The masterlode of Stanfoolery of the verbally thrips oratory!
Stanley lived in a little village in Northampton called Long Buckby, which was known for the boot and shoe bespokey all lock stitchy in the leathery uppers,
deep joy of the footwear!
This is just a quick site I threw together to honour one of our greatest entertainers Stanley Unwin whose use of Unwinese
used to have me in stitches as a kid when I first watched and listened to him. People who I know that have met him said
that he was a smashing bloke. I’m just so gutted that I never had a chance to meet him.
Please leave a messagybold on the board lopper
If anyone knows any of Stans relatives or has any info on him please email
We are very grateful for John Brennan who put me in touch with “Prof” Percival who knew Stanley well and speaks Unwinese!
See below for an article, which Prof wrote for a magazine.
“Prof” John Percival
Order special CD of Stan –
Samples of the Great Man talking in Unwinese!
Stanley Unwin Thinking of
Just click on one of the links below to hear Stanley Unwin talk about some of the different aspects of Englishness.
BBCi: Think of England - audio files of Stanley Unwin talking about some of the different aspects of Englishness.
Professor Stanley Unwin - biographical information about the man who spoke perfect gibberish.
Rotatey Diskers with Unwin - transcrebbers of throo and several performages by Professor Stanley Unwin.
Stanley Unwin Explained - fan site for the master of the absurd.
Stanley Unwin: Master of Nonsense - tribute from BBC News to the man who specialized in an unfathomable verbal style, replete with malapropisms and poetic gobbledegook
ORIGINS OF JAZZ by PROF. PERCIVAL
What sourcey originakers of Jazz musicolly, now there’s a questy-how?. My thorkus is somewhere in the fardy-flung pastit and early human beals. in the deep forrey junglodes, there was logger fallolloped dowder the florm. Thru timeworn scarrage away insigold by beetloders’n’buggery, formit hollowed for echo sounding amplifiled. On passing thru, knucklodes scrapey, bendy- ho of the early man, perhaps gathery a handy twiglet nearby and accidently smotey-most and remarked the louding of the blow to the loggers and therefore the first drum!. Well what a great discover to hail a fellow for summery the tribal gathery and loggarythms for the dancy-jiggings celebrale of these early specie.
Now thru time progressy, early whisloders from reedy beds, stretch-how catgut for plucky guitarmer or harpy, seashell an early trump and more to name if you wish, anyway the rudimental starters of all our modern instrumakers.
Well as for Jazz and its birth, there is a contradict for the truth, but somewhere between the deep sorrow progressy to stuffalode six foot throom undersoiled, then the celebrale joy of risey huff to heveral glory and sitteth the right ham sigold eternally, there’s a joy!. But then you say what of the jig’n’pokery of the naughty house and easy-speakers in the early twemps?. That is also thourkus food, musicolly for a good time by all, and why not, what about rent parties!.
Nevertheless it is a surefire assumation that jazz musicolly turnit upsile dowder music for ever. Whether tonic solfardy, contrapuntal modey, stavey notage manusribbled by the grates such as Bateyhove, Joan Barky, Trychopsky, Moteyharts, too many to tell, but such a far depart and new art itself. There is a deep joy expressy from the heartstrims of the player to communicapers to the eardroves of the peeplodes who receive it. Sideways lateral thorkus improviding from the cordial base, extempered
in full flow and instant is the corm or the art and transmitty the mood of the moment from suffery of the Blues to gladdings with the tapping toenabers of swingy-fast jitterbuggers. New Orleeners what a gift to mankile bestowed -Oh Yes!.
Who cannot apreciakers the leaders such as .Satchy. John Dodgey, Jacky in the Tea Garden, Woodman Herm, Artful Shorm, Ben Goodymamber and the boppy-mods, Charles Parky, Dizzy Glips, The Loans Monkey, Davey Brewbetter and Smiley Daves, many more to include addy finite em as to need throoty form pages to note, so suffice to say and cease it there.
So a deep enjoym of this musicool from major-blaskit spiitty throom of the trumpy,
tricklyhow clarineppers woodwilly, tromslidy huffalow dowd, caressy fingolds strikeit
pianum, saxaphobias, plucky fat belly basics, strumble guitarmer and banjolades, even catgut’n’scrafey the violimber (Steve Grabberfella), and back to origins, of “build it the shed” bash crashy symbold and kicky base, thrashy sticks snaring,
tom-tombola of the drum sets tempo. There’s a summery huff to explain in simplode form for your milode to understand it, I hope it’s all clearus muddy waters.
PROFESSOR PERCIVAL High Chancelode of Miscilly to the late Stanley Unwin.
Comedian who had a special way with words
Tuesday January 15, 2002
To say that Stanley Unwin, who has died aged 90, was a comedian gives no idea of his unique brand of plausible malapropisms, grammatical distortions and straightfaced nonsense. As a prewar BBC sound engineer, he befuddled private conversations and entertained his children, but, from the 1950s, he delighted a much larger audience on radio, television, stage and in films.
Often styled "The Professor", he would talk at length on subjects like "What is the use of atoms?" or "How many beans make five?" Very occasionally, his humour was rendered straight, as when he was asked about castrati during a music lecture. "I'm not cut out for that sort of thing," he instantly replied.
Unwin was born in South Africa, the son of a feckless father he scarcely knew and a mother who, on her return to England, dispatched him to boarding schools and children's homes. At the end of that chilly time, he wanted to go to Canada, but was sent to the Gibbs nautical training school, in south Wales, to learn wireless telegraphy and sailors' knots. Briefly a seasick merchant seaman, he got an engineering job ashore, but was fired after exploding some gas inside a box his boss was sitting on. When he asked for a reference, his boss replied: "Reference? I'll give you a reference - as a comedian."
After joining the BBC, Unwin travelled the world during and after the second world war. On a royal visit to South Africa in 1947, he was chatting with a colleague at the hotel bar when a stranger barged in between them, his back to Unwin, and interrupted the conversation. Unwin gently tapped him on the shoulder: "What is the curriulode where the childers schools here?" he asked.
"Curriculode. Schools for the childers 'n teachit."
"All of them," the intruder replied, though in the face of more such remarks, he soon retreated.
Unwin had his mother - and Edward Lear - to thank for his gift. She had once returned home injured, and reported to her son that she had just "falolloped over" in the street - an amalgam of falled and flopped - and "grozed" her knee.
At first, Unwin used the same technique merely to amuse his BBC colleagues. Then, the radio producers Peter Cairns and David Martin persuaded him to meet the scriptwriter Ted Kavanagh, who wrote material for Tommy Handley, and see if he could make him laugh. Kavanagh thought Unwin "a minor comic genius".
The resultant publicity led to Unwin being offered a spot at the Windmill Theatre, Soho. He declined but, in 1949, made his professional debut with a spoof sports commentary for BBC Midlands. "He talks gobbledygook without script or rehearsal," wrote one critic. "But it is so cleverly done that it is hard to realise it is gibberish."
Unwin became Uncle Stan on the radio programme Children's Hour and did what he called "short bursts" on other broadcasts, as well as public dinners and variety shows. Recognising that his talent was best in small doses, he appeared briefly in many comedy films, including Carry On Regardless (1961), and as the Chancellor in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968).
Later, he had his own television show, Unwin Time, and guested for other entertainers, including Bernard Braden, David Nixon, Jimmy Tarbuck and Ted Ray, who first described him as "The Professor". In 1967, he conducted a hilarious interview with Alan Abel, the American who had written the book, Yours For Decency, prompting a spoof organisation called the Society for Indecency to Naked Animals, which believed that all animals should wear clothes. Only Abel - the hoaxer - remained unaware that his leg was being pulled.
Unwin wrote a number of books, including Rockabye Babel, The Miscellanian Manuscript and House And Garbage. He made several records - narrating the tale of Happiness Stan on the Small Faces' Ogden's Nut Gone Flake album in 1967 - and was still doing radio work, commercial voice-overs and conference entertainment into his 80s. With more time, he enjoyed listening to his favourite composers, "Beetehovey" and "Mozarkers", and he liked the occasional western starring "Clinty Eastwold, who goes trotty, trotty".
He remained a straight-forward, good-natured man, who lived in the same house near Northampton for more than 50 years, adored by his wife Frances, who died in 1993, and his son and two daughters.
· Stanley Unwin, comedian, born June 7 1911; died January 12 2002
STANLEY UNWIN, who has died aged 90, was a comedian and writer who made his name talking nonsense; unlike most who constructed such careers, however, "Professor" Unwin's utterances were constructed intentionally, and destructed to their illogical conclusion.
His historical forebear was Mrs Malaprop, the character in Sheridan's Rivals much given to mangling her words. Unwin traced his descent (through the Reverend W A Spooner) from his mother's propensity to create similar havoc with the English language.
"I falolloped over" - Mrs Unwin's explanation of an injury to her knee - became a cornerstone of the Unwin philology.
