The Stackton Faggot.
Dame Hilda: The seasons come and go in Stackton Tressel, much as they do in any English village. Autumn comes and brings the harvest festival and all that nastiness over who has got the biggest cucumber. Winter brings the Christmas festivities with its gay carollers, the panto in the co-op hall and all that bickering about who is going to decorate the church. Spring brings mummers to the village green and an Easter passion play, larded with rather coarse gestures that were apparently in every day use here in the middle ages. And which appear still to be perfectly understood by a surprisingly large proportion of the local population. And then comes summer with its plethora of fetes and garden parties and that much looked forward to opportunity to pay ten pence to throw wet sponges at the vicar. It is the only truly successful method he's yet devised for raising money for the church. But in between times we have our little excitements. We had one a week or so ago. Itbegan a day or two after we had inherited the music emporium, It was a Thursday morning. Evadne was out at a council meeting and Major Dyrenforth arrived seeking our help. ……... Major: You see, Dame Hilda, we've got a bit of a problem with the old cricket pavilion. Dame Hilda: Yes, so I'd heard Major. But surely all you need do is hang a curtain over the shower room window and remove the orange box that the girls stand on. Major: No, no, no, we've solved that one. We're letting the nettles grow back. No matter what the cost in balls. And then another, we've another bigger problem. Dame Hilda: Oh, I am sorry, and what might that be? Major: Well, not to put too fine a point on it. The whole place is falling down. Dame Hilda: Well, it's hardly surprising, really, I suppose. It is almost 100 years old, isn't it? Major: Yes, indeed. It seems we shall need something of the order of £1500 pounds to restore the place to its former glory. Dame Hilda: Really? Major: And so we thought we'd hold an event of some kind, something special, something different. Dame Hilda: Yes? Major: On the green. Dame Hilda: Yes? Major: To raise whatever we can. Dame Hilda: Yes? Major: And it was suggested that I approach you, dear ladies, for ideas. You have acquired a certain reputation, you see. Dame Hilda: Oh, Major. I do hope not! Oh, the front door, that'll be Evadne now. EVADNE!! Dr. Hinge: Yes, dear, I'm back. Dame Hilda: Mind you don’t bump into Mrs Dale’s harp dear! {Bump!} But you can't tell her you know! Dr. Hinge: Hilda you really are going to have to move that harpout of the hall. It's terribly in the way out there. Dame Hilda: But I like to run my fingers over it as I come down the stairs, dear. Dr. Hinge: Well, I am sick and tired of running my shins over it every time I try to get to the hall stand! Dame Hilda: Oh, don't keep harping on it Evadne. Ha ha! Harping on it! Yes! Dr. Hinge: Good morning, Major. Sorry. Didn't see you. Major: Good morning. Dame Hilda: Evadne we're trying to think of something unusual that the Major could do on the village green to make money. Dr. Hinge: How very bizarre of you! Dame Hilda: No, dear. He needs money for his pavilion. It's falling down! Major: I'm looking for an unusual fundraising event, you see, to take place on the green. Dr. Hinge: Now there's a coincidence. You know, while I was at the council meeting this morning, I was looking at that old faggot at the town hall. Dame Hilda: Oh, And how is the Lady Mayoress? Dr. Hinge: Preposterous! Do you know what she wore at the meeting today? An organdie skirt, a striped blazer, and a yachting cap! She looked like an ocean going fairy! Dame Hilda: Poor dear! She’s such a clever woman but she simply can’t wear clothes! Do you know she’s the only person I know who could put on a beaver hat and actually look like a beaver? Dr. Hinge: That's her teeth, dear. Log tearing teeth if ever I saw them, Dame Hilda: Whatever will the major think of us tearing the poor woman to pieces like this? Major: No, no It's most interesting. Really, Lorna can't abide her. Not a woman's woman, I suppose. But, you know, I must confess, I've always thought she was rather attractive. Dame Hilda: Ah, well, Major,{something french?