Dame Hilda: There is only one celebrity living in Stackton Tressel at the moment. It's me. Well locally they don't look upon Evadne as a celebrity. They look upon her as a curiosity. I am thus always being asked to perform little functions. For example last year I was asked to dedicate the extension to the memorial gardens. There's a little plaque on the gate there now at the top, it says, dedicated by Dame Hilda Bracket and underneath no ball games. Anyhow a few weeks ago, Major Dyrenforth called at the old manse with the most unusual suggestion.

{Drawing room.}

Major: Supposing Hilda I were to say to you rugby club supper. What would you say?

Dame Hilda: Well...

Dr. Hinge: What day are you having it this year Major? I’d just like to know so that I can get the barbed wire up along the garden wall.

Major: You didn't have any trouble with them last year did you?

Dame Hilda: No, no, no, Major no trouble. Just two or three of them pole vaulted in on their way home from the do. They were no trouble, were they, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: I thought they were.

Dame Hilda: Well I did tell you not to go to bed, dear, didn't I? I warned you you wouldn't get any sleep if you did. They were as good as gold, Major. We just danced and sang and after breakfast they left. The same way that they came, over the garden wall.

Dr. Hinge: By the time I got down to breakfast there wasn't a thing left to eat.

Dame Hilda: You shouldn't need breakfast at your age, Evadne. A glass of hot water and a dry biscuit should do you.

Dr. Hinge: I can't think why that couple who run the dog and pheasant put up with having the rugby club supper there, year after year.

Dame Hilda: Nostalgia, dear. They used to run a public house in Twickenham or was it Wembley?

Major: Actually Hilda it was the Surrey tavern at the Oval.

Dame Hilda: The Oval of course. I knew it had something to do with Rugger.

Dr. Hinge: You know having that rugby club supper at the dog and pheasant does nothing whatever for the reputation of the place. And what with the breakages, the mess and the loss of regular customers? I really can't see how it can be worth their while.

Major: Have you been talking to them Doctor?

Dr. Hinge: No why?

Major: Because that's precisely what they said to me a while back when I popped into arrange this year's rugby supper.

Dame Hilda: Oh so you're holding it there again are you, Mayor?

Major: Err …no.

Dr. Hinge: They've not put their foot down at last have they?

Major: I'm afraid they have. Apparently the straw that finally broke the camel's back was last year's little prank with the lighted candle and the fire tongs.

Dr. Hinge: Sounds very nasty.

Dame Hilda: Yes but most intriguing. What happened Major?

Major: Oh one of the silly young blighters took a lighted candle off the table and holding it in the fire tongs proceeded to write something in black greasy smoky letters all over the newly painted and pristine white ceiling in the dining room.

Dame Hilda: What did he write, dear?

Major: I was afraid you'd ask that. It was something rather personal but quite witty about the landlady and that mink farmer in the Parva.

Dame Hilda: Oh well we all know about the landlady and the mink farmer in the Parva.

Major: Apparently the landlord didn't.

Dr. Hinge: Surely he didn't think she'd paid for all that mink she wears. When that woman's dressed up she's more covered in mink than a mink.

Major: I must say I understood it at all blown over but as soon as I mentioned the rugby club I realised that it hadn't.

Dame Hilda: So you're looking for a new venue, eh Major?

Dr. Hinge: They're not having it here.

Dame Hilda: Oh don't be ridiculous, Evadne. What idiot would ever dream of holding the rugby club supper here?

Dr. Hinge: You might.

Major: Actually ladies I've already secured a new venue. We’ve booked the Hereward the Wake suite at the Middle England motel.

Dr. Hinge: Oh dear. All that plate glass. They'll no doubt have to rechristen it the Attila the Hun suite

Major: I’ll admit I did have to use all my charm and tact to get them to accept the booking and they finally did so on only one condition.

Dame Hilda: What was that dear?

Major: We've got to have women.

Dame Hilda: It sounds as if it's going to be more riotous than ever.

Major: No, no. I mean we've got to allow women to attend the supper. Wives and sweethearts, sisters and mothers, that, they feel will provide a restraining influence.

Dr. Hinge: They obviously don't know the rugby club.

Major: Anyhow it's given us the opportunity of updating our image. Furthermore the committee have decided we may as well break completely with tradition and for the very first time have a lady guest of honour.

Dame Hilda: Oh Major. Not me.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, don’t be so darn coy Hilda, It's a rugby supper you're invited to, not vespers in a monastery.

