 Hey, Danny Kay. Oh, well, it's my average radio listener. Yeah, the man in the street. I want to talk to you about your program. Okay, what about my program? That's what drove me out in the street. Startin' already, eh? Look, what makes you think you're qualified to criticize my program anyway? Oh, I make a regular study of comedy programs, Kay. You do? When any other comedian comes out of the air, I sit in the living room and wait for him to get off a joke. Oh. And when I come on, I sit in the park and wait for you to get off the air. Did you ever stop to think that maybe the reception on your radio isn't so good? Uh, what kind of current do you use? DC. But when you're on, I'd rather have AC. Alternating current? Yeah, Abboton Costello. Look, Chum, you know, in spite of your attitude, I really appreciate your criticism, and I'd like to do something nice for you. Oh, yeah? Like, for instance, what? Well, I'd like to send you on an ocean voyage. Yeah. Mm-hmm. Yeah, an all-expense cruise on a torpedo. I'm surprised that you're talking like that, Kay. And after all the work I've done to try and improve your program. What have you done to improve my program? I've been trying to get you off it, ain't I? That's enough, fella. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is Dick Joy, introducing the Danny Kay Show with Butterfly McQueen, Dave Terry and his orchestra, and our special guest this evening, Mr. Arthur Treacher. And now, here's the star of our show. Danny Kay! Danny starts the show off tonight with a number from the Samuel Goldwyn production, Wonder Man, the Bally Boogie. He's here. But they hadn't seen a new step since Muthuselah did the two-step on their isolated island. They were way off beat from gyve. They were closeted to a star, deposited on the beach at gyve, and jacked from lower basin. Sweet, he went up and got a pin, and he said, hey, what's cooking? This here join is jumping buck with melancholy. So he took their native movements, added in the groove improvements, and here's the way it's played on the ballet history. Bataka boy, boyak bataka, zoo, zoo. Bataka boy, boyak bataka, green bean bataka boy, boyak bataka. Live, dive, ahaha, kutu, chattanoogie, barley, boogie. Oh, walka song, stick lick. Oh, walka song, song ahaha, walka head step. Oh, walka song, song ahaha, walka. Live, dive, ahaha, kutu, chattanoogie, barley, boogie. Now if you can't dig the chatter with the greatest of these, it really doesn't matter. Here's the translation, please. Bataka boy, boyak, ahaha, walka song, song ahaha, shoot the pinky to me stinky. Bataka boy, stick lick. Bataka boy, ahaha, head step. Bataka boy, boyak bataka. Live, dive, ahaha, kutu, chattanoogie, barley, boogie. Then all the citizens of Lower Slobovia, are you listening, little abner? Danny, what are you talking about? Well, I'm talking about my favorite comic strip character, Dick. You know you haven't heard of Little Abner. Oh, sure, but what about him? Well, he's offered to marry Lena the hyena, rather than permit Lester Gooch, creator of Fearless Fosdick, to languish in a Slobovian dungeon. Well, yes, but what has that got to do with you, Danny? Let it. His girlfriend, Daisy May, stopped me on the street yesterday and begged me to make this plea. So, Little Abner, wherever you are, listen. Lena the hyena, stay away. Drop that drip from Lower Slobovia. Little Abner, what's come over you? Think of Daisy May, Little Abner, that gal. Even Fearless Fosdick, he would say. Lester Gooch is just a moochie. If he lets you spoil your future with no Daisy May. Oh, Little Abner, who's fake Little Abner. They wanted her to star in that picture, the Morg the Marrier. But instead, she went into the Lost Weekend. The end wasn't lost. It was hiding. Everybody knows it. The only girl who can eat a sandwich through a Venetian fly. She's engaged. She should live. She wants grabbin' her. That's a Yokum son named... The interest of Mr. Basil Raffbeau. A legal firm of Peabody, Hammermill, Forsythe, Glendoning, Throbyshire, Pepperham, Breckenridge, Witherspoon, Parkhurst and Fabbisham. And what was your name again? Driscoll. However, sir, I should like you to know that I have seven connections with the firm of Peabody, Hammermill, Forsythe, Glendoning, Throbyshire, Pepperham, Breckenridge, Witherspoon, Parkhurst and Fabbisham. Oh, and business for yourself, Driscoll? In a manner of speaking, yes. I now make my offices with the legal firm of Glenroy Gates, where the Orkin Lake, Partridge, Swinburne, Featherstone, Marblehead and Gates. What happened with Peabody, Hammermill, Forsythe, Glendoning, Throbyshire, Pepperham, Breckenridge, Witherspoon, Parkhurst and Fabbisham? A bit of bitterness, Mr. K. I'm afraid I'm suing them. Oh, and who's handling the case? Glenroy Gates, where the Orkin Lake, Partridge, Swinburne, Featherstone, Marblehead and Gates? Oh, no, no, no, that wouldn't be ethical. I've called in the firm of Peabody, Heatherington, Allenby, Gill, Martin, Primrose, Scroffing's Way, Clay, Pool, Underwood, Kimbler and Surrey. And which member of the firm is handling your case? My brother-in-law. O'Reilly. Yes, my sister, Marit and Irishman. I'm thinking it in