Dame Hilda: Good morning, Evadne, lovely morning!

Dr. Hinge: It was, dear.

Dame Hilda: What do you mean, dear?

Dr. Hinge: It was, until the postman came.

Dame Hilda: Oh dear, bad news, is it?

Dr. Hinge: The gas bill, dear.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well the gas bill always is bad news, but there's no good brooding about it, dear. It will have to be paid. How much is it?

Dr. Hinge: Twenty-nine million four hundred thousand pounds.

Dame Hilda: Well, make out a cheque, dear, and… what was that?

Dr. Hinge: Twenty-nine million four hundred thousand pounds.

Dame Hilda: Yes, that's what I thought you said.

Dr. Hinge: And 6p.

Dame Hilda: Even worse.

Dr. Hinge: It's that silly computer, obviously it's made a mistake.

Dame Hilda: Unless we left the oven on all night, dear. Ha, ha, ha!

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, I'm very annoyed, this could have come as a severe shock to an elderly person.

Dame Hilda: Yes, I can see you're shaken.

Dr. Hinge: I am annoyed, not shaken! You know I object to being computerised. Modern technology indeed, a medieval clerk using a quill pen wouldn't have made such a fatuous mistake.

Dame Hilda: Well, not with a gas bill anyway, dear, didn't they have candles?

Dr. Hinge: I've never heard of a computer making a mistake in reverse and owing the customer twenty-nine million pounds.

Dame Hilda: Well, there you are, dear. They can't be as silly as you think.

Dr. Hinge: I've got a good mind to ring them and complain most strongly about that computer.

Dame Hilda: Oh, I wouldn't do that, dear. I mean, if it's friends at the GPO find out, the phone call alone could cost you five million pounds. Anyway, was there any other mail?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, there's a letter for you, here you are.

Dame Hilda: Let me see. Oh, I say.

Dr. Hinge: What is it, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: Well, well, well.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, what is it?

Dame Hilda: Ooh, fancy that!

Dr. Hinge: Hilda!

Dame Hilda: What a surprise.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, I do not object to you gazing at the ceiling in rapture, but I wish you'd stop spreading marmalade on that envelope.

Dame Hilda: What's that, dear? Oh, yes, but isn't it exciting?

Dr. Hinge: As I'm not a mind reader, no.

Dame Hilda: This letter, it's from the BBC. It's an invitation to appear on Desert Island Discs.

Dr. Hinge: Really?

Dame Hilda: Yes. Now, I wonder what I can wear, yes, well, of course, this calls for a new dress and blue, I think, yes, I always look my best in blue.

Dr. Hinge: I don't think they've got colour radio yet, dear, hardly matters what you wear, the listeners won't see you.

Dame Hilda: No, but Mr Plomley will, and we don't want to let him down. He's such a well-dressed gentleman.

Dr. Hinge: You've never met him, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: No, but he sounds a well-dressed gentleman.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, I grant you that, yes. When is it, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: The 24th, dear. Broadcasting House, London.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, my word. The hub of the empire. You know I'm beginning to get excited myself. Hilda?

Dame Hilda: Yes, dear?

Dr. Hinge: We are both invited, aren't we?

Dame Hilda: Well, of course.

Dr. Hinge: Why is the letter addressed only to you?

Dame Hilda: Is it, dear? Oh, yes, so it is, yes, well, I expect it's just a simple oversight, dear.

Dr. Hinge: It's always happening. I'm constantly being overlooked.

Dame Hilda: Oh, you're wrong there, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge: It's true. It's always your name and never mine.

Dame Hilda: And I said you're wrong, dear, and here's the proof. The gas bill's addressed to you. But don't worry, I can manage the 6p if you can take care of the rest. Oh, look, Evadne, we've got a visitor. Mr Percival's coming up the drive.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, yes, he did say he would call round for these two anthems for tomorrow night's choir practice. Incidentally, I thought he played quite atrociously at last Sunday's matins, even more wrong notes than usual.

Dame Hilda: Yes, he should never have played the organ with that huge bandage on his finger, every note was a chord.

Dr. Hinge: Anyway, thank goodness his wife hasn't come with him. She could talk the hind leg of a donkey.

Dame Hilda: You don't have to tell me, dear, do you know I met her in the shop the other day and it took her three quarters of an hour to tell me she was in a hurry to get home.