Dame Hilda: What exactly does the guest of honour have to do?

Dr. Hinge: Be able to balance a beer mug on her head and throw bread rolls.

Major:  No, that's a little unfair, Doctor. In fact, the guest of honour usually entertains us for 15 or 20 minutes, proposes the toast to the club and leads the subsequent sing song. We've had some pretty big names in the past, you know. Billy Connolly, Max Boyce, Blaster Bates.

Dr. Hinge: Really? I do hope your stories won't seem dull after theirs, Hilda.

Evadne. A good story teller never has need to resort to coarseness or crudity. Never. Look at Barbara Cartland.

Dr. Hinge: What about Chaucer?

Dame Hilda: What about him, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Well, some of the tales, those pilgrims told on their way to Canterbury were pretty near the knuckle, don't you think?

Dame Hilda: I don't know anything about that, dear. I wasn't on that little jaunt. But if they were being smutty, you should have stopped them. It's so silly walking all that way with a lot of dirty old men. At least the nun should have known better.

Major: So we can count on you, can we Hilda?

Dame Hilda: Of course, Major, of course, I'm deeply honoured.

Major: And what about you, Doctor? You'll come too, I hope.

Dr. Hinge:  Why yes, Major, thank you. Incidentally, when’s it to be

Major: On the 9th of next month, following the cup match at Colchester.

Dr. Hinge:  Ah, good. Just as long as I know when to put the barbed wire up along the garden wall!

Dame Hilda: You are not putting barbed wire along that wall, Evadne. I will not allow it.

Dr. Hinge: Why ever not?

Dame Hilda: Because I dare say, we'll be pole vaulting in ourselves this year.

Major: Now, I'm going to leave this little book here for you, Hilda. It might be of some use when you come to prepare your speech. There's a history of the club in it, and all the salient details. Oh, and I'll leave you this as well.

Dame Hilda: Oh, a whistle.

Major: It's the speakers whistle, Hilda. It was actually given to the club by the old squire, half a century or so ago.

Dr. Hinge: Surely the old miser didn't pay for it entirely out of his own pocket, did he?

Major: Well, no, the club chipped in. It is solid silver. And, of course, it's engraved as a gift from the squire.

Dame Hilda: And what exactly am I supposed to do with it, Major? I mean... you're not keeping anything from me, are you?

Major: Good heavens, no, Hilda. You see, there's a long-standing tradition that when the guest speaker rises to speak, he blows a good hard blast on that. The whistle is the only noise the players really respond to. Mind it will be a mere formality this year, I shouldn't wonder.

Dr. Hinge: Want to bet?

Dame Hilda: Just to think that Blaster Bates has blown into this. What a thrill.

Major: Well, I must be off. I’ve got to try to talk Lorna into coming to the supper, if I can. She usually goes away that day.

Dame Hilda: Oh, I didn't know that, Major.

Major: Yes. Well, a few of us usually finish the evening off up at the house in the pond and things. Don't worry, I'll see myself out. Bye for now.

Dame Hilda: Bye-bye, Major.

Dr. Hinge:  Good-bye.

Dame Hilda: Well, isn't that an honour, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: That is a matter of opinion.

Dame Hilda: Anyway, what do you think I should wear?

Dr. Hinge: Shorts and a striped jersey.

Dame Hilda: Don't be silly, dear.

Dr. Hinge: And you'd better get some studs put on the soles of your silver slippers.

Dame Hilda: Mind, I do think it would be a nice gesture if I was to dress in the club colours, purple and green.

Dr. Hinge:  I believe that's what they call a strip these days, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: I don't think it's what the rugger club calls a strip, dear. You know, I think we shall have to go on a little shopping spree, Evadne, well, I shall. I suppose you'll be going as you are?

Dr. Hinge: I might.

Dame Hilda: With the possible addition of shin guards.

Dr. Hinge:  A very good idea.

Dame Hilda: Still, you must come shopping with me. We'll go up to London and choose something absolutely stunning. Something that will make the men gasp and the women sick with envy.

Dr. Hinge: I am not going shopping with you. I will not encourage you to go wasting your money like that. You've got masses of dresses upstairs. I mean, you must surely be able to find one that's suitable if you take the trouble to go through all 12 wardrobes.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, Evadne, I see nothing clever in being able to cram all one's clothes into an old kit bag. It's why you always look so crumpled. Well, that and old age. Still, I suppose I could find something and make do. Ooh, I know. I'll just wear that little white dress of mine.