Unwin's addiction to this private language, and his extraordinary facility in it, was developed by reading bedtime stories to his own children. A typical beginning - "Once apollytito and Goldiloppers set out in the deep dark of the forry. She carry a basket with buttery-flabe and cheese flavour.
Goldiloppers falolloped over and grazedy kneecap" - proved more riveting than the set scenario. Armed with the approbation of his children, he began to incorporate Unwinisms into his everyday speech, and developed a career in light entertainment.
Stanley Unwin was born on June 7 1911, in Pretoria, South Africa. He joined the merchant navy as a radio operator but, despite his obvious aptitude for the job, had to leave because of his propensity towards sea-sickness.
Unwin then signed up with Plessey Communications Systems as an electronics engineer, before taking on the same job at the BBC's Daventry transmitter. In 1940, he transferred to work on the war reporting unit.
After the war, Unwin was given the opportunity to deliver messages in his private language on the Light Programme; they led to his being signed up to deliver Unwinese pronouncements on Trebor Mints, Gale's Honey and Flower's Ale in advertisements.
Thus launched, Unwin made regular appearances on wireless and television programmes such as Gobbledegook, Unwin Time, Late Night Line-Up and Lunch Box. His quick-fire responses to questions soon won over audiences.
"What is the use of atoms?" might receive the reply "Deeply fully enters here and the calculodes of the incubus soon send the pi-R-squared up the polly, which is enough in all condescience to make the useful ploy in the atomole. . . " and so on.
It was a limited joke, but one which worked well on chat and game shows, often alongside such performers as Ken Dodd or Richard Stilgoe. He narrated the Small Faces' record Ogden's Nut Gone Flake (1968) and in the same year took the Chancellor's role in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
Unwin produced a number of books, including Rock-a-Bye-Babel and Two Fairly Tales and House and Garbidge.
He answered the telephone with the greeting "Who calls?" Acquaintances were met with "Deep Joy".
He is survived by his son and two daughters.
I was also sad about Stanley Unwin too. As many of you
know, I sang many backing vocals on the classic album "Ogden's Nut Gone
Flake". It was good to meet up with Stanley again at the Small Faces
convention in 2000. It brought back lots of happy memories.Thanks to Gill
Hellier for the photo. That's all for now
[click to view full size]
a polly tie tode, when our young worle was fresh in univerbs and Englande its beauty
garden, a young lad set out in the early mordee, to find it deef wisdom and
true love in flower petals arrayed......."
Thus spoke the guru as Wubble-U sat in reverential silence. There was only a glimpse of daylight from inside Professor Unwin's shed. Dai, Deptford, Darkman and Cinders had completely forgotten the blinding spring day outside and their hydroponic allotment in New Cross, SE 14. It was as if time and space had been frozen by the tinkly magic of the Guru's voice. Little did they know that this curious event would lead Wubble-U to the true meaning of love, life & the joys of an english summer - as in "Petal", their blindingly superb single available on GO!Discs. "Thats the last bleedin' time we borrow bamboo cane from any old fridge freezer," remarked Deptford, "'E's really lost the farkin' plot mate."
Britain is a country bored of its own language. While johnny foreigner marvels at the prose of Shakespeare, Shelley, Wordsworth, Dickens and Hardy, your average provicial town joy- rider type of minger would rather reject the mother tongue in favour of Supermarket Sweep (A nation of shopkeepers, natch) and You've Been Framed (Are peoples lives really that boring that these video clips are supposed to be funny?) . Before the Buggles released "Video killed the RadioStar" there were some phonetically challenged terrorists that believed that the way to keep our language alive and vibrant is to subvert it. Spike Milligan, Viv Stanstall, Jake Thackery - the last believers in the power of nonsense, a sad kind of humour that is only made and understood by the British themselves. And standing like a collossus above them all (albeit a reluctant one) is the linguistic lobotomist himself, the self-styled Professor of Unwinese, Stanley Unwin esq.
Unwin, like many of his disciples and mimics, is a shameless and enthusiastic supporter of the most influencial medium of the spoken word - Radio. Indeed, the young lad Unwin was to be found tinkering with the crystals while a radio reporter for the Beeb in the1940s and 50s. Stanley is a true veteran of Radios Golden Age, when the nation tuned in to the wireless to listen to The Goons, Round the Horne and Steptoe & Son. It was in this environment that Unwin began to infiltrate the public consciousness with his inimitable brand of spoken nonsense, the non-language that is Unwinese.
Developed from the bedtime stories he'd made up for his kids and a love of Edward Lear, Unwinese is, for all its linguistic pretentions, a load of bollocks. Stanley is the first to admit it. Yet like all the best maulings of the english language, there is a coherent stream of thought running through Stanley's distorted syllables. When Stanley says, "And they dancey round, all loony loony rotator", you miss it literally, but you get it descriptively. Stan will tell you that he has more in common with a jazz musician than any great intellectual - yet, at the age of 83, he has started to use a word processor as a minor concession to the demands of the modern media industry in which he still works. Once exposed to an audience used to listening, Unwin became a star of radio shows and commercials, influencing comedians and comic writers such as Spike Milligan, Peter Cook, Freddie Starr and Monty Python. It was almost inevitable that the hippies would try and get in on it.
In that hazy, love-dup mess that was the Summer of 1967, Stanley was approached by the Small Faces, a band beloved of mods throughout the ages, sadly. The Faces felt they had a credibility problem; every band was making concept albums because they'd smoked pot and got it a bit wrong on bottom lips. This obviously didn't bother them in their Rod Stewart phase. Anyway, the result was "Ogdens Nut Gone Flake", an album considered to be their finest hour. A psychedelic masterpiece, "Ogdens" is the story of Happiness Jack - as told in impeccably delivered Unwinese by the master himself. Lets face it, the Heads and the Freaks loved it because it did their heads in. Stanley achieved instant cult status for life which still amuses him today. It's worth noting that like all good concept albums, "Ogdens" took a year to make; and like all good concept albums, it sounds shite unless you've necked some Jack & Jills.
So what happened next? well, Stan appeared on numerous TV commercials; a natural performer, he looks great on telly (he guest stars in Wubble-U's video of "Petal"). Happily, Stanley is unbothered by his fame and is extremely modest about his achievements. He has worked with mutual admirer Milligan on "The Great Bong", has been played out by Sasha to a packed club and has done jingles for Kiss FM. Not bad for a man in his eighties. Wubble-U love the old git.
Comedian Stanley Unwin dies
Unwin: Affectionately known as 'professor'
Comedian Stanley Unwin, who won fans with his own zany language, has died aged 90.
Professor Unwin, as he was affectionately known, found fame by twisting words into a nonsense language, which he called Unwinese, on radio and later TV in the 1940s and 1950s.
He died peacefully on Saturday at the Dantre Hospital in Daventry, Northamptonshire, his agent said.
Born in Pretoria, South Africa, it was his mother who unwittingly provided him with the inspiration for his language.
When she tripped up one day, she told her son that she had "falloloped over and grazed her knee clapper".
Unwin developed his unique language by reading fairytales to his children.
He began his career as a BBC engineer in 1940, and was soon persuaded to perform his party piece in front of a microphone.
Once a polly tie tode, a young lad set out in the early mordee, to find it deef wisdom and true love in flower petals arrayed
Example of Unwinese
His fame grew after he began doing spots on variety show broadcasts.
One of his biggest fans was the late Tommy Cooper who once described him as "bleeding barmy".
Unwin was also said to have influenced comedians such as Spike Milligan, Peter Cook, Freddie Starr and the Monty Python crew.
He also starred in a number of films, with roles including the Chancellor in hit children's film Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and the landlord in Carry On Regardless.
In 1968 Unwin reached a whole new audience when he appeared on The Small Faces' 1968 album Ogdens Nut Gone Flake.
He was a late replacement for Milligan, who was going to appear on the album, but he delivered the story of Happiness Stan in his own unique style, which earned him cult status among rock fans.
In 1969 he "appeared" as Father Stanley Unwin in Gerry Anderson's puppet show The Secret Service.
Unlike his previous work on shows like Thunderbirds and Joe 90, Anderson used a mixture of live-action and puppetry for The Secret Service.
Unwin would double as the puppet in motion sequences and would be seen driving a car and walking with a briefcase.
The series was not as popular as some of Anderson's earlier work and the show was cancelled after 13 episodes.
He also applied his linguistic skills to the lucrative TV advertising market.
His last appearance on TV was in 1998 as the voice of Mr Wangle on BBC animated show Rex the Runt.
The Secret Service Star Stanley
Updated: January 14th, 2002
Stanley Unwin, one of Britain's best-loved broadcasters and entertainers and the star of the 1969 Gerry Anderson Supermarionation series The Secret Service, has died, aged 90. For more than half a century, Unwin entertained radio and television audiences with his own gobble-de-gook language, 'Unwin-ese', which substituted similar-sounding nonsense words for regular English to create a form of gibberish that had its own internal logic. He had the distinction of being the only performer to voice a Supermarionation puppet character modelled on himself when, as Father Stanley Unwin in The Secret Service, he took the starring role as voice artist for the puppet and also appeared as the character in person for live-action sequences.