backwards. Look, Mr. Driscoll, just what is your business with me? I, sir, am here on behalf of my client, Mr. Arthur Preacher. There are certain things you must not discuss with Mr. Preacher when he appears with you on the wireless. On the wireless, I see. And radio, that is, you know. What things are those? You must not say anything about his British brain. Nothing about his cinema career. Nothing about the way he dresses. Nothing about his brain, a butler. And you must not say anything about his personal life. Well, if the fellow sneezes, can I say gizunt heith? Uh, bless you, we'll be sufficient. And now with your permission, sir, I shall buzz off. Permission granted. And I'd better get my secretary to jot down some of these taboos. Oh, Miss McQueen. Butterfly McQueen. Here I am. I haven't seen you all day, Miss McQueen. How have you been? Good as a whistle, I'm ready to blow. Well, so long. Wait, wait a minute, Miss McQueen. I want you to jot down some of the topics that a taboo for our guest are. Oh, I'm glad who's our guest tonight. Glad who's our guest? Taboo, the elephant boy. The elephant boy is not our guest, Miss McQueen. It's Arthur Treacher. Now, I want you to jot down the things Mr. Treacher and I cannot discuss. Shall I jot them down in shorthand or longhand with the case? Oh, which is faster? Longhand, naturally. What do you mean naturally? I never learned shorthand. Well, just take this down, Miss McQueen. You ready? Ready. Oh, we must not mention A, Mr. Treacher's English cohorts. How do you spell that, Mr. A? How do you spell what? A. You'll find it in the dictionary under T. Thank you. Now, let's continue. We must not mention A, Mr. Treacher's English cohorts. B, his career as a butler. C, the way he dresses. D, his motion pictures. And E, his personal life. You got that, Miss McQueen? Not quite all of it, Mr. K. I just got A, B, C, and D. Oh, well, then read that back. OK. A, B, C, D. But, Miss McQueen, what comes after those letters? E. You'll find it in the dictionary under S. Well, I tell you what you do, Miss McQueen. Just type up what you've got, Miss McQueen. Make three clean copies. And then throw them away. Well, what is that? A. Let's try that once again, huh? I'll make one extra copy. You throw away for your files. Now you go. OK. Let's just once more. I think we can make it this time. I really do. Good. I'll tell you what you do. Just type up what you've got, and then make the three up and down. Now you say. Throw away for your files. Start with all these taboos now. Now I got Miss McQueen on my mind. All I can do is try and make the dear old chap feel at home. It's the treacher. You know, I've got... Oh, do enter, won't you? Hello, Danny. Well, bless my meter's marmalade. It's Arthur treacher. Nice of you to ask me over, Danny. How have you been? Oh, top. Oh, lobo. Oh, dear old tin of fruit. Simply ripping. What? What? Hmm? Oh, what's the difference so long as it rips? I haven't felt so jolly well quick since I left dear old London, you know. Oh, the tight little isle. I know it well. The rams get to graven. From Brighton to Bathside. From Soho to Limehouse. And from Limehouse to Blues. Yeah, this man is a mental case. Danny, I never knew you'd been to England. Oh, yes, yes, Arthur. Oh, boy, I shall never forget the summer I spent in a charming village called Easy on the Butter. Oh, the days I spent strolling through the moors. The dank dim and dinty moors. And the heather. The hot summer heather. Of course, I always wore a pair of heavy scones to keep my crumpets from getting too tippant. This kid is positively snapping his cap. Can't help it, old chap. I'm simply stuffed with memories of quaint old England. Are your petro details? Yeah, they'll be here when we call them gassy. And they're jolly old lids. Over here we call them elevators. Ah, dear old England, Arthur, old Trees, where we used to ride to the hunt. I can hear myself now calling to the hounds. On Donna, on Blitzen, off Dancer, off Dancer. They're something like a hunting dog with nice big antlers. Quite. On my last hunt, there were ten of us chaps. How we did telly her. I'll bet you did. You and those nine other yikes. Look, Danny, what are you trying to prove with this dialect of yours? I was just trying to make it feel at home, Arthur. Why, what's wrong with my English accent? You sound like Nigel Bruce talking through Basil Rathbone's nose. Well, I had to do something after all those taboos your lawyer told me about. Oh, it's a lot of nonsense, Danny. I never paid any attention to him. Wait a minute, you mean he was just here wasting our time? Certainly not. He got a few lasts, didn't he? Yes, Mark Wood. Then you mean you'll do anything? Of course. You know, I even do that opera at her. You had me rehearsing all day. The one about the Countess of Coney Island. Oh, very good, sir. Dave, hand me up a handkerchief. My coronation here. I feel I ought to say something to you there. Straight from the heart here, there. I'd like to say something to you straight from his heart. My good people. And that's the quickest touch you's ever made. I want you all to know that as long as I'm the king of this here land, I wouldn't do for any