Dr. Hinge: What, little white dress?

Dame Hilda: The long little white dress.

Dr. Hinge: Which one?

Dame Hilda: The one with the train, and the lavender lace, and the little pearl clusters around the you know and the osprey feather, and….

Dr. Hinge:  All right, there's no need to go on, Hilda. I'll come shopping with you.

Dame Hilda: Well, that's agreed then. Now, to settle what I shall do. I know, I'll tell a few amusing stories from my theatrical past.

Dr. Hinge: That should be fun. {Yawn!}

Dame Hilda: And before I propose the toast the club, I shall sing a song or two. Variety, you see, that's what they want. Now, what should I sing?

Dr. Hinge: Bring him down, you Zulu warriors! She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes, perhaps. And I understand they’re also particularly fond of a neat little number called the good ship Venus.

Dame Hilda: Now, that might be rather me, something nautical. Or I could do, oh, sir, Jasper, do not touch me.

Dr. Hinge: I don't know it.

Dame Hilda: Well, you should do. It's what I was singing last year down here with those boys while you were trying to sleep upstairs. It's a bit naughty, but it's fun. She wears her silk pyjamas in the summer when it's hot.

Dr. Hinge: Do we have to have that?

Dame Hilda: You know, it's not surprising they never ask you to do this sort of thing, Evadne You really are the generation gap, aren't you?

She wears her silk pyjamas in the summer when it's hot.

She wears a woollen nightie in the winter when it's not.

But later in the springtime, and early in the fall.

She jumps into bed with nothing on at all.

Dr. Hinge: Poetry!

Dame Hilda: Or perhaps I should do something they don't know.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, that might be better. At least they couldn't all join in.

Dame Hilda:  In that case, I know the very thing. It's that lovely song by Herman Darewski from As You Were. Live for all your worth. Be an angel, see if you can find it, dear, would you?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, very well.

Dame Hilda: It's so very them, you see, vibrant, full of life, and the message is one they'll all appreciate. So make hay while the sun shrines, and then you don't care if it snows. Have you got it, dear?

Dr. Hinge: I've got it.

Dame Hilda:  Ready when you are, right? Scrum down, tuck your head in, dig your heels in, and when the whistle blows play.

Listen here, people, dear, though this life is rather trying

Life is short, be a sport, while the precious hours are flying

Wear a smile, all the while

Make a bluff, that’s the stuff

What's the good of worrying

Make the best of what you've got

Live for all you're worth, while you are on this earth

For when tomorrow comes, oh who can tell

Although maybe be heaven

It may be quite another climate

Everybody knows

How fortune comes and goes

So you make hay while the sun shines

And then you don't care if it snows

Never mind if you find that you've got more kicks than ha’pence

Peg away day by day. Make the best of your few stray pence

Show your pluck, bear your luck, don't be done, till you've won

Never make a grouse of it, when it ought to be a lark

Live for all you're worth, while you are on this earth

For when tomorrow comes, oh who can tell

Although maybe be heaven

It may be quite another climate

Everybody knows

How fortune comes and goes

So you make hay while the sun shines

And then you don't care if it snows

Dame Hilda: Oh, that sounds like Maud.

Dr. Hinge:  Now she’s the sort of woman they need at the rugby club supper, she’d keeps them all in order as the bouncer,

Dame Hilda: But I don't think they're very keen on her as it is, dear, not since the New Year's Eve dance when she broke the captain's collarbone doing the hokey cokey.

Maud: Morning Dame ‘ilda. Doctor.

Dr. Hinge: Good morning, Maud.

Dame Hilda: Hello, Maud. Did you have a nice day off yesterday?

Maud: Well, I'd not say nice exactly, Dame ‘ilda, I were visiting the sick. Poor old Mr. Parsons from the post office, ‘e's in ‘ospital, do yer see?

Dame Hilda: I didn't know that, dear, it's nothing serious, I hope.

Maud: Well, ‘e's ‘ad to ‘ave a little operation o’ some sort, but I don't think ‘e's lost anything ‘e couldn't do without.

Dame Hilda: And how was he?

Maud: Well, ‘e was fit enough when I arrived, but ‘e was looking a bit tired by the time I left.

Dr. Hinge: I know the feeling.

Dame Hilda: How long were you there, dear?

