In the land of the gone, Where the angels ding, The bells go bong And the bells go cling, There goes dear Spike, that lovable Goon, The one I loved, gone too soon.

Oh, I remember him well.

I was singing that song on the jankers parade - "Ying tong tiddle I po" - "Turner! Fatigues - Cookhouse," the corporal said. "Off you go."

Surprised? The cook should have sung The Night Has A Thousand Eyes or I Only Have Eyes For You, As this kettledrum of spuds came into view.

"Right! Get the eyes out of that lot," he said.

My eyes nearly popped out of my head.

Mine eyes hath seen the passing, the glory of that hoard who kept us laughing with the Goon Show, splitting our sides.

Praise be to Spike and friends, Who with the angels now abide. Gone too soon, taken the heavenly track, Where even the angels laugh, where the cow jumps over the Goon, And gives him a well-deserved pat on the back.

-Peter Turner, The Drive, Hove