} Major: Well, right. But I've never been especially drawn to beavers. Though I must admit I was very smitten with a toothy girl at Oxford. She used to walk around with her nose in Evelyn Waugh. Dr. Hinge: That can’t have done her teeth much good! Dame Hilda: Nor any other part of her dear, come to that. Major: Good heavens is that the time? I really must be going or I shall never get my gherkins. I was looking for a wild duck, but I couldn't find one Dame Hilda: No, they keep themselves very much to themselves don’t they? Dr. Hinge: I think it's the time of year Hilda! Major: Well, if you have an inspiration, give me a tinkle. No, no, don't get up, Dame Hilda, I can see meself out. Goodbye, ladies! Dame Hilda: Bye-bye, dear. Dr. Hinge: Goodbye, Major Dyrenforth. Dame Hilda: Poor Major. Lorna's always sending him out for gherkins. What does she do with them all, I wonder? Dr. Hinge: You know her, Hilda. She's a culinary titivator. All gherkin fans and radish roses, never enough to eat. Dame Hilda: You know, we really must try and think of something for the Major, Evadne. We've got a bit of a reputation, you know. Dr. Hinge: I'm not surprised the way you flutter your eye lashes at him dear? Anyway, I've already had an idea! Dame Hilda: You have? Well, why didn't you say so before he left? Dr. Hinge: I was trying trying to, dear, when you interrupted me to be so very rude about the Lady Mayoress. Dame Hilda: I was not the only one being rude about the Lady Mayoress. You were far ruder than I was! Dr. Hinge: Me? Dame Hilda: Yes! I was only rude about her beaver’s hat! You were rude about her beavers teeth! And whatever we may think of her, she can't help her teeth. After all, nature gave them to her. Mind you, nature can be terribly unfair at times! Dr. Hinge: Hilda, can we leave the Lady Mayoress alone? Dame Hilda: Believe me, dear. There's nothing I'd like better. Dr. Hinge: Right, Now, the faggot I was referring to was the Stackton faggot. You know, that one in the glass case at the top of the main staircase. Dame Hilda: Oh, that faggot. Oh, yes, that old bit of charred wood. Isn't somebody supposed to have snatched that from the bonfire when they burned the Stackton witches in 16 hundred and something? Dr. Hinge: 1645 dear! Matthew Hopkins! The witch finder general flushed out 6 witches and a wizard and they burned them on the green! I was thinking, you know, it might be interesting to re-enact it. So why not do it in aid of the cricket pavilion? Dame Hilda: Wouldn't that be a little macabre? Dr. Hinge: I don't know. Dame Hilda: It doesn't really have much to do with cricket, dear. I mean, witch burning wasn't a sport, was it? Well, not in our sense of the word. Dr. Hinge: No, it's part of Stackton's history, Hilda. You know, they were burned on the very spot where the cricket pavilion now stands, or should one say falls. Dame Hilda: You know, some of Maud's people were burned at the stake? Dr. Hinge: Yes, but not nearly enough of them. Dame Hilda: Well, you must have heard her tell of her ancestor, Goody Bullet. She was burned. Dr. Hinge: Perhaps we could burn Maud. Dame Hilda: I don't know why Evadne but you always come back from your council meetings red in tooth and claw! Dr. Hinge: Well, anyway, I think it's the most exciting idea. It could be like the finale of Götterdämmerung without any interference from the fire officer! Imagine real flames! Dame Hilda: Yes, yes, I suppose it could be quite nice. But of course, its success would depend to a very large extent on who you got to play your principal witch. Dr Hinge: I see a towering bonfire. Dame Hilda: I mean, who would play your principal witch? Dr. Hinge: There'd be no principal witch, Hilda. No, all the witches would be equal. Being