Mr and Mrs Retired Hack, their normal method of news-gathering now outlawed by Royal Charter, find themselves reduced to rummaging through the wheelie bins outside Shanklin Con Club before dawn every alternate Thursday morning.
This week, among the usual homemade voodoo dolls and torn-up membership cards, they stumbled across this, apparently part panto script, part complete gibberish.
As promised, OnTheWight has wiped down the Pimms-stained manuscript, and recycles it here for readers to make of it what they will. Ed
ACT ONE
In the Castle kitchen, Turnerella is feeling a bit got-at.
Enter Baron Wells-up, in foul mood. “Now then Turnerella, it’s just not good enough. You’re not carrying out my secret instructions. And you’ve been spotted down by the Riverside. How can I keep an eye on you down there? I’m seriously considering banning you from going to the Ball.”
Turnerella: “But Baron, it’s not fair. My loyal subjects love me. The fan mail. It’s flooding in. One flooded in only last week…”
Baron Wells-up: “Your loyal subjects? Your bloody subjects? That’s the trouble with you, you’ve forgotten who’s in charge. No, my mind’s made up. You’ve been hogging that glass slipper for years and years now. It’s one of the Ugly Sisters’ turn to go to the Ball, before we all die of old age.”
He strides out, leaving a sobbing Turnerella. But help is at hand.
Sir Buttons (KGB with bar, EGO first class, etc etc) hurries in. He’s been down by the Riverside, as well, washing his dirty linen in public: “Now then, Turnerella, don’t get upset. I heard the Blue Baron and he’s right out of order. Jealous, that’s all he is.”
Turnerella: “But … he’s going to let the Ugly Sisters try on the glass slipper. He wants one of them to wear it to the ball.”
Sir Buttons: “Those two? Nah, no chance. I may be pontificating here, but everyone hates them. We’d all prefer you to wear the glass slipper, you could dance up to London, where the streets are paved with expenses.”
Sir Buttons tries dancing, and slips on Turnerella’s newly-polished floor: “Never mind, boys and girls, I’m just a knight on the tiles, and my typical robustness has let me down, for once. Boom-boom.”
ACT TWO – Part One
In the dining hall, one of Baron Wells-up’s favourite daughters, Pughtridde, is just putting her cornet away. Her sister, Seelia, bursts in through the French windows. She is trying to fold up a big canvas bag, and seems out of breath. Pughtridde ignores her.
Seelia (striking an Action Girl pose): “The name’s Seelia, special agent double-o-four and three-quarters. I’ll just put my parachute away, and I’ll be with you, Pughtridde. I see you’ve been blowing your own trumpet again.”
“Ha, ha”, shrieks Pughtridde, “aren’t you the f***ing funny one? I’m practising for ‘Shanklin’s Got Talent’.”
Seelia: ” You’ll be practising for a long time, Pughtridde. That’s not the way to get to the ball, you’ll have to fit the glass slipper, and Turnerella won’t want to give it up.”
Pughtridde: “Don’t see why Turnerella wants to go to the Ball anyway. Last time I went to the Ball it was a nightmare. No one f***ing leaves you alone.”
Seelia isn’t listening. She is looking out of the window, at all the lovely birds, and bees, and wildflowers in the hedgerows. “Hello birds, hello bees,” she coos, “mind you, if this glass slipper fits me, I’ll be off before you can say A-list.”
Come back tomorrow (Boxing Day) for the next part of ACT TWO of OnTheWight‘s 2013 Panto: TURNERELLA (or let’s all go to the cabal)