Dr. Hinge: How poor Leonard puts up with her, I do not know. I'll go and make him a cup of coffee while you let him in.

Dame Hilda: I'm on my way, Leonard. Oh, do come in, Leonard. Are you very well, dear?

Leonard: Oh, I am.

Dame Hilda: Come through, dear. Evadne is making you a cup of coffee, is that all right?

Leonard: Oh, it is. The garden looks beautiful, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Yes, the gladioli are a picture, aren't they?

Leonard: Oh, they are. I wish I could spend all day in my garden.

Dame Hilda: Yes, how is Mrs. Percival?

Leonard:  Oh, Violet is flourishing, so to speak. Her sister Primrose has been residing with us for the past three days.

Dame Hilda: Oh, and how is dear Primrose?

Leonard: Well, I think she's all right. I haven't actually spoken to her yet.

Dame Hilda: Yes, I can imagine. Well, give her our love when you can get a word... when you have a chance, dear. Ah, let me help you with the tray, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge: Good morning, Leonard. You're looking well.

Leonard: Oh, looks can be deceptive, Evadne, suffering is not all on the surface.

Dame Hilda: You told me you were very well, Leonard.

Leonard: Yes, but I meant very well considering.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, yes. How is Mrs. Percival?

Dame Hilda: Oh, she's flourishing, Evadne. Here's your coffee, Leonard.

Leonard: Oh, thank you.

Dame Hilda: We were just saying earlier, Leonard, that you played quite beautifully at last Sunday's matins.

Leonard: Well, I wasn't too happy myself, I had one of my fingers quite heavily bandaged.

Dame Hilda: Oh, you couldn't tell.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, no, not at all. We had a good congregation though, didn't we?

Dame Hilda: Yes, seven's not bad for a Sunday morning, for once we outnumbered the choir.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, and talking about the choir, I do think we ought to get a new cassock for Douglas, it doesn't come down to his knees.

Dame Hilda: Yes, he's such a big boy, and still a soprano. Anyway, Leonard, we have something rather exciting to tell you, haven't we, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, yes, you tell him, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Well, I'll just give you a quick clue. {♬Dame Hilda sings the tune from Desert Island discs♬}

Leonard: Oh, you mean you've got to sore throat?

Dame Hilda: No, dear, we are going on Desert Island Discs.

Leonard: Oh, I am pleased, I hope you have nice weather.

Dame Hilda: It's a radio programme, Leonard.

Leonard:  Is it? do you know, I don't think we've had our radio on for 20 years.

Dr. Hinge: There's too much competition.

Leonard:  It's such a pity, because I do like Dick Barton.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, this programme is where you are castaway on a desert island, and we're interviewed, you see, by Mr. Roy Plomley.

Leonard: Plomley? I was with someone called Plomley during the war.

Dame Hilda: Well, there you are then.

Leonard: No, he couldn't have been that Plomley. The one I knew was a WRAF.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, anyway, what we have to do, you see, is choose eight gramophone records to take with us to the island.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, and we can take a book and a luxury object as well.

Dame Hilda: You'll have to listen to us when we do it, Leonard.

Leonard: Oh, I will. As soon as I get home I will go down to the shop and get a new accumulator.

Dr. Hinge: Now, we must get down to choosing our records soon, Hilda, don't want to leave it to the last minute.

Dame Hilda: Well, I know one we shall be taking for a start.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, certainly, we must take the one we made, that is, if the BBC has facilities for playing 78s.

Dame Hilda: Didn't we give you an autographed copy of our record, Leonard?

Leonard: Oh, you did? It's one of my treasured possessions. Violet made it into a plant pot.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, I suppose you have no need for a gramophone in your house. Get the record out of the cabinet, Evadne, and let's put it on.

Dr. Hinge: All right, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Now, I'll plug in the radiogram.

Dr. Hinge: Here we are, dear, now, which side are we taking?

Dame Hilda: We can't take one without the other, can we?  Well, we'll take this one, the Pipes of Pan, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, very well, leave it to me, I can do it.

Dame Hilda:  All right, very well, dear.

{Radiogram sticks.}

Dame Hilda: Give it a kick, dear, give it a kick!