burned at the stake was a great leveller you know? What I see is a towering bonfire about to be lit? I see the village green thronged with peasants! Dame Hilda: Peasants dear? Dr. Hinge: Yes, everyone will come as peasants dear. They're so much cheaper. I mean they can all dress in Hessian and surely everyone must be able to rustle up a pair of sandals and a length of rope. Dame Hilda: Evadne dear they burned them they didn't hang them! Dr. Hinge: To tie round their waists dear to hang their belongings on. Oh, yes, I definitely see everyone in Hessian. Dame Hilda: Even the witches dear? Dr. Hinge: Well, of course, the witches were simple country folk. Dame Hilda Well, I'm not going as a peasant, and that's flat! Dr. Hinge: I see this as sort of Ingmar Bergman epic. Dame Hilda: Well, I don't, dear! Now, I see it as a sort of gaietytheatre burlesque! Dr Hinge: Please yourself, if you want to look utterly ridiculous, I don't mind. Who ever heard of anyone being burned at the stake in a picture hat, pearls and a flowered frock? Dame Hilda: Quite honestly, Evadne, I do think that on these occasions one should be prepared to sacrifice a degree of historical similitude for a bit of glamour and fun. People want to dress up, dear, not down. No, it's so silly. And what's more, it's silly in the wrong way. I mean, no one minds being silly. Now, what's that song Evadne? Dr. Hinge: Which one? Dame Hilda: Erm, er, I’m such a silly when the moon comes out, you know, that's the sort of feeling. Our Miss Gibbs! Yes. Now, where is it? Now, I'm sure it's here somewhere. We could sing it on the night, dear. Dr. Hinge: It's hardly appropriate for being burned at the stake Hilda is it? Dame Hilda: Well, it doesn't matter Evadne! It's glamorous and it's fun. Oh, here it is. Now, do take that look off your face, dear and come over to the piano! I'm sure we'll all enjoy the evening so much better if it's less Ingmar Bergman and more Gertie Miller. I bet when they burned real witches they all had a lovely time. Well, come on, dear, play. Do see if you can manage a smile Evadne!
Dame Hilda: Ah, Maud, so there you are! Maud: Oh Dame ‘ilda, I'm so sorry about the coffee. Dame Hilda: But we haven't had any coffee, Maud. Maud: Well, that's what I'm sorry about, you see i plugged in the percolator into the cooker switch as usual, and it broke. Dr. Hinge: What, the switch did, Maud? Maud: Yes, the switch did, Doctor. Then the percolator did. Dame Hilda: How did it do that dear? Maud: Well, I tripped over the flex and it fell off the table. Dr. Hinge: Maud, that flex is terribly short. I fail to see how itcould get on the floor for you to trip over? Maud: It didn't get on the floor, Doctor. I got on the table. Dame Hilda: Well, don't worry, Maud. We'll have a cup of tea later. Maud: That's just what I thought, Dame ‘ilda. I'm popping out now to buy a new pot. See, that was on the table, an’ all. And my foot caught it! Dr. Hinge: Maud, why were you standing on the table in the first place? Maud: Well, I was trying to mend the light, that's why. Dame Hilda: I mean, you should have got the step ladder, dear. Maud: I had the step ladder. That's ‘ow the light got broke. And the panel in the larder door. Great ‘eavy things. You can't swing ‘em without ‘itting something. When I stepped on the steps to get at the light, the steps broke. So I stepped on the table and stopped there! Dr. Hinge: And the rest we know!
