greatest accomplishment!

Graeme Garden:
You don't mean...

The Music Master:
Yes! I've gotten the Beetles back together! [the Music Master's henchman opens the chamber door and a bitter argument can be heard within. Somebody throws an electric guitar out the door in anger]

The Music Master:
[the Music Master has kidnapped the Goodies and told them to create a hit song in only an hour. The deadline has just passed]... Now, let's see what the Goodies have come up with. They've been very quiet in there, I hope you haven't been too hard on them, Gerald.

Gerald:
They were a bit obstropolous, so I had to deal with them.

The Music Master:
Ah, I see. [Gerald opens the door to the Goodies' cell and the Goodies hop in, bound and gagged] Ah, there you are. Have you come up with a hit record? [the Goodies mumble and shake their heads] And why not? [the Goodies turn around to show that their hands have been tied] Gerald, did you do that?

Gerald:
[Proudly] Yes, boss!

The Music Master:
Well that really wasn't very fair on them was it? They can hardly be expected to produce a hit record if they can't sing or play instruments, can they?

Gerald:
Oh no, I didn't think of that. 'Cause they made such a 'orrible noise.

The Music Master:
"A 'orrible noise"? That could be the hit we're looking for!

The Music Master:
[the Goodies have failed to produce a hit record for the Music Master. To his henchmen:] Take them away. You know what to do.

Gerald:
Oh not, not that boss!

The Music Master:
Yes! [Plays a sinister note on his pipe organ] That!

Bill Oddie:
What?

Tim:
They're gonna kill us!

The Music Master:
Oh no! Something far worse! I'm going to lock you in a cell with... [plays another sinister note] Rolf Harris!

Rolf Harris:
[a henchman opens a nearby cell door and Rolf Harris can be heard singing] Tie me kangaroo down, sport. Tie me kangaroo down. Tie me kangaroo down, sport...

Bill Oddie, Tim, Graeme Garden:
[the henchmen begin hustling the Goodies in to the cell] NO! NO! PLEASE! STOP!

Bill Oddie:
[the Music Master has just shown the Goodies some of the world famous musicians he has kidnapped] You really do have them all, don't you?

The Music Master:
Every one of them, and now... I have you!

Tim:
A-ha! But that's where your little scheme fails. You see, we thought something like this was going on so we decided to investigate. We are not, as you thought, famous musicians. We are in fact: The Goodies!

[the Goodies stand together with triumphant smiles on their faces]

Tim:
[Unimpressed] And what are you going to do?

The Music Master:
[the Goodies suddenly realize they are surrounded by the Music Master's henchmen who are all pointing guns at them] We're going to shout...

Bill Oddie, The Music Master, Graeme Garden:
HELP! HELP!

[the boys manipulate T-Rex's voicebox to amplify their call for help:
]

Bill:
Right, here we go. Help, please help us! We are trapped - repeat, trapped! - inside a prehistoric monster. Billions and billions of years old. Miles below ground. If you can't send help, at least send us a good ventriloquist.

[peering into the hole Graeme has just plunged into]

Tim:
Oi, Graeme? You were right.... Good grief, I can't see the bottom!

Bill:
I can't see *any* of him.

Bill:
If you can't move, who is going down there?

Tim:
[falsetto] You are.

Bill:
Nope!

Tim:
Yes, you are. We're doing this according to the book. Listen. [reading] "Rule Number One: Don't do it. Rule Number Two: If you're silly enough to try, one man should remain secured on the surface. He is known as the Anchor Man."

Bill:
You.

Tim:
Right. "The second man will go down the hole. He is known as the Reckless Loony."

Graeme Garden:
[as they enter the Tyrannosaur's stomach and look at the dried bones littered about] Fascinating! It's lain here undisturbed since the Cretaceous Era! Look at this - the remains of its last meal!

Bill:
[Starts rooting through the bones] Oh yes, very tasty, too. Look at this. A couple pterodactyls, for starters. A sabertooth tiger, one buffalo off-the-bone, and one cheese and chutney sandwich... [Suddenly stops] Wait a minute. I thought you said this had lain here since the Cretaceous Era.

Graeme Garden:
I did.

Bill:
Well, there weren't any Sabertooth Tigers then, you fool! The subfamily of Sabertooth Tigers originated in the Oligocene period!

Bill:
Would you mind telling me why that "stalactite" there has a gold filling?

Tim:
HELP! We've been gobbled by a prehistoric monster!

Bill:
Tim!

Tim:
Help!

Bill:
Tim! Panicking does not help!

Tim:
Yes it does!

Bill:
Yes it does...