Born in Pretoria, South Africa in 1911, Unwin trained at nautical school and obtained a first class GPO Wireless Operator's certificate. After a spell at sea as a deck hand, he joined the wireless manufacturing firm Peto Scott in London, but got the sack for accidentally blowing up his boss. For three years, he worked at a company that built echo sounding gear, before joining the Plessy Company at Ilford where he designed and built test gear for the electronics industry.
In March 1940, he was hired by the BBC as an electronics maintenance engineer and four years later, he was invited to join the War Reporting Unit at Portsmouth, where he recorded the D-Day dispatches of the War Corresponents with the Normandy Landings. In March 1944, he was sent to join the US Third Army in France and was then posted with the British 8th Army in Italy before finally covering the Peace Conference in Paris in 1946. Returning home, he took a mobile recording engineer's job in the Midlands which involved him in a variety of work including the first Down Your Way programme with Richard Dimbleby. As an ex-war reporter, Unwin was also selected to cover the 1947 Royal Tour of South Africa.
Over the next few years, he developed a second career as a broadcaster, using the Unwinese language that he had developed to entertain his children, but he was reluctant to leave his job as a sound engineer until he was hired to appear in a TV commercial for beer and found that his salary for the work was equal to several years' pay in his day job. He made regular radio and television appearances in programmes such as Saturday Night On The Light, Beyond Our Ken, Does The Team Think?, Showtime and Early To Braden, before going on to appear in a number of feature films including Fun At St Fanny's (1956), Further Up The Creek (1958), Inn For Trouble (1960), Hair Of The Dog (1961), Carry On Regardless (1961), Press For Time (1966) and the Eon production of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968).
It was while he was completing dubbing work on the latter at Pinewood Studios that he was introduced to Gerry Anderson and invited to become the star of the final Supermarionation production, The Secret Service. The series was written and developed specifically to showcase Unwin's talents and featured him as Father Stanley Unwin, undercover operative for British Intelligence Service Headquarters Operation Priest (BISHOP). For the series, Unwin wrote all the Unwinese dialogue himself, translating the scripted dialogue into lines such as "Ah, yes, writey scribbly in your bookery, all uttery words speed of your penceload must defeat my eyebold."
Unwin continued to make radio and television appearances over the last thirty years and regularly provided voice-overs for commercials. He was also in great demand as an after-dinner speaker. In 2000, he filmed an interview for Fanderson's forthcoming The Supermarionation Story documentary, but was forced to cancel an appearance at the club's Century 21 convention when he was diagnosed with an inoperable aneurism. He died peacefully on Saturday, January 12th at the Dantre Hospital in Daventry.
Stanley Unwin: Master of nonsense
"Professor" Stanley Unwin specialised in an unfathomable verbal style, replete with malapropisms and poetic gobbledegook.
It brightened the last days of variety theatre and, through appearances in radio comedies during the 1950s, brought him cult status during the hippie era of the late 1960s.
Born in June 1911 in Pretoria, South Africa, Stanley Unwin's career began unexpectedly when his mother tripped up one day, telling her son she had "falloloped over and grazed her kneeclapper".
Fascinated by the absurdity of this language and with that of Edward Lear, writer of The Owl and The Pussycat, he developed his own bizarre vocabulary, Unwinese, with which he delighted his own children.
The opening lines of Goldiloppers, his version of Goldilocks, gives a flavour of Stanley Unwin's style.
"Once apollytito and Goldiloppers set out in the deep dark of the forry. She was carry a basket with buttere-flabe and cheesy flavour."
After serving as a wireless operator in the Merchant Navy, Stanley Unwin joined the BBC in 1940 as an engineer in the Corporation's war reporting unit.
His linguistic dexterity impressed his colleagues, who eventually persuaded him to perform a party piece into a microphone.
Before long, he had become a variety performer in the theatre, on radio and on the new medium of television, most notably alongside the magician David Nixon on Showtime.
On film, he appeared in 1955's Fun at St Fanny's with a veritable rogues' gallery of comedy: bumbling Peter Butterworth, stick-like Cardew "The Cad" Robinson, rotund and avuncular Fred Emney and, the then, juvenile Ronnie Corbett.
As the gloom of post-war austerity transformed into the Swinging Sixties, Stanley Unwin gained a whole new audience as a seer/sage of psychedelia.
He featured as the narrator on The Small Faces' 1968 concept album, Ogden's Nut Gone Flake, excelling on the track Happiness Stan.
The album, the band's last, remained at the top of the charts for six weeks.
During the same year he featured as the Chancellor in the big screen adaptation of Ian Fleming's children's novel, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.
Later, he was transformed into a puppet, Father Stanley Unwin, in Gerry Anderson's short-lived, and truly odd, series The Secret Service.
Over the years, Stanley Unwin's voice was used for many television advertisements, including a memorable plug for Pirelli tyres, with subtitles being utilised to clarify his message.
More recently, well into his 80s, his jingles graced the airwaves at Kiss FM.
Stanley Unwin's gentle humour was whimsical and typically British, bringing "wonderboldness and deep, deep joy" to fans including Spike Milligan, Ken Dodd and Tommy Cooper.
Unwin: Master of nonsense Professor" Stanley Unwin specialised in an
unfathomable verbal style, replete with malapropisms and poetic gobbledegook.
[Look at it only if you can bear to read the following statement: "Fascinated by the absurdity of this language and with that of Edward Lear of Jabberwocky fame, he developed his own bizarre vocabulary, Unwinese, with which he delighted his own children."]
BBC also has another obituary: Comedian Stanley Unwin dies, and a page with samples: Stanley Unwin Thinking of England on BBCi.
posted by Marco Graziosi 12:35 PM
Stanley Unwin Few variety artistes have caught the public’s imagination
quite like Stanley Unwin, the self-styled “Professor of Unwinese”, a
glottal-stopped gobbledegookian language that sounded deceptively like English
trying to swallow itself. For more than fifty years he gave bewildering
humorous expositions which might almost have come from the pages of Finnegans
Unwinese developed out of bedtime stories that he had invented for his children, together with an admiration he had for the nonsense poet Edward Lear.
posted by Marco Graziosi 12:24 PM
Sorely Misty In The Footy Worldlode....Tribbly To Sir Stanley (Unwin)
in the roundy ball write and rhymey world..
and series in the thoughts now..
for better time... never was than now.
to menshy-menshy the name Sir Stanley.?
and not Matthews in the Stoke shirt of course
all brycreemed down the wingy lode..
but Unwin..jokey..jokey..all nonsey funny but make no sensey
but who carelodes..if tickly throcus and giggly
all chortly in the tummy fold....
but not digressy dangerlode..
and listeny well
all arm-chair teletubs and future athlodes
in the Peopley Game ahead and new...
all teenfold daffy becksters in the man u's
or arsenolds in the viairers...
for long long ago..
back in the ninebold sixties
all time warpy warpy..and hippy daisy-cull in the lovey lovey..
a joyfold and star-studdy footbally kidney
with dream makey in the eyeboles
met Sr Stanley at a public meety night ...
long time..long time..even before Totteny endy
the twenty sevvy game unbeatyfold..
and there...in that pricely momo of questie answery
and still barely a young manifold in the ordinance surf-spray
he asked Sir Stanley.......
"Do you think Tottenham will wn the cup this year?"
Answerforth Sir Stanley..and this be true..for i found it today..
"Well, erm, actually this is a very good question and topicold.
I would say that if the forward line have a symmetrical teamworkers and that they can from the first passit of the ball...
take in mind the measured beat of a one, two, throo or fido...
so that the ball can falollop out to the wingers
and a very fine trittly how in a run and drop-kick
and carry one and shooting in the goal
If they can get by without an offsiger
which is known on the ref
and don't throw the bottload
because he's only doing his best.
it'll be hard on their halfbackers
because I don't think they'll get a chance to do a falolloper shooty
on account of the front line with their deep joy of
shall we say, an express in their enthusiasm
to the first who to clop falollop in the goalmouth.
Oh yes. Anyway it's a very good question, sir
; it's not much about music
excepting that half-time in the band falolloped huffalo-dowd. "***
(**Actual Extract -Sir Stanley Unwin.)from World Of Yak Website
85 not out - presents JARS a centenary gift with his unique view of jazz history
When Jazz (how or what) came, is the dizziest of a fundamole. Not mark you
of a Gillespeed fundamole, O no. There were no recorms vailabold ‘til 1917;
these by white perslode, The Original Dixieland Jazz Band. Maybe otherwise jazz
handy down by fardles’n mothers ‘til the first recorms in 1923 in a railside
studio ramshackload by a black onsombly; Oliver’s, 1923, with his Creole Jazz
Band, which inclubed Louis Armstrong who strode with first fine second
trumpy-blow. There’s a start of a historical impaggers indeedy-ho!