With our melody enthralling, now the woodland echoes ring

Hark our pipes of pan are calling with a merry lilt and swing

Hear their joyous carolling, flowing, growing, rising, falling

Youth and joy must have their fling

When the pipes of pan are calling

Ah!___________________________________________

the pipes of pan

So, follow, follow, follow

The merry merry pipes of pan

The magic reed, that charms at need

The Heart of maid and man.

Ah!­____________________

 Away, away, they seem to say

 And catch us if you can

Come follow follow where they lead

The merry, merry pipes of pan

Loud they laugh beside the fountain

Shrill they mingle with the breeze

Sweet, they call across the mountain

Soft they whisper through the trees

Low they murmur with the bees

Blindly where the brook goes brawling

Nature's fingers touch the keys,

When the pipes of pan are calling

Ah!_____________________________________________

the pipes of pan

So, follow, follow, follow

The merry merry pipes of pan.

The magic reed, that charms at need

The Heart of maid and man

Ah!­____________________

 Away, away, they seem to say

 And catch us if you can

Come follow follow where they lead

The merry, merry pipes

Merry, merry pipes

Ah!________________________

The merry, merry pipes of pan

Leonard: Oh, ladies, that was excellent.

Dame Hilda: Yes, but I don't think we can play that side on the programme.

Dr. Hinge: Why not, dear?

Dame Hilda: Well, we can hardly ask Mr Plomley to give it a kick.

Leonard: Well, I shall have to be making tracks, Violet has asked me to call at the shop, she wants some more throat lozenges.

Dame Hilda: Does she really?

Dr. Hinge: Well, a pound goes nowhere, dear, I've got you the anthems for next Sunday, Leonard. Now, I don't think you'll have any trouble with them they're in seven sharps

Dame Hilda: Oh, Leonard will cope with those, you just bandage all your fingers and bang away at the black notes.

Leonard: Oh, thank you, Evadne, may I wish you every success on your desert island

Dame Hilda: Oh, thank you, Leonard.

Leonard: Just one thing before I go, you won't ever mention to Violet that I knew a WRAF, will you?

Both: Oh, we won't!

{Later.}

Dr. Hinge: No, I'm sorry, Hilda, you cannot take that record to our desert island

Dame Hilda: Evadne, my mind is made up I am taking this record.

Dr. Hinge: Very well, dear, I suppose we could always serve lunch on it.

Dame Hilda: I can't understand you, dear, It's one of your favourites, In the shade of the sheltering palm.

Dr. Hinge: That's just it, we shall be sick of the sight of palm trees on a desert island, I'm surprised you don't want to take I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts!

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, what a lovely idea!

Dr. Hinge: Oh, don't be ridiculous! How long have we been arguing over those records?

Dame Hilda: Three days, dear.

Dr. Hinge: And how many have we selected?

Dame Hilda: Two, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Precisely, Land of hope and glory and the National anthem. So at the moment we shall be spending all our time on the island standing up.

Dame Hilda: Well, there's only one thing for it, plunge your hand into the cupboard and choose one at random.

Dr. Hinge: Right, here we are, oh dear.

Dame Hilda: What is it?

Dr. Hinge: Rescue the perishing!

Dame Hilda: Look, dear, let's approach it from a different angle, Why don't we choose records to remind us of our friends? Now, what can we take to remind us of dear Maud?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, I know just the thing, The ugly duckling

Dame Hilda:  That is not fair, dear, the poor woman can't help the way she walks.

Dr. Hinge: And I've just thought of one that would remind us of Mr. Percival's organ playing!

Dame Hilda: What's that, dear?

Dr. Hinge: The lost chord.

Dame Hilda: Yes, I hope for everyone's sake he never finds it. Have you thought about a military band?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, that's a wonderful idea, I mean, we could march up and down the beach all day long, and then on your birthday we could run one of your woolly vests up the nearest tree, call it trooping the Vest!

Dame Hilda: Now, you're just being silly, I thought a military band would make us feel bright and breezy.

Dr. Hinge: It will be bright and breezy enough on a desert island without a military band.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, you are being deliberately obtuse, I wash my hands of the whole affair, you can choose the records and I shall have no part in it.

Dr. Hinge: That's the best suggestion you've made so far.

Dame Hilda:  It's entirely in your hands.

Dr. Hinge: Right, I shall take the Grieg piano concerto.

Dame Hilda: We are not taking that!