Dame Hilda: Well, at least Evadne the table’s all right. Maud: Now, I got a confession to make. Dr. Hinge: Maud, how is it that the only thing in this entire house that appears to be safe from you is that harp that’s stuck right in the middle of the hall? Maud: But that's not in anybody's way. Dame Hilda: Thank you, Maud, dear. Now, Maud, while you're here, it rather looks as if the Doctor and I have let ourselves in for a little organising, you know a bit of a do on the village green. And we shall need catering. Maud; Well, Dame ‘ilda, of course, you know I'd be only too pleased. Dr. Hinge: I was wondering about that woman who does it now up at the village hall, Hilda. Dame Hilda: Oh, do you mean Mrs. Mellinger? Dr. Hinge: Is that her name? I don't know. The tall, trim red-headed woman with trousers suits and a dachshund. She always looks so competent, sensible shoes and all that? Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, Mrs. Mellinger lives in holly tree cottage. Now, Maud dear. Now, you've been to some of those village hall dos of Mrs. Melinger's. Haven't you? What's she like? Maud: Well, she's all very well in ‘er way I suppose! But she's a little bit fancy like. Dr. Hinge: Oh, give you knives and forks, I suppose? Maud: Well, of course she does, Doctor. She's cordon blue. Does everything very posh! Low lights an’ all. At the ‘alloween supper the lights was lower than we ‘ad them in the war. We could ‘ardly see to put our candles in our turnips. Mind it looked lovely! What you could see of it! Everything was green, green tablecloths, green serviettes, green crockery, poor Mrs. Parsons spent ‘alf the evening ferreting about on the table trying to find ‘er peas! Dame Hilda: Her eyes aren't what they were alas. Dr. Hinge: And they were never up to much. Maud: Did you know, Dame ‘ilda, we had salad with ‘ot? Old Mr Nickels said ‘e wished ‘e’d took ‘is rabbit! Dr. Hinge: Well, it would probably have been better company for him than his wife Dame Hilda: By the way Maud is it true that she makes that poor man drink his homemade beer in the garage? Maud: She makes him do absolutely everything in the garage Dame Hilda: How terribly inconvenient. Dr. Hinge: Now, what are we going to do about the catering Hilda? Are we having this woman or are we not? Dame Hilda: Well, I think perhaps we ought to give her a try, Evadne, don’t you? After all, the low lights won’t bother us. We'll have the bonfire. Dr. Hinge: Yes, and apparently, apparently she has a way with the butcher, which means she can get the meat cheap. Maud: It's been said she ‘as a good deal more than a way with ‘im. Top side at 70p, and all the brisket she can carry. Disgusting! Dame Hilda: I'd never heard that. Dr. Hinge: You don't hear everything, Hilda. Maud: Is this do for Guy Fawkes night? Dr. Hinge: No Maud, it's not. Maud: Of course, if it's a secret, Doctor, Dame Hilda: It's not a secret Maud, it's a pageant! Dr. Hinge: How would you like to play a witch? Maud: Which, witch, and that what? Dame Hilda: Not at anything dear. You'd be dressed as a peasant and taken to the village green on a muck cart! Dr. Hinge: A tumbril! Hilda. Dame Hilda: Well, whatever we can get. And you'd then be tied to a stake in front of the bonfire and sort of burnt. Just like Goody Bullet. Maud: Well, it don't sound like much of a night out. Dame Hilda: Precisely. Maud: Anyway, seeing as that I ‘ad a real witch for ancestor, when most people around ‘ere can't even claim a nodding acquaintance with a gnome. I think I should be permitted to do something a little more important than just be burned at the stake. Dame Hilda; Well, what had you in mind dear? Maud; I'd like to light the bonfire. Dame Hilda: Very well, if that's what you want. Dr, Hinge: Maud with matches? I don't like it, Hilda. Dame Hilda: Well, she can hardly do any harm dear. After all, we want it to go up in flames.
Dame Hilda: And so Evadne with that ruthless determination that has always given her such a rapport with Wagner, set about organising her witch's pageant, I just sat silently back and watched her. Happy in the knowledge that sooner or later she'd come unstuck. Sure enough, she did. Well, I mean, nobody wanted to spend an entire evening dressed in Hessian. Not even on the promise of being burned at the stake and as much black toad venom punch as they could drink, so we compromised. We settled for just a jolly night on the green with a bonfire, food and drink. Well, the night turned out to be beautiful and warm, and just as I'd expected it would be.