Early twenty yields the whiters band of Paul Whiteman, but with few jazz creaturals. These were some bar interjeps from Joe Venuti (catgut’n violin scrapey-joy, y’know) and Eddie Lang’s guitar pluck’fretfolded; O yes. Mind you, there were hot solomes done by C Melody saxophobia from Frankie Trumbauer and Bix gave splendy cornet hot contribule too. O yes.
CHICK WEBBER A DRUMJOY
Contempries with these; big banders black were doing the jazz-play: Duke
Ellingtones, Chick Webber of drumjoy, Charlie Johnson, Fletcher Henderstones,
all of whom preceded Count Basics and Jimmy Luncefolder; all of this because
peeplodes had a thaucus blacks could play this wild musicolly. But Whiters?
There were recorms jazz-pure by Hot Fido and Several of Louis Armstrong. These with Jelly Roller of Morty fame are collector’s classicool. Indeedy ho.
But what of smaller groupers gathery? Beiderwhile with Bixie-Gang and Frankie Tram C mellow saxifolder, then of course with Jean Goldkettle aboil before the Whitemold joinit. Next came hot interspurps with Casa’n Loma, leading to the Swing era of belly Goodmold, Dorsey’n Dorsey and Krupa drumset’n symbold. At the same toil there were white musicools like Eddie Condon of guitar’n pluck-it banjold and Bob Crosby’s band. Later came-it the Dixieland Musee preservale from Muggsy Spanier’s Ragtoil, leady-hup to a revivy-merge of obscury blacks from limbold quite suddly. George Lewis clarinebbers, trumplode of Bunk Johnson, Hunkydory trombslider, Big Bill Broonzy-bluesing and a fine leadermuxlewis of boog-it’n woog-it. Hey.
Concurry with this resurgey-ho came the blacklaunch sudlode of bepop phenomimakers.
Out the window falolloped all most consef of jazzy joy as known-it then.
Harmonic, tonefolders, rythmy. F-t! Down the cellar and no takers.
Sollagommorra t’you lot and devil takers hindemyth. No thorks or hope of
viabilly, but blieve it or not, woof. It was there. From now on it was nukkle
dups’n fisticubbers tweel the fundamoles and the latest crabes.
O dear. Young whites all passionale were ‘toenails in the garters’ for emulating Armstroder Louis and Jelly Rollers. O joy for the real jazzy McCoydle. Eight in a bardle trumpey part, foot tabbers booflabber keychange, clarinebbers take-over. All these.
In 19 forty-fido it was protagger-tricks more than somewhat. I tell you. In England George Webb’s Dixielanders, having Wally Fawkes’s clarinebber, and in April of that year joined by Humph (ombooshoor for long ideas ‘afloaty, tight libbers for high C’s forceps) but in November he did a departy-ho. These Dixielanders managed by Jim who Godbolted the theme ‘New New Orleans in Barnehurst Kent.’ O deep folly! Nevertheleps, many musicools were inspirey to hup their instromolds’n form a galaxy of bandings like Crane River Jazzy-hocus, John Haim’s King Jelly Rollers, The Cris Barbery Band-here’s another fine tromslidery-ho-, Humph’s early-early band of the traddy-genuine and later Ackery fine bilkers and Kenny Ball; that’s London based for starters: Provincey-ho were Yorkshire Jazz Band, Merseysippi Jazz Band from Liverpole where as you know, the Liverbird did a wingflabber every time a virgin passed by. Also there was Second City Jazzmen from Birmygold and others to follow throom: O yes.
At this mode of Bop Grip, Club Eleven began with Ronnie Scott, John
Dankworthy - no less, and Dennis Rose to name a numbold. Scott and Dankworth
took big bands on the road forthwold. Johnny D with the Cleo lady Laine vocal
joyfold. Fine eppiglow mellow modulade’n fundamold. O yes.
As in Yankyland - and I meanit the broadest sense of U.S’n stretchit - the big bands did a shrinkit in the sixties, trad jazz became commercial.
In the UK, Ronnie Scott formed his own club spesslode in 19 fiftynile. Now in perpetyu-motion if you like, and extendy to Birmingold in the Midload. Then ‘Free Form’ emerged in the seventies with a frenetty metzoff. It made bebop a languid sound of light Sunday orchestrale by parison. Though not quite cuffalo teedy sound with two ploplumpers with the vicar. O no. However all this, the sixties pewkered forth a farrago of perslodes in the musey-world. Beatloders of Polly McCarton, who with Lennontones gabe forth Liverpuddly tunes of joy with Ringold of drummage; the Rolly-Stokers expressy fine hapload with Jagloads of mike in the lebbers swing’n jump huffalodown the stage and Willy Wymold of course lead guitar’n plucky, the King, Elvy Presloders, bent kneeclabber all rocky-jailhouses too. Evenso, the real jazz creators were, and still are, carrying the rythmold’n sound of self expressy-ho to infinny in the cosmos for sure. Deep Joy.
Stanley Unwin was born in South Africa in 1911. He moved to England and, in 1940, joined the BBC as a sound engineer. His gobbledygook performances, the first of which was broadcast on the radio in 1948, evolved from Edward-Lear-ish versions of bedtime stories that he originally created to entertain his children. By the 1960s he had become a star of film and television. In 1968 he appeared as narrator on the Small Faces' concept album Ogden's Nut Gone Flake, describing (in fluent Unwinese) a quest to discover what becomes of the Moon when it's not in the sky. He continued working right up to his death at the age of 90 on 12 January 2002.
The recordings transcribed here appear on Rotatey Diskers with Unwin (SEQUEL CD NEBCD 934).
Once in a long far awow, in the Germanic land, there was a great city with Grubbelsberg or something like that, with an Obermeister-Bergelmasty who was in charge. Now there they had a surfeit or rat-suffery, where all they used to creep and out and gnaw sniff and gribble into the early mord (and the late evage) there, biting the bits of the table, also the tea-clothers; and when people were asleep in their beds, so these rats would gnaw into the sheebs and also the whiskers of those who was dangly hoaver.
There was a great suffery. Not only this: the larder, foodage, all the fine things of the world was not enjoying by the peopload themselves on account of these rats doing a sniffy most (and the chew-chew and stuffle down their ratty grebes); because these were the fattest raps and also over-producey in this great lovely city which was otherwise... tsk tsk.
Now, there was such a folly about this that the Oberbergermeister called a great gathery in the marky. And there, altogether at half past frume on one wet afterlubrious, came all these peoploafers and stood. And he called out, and it suthered like this:
I'm the rattage for your grier.
And who should get ridden for this rattage crude
Five thousand hundred grübels I shall reward for your thrührr!"
And so all the people thought, what a wonderful thing. And they tried and tried, but there was no way. They tried neppers, they tried ordinary box-type falolloping-down traps for getting rid of these things, but no....
Until one day there came a message, and he went clop clop on the door of the Oberbergermeister's study, and he said: "Hereinschkrötzen, kommen hej." So in came a little timid little man who said: "Herr Oberbadergeschkrütschesmeister, I would like from to get riddage of raw ratting and I have my little pipe." [Unwin briefly whistles to imitate the pipe.]
He said: "That's nicht gut, warsch los, nasch nicht gut gegen die ratten." "But believe me, sir, I can get riddage them [a bit more whistling] on this pifer, I could do this, I am most assurme." And so he agreed, and he gave him throo and seps on account, which he stuffen in his pocket to go and get half a pie and a load of brewflame.
Now, he gathered and stood at the corm of the street (not like a loungy most as you see anyone crawling out of the pubbery) and raised up this little pifer to his mouth, and the tune begrail: [He imitates the pipe again, including an incongruous snore.] And gradually the small raps, middle rats, crerd rats and sclurvy rats, the grold rats, bogger rats, churver rats and snivel rats all came grurtly trittly-how, snuffered there and gave their bow. And they followed him in the gutty, in the grutty, down the rooves and all the scruppy.
And they followed to the ribbage: down, deep down he walk it. And he himself wore the snorkly, and he was able to breathe it. But all the raps did a gurgly motion, drowndeggers falollop deef down, fathom, they all labour in Davy Jones' all locky locker in the bottom of the Rhiny Rhiny river which flow up to the Drachensfield'p't'k.
Well, he went back. And the Obergarbagemeister said: "Was für eins, es geb nicht früher three hundred goldens fier?" And he said, "Well, I only ask the prizes which you geben for getting ridden the rattage well, sir." "Ho no, take three and six, ich varsteigte so!" But he wouldn't take it; and after all, what a meanie for stuffling throo and sips since getting rid of all this rattage. But of course the Oberbergermeister was insisty, stuffing half a crown of shilly in the hambage and kicking him in the bocus and run awail. Oh dear!