of my subjects here, here, here, hey. And now if I've said anything to offend any of you, any decay, royal dispenser of justice will commence the dispense with justice. Speak up, countrymen. A guile. No dames, please. Your royal Highness, you can see by the expression on her face that she's got a problem. I can see just by her face that she's got a problem. Next case. Well, king, this is a rather touchy something. Your late father, Ernest Ellipse, alias King Charlie de Chump, true to his title, mogies are ballparked to the hilt. The hilt, you say? And this mogie has fallen into the hands of Queen Lee of Manhattan. Dad, Zooks, that's true. What will we do? Everybody else dares to do dare. Get that dialect, will you? Queen of Manhattan under ballpark is our word. What's that you said? Me, the king of Brooklyn? The cultural center of the universe? Marry a barbarian? Never. Her and her 32 teeth. What do you mean? What do you mean a 32 teeth? Everyone has 32 teeth. Four on top and 28 on the bottom. I hate to say this, but unless you marry Queen Lee of Manhattan, we are licked. But I can't marry Lee. I love Aindada. Who? In Brooklyn we say whom. All right. Whom do you love? A little knucklewurst of Coney Island. Little knucklewurst? If you are a royalty and she is a commoner. Yeah, but what a built-on. But nevertheless she is a commoner and cannot marry above her station. What is her station? Brighton Beach. Oh, really? No ocean parkway. Oh, what a problem, what a plot. Whom do my marry, whom do my not? The king of Manhattan I should be. I could not no more say Satanee. Oh, woe is he and woe is me. He could not no more say Satanee. You got a loin to say learn in New York. Unless you're learning to say loin of car. And when they say you're oily, it don't mean you've a greasy plate. And when they say you're oily, it don't mean that you're not late. What you've got to do is learn a new language. To say sandwich and never say sandwich. You got to. And besides it ain't true. You mean it's a lie? No, it's true. Oh. Remember the ages. It ain't trust. It's thrust. It ain't tread. It's thread. It ain't trite. It's thrite. It ain't thrill. It's thrill. Are you trying to make trouble for me? In a minute I'll change my mind one, two, three. Your Highness, in New York it's not tree, it's three. Imagine that. A three grows in Brooklyn. Okay, okay. But you got to go. Farewell, King of T.D. I'm going to Columbus Circle. There's so long a view right there. I'm going to Broadway there. To save the Dodgers clients. I'm making this a lion. No more will you defiance at the Yankees and the Giants. I've got to save the mortgage. You'd better pack my mortgage. Go on till June or August. Start wishing me bond mortgage. Here comes the finest King Danny the K of Brooklyn is here. I'm not certain that John Bolet is King Danny of Brooklyn. Oh, yeah, verily. Enter King Danny. Thank yous. Boy, what a filth on him. Oh, here beside me. Hey, turn off that charm now, Queenie. I'm here to talk to you. Oh, hi, I'm Turkey. Let us remember our royal station. First we'll have tea. And I will pour cream. AIDS, Vibble. Sugar. A lump. Lemon. A squeeze. Tea. Never touch it. Now listen, Queenie, by some skull dunglery, you got the evidence field mortgage away from my father, and I want it back. You can have it back after we're married. No marriage. No mortgage. Ah, your mother wears shoes. This is bliss. I'll stick my navy on you. Ah, you and your big, fat fleet. I almost missed that one. Your Majesty, I bring news from Brooklyn. Where did you get it? The Daily Eagle just flew by. Moical, knockover, lies in Cooney Island, grievously illinois. That's grievously ill. Oh, yeah. What happened, bud? She was eating one of those foot-long hot dogs, and she got her head caught in the Frankfurter Bun. Cad Zooks was the bun empty? No, there was a hot dog in it. Thank heavens she ain't trapped in there without food. Come, no-nose preacher. We must save her. But the mortgage. I'll attend to that later. There's a crowd around the hot dog stand, no-nose. Follow me, make way, stand aside. Look, preach. Mightle's still in there. Hello? Look it. Look at those crumbs. She's all covered with dough. That's terrible. That's great. With all that dough, we can pay off the mortgage on a ballpark. But last, Mightle and I can be married. But she is still a commoner, and you are still a royalty. Ah, I'll fix that. Hey, Mightle, can you hear me, Might? With this mustard ladle, I've dubbed the Countess of Cooney Island. Now no more deadlock concerning the wedlock. I'm Countess of Cooney Island. Imagine his vital, his lame little vital, and Countess of Co... There's a question I'd like to be popping in. One, I don't see nothing stopping you. Well, Mightle, my title, I'll ask you a real taste. Will you take me for better? A race as you chase? Coindly answer no way, Yates. You know the answer. Even if I was a married to real love, we'd all want the head. Music a second. Will you, Dave Terry? Will you please? Thank you, thank you, thank you. I just wanted to say a word to our armed forces radio listeners around the world. I speak. Good night. Dick Joy speaking. This is the Armed Forces Radio Service.