Dr. Hinge: There you are, you see, we're back where we started. Look, Hilda, you choose half the records and I'll choose half, otherwise, at the present rate of progress we'll still be choosing them a week after the programme's gone out.

Dame Hilda: Well, don't blame me, dear, it's not my fault if you can't make up your mind.

Dr. Hinge: Ooh!

{Broadcasting house.}

Dr. Hinge: What did the lady say, dear?

Dame Hilda: She said we had to wait here and Mr. Plomley would be down in a couple of minutes

Dr. Hinge: Lovely, I must say, now we're actually in Broadcasting House, I'm even more excited.

Dame Hilda:  I know what you mean, dear, it's the atmosphere.

Dr. Hinge: When you think of all the great names who have walked through these portals in order to broadcast to the world.

Dame Hilda: Yes, Winston Churchill.

Dr. Hinge: Professor Joad.

Dame Hilda: Big Bill Campbell!

Dr. Hinge: Don't you mean Commander Campbell?

Dame Hilda: Yes, of course Commander Campbell and his Rocky Mountain Rhythm. Ooh, I say Evadne, look who's just come in, it's...oh, you know​.

Dr. Hinge: I’m afraid I don't, dear.

Dame Hilda: Yes, you do, he does that programme all about the thing, oh, you must know him.

Dr. Hinge: Well, it would help if you could be a bit more specific.

Dame Hilda: Well, he's on in the mornings or is it the afternoons? Well, he's on sometime during the day.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, yes, wait a minute, wait a minute, I do believe I recognise him now.

Dame Hilda: No, you don't, dear, no, I've just realised it's not him after all, no, it must be somebody else.

Dr. Hinge: That seems a reasonable assumption, dear. Oh, look, Hilda, the gentleman coming out of the lift it's Mr. Plomley.

Dame Hilda: No, I don't think so, dear, no, you're wrong, dear

Dr. Hinge: Well, he's heading this way.

Mr. Plomley: Good afternoon, ladies I'm Roy Plomley.

Dame Hilda: Yes, we recognised you straight away, Roy, I'm Dame Hilda, dear, and this is my colleague, Dr. Hinge.

Mr. Plomley:  How do you do? I'm delighted to meet you.

Dr. Hinge: Now, we've got our ten records with us, they're in our shopping bag.

Mr. Plomley:  Er, yes... well, actually, you only choose eight.

Dame Hilda: Yes, we know, Roy, but we are having ten, you see.

Mr. Plomley:  I'm sorry, Dame Hilda, eight is the maximum.

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, we know that but I'm sure you'll be able to sort something out. Now, why don't you make whoever's on next week just have six?

Dr. Hinge: No, no, if it's eight, dear, we shall have to get rid of two, two of yours.

Mr. Plomley: And you really needn't have brought your own records. The BBC does have a very big library.

Dame Hilda: Well, we do, too, of course, how many have we got in that cupboard, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, over two hundred!

Mr. Plomley: Well, the BBC has about a million.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, we have given a lot away to jumble sales.

Mr. Plomley: Anyway, we'll go through the records later I'm sure you're ready for a cup of tea after your journey

Dr. Hinge: Oh, that would be lovely, we did have a cup of coffee on the train, of course.

Dame Hilda: Yes, just the one, we couldn't afford one each, I hadn't brought my chequebook with me, you see.

{Recording studio.}

Mr. Plomley: Now, are you sure you're both quite comfortable?

Dame Hilda: Yes, quite comfortable, thank you.

Mr. Plomley: We shall be going on the air very shortly.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, just relax Roy, and enjoy yourself, and if you feel you want to say anything yourself, don't be shy jump in.

Dr. Hinge: Er, Hilda, I think Mr Plomley has done this programme before.

Mr. Plomley: You could say that, it's been running for 35 years.

Dame Hilda:  Has it really? We must have been well down the list, dear.

Mr. Plomley: Anyway, if you'd like to test your microphone for the producer behind the glass.

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, bless him, hello dear, what would you like me to sing?

Mr. Plomley: No, just speak into the microphone, anything at all.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, yes, well, er, yes, well, anything in particular?

Mr. Plomley: Anything at all.

Dame Hilda: Oh, anything at all, yes, well, er, let me think, er, yes, well, there must be something I can say, isn't it strange, I'm not usually stuck for words.

Dr. Hinge: You can say that again!

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, let me think, ah, yes, Evadne, you say something.