Well, there's a great sorrow in this, because he who promises a loyalty which is for the reward which gave and all these horrible rattage, surely it was worth that? Tsk, tsk.
So of course the Pied Piple, because that was the man which was Hambling and weighting the forcus on this, and he thought: "Right, it's not an avengy most, but I must teaching the lesson for these Germanny-Teutonny peoploaders." So he gotten out his pipe, stood at the corm of the street'k't'p't... [Unwin imitates the pipe, ending with another snore.]
A deep fundamould of musee which as you know a harmonic discorb stood there, and then out came the childers: small childers, medium childers, large childers, with dangly trousey; others with no trousey torn the shirt and hangy there; others with the bruisey most as armpeggers wrapped up, all from the hospitole, all from the housey; so these peoploads wandering two by throo, four by form, and all so he played this tume and so they marching in stepper to the faraway hillocks there, into the mountings.
Then they came to a great cavage and the voices echoed as they singing and dancing, clapping and trancing, huffalo-dowder this hill, and then p'topfa blohga the great stone which folloped in the dorm and shut for evermorm.
Well, the Oberbergermeister was deep folly for this, and said: "Where you've taken ussnausne childers kreutschnesaul?" He said, "Well, you only gave me throo and seps for getting rid of the ratty, so I've now buried the childers and give me the other rubeload." But whether he ever got those throo hundred and forty-poor pieces of golden acre, I don't really know. But all I can say is, the moral of the story is: if a deep promisey most, don't suffer I'm all right Jacky, because there's always a bit left over.
Now, once a-polly tito. You may think that doesn't sound quite right. But believe me, once a-polly tito it is, and in this case it was Goldyloppers.
Goldyloppers trittly-how in the early mordy, and she falolloped down the steps. Oh unfortunade for cracking of the eggers and the sheebs and the buttery full-falollop and graze the knee-clappers. So she had a vaselubrious, rub it on and a quick healy huff and that was that. So off she went, and she went trittly-how down the garbage path, and at the left right-hand-side goal she passed a [sniff] poo-pom, it was hillows a humus heapy in the garbage! But never mind. Erm... she lost her wail.
Now this is a sadness, dear childers, because in the slight misty haze which all forry, let me tell you, in the ephemeral forry there's always a fairy control where the misty risey huff there, and so she was completely lost it. Oh folly, folly.
There was a cotty; so she went up, all ready with the basket and picked up the butter and all that with a little bit of birch she scrape it off and rub it and down her clothesee. Mum would be cross but... never mind. Clop clop on the door. This little cotty had a jar on the door, so she went in. Nobody there. Three baseload of porry on the tabloid, all slightly steamy huff, and nobody at. She called out: [as though down a cardboard tube] "Anyone home?" Nobody. Folly, folly, and a little hunger was with her, so she falolloped a taste out of the first basel.
This was the large baseload and too oversalty for the flabe p't't't spitty-how. Oh dear! Now the middload was a middle flabe which was not too oversalt and a sugar flabe on her saliva glam and it wasn't course quite satisfactual; so she did a tasty most in the little baseload there, and it was a joy. And oh [gulp] (pardlo!) as she stuffled it down! Oho dear! Now this was great, but there was also a little tiredness in the Goldyloppers and she sat on a three-lebber stool and -- tock falolloper! -- all the lebbers floating across the corm, sat on her bocus there, bruisey most.
Well, still there was no one around, so she went brrrrrr tock up the stairloaders. And she found a large bedding, not a caypack that eiderdown but stuffled with feathers, but here and there a stalk, as you know is a big feathersy eaglode and it stuckening in her back; and it was most uncomfortipold. So she saw the cotty, and in this cot she did lay down: [snore, zzzzz] deep sleevers under the eiderdobe.
Well, while she was this thus sleepy and a deep dream of peaks, then up came the bears into the cotty. Now the fatherbold bear looking around and say: "Who's been tasting and suffling my porry? Ho ho, dear!" And then the mother bear look it in her baseload of porry and said: [tube voice again] "Who been tasting my porry? Oohhhh, a bedder pinger!" So the small bear came and said: "Who touches my baseload and falolloping all down, mum! Huh-ha-ho dear, look it and empty and not scratching on the bottom!"
And there was a general consternail uproar and complaint about the three-lebbed stool bear, all the bits and floaty, and so they had a looking it around the houseloader.
[Brrrrrr tock] Big bear, [higher pitch: brrrrrr tock] middle bear, [higher still: brrrrrr ss't't] they all went up the stairloaders, and soon there was a dent discovery in mum and dad's bedling when the dirty footmark of where she did her trottly over-and-how and then into the cops't'k. And the little bear said: "Oh lookadee, mum! There's a lying of some Goldyloppers!"
But at this mode, she jumped up in the middle of her deep dream and sleep peacey, [snore, whistle] out of the windload, slide it and huffalo-dowder the drainpikers, and through the forry fast awail! And they all looked such consternail through the windload, they hadn't time to say: "You naughty girlage!" Huh-huh-huh-huh!
[This is delivered as a commentary over the noise of an excited crowd.]
Er, well, hello now... erm... for sport we've brought you here today at the Acropolian Stadium: the year is circa throo five foe... er... and just outside Athens and Thrace with Thessaly in the distance, and the great craggy Ithaca... er... very beautiful undulating groyles which suff up there in this great, er, rugged countryside where many were hung in the early days there... a legs upside-dadle and joy as the great, er, animals came out in the oobliub, I think it was where the lions ate the first, er, old Hercules and tore off the back leg of him and threw it over his shoulder.
But, um, to the game. Now the Scrudgeons' first, erm, who falollop forth there... and the ambidextrals (who work for heither sigh) are looking very crafty with their stall sthays, which are drawn out from this, erm, lovely dehydral wheeled chariot's grable. Out of the small hole it comes forth, and the singles fly heither sigh... and I can see the Fromelian delegation there with their tricoloured underwoves, their tassels all besceptre... all dangly fine as they marching in time to the initial music to set the game grole, because that's how it begrebes.
Now here and there is a sawn-off shotgoal as the odd foot is missing, as they take their first crebbers... and erm, for the... I'll take you over to the Sicilian chivalbars... [he inhales] from where I'm standing there's a very fine flabe coming through as they stuff these odd pieces of cupgroble, because that's how they grow, with the olive trees halfway, er, for a very fine flabe.
Here and there are fine garlic: [he sniffs] poo! Horribold's a lovely smell as it comes through... er, and... um... I can see where the ambidextrals there, who work for heither sigh, are retrieving this very fine scrudgemut-derr which is the early game... er, and as they clash, there's a very friendly smile, there's not a snarl among them as they raise their knifey knuckledusters there and, er, stuffing it under the armpeggers and bandaged up by the early visit of the people who save and misgrow.
Er, the first aid have come on, and they've got, er, splints here and there, a very fine sling for lifting up the armpegger of those who suffer the mosting... er, and the four fouls per side are decided with the first penalties where they falollop in the goal mouth.
Um... there's a great gathering round one goal mode as the net is folloped flat: what a clean groyle there as they kicking it on the bocus and the mable... all these people doing a very fine suffery in the cause of the sport: a pre-recursor of this, erm, circa throo five fold. What a wonderful joy as they're raising it up their small glinty knives! There's no, absolutely no bloodthirsty sport in the whole world such a joy as this friendly gathering for presenting the cups by the Lord Mayor at half past throo on a Saturday afterlubrious.
Two or three are slightly drunken in the front roamer, which is not permitted really, but as they hiccuff and trip, so they're flatten on the bocus and tripping up in the first line forward... and, er, the backs who wear the largest feet: size seventeen, the shoes of a hundred and nine pounds per weight as they charge, the first charges, and don't get a mezza from the light brigail on this, because this was a sport.
And, um, you'll find that, er, there is a crafty most in this game which wouldn't be allowed today: we do know that one or two of the halfbacks in the forward twenty-fido carry a feather for tickling under the armpegger as no one is looking for the early to collecting the ball, and while they laugh, so follock! They kick 'em under the eardroves and it's with a laugh and their dying chins they lay kicking up the mud into a very high heavel.
But there is a joy in this game, as they gather, through on the slight-hand side, well passy most, there's teamwork: oh yes, and before one is a fine kick, er, there where the ball would land, so, er, it bouncey most and cause a flat face as they lie. But, er, it's a very fine sport, er, and I think in the first or several division where Athens came out on top, Athaca several, and er, Thrace or Sicily which come fourth or fie. And several of the bandits that lurking and in the hillocks today are supposed to be related and handed down for father, soil and son, er, so to carry on the sport.
There is a deep joy, and while everybody here is laughing their broken heads off and a-lebbers like a sawn-off shotgoal, I hand you back to the roofless where our studio has beamed on the great lobe.
[A few seconds of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, suddenly replaced by the sound of the needle ripping across the record.]
Oh, sacrilade! For the sliding needload or sapphire through the groobers of a disky right to the middling. Tsk, oh never, never, never! Ooh dear!