Tim, Bill:
HELP! HELP! HELP!

Graeme Garden:
Stop it, you two - that isn't doing any good! We'll just have to try and lift it. Right, one, two, three, HEAVE!

[They strain and struggle to re-open the dinosaur's mouth, with minimal success]

Tim:
Aaah! My hand! My hand! It's caught between it's teeth! IT'S TEETH!

Bill:
All right, all right, all right. Oy, Graeme! You got a toothpick?

Graeme Garden:
No, you fool! One, two, three...

[He and Bill lift the mouth enough to get Tim's hand free but can't get it open the rest of the way]

Graeme Garden:
Oh dear, this is no good. We'll just have to find another way out.

Tim:
Just be careful WHICH one you choose.

Bill:
[Bickering with Tim] I'll tell YOU something, mate - we only keep you on because you can type!

Tim:
That's not true! I do the washing up as well. Which is more than you do, you... you...! [Finds himself unable to come up with an insult] Oh, get your hair cut!

Bill:
Hair? What about YOUR hair? You look like Susan Hampshire!

Tim:
Maybe, maybe! But at least I don't DRESS like her! Trouser suits and necklaces...

Bill:
Yeah, well I've seen you getting dressed, haven't I? Yes, and I happen to know that YOU tuck your shirt inside your underpants! You do!

Tim:
Only in the winter!

Tim:
[Offended] Ooh! Oh, that does it! If you want me, I shall be in the spleen!

Graeme Garden:
[pondering how to get out of the T-rex's innards] I wonder if I could get up its nose?

Bill:
With the very greatest of ease, I should think! You get up mine, mate!

Graeme Garden:
[after he and Tim escape, he sees Bill's not with them] Bill! Bill!

Tim:
Never mind him, let's go home!

Graeme Garden:
[Splutters] But we can't just leave him! I mean, I know you don't like him...

Tim:
That has got nothing to do with it! I was thinking of the insurance!

Tim:
Right, We are 'The Goodies'

Bill:
Yes we know that!

Tim:
And we are... uh... going to do good to people.

Bill:
How wet!

Bill:
Oh boy, we really blew it that time.

Tim:
Could've happened to anybody

Bill:
We really blew it.

Tim:
It was a perfectly natural mistake.

Bill:
...We reeeally blew it!

Tim:
STOP SAYING THAT!

Chief Beefeater:
Who are you?

Tim:
You sent for us

Chief Beefeater:
Are you alone?

Bill:
No. There's three of us

Tim:
Yes we're alone [looks at Bill] "The three of us"

[the Goodies are demonstrating the new burglar alarm that they installed into the case containing the crown jewels]

Graeme Garden:
[Prerecorded warning] Excuse me, if your not a burglar you can disregard this message. But if you are indeed a burglar it does look as if you are trying to steal the crown jewels, and that's not really on, is it? I would like to remind you that stealing the crown jewels is a punishable offense and you could find yourself in a lot of trouble. So what do you say, eh? Be a sport, pack it in and go home. That's all. Sorry you've been troubled.

Chief Beefeater:
[Unimpressed] Capital! What if he doesn't pack it in? What if he tries to open the case?

[the Goodies are preparing to leave for the tower of london, to protect the crown jewels from a possible burglary attempt]

Graeme Garden:
[Handing Bill and Tim a large spear, each] Here you are, we might need these!

Tim:
Alright, let's go! [Passionately, as he marches towards the door] FOR ENGLAND!

[Just as he reaches the door, Tim pauses and turns to face the others with a fearful expression on his face]

Tim:
*Why* might we need these?

Graeme Garden:
Well, it might be a bit dangerous!

Bill:
[Excited] Oh yes, it could get a bit rough! FOR ENGLAND!

Graeme Garden:
FOR ENGLAND!

Tim:
Actually, I don't really care too much about England...

Bill:
[Hustling a reluctant Tim out the door] Go on, get out there!

[the old lady who lives in the floor below the Goodies takes messages for them. She walks in to their office, hands Bill a note, and then walks out without saying a word]

Tim:
Can't she speak?

Bill:
She can't even write! [Reading from the note] Dear Giddies...

Reverend Llewellyn Llewellyn Llewellyn Llewellyn:
Enjoyment? There is no enjoyment at the Eisteddfod. Eistedfod is an old Welsh word, from the old Welsh. It comes from two words: "eistedd" meaning "bored" and "fod" meaning "stiff".

Delia Capone:
Shuddup, punk!

Bill:
Don't call me punk!

Delia Capone:
Squirt.

Bill:
Fair enough.