Maud: Oh, about six hours.

Dame Hilda: Six hours? People go in for an operation and come out quicker than that. Surely they didn't really let you stay that long, dear?

Maud: Oh, they did, Dame ‘ilda, visiting’s from two ‘till eight.

Dr. Hinge: I don't think they expect you to stay the entire time, Maud.

Maud: They may not expect it, Doctor, but as I’d took the day off special and as it's £1.50 on the bus, it'd ‘ardly be worth my while just popping in and out, now would it?

Dame Hilda: Still, it would have made a bit of a change for old Mr. Parsons, I dare say. How long is he going to be in?

Maud: Well, ‘e were coming out next week, Dame ‘ilda, but they reckon it'll be a bit longer now. Seems ‘e didn't do ‘isself no good when ‘e fell out of that bed after I'd plumped up ‘is pillows. Well ‘e'd come off ‘is drip, do you see? And ‘e shouldn't ‘ave done, because whatever it is they'd been dripping into ‘im, ‘e can't do without it. Mind, ‘e always used to do well enough without it before they got their ‘ands on ‘im. So what they're doing to ‘im, I dunno?

Dame Hilda: Let's hope they do, dear.

Maud: Meself, I don't think it's ‘ealthy. Just lying there day after day, dozing and being dripped into. What you need, my lad, is fresh air and exercise, says I.

Dr. Hinge: Florence Nightingale's approach.

Maud: So I throws open the window and I pulls back ‘is sheet. Well, you should ‘ave ‘eard him yell, ‘ow was I to know ‘e weren't wearing nothing but a pyjama top.

Dame Hilda: You certainly see life, don't you, dear?

Maud: Turn your back, woman, ‘e shouts knocking over ‘is water jug as ‘e reaches for ‘is dressing gown. I’ll do no such thing says I. You've nothing I ain't seen afore, I'm a married woman.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, dear, I do believe you’re blushing.

Dr. Hinge: Well, if I am, it's for poor Mr. Parsons. After all, if a man can't go without his trousers in his own bed in hospital, where can he?

Dame Hilda: What a very funny question for you to ask.

Maud: ‘e got ‘em on soon enough. Mind, it we're a bit of a struggle. ‘e went down on the floor twice before ‘e’d finished. You know, every time ‘e bent down and I followed ‘im down with ‘is drip, ‘e thought as I were peeking.

Dame Hilda: You should have called a nurse, dear.

Maud: That's just what ‘e said, Dame ‘ilda, call a nurse, says ‘e, I'll not, says I. They’ve better things to do than worry about the likes of you. And I pushes ‘im out in the corridor, and I walks ‘im all the while ‘olding ‘is drip. And then suddenly round the corner comes this woman, ’olding ‘ers.

Dr. Hinge: It’s beginning to sound like a very social afternoon.

Dame Hilda: I always wondered why they put those drip things on wheels. Never occurred to me that people might like to go walkies with them.

Maud: Now, I thought that woman would step aside and she must ‘ave thought that we would. But none of us did, and before you could say Jack Robinson, we was all in a fine old mess. It took three nurses to sort it all out.

Dame Hilda: Oh my goodness, dear, whatever did you do?

Maud:  I didn't do nothing, Dame ‘ilda, I ‘ad to go for me bus. But I phoned them this morning to find out ‘ow ‘e were. And you know, they said I weren’t to go in no more. Fancy depriving a poor old man o’ visitors.

Dr. Hinge: Just fancy. Well, Hilda, now, do you see how handy Maud would be at that rugby club supper? The mere threat would be enough to turn that lot into lambs.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, don't be so unsympathetic, Evadne, she was only trying to be kind.

Dame Hilda:  In the weeks before the supper, Evadne and I went up to London. Well, Knightsbridge, actually. Well, it's the only part I really know. I bought three stunning frocks and a gorgeously original hat. And she bought a dress that looked exactly like the one she always wears anyway. Finally, the great day came. And while we waited for Major Dyrenforth, to collect us from the old manse, I ran over what I was going to say that evening.

{Drawing room.}

Dame Hilda:  Ladies and gentlemen, it is with a deep sense of humility that I stand here before you tonight, the first lady ever to be had by the Stackton rugby club, as guest of honour at its annual supper.

Dr. Hinge: If I were you, Hilda, I wouldn't leave such a long pause between being had by the Stackton Rugby Club and at its annual supper.