You know, hi-de-fi is something, a creation of one of the several wonders of the great worm for the pleasure of the, erm, discerning publy for their eardrobers to be deep in joy where two throo gather togebb and listening to the louder scopers for some creation of joy, man-made special effecters as one can demonstrail (and I'll touch upon that later), and, er, the folly of it. Oh yes!
Now let's take for a start where you've the microphobia picks up that which is a joy for your hi-fi impinge on the drums: cluck. Right. Now, we have that which first sound emanail and goes falollopa-doo. Listen for the echold: [With reverberation] Here we have a voice, slightly remood and ricochail back from a flat surfeit surfaces. Sixty doo-beel decail or time, falollop back through your own eardroves and to the brainbocker for an echo inspirail.
You know, the joy of this inspirail as it tocks back onto your ear does show a very fine ephemeral result, almost magicold in its Aladdin caber or any special type of reflepse which sound can be used. Never confuse this with the delayed which sound, which follows throom to give you a different aural effect: [With slapback delay] Here-here, tock-tock, one-one, throo-throo, fido-fido. There's no echo in this-this, but a delay time-time where-where the words-words follow on-on to the footlebbers of what's early say-say and coasty-coasty creepy-creepy creepy-creepy up on you with a deep folly-folly joyload-joyload.
That shows how you can get that words which creepy up on you like a shadown in the early mortgage, or shall we say a ghost in the deep of the night.
The third method, not to be commisconstrole or confusey with the ordinary echo or delabe, is that which comes back not like a ricochail but addimost up to an invertebrail. [With cumulative echo] And so as the words come back, do an infaultimost... [He is drowned out by his own echoes] folla-folla-folla-folla-folla-...
Oh, dear, dear! I'm back. Me tell you, it's not a pleasant experience where one can disappear in ever decrease which the circload of its own fundamould, I can tell you.
Now this brings to mime the very fine sounds which can be co-relabe togabb together, and artificial mode for giving you the clip clop of the horse's hoopers. Now listen to this deep joyle of the falollop: [A horse approaches, faster and faster until its steps blur into a continuous sound.] Yes. Now you might have imagined a throo-to-one or bar-one the Epstom corpse where they going round Tattenham Corby, where the bookie's holding up his hand, clabbage, and signalfied to give you the very fine sounds of a real horsix, but believe me this was a disembody electronny horsips for hitting the hi-de-fido effect. Oh yes.
What joys one can have also from the little fountain doing its trittly-how: [Noise of a fountain.] Oh, falollopy down! There's a deep joy in this, which scintillades of crystal clear much as might have been emanailed by a piece of music.
Now there is such a thing as a joyful hi-de-fi of silence. Just listen to this: [A couple of seconds of nothing] The full enjoyment, the full encomplisement, the whole spectrode of sound manifest in a silence such as that, covering from throo dee-beel up through the whole spectrode of ambient noisings, so that if your own ears have a tick in them, do remove the waxy and stuffing a match insile.
There is also the scratching of an insect onto a membrail, and this when magnifile up is the aural equivalent of that which is under the microscobey throo thousand loadal times. So do try, if you can, not to get involved in this any time you're out on a picnicker and have a bee snatching on your own sort of nostrome or anything like that, otherwise they leave their sting in, which if I'm pass on this time is equivalent of a bee sting to the finest needload for scratching it into the image of a buckman mile which, as you know, is ever decreasing for the spiral of the flat surfeit surfaces of a disk itself.
The full soul of expression in hi-fi, erm, we must demonstrate the embryo sounds of the first recorm. And for the first acousty of the gathering of the orchestrail, conductor baton raisey, all ready for the dropping, a-one-two-throo, folly in the foy, and he starts the orchestra grobe. Now this is the early cylindricold where they even fumbold to getting it and on the cylinder to make this first recorm. Listen to this very, sorry, embryo joy for a middle frequence-obers but and yet understoob as had to be done in those days: [Clicks of a rotating wax cylinder]
And then the great trend: the progress in the fifty yearloaders which half-turn of the centureel up to the early thirpers, forty-throo, fifty-fido and now in the sixty-woe. Here we have the great, full-range manifestail of the Tchaikobber, and that for a wonderfold as the, er, you can just imagine, you can see the passing out of the balaclarbs there, treadly in the snowball and all the Yetis up in the hillocks away there. And as the great cannons drawm forth, so the wars of the Tosting's farewell of joy and the great nations gatherimost in the great finale crescendober.
[The great finale crescendober, suddenly replaced by the sound of the needle ripping across the record.] But never a sacrilade if you don't mind.
Early forms of self-expression manifest themselves in painting, and of course you had the woad where the early ancient Britters which falollop the stuff all over their form, moath in glisteny rebbers of ochre, deep bloom of the, erm, stone which their clay cabe in the southern parts of the Tinsel Manor and all round the who's-a-scilly-islode. They gathered this and just sclabbered it on, and from a distance you could see the scintillacres of the people who expressed themselves in this way.
On the continent you had the Altamira moora murals, and fifty thousand feet fathom they laboured and expressed in a deep fine bull drawing on the warm. And later of course, loamantic art after this was discovered, they had the early Italian schooners I think, not to confuse with Confucius of the Chinese influx which was very far remood, and of course Confucius sailed very close to the wind on these forms of expression.
The Italians I think were at their best at the time, with the romantic schoom of the Botticelli and the Venus de Milobers of course, and, er, not, nothing of any to misconstrue of ugly in these deep classical for-de-form: Leonardo da Vincers and the Preraphaelites todail which gave of the Burne-Jomes, Millade, Rossetti. And there they did for the mixing of the palettes, they had the embryo clurbers of an egg which is holding the colourbs together, woady again, and the ochre dust which they grabbered togave in Sicilian crabers, mixed this hoff for falolloping on the, er, on the, er, er, sashel itself. But the canvas was used there with the camel-hoad or hairbrushy which they dipped it and im, and also flourishing the armpegger and wore a little flat hat a bit like a beret and the short whiskerbs of course.
But, um, what about the trend? You see, when the modern school which did the interpretail with a pastiche like a Van Goggy. He would do a fine sunshine drenchy. Now he would to express in a sunflower would do a grurp of the browm, scrittle heither sigh for the petaloads in a deep yellow expressy, and in the backgrove possibly a cypress treel and a small individuholder little flower, dangle it and dangle it in the garbage.
But of course you see, today we have, we just get a pot of paintloagers and grurp it and on the floor, riding it a bicycole through it, and so the interpret for the arters of this: ooh, no, no, no, no! Far better to get a pot of paintings, severaload bottles of inkit, scrurp it huffalo-dowder the wall and stand hupside-dowdle and play a skating march. Because in this it would express the idea in the viewer, because everything is in the heart or the eye of the beholder.
And I think that's what Shakespeare said when he said, erm, "Ye who wield the brush, never get your nose and tush", because in this is the form of expression which I think todail and trends for the future itself. Oh yes, it's got to be expressed in this way. You can use a pastiche knife and put a plusty chewing gum on there: there stands out the idol of a little helicopper; and I think after all, if it's come to stay, it's here with us.
Introducer: Professor Stanley Unwin! [Applause. Unwin clears his throat.]
Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It is indeed an honour to address you. I would like to start off, if I may, by qualifying this nonsense, which of course is really a very serious thing in the form of the Basic Engly Twenty-Fido. It comprised the vowel sounds uuh, er and threh, so please don't confuse or stretch the pigeonholes of your mind to encompass what these sounds really are. They do in fact go back to Ethelrebbers, unready, King Alfred's and burnt capers where, you know, the toast fell in and of course the dear lady did get a very cross knit and smote him across the eardro Excalibold, the great [laughter] sword, the great sword with risey huff and Merlin for evermore was the beginning of the Great Constitution of the Great English-Speaking Peoploaders of these isloan. Oh yes.
You know, erm, goes right back to long before the Emerald Isload plop was dropped into the [Irish accent for one word] water, and the discovery of the Earthaeolian harp in the [Irish accent] northern parts long before, and where the leprechauns trittly-how in the early morny [laughter]. The leprechauns trittly-how there to the shinny-shanny of the [Irish accent] water, and not fully understood by our friends across the [Irish accent] water, but freely borrowed by Sir James Barrie in his [bizarre voice] Mary Rose, there's a folloper. [Laughter.]
Now this Basic Engly Twenty-Fido can be applied to many things: it is a form of expression, and things that need expressing like folklordings, music, philosifold and all the deep thoughts of the human beel do come within this reign. And therefore, I would like to say that it is basically a form of expression.
Now, let's come first of all to music. We'll take the popular form. Now, with folklordy as a basis, you know music through the ages, we'll go back to Ghengis Khorpse where across the [laughter], across the rolling stebbers of the great plains you had this hollow tree trunker where they clup clop and falolloped it to convey a message. Now, I'm not going to say that the contrapuntal modey of the first bip, bop, trittly and the how that they gave [laughter] was going to manifest itself today in the way it has. But it was carried on from that.