Dr Hinge: There's Tom. Tom, dear, over here. Tom: Ah, evening, Doc. Evening, Dame. Dame Hilda: Hello, Tom. Dr. Hinge: I must say, Tom, you've done a magnificent job with the bonfire. It'll look absolutely lovely when it's lit. Tom: Well, it's all right now, Doc. But getting it together ‘as been a bit, er, well, on and off. Dame Hilda: On and off, Tom? Tom: Yeah, dame. For everybody who put something on, there was somebody who took something off. Dame Hilda: Really? But it's just a load of old wood and combustible junk dear! Tom: Nevertheless you chuck something out and the Doctor wants it. She chucks something out, you want it. ‘uman nature, isn't it? Dame Hilda: I've never wanted anything she’s chucked out Tom, I'm sure. Tell me, Tom, dear. Have you any idea how that woman from the village hall is coping in the refreshment Marquee? Tom: Well, she was in a bit of a flap, Dame. It seems the butcher didn't quite come up to expectations! Dr. Hinge: Really? Tom: It were a lot smaller than she thought really! Dame Hilda: What do you mean, Tom? Tom: Well, the ox. For the, er, ox roast. Yeah. Don't look like an ox, you see, too small. She's been sold a pup if you ask me. The Major's wife's been dragged into ‘elp. Dame Hilda: Oh, how splendid. Tom: Oh, I'm not so sure. All she's done so far is make 150 cucumber crocodiles. Dame Hilda: It's amazing what that woman can do with a cucumber. Dr. Hinge: I say Tom, there's a gang of village brats poking around in your bonfire dear. Dame Hilda: They're not brats, Evadne. They're village children and they've come to join in the communal fun. Dr. Hinge: Nonsense, Hilda, they're brats, and they're poking about in his bonfire. Go and chase them off, Tom, will you? Tom: ‘ey, you lot. Get out of ‘ere. You just wait till I get my ‘ands on you. Dame Hilda: Makes a good host, doesn't he? Oh, there's Maud by the bonfire now, dear. Let's go across. Dr. Hinge: Good God, what does she look like? She shouldn't dress like that, especially if we’re lighting a bonfire. Someone might pick her up and chuck her on it. Dame Hilda: Hello, Maud. Maud: Oh, good evening, Dame ‘ilda. Doctor. I say that ‘ot punch is ever so nice. You can feel it going down, and it don't ‘alf make yer toes tingle! Dame Hilda: Yes, Maud, but I think you're supposed to use one of those little glasses over there for it, dear. The pint tankard's are for the beer. Maud: I paid me money, Dame ‘ilda, and I took me choice. Now, when do I do it? Dr. Hinge: Not yet, Maud, no, we'll tell you. Maud: You sure I’ll be able to light that great big bonfire with one of these little matches? Dame Hilda: Oh, no, no, you'll have a flaming brand, dear. Maud; Then why am I walking around ‘olding these flaming matches? Dr. Hinge: You'll need those, Maud, to light the flaming brand. Maud: Sounds if I'm gonna ‘ave a right flaming evening! Major: Ah, there you are Ladies? I think we're ready for the off! Dr. Hinge: Well, let's get it over with. Tom: Come on, then, Ma. Lighting up time. It's your big moment. You know, she's never lit anything bigger than a Christmas pudding ‘till now. Maud: And now me knees is tingling too. Dame Hilda: It'll be the pints of punch Maud! Maud: It seems such a shame to set fire to that lovely pile after so much works gone into it. Major: It's all in a good cause, Maud. Right, everybody, gather round. The bonfire's about to be lit. Now, Tom, hold the flambeauso that your mother can light it. Dr. Hinge: Stand back Hilda! We don't want you hurt do we? Dame Hilda: It can't explode or anything, can it? Major: No, no. Paraffin-soaked rag on a pole. That's all. Perfectly harmless. In the right hands. Right Maud, here are the matches. Maud: Well, ‘ere goes. Major: Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Maud Print will now light our celebratory bonfire. Maud: What do I do? Tom: Throw it ma! No, not at us! At the bloody bonfire! Dr. Hinge: Hold her, Major. Aim her. You were a gunner weren't you? Major: Right dear, now when I say throw, throw. Throw! Dame Hilda: All right, Evadne! You can open your eyes now, dear, she's done it. Dr. Hinge: Oh, I say. Isn't it beautiful, Hilda? I say, Hilda? Dame Hilda: What dear?. Dr. Hinge: Isn't that flame on the corner of the cricket pavilion roof? Dame Hilda: Oh dear! Oh, Major, look, the pavilion roof. Look dear! Major: Good god! Tom: It's all right. They should be able to see us from the fire station. ‘ey, fire! fire! Major: It’s no, good, Tom. They're all at the window waving. Thinking you're showing off the bonfire. Major: You better run across. Tom: Right, Major. Fire! fire! fire! Maud: I say, Dame ‘ilda! Dame Hilda: What, Maud, dear? Maud: Did I do that all right? Dr. Hinge: You know Hilda? I was right in the first place. We should have burned her.
Transcribed by Lorraine Taylor |