Dame Hilda: No, it's a pause for effect,

Dr. Hinge: Yes, I think it'll have quite the wrong effect.

Dame Hilda: At that point, you see, I smile warmly round at everybody.

Dr. Hinge: That’ll just makes things worse, dear. I think I would rephrase that bit altogether, dear, the bit about being had by the Stackton Rugby Club.

Dame Hilda: Oh, I see what you mean. You do have a nasty mind! Anyway, I do my little introduction and then I tell my theatrical stories.

Dr. Hinge: And which stories have you decided to tell?

Dame Hilda: Well, I haven't finally decided yet. That will depend to a large extent upon the audience.

Dr. Hinge: No, I don't think it should. I think you should know exactly what you're going to say. Have a clear set of notes and stick to them.

Dame Hilda: My notes are in my head, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Not a good place for them.

Dame Hilda:  I shall mention you, of course.

Dr. Hinge:  Thank you.

Dame Hilda: I shall tell them how at our very first meeting, you somehow contrived to step on my hand. And I shall show them the scar.

Dr. Hinge: That should get a howl!

Dame Hilda: It will. The way I intend to do it. My hands can be very expressive.

Dr. Hinge: Sounds as though your talk’s going to be all about me, dear.

Dame Hilda: Well, don't worry, dear, it isn't. It's going to be mostly about me. But as you're going to be sitting at the piano glowering, I suppose I shall have to mention you. If I don't, they'll probably wonder who dragged you in and what you're doing there.

Dr. Hinge: All right, get on with it, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Well, then we sing the song. And I end by proposing the toast to the club. And in so doing pay particular tribute to its founder. Whose foresight, dedication and determination are still a subject for praise and wonderment whenever rugby men meet. Ladies and gentlemen, pray raise your glasses and drink with me to Stackton rugby club and to the immortal memory of its founder. Err... Oh, look at my little book, dear, and see what his name is?

Dr. Hinge: Buster Williams.

Dame Hilda: Oh, I'll never remember that name. I just can't get it into my head. And I'm usually so good with names, you know. Nunton Oddstock, Boothby Pagnel, Clynus Weedock, Cledwyn Muggershall, I remember them all. The trouble is, Buster Williams is such a peculiar name. Ah! That must be the Major’s car coming up the drive now. Come on, Evadne. We'll go to the front door and meet him. You know, I think tonight is going to be a night to remember.

Dr. Hinge: I think it's going to be one of those I should want to forget.

Dame Hilda: All right, Major. All right, we're on our way. Good evening, Major.

Major: Ah, ladies.

Dame Hilda:  Right, Major. We're all ready, let's go.

Major: I'm afraid not, Hilda. You see, I'm the bearer of very bad news. I've just had the captain of the team on the phone. I'm afraid they're not going to get there, to the supper, I mean.

Dame Hilda: Not going to get there. Well, where are they, dear?

Major: At the filthy ferret.

Dr. Hinge: The what?

Major: The Pole cat inn, Evadne. It's up on the A134, about 20 miles from here.

Dame Hilda: What on earth are they doing there?

Major: Well, it seems they were on the way back from Colchester, with the cup, and decided to pop in for a quick one. And now, apparently, they can't get the coach started again.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, really?

Major: It’s curious coincidence, it transpires that the landlord of the place is an old rugger blue. Small world, isn't it?

Dame Hilda: Positively tiny.

Major: Still, they say the beer's good, and the place is famed for its pie and pea suppers.

Dr. Hinge: They seem to have fallen on their feet, don't they?

Dame Hilda: The little dears.

Major: It's a most terrible disappointment, I admit. I thought I'd best call personally on all the ladies, try to smooth things over, do you see? I am so sorry. To tell the truth, I don't know whether to cancel the whole thing, or just turn it into a hen do, I’ll see what the consensus is. I'll keep you posted. Bye for now.

Dame Hilda: Goodbye Major,

Dr. Hinge: Goodbye.

Dame Hilda: Well, I'm darned if I'm sitting around here in my beautiful new frock, waiting for an invite to a hen party. Come on, Evadne, let's go.

Dr. Hinge: Where to?

Dame Hilda: To the car, dear. And then, down the A134 to the filthy ferret, I was invited to be first lady, and first lady I shall be. Anyway, they can't start without me, I've got the whistle.

{Peep!}

Both:

She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes.

She'll be coming round the mountain when she comes.