Now, erm, apart from these very early days when, as you know, the woad was paintit on the stomachs and you had the femaiload of the specie being drag it and aroum by the maiload of Darwin's early Origin of the Specie by aporia along the streakers there. It was a real deep folly, and from this springs the expression of the deep sorrow of the individuhold. Oh yes.
Now we must make a big jump because time doesn't allow to go through the whole gamut of the Middle Age where they'd burn it in the stakers, and [laughter], they also had this early form of expression which manifests itself in song as well as painty and the very other arps. Oh yes, oh yes.
Now the Caribbeal I think was one of the great beginnings, because from that moment and up to dail we had this deep forcus which ran round this Mirissippi valley and the teeming valley of that where you had the first carvey hup and the conteps of the bent piper which they b'ff'ut out. [Laughter.] And they also carved one of our the real huffalo-dowder the high streakers. And one bistrole after another, so you had these carvey conteps.
First of all, there would be your early trumpet-blowm, a ten-cent trumpy which was slightly bent off shot-gold, and they used to [laughter] bring this up to the lippers, and even then they used to purse the lips with pfffh spitting off a little hair and real deep very fine blasty blowm. Oho, there was a joy in this. Er, Strosky Adams, Stevin Shale, lift that barge and falollop that veil. All these things [laughter], oh yes.
Now, today we have of course many manifestol of the traditional jazzy. You have the very fine trumpy, or the trombole, shall we say, which is a slidy huff. I don't know whether you'd like -- would you like me to qualicale of the slidy huff? [Audience mumbles "yes".] Good. [Laughter.] Well, in the trombole, this is a simbrant brass whose tones are, erm, an aggregale for the pitchy of sliding this barrel huffalo-dowder at intervold which gives either the minor mode if you're expressing something deep sorrifold or a very fine major blasket for, er, something joyful. [Laughter.]
Now, erm, with the clarineppers. Now, clarineppers was the simbrant piece of wood which is stuffing in the mouthpeeps. Either, either you could have, erm, the obold which is a very very fine thin one and tickles the tongue for a sort of laughing at the back of the saliva glame [laughter], or the saxophobia which later on is Adolf Sax discovered eighteen thrifty-fold for a very fine waily-waily yeuhhh jazzy. Always a joy, oh yes.
Well so much for the instrumould in the popular classy. I'll touch on the catgut and scrapey later, because for the violims and the cellome or the deep bass and plucky there is another story, so I'll touch on that in the classicold a little later.
Now for vocal, the rhythm, where those "lift that barge -- grurtin' in the foil -- stuffin' oh the ship -- and all come boil" always [laughter] had to be done in that way. Oh yes. Oh yes.
Erm, you have a great exponent today in the Lonegan Donegold, where he likes to do a whimsicold and diggy or your father's a dustbold and shove it and in the grurp. [Laughter.] Because only by being compressed in a small spaipse with the lid shut on and trying to get it and how, can you suffer your old man's a dustbeel and get your rhythm worked out. Delivered twice every Thursday, collect the doles and get it back cheap at half the price was quoty.
Oh yes. Another manifest of expression is the song which give it as the Venus de Milo: this woman with a sawn-off armrightpegger, which as you know goes back to the ancient Greeps, has beauty in a classical form where all marbload and stand, with one arm shot in her off and the right leg cocky-hup there.
Now, also you have the femaiload and the male who mixy to the gebber to give the different range of expressy in a Mickey and Griff type thing to express the blend which comes from the maiload and the femaiload of the speciem in the message they have to offer. So, er, I hope that you'll be able to hear them doing that. [Laughter.] And even if the records are throo and seps or five and sthroo farthy I'd still buy them. [Laughter; applause.]
Now to the classical form. Well, er, in the orchestra you have a distribute or the balance of the woodwilly and the sings and the simbrant brass (not the Brighouse Brass and Gastric, that's another deep folly form of expression). With the strings, of course, you have the very fine Stradivold or catgut and scrapey with the first violim which we can probably deal with with questions.
But, erm, with the conductor, who falollops the baton huffalo-dowder so much and draws the attraction from the eyebold. Let's not underestimail for the conductor because after all he's there not only as a figurehead, but to draw forth from the various sections of the orchestrail that which he, she or the others: and plenty femaiload do a fine scrapey too, oh definitely. Oh yes.
From Vivaldi and Rossini and Scarparelli, Creuthesfolly and Grumblefold, all these deep fundamoulds of music have the mediaeval fundamould of expression in the classical form, and later on of course you had the fine whimsicolly, the modern idiom which creepy hin like the Aaron Copload and also the twelve-toman scale, because it's a great shame about the eight-tone scale which is not enough room to give a fullfold folly expression of the meaning of the composey in itself. Oh no, haha.
No, in India you had the throoty-four-tomal scale which is sliding glissando from the deepy bass profundo up to the trittly-how of the highest ever reachy. And in this scope, and the magnitude of it, so the deep foal or expression of the human beel of that teemy contino stretching in the north, the Himalade and the Yeti with the old scalp and danglit [laughter] right down through the contiload to the little island, the teardrop of Ceylon on the other emma.
But, in order to express this, you see you've got the orchestra with its full understab and the manipulade and the mastery of this his individuhold of the instrument through the eyes, ears and the hand wave-it huffalo-dowder of the conductor: Enisco, Sossikinder, Alice Rawnthorpers, all these have a deep joy, and in the classicold you could express yourself through a blowit and sucker for the mouthorb. Oh! Nay, never for this.
Of this instrument you can, if only, the mastery which is known now through the technique for changing glissando scailbes: change of boo flat made, soo three major and herkit as you pressing this little falolloper up the end. But, erm, it is, it's one form of course one of the very difficult instruments, the French hormone which [laughter] is a row, it's a horn with a largy flair whose resonant quality is not for the pressant of three valbers, oh no! 'Cos many an upper palate has been lost by the person who's trying to taken this up there and, as I say, blowing his own teeth inside-how [laughter] down his throakers, and giving up the instrument over on the garbage patch for something he can buy cheaply. Because it's a terribiv and it takes years. Oh yes. [Laughter; applause.]
Introducer: Gentlemen, any questions?
Man: Mr Unwin, what are your impressions of Elvis Presley?
Well, this is a very good question, sir, thank you! You see, from across the herring pole or pondy, where, as you know, the great nation with their goes back Abraham Lincladers, Gettysbold and up to the end of herth half the people for all or some of the time [laughter] has produced some very great exponents of the wasp-waist and swivel-hippy and kicking up the lebbers. I think Elvis was one of the first -- I'm not saying about the military crowps where he's went in the G-Ile and so entertail for the whole company for it, nothing like that at all, and he wasn't trying to get out of it, oh no! [Laughter.]
With your Elvis Presley and wasp-waist and swivel-hippy, show you had, and I must say it showed it first self in pictures with the rhythmic contrapole of the wobbling of the hipper, sideways with the head and tilty, gave him that expression both also with a little doggy-lublike in the eyebold which he conveyed to the smaller femaiload of the specie, coupled with his music because he did trittly-how fine on the strims, helped him along the roamer. And it was in a moment of time when this fundamould of expression came from him, you see; and there weren't many about then, you see, but, um, he's quite young, isn't he? [Laughter.]
I'm very grateful for the question, sir, because you know, I hadn't, I hadn't really visualized, er, how a chap of his age could, shall we say, do a communicale to the English-speaking peopload stretched throughout the far flummers of the Earth itself. But, er, he came over here shortly after it was grurped over there, but it came through. I heard it first of all on a record in the early mordy: I was doing the shavit-huff with my razor blade, which of course is a safety one [laughter], and suddenly, suddenly he did a little syncopole or a drop-it and how, or something he did and caused to jerk it over a pimpload and I've been suffering ever since! [Laughter; applause.]
But, um, thank you. I hope that answers your question, sir. [He hiccups quietly.] Burpy pardlo.
Two men speak at once: Mr Unwin?
May I take the left-hand-side one firps?
Man: Which musical academy did you attend?
Oh, well, er, have you heard of the R-S-Poo-C-Thray? It was a really good site for the perfetrading of the widwoodwilly. And I did study at an early age, first of all with the cheapest form which is a single-tome mouth-orgy, at that time. And then I went from the woodwilly trittly huffalo-dowder the keybs, and from that I did a catgut and scrapey and the violeeds. But I did find by dissemination of the epopes, so the sound which can cause all the dogs in the neighbourhood do a howling all night and the early mord, so we didn't bother to use the clock. [Laughter.]
Yes, er, but at the academy where I was made Second Professor twice remoob, twice failed, and come back later on and give us what you've got because there isn't much there. But they still welcome me on a Thursday afterlubrious for a cuppalo tea.
Man: Do you think the Top Twenty hit parade is good for the business?
Good for what, the business?
Erm, well, yes. Where the first expression for a topload is outvotey hittening or miss for the jukebockers does show that it's got to be that way. And I think short of calling on everybody, and there's no telephoto for calling on everybody and say "What's your favourite?" in the average household, but if you only made it ten, there'd be probably Number Elevenoad would be the one which would next day falollop it and throo in from Third Division.
But, erm, it's very necessary in order to grade the quality of the universal concept of the folklordy lore or the dancing, where you quick quick and slowm, you see? Because, you see, the question is to be either to listen or to, erm, or to play or to partake and dance in yourself, lifting up the Dright Fantasky and kicking the neighbour up the bocus [laughter] who treading you on the insteppers.
Because, erm, I mean I can only do one. I tried a cha-cha-charlie and I did a left slidestebber, and somebody's gumbold (I know it was a gumbold which grows me on the toes as a chilblaker) had to pay the chiropody bill which was throo and several. [Laughter.] So I think that was rather unfair and they didn't know, otherwise I would have apologised. Yes.
Man: Mr Unwin?
Man: We have the washboard in here. Do you think there's room for the amplified mangle? [Laughter.]
Yes, yes I do, sir, and this is a very good question because if you have a concealed microphobia in the mangle and, er, the washboard's accomplimode for two of the, shall we say, the partakers in this instrumould, 'cos instrumould it is, let's face it, as they approach, as they approach the rotating members of the mangold and with a fine deep express and a songfold of singit deep from their heart streel, so as they go through the mangold and the expression changes to a horrificale on the other sigh [laughter], ending up in a deep kiss of joy and the final bly. Yes, sir, as the baton falls for the last time, so that they come through, stand up very thin, oh yes, and ready for the next take. Oh yes!
Man: In which case, Mr Unwin, would you care to forecast the next trend in music?
Thank you, sir, yes, I like this question because we are musically in a state of flux. Now, erm, we have, let's take rhythm: you have "one, two, trittly how, grurt this fort and snuffle in the bow". Now that [laughter], that is just an ordinary sequence of rhythm which indicates a rhythmic trend of heppy or a form of self-expressy. But I do think we ought to swing it about a bit, and if, if we take: I'll give you a little thyrcus on this if I may, in beating. We start off: "one, two, trittly in the foe, grurtsort and urt and urt euhh bp'tockly fiddly and howga". Now that sounds a bit abstruse to you, doesn't it? [Laughter.]
But when you get several barlide of this, all congregale together, the manifest as a whole is a deep rhythmic fundamould. And they'll be blowing through sawn-off shotgoal, bent saw, and various instruments which can be made, made up very cheaply and easily from the average Epping Forry or anywhere: piece of oak treel, you know, drill through and holes at everal intervold, you've got to try them out first. You may find it's a minor modee, in which case you have to elongate one hole which gives you a slightly major conceff and a deep discorb for blowing out the eardroves of anybody who's listening. [Laughter.] Oh yes.
But I think that is the trend, sir, very much an offbeaty, in other words where the conductor, who himself plays on this instrumould, will gradually break pieces off his baton till that one little bit left which he stuffs in his own eardrobe. [Laughter.] But I think that is the trend, sir, I think the word "flux" is the operative word. If I may be allowed to say so.
Man: Mr Unwin, do you think Tottenham Hotspur will win the Cup?
Well, erm, actually this is a very good question and topicold. I would say that if the forward line have a symmetrical teamworkers and that they special have, as you know, can from the first passit of the ball take in mind, take in mind the measured beat of a one, two, throo or fido, so that ball can falollop out to the wingers, and a very fine trittly how in a run and drop-kick and carry one [laughter] and shooting in the goal. If they can get by without an offsiger which is known on the ref and don't throw the bottload, because he's only doing his best. [Laughter.]
But, er, it'll be hard on their halfbackers because I don't think they'll get a chance to do a falolloper shooty on account of the front line with their deep joy of, shall we say, an express in their enthusiasm to the first who to clop falollop in the goalmouth. Oh yes. Anyway it's a very good question, sir; it's not much about music excepting that half-time in the band falolloped huffalo-dowd. [Laughter; applause.]
Man: Mr Unwin, you haven't mentioned Sinatra. Is he here to stay?
He, er, yeah, well, for a long time. You see, er, with this great -- I think one can say "great" -- it's a quality -- in the maiload of the specie you have the larynx which is inch or throo-fie long; in the femaiload it's slightly shorter. And in some human beings, so this quality manifests itself. And Frank Sinatra, all skinny gold as he was, you know, before this great song and singy, and of course with the soulful dole expression on his slim little face goker: ho, Polly!
I think it will last for another five years at least. Yes, it took me a long time to appreciate it, but now I'm with him for a long time, definitely. I'm with him until Tombsday at half past frume in fact. [Laughter.]
Man: Do you think that great novel Lady Lovely's Mother would be more interesting if it were made into a musical?
Yes, definitely, because here you could have the gamekeep or a little foxtropper [laughter; applause], where, where the central characters come to the front of the staibge, do a deep curtsey bow, and I must say if he's wearing a plus-form or knee-britchy then of course it would look rather grotesque with the type of voice I should imagine which D. H. Lawrence had in mind.
But, er, I think it should be made into a musicold: you could have all the, er, you could have the Dance of the Little Gamecreepers, you could have the visit [laughter]. You could also, there could be a composition bringing in the dancey badger: let's have a bit of raw light into this, and the skunk, stoaty-most, and all the things of the forry which as you know lurky deep and dowm come into this. Oh no, the classical form will stay with anything like that, of course, and I think provided that the plot is set and the scene in the middle of the deep forry, it should come off. I don't know about Drury Lane, but... you know.
Man: Mr Unwin?
Man: How important do you think is chamber music?
Chamber music is terribly important because, you see, in the househoker today you have two or three or four peoploaders, each one with his own formy expression, whether it and scraping the violeed, plucking the guitarma or trittly huffalo-dowder the ivories of pianom! Oh!
These things you see, and so they could themselves, if they want, get the stavey musee, whether it be a stuffino taker, a tonic sol-farm, it doesn't really matter, and they can do these little flydirkers, huffalo-dowder. You might have a mimimum droppit [laughter], you have, erm, you can arrange a semiquail and the contrapuntal modee with the rest, and from this syncopale so the expression of that which happens in the little househokers and all for a chamber musee every time, oh yes! The only thing is, if you're not in a semi-detached or a terry howkers and the only chimney pockers falling it off there for the householder's bill to pay, which you can pay off, if you like, by giving them a little concert of the chamber musee. If they willing, pardon me.
But, erm, oh yes! And from this will come a lot of modern work. I mean, after all, we will soon escape the televode or box with the square eyeballs, and it's far better to do a creaty-most, and if a forcus of music comes into the miload, so write down the stuffino takers or the tonic sol-fardy in the key of major or C or boo flat, any of these, in order to get it down handy down to the posterry, because it'll come out later on! [Laughter.]
And probably in the year twenty thousand throo hundred and fifty-fido out will come a little manuscrepper. And on top it will say "Number Throoty-Four, terraced hack, the suburbs of Londy, composed this deep fine little quarteppers, unknown, unqualifime, died and stuffed in a six-foot fathom deep they labour." But here it is, and the exploitakers will make a fine gold trumpy record out of this, haha, and all the proceeds go to charity. [Laughter; applause.]
unusual series then, made even more unusual
Secret Service represents the next great step forward in Supermarionation
format Gerry and Sylvia Anderson
Date of birth (location)
Date of death (details)
1. I Love Christmas (2001) (TV) (archive footage)
2. Laughing Prisoner, The (1987) (TV) .... No. 3
4. "Tell Tarby" (1973) TV Series
5. "Secret Service, The" (1969) TV Series (voice) .... Father Stanley Unwin
6. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968) .... Chancellor
7. Press for Time (1966) .... Mr. Nottage (Town Clerk)
8. Carry On Regardless (1961) .... Landlord
9. Hair of the Dog (1961) .... Vicar
10. Inn for Trouble (1960) .... Farmer
11. "Showtime" (1959) TV Series .... (1959)
12. Fun at St. Fanny's (1956) .... The Guide
Notable TV guest appearances
1. "Top of the Pops 2" (1999) playing "Himself" 1/30/2002
2. "Rex the Runt" (1998) playing "Mr. Wangle"(voice) in episode: "Johnny Saveloy's Undoing" (episode # 1.12) 12/31/1998
3. "Inside Victor Lewis-Smith" (1993) playing "labratory assistant" 1993
4. "Lazarus & Dingwall" (1991) playing "judge" in episode: "Little Red Mark On the Side of the Head, The" (episode # 1.6) 3/8/1991
5. "Lazarus & Dingwall" (1991) playing "judge" in episode: "Little Red Mark On the Side of the Head, The" 3/8/1991
6. "Harty" (1983) playing "Himself"
7. "Innes Book of Records, The" (1979) playing "Himself"(episode # 3.6) 11/9/1981