Dr. Hinge: The quick brown fox jumps right over the lazy dog!

Mr. Plomley: That's excellent!

Dr. Hinge: Thank you.

Dame Hilda: That's rather silly, dear, if I may say so, that's for testing typewriters.

Dr. Hinge: They only want to hear your voice, dear.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, I was trying to say something a bit more BBC-ish.

Dr. Hinge: Well, why don't you read the news?

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, all right then, well, how about this? Arsenal 17 for three declared!

Mr. Plomley:  Thank you, ladies, I think our producer's happy.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, well, he's certainly laughing.

Mr. Plomley:  Good, right then, stand by, we go on the air in ten seconds.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, dear, ten seconds, so soon, do I look all right, dear?

Dr. Hinge: You look fine!

Mr. Plomley:  Three seconds…. Our castaways this week are two charming ladies whose life has been devoted to music.

Dame Hilda: He's jolly good, isn't he, dear?

Mr. Plomley: Dame Hilda Bracket and Dr Evadne Hinge. Thank you Ladies, did you have any trouble choosing the eight records to take to your desert island?

Dame Hilda: Oh, not at all, took us about five minutes, didn't it, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, if that, dear, yes.

Mr. Plomley: Are you excited at the prospect of living on a desert island?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, immensely. 

Dame Hilda: Of course, we have done it before, we did a season once on the Isle of Wight.

Dr. Hinge: Hardly a desert island, dear​.

Dame Hilda: Well, judging from our audiences, it was uninhabited.

Mr. Plomley:  How do you think you'll spend your time?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, well, of course I shall spend most of the day playing the piano.

Mr. Plomley:  I'm sorry, Dr Hinge, you won't find a piano on the island.

Dame Hilda: Ah, well, that's where we’ve caught you out, Roy, you see, we intend to float to the island on top of the piano, next question​?

Mr. Plomley: Yes, well, you live in a village called Stackton Tressel?

Dame Hilda: Yes, indeed, and if I could take this opportunity of saying hello to Maud, hello dear, can you hear me, Maud? and of course, Milton, who I know will be listening with Maud, hello Milton, who's a pretty boy, then? who's listening to his mummy on the wireless?

Mr. Plomley: I think we should move on to your first record.

Dr. Hinge: So do I?

Mr. Plomley: What have you chosen?

Dr. Hinge: A piano solo, Litolff’s Scherzo.

Mr. Plomley: And why do you choose it?

Dame Hilda: I didn't, Evadne did, she's only playing it on the understanding that I'm on the other side of the island at the time,

Mr. Plomley:  Let's hear Litolff's Scherzo…..{Fades.}

{Later.}

Now, before we hear record number eight, would you try to escape from your island?

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, yes, yes, well, you see, I've got all that organised I shall tie a message to Milton's leg.

Mr. Plomley: I see Milton's your budgerigar?

Dame Hilda: Correct, and I'm taking him with me because I believe we are allowed one luxury item

Mr. Plomley: Yes, indeed.

Dame Hilda: Yes, you see, Roy, I have been listening.

Dr. Hinge: Well, if you're taking Milton as your luxury item, dear, I know what I'm taking.

Dame Hilda: What's that, dear?

Dr. Hinge: A large cat!

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, you tie your message to his leg, dear, I shall rely on Milton for mine. Now, whereabouts is this mythical island, Roy?

Mr. Plomley: Where? Err, well…..

Dame Hilda: I only ask because if it's off Great Yarmouth, we have some very good friends who live in Lowestoft, and they have a boat and Milton knows them ever so well, and he's been there quite a few times, you see.

Mr. Plomley: You sound very close to your budgerigar​?

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, yes.

Dr. Hinge: I'm surprised you didn't bring him with us today​?

Dame Hilda: Well, I would have done, dear, but I didn't want him to frighten Mr Plomley’s Seagulls.

Mr. Plomley:  I think I should tell you that your luxury object has to be inanimate.

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, well, if I tell him, he'll sit perfectly still, you won't know he's there.

Mr. Plomley:  I do hope you're right. So, we'll take it that you'll escape one way or another. Tell me about record number eight​?

Dame Hilda:  Well, this one is, of course, one of our own, but I don't want you to think I'm being egotistical about it, the only reason I'm taking it is because the Doctor's performance on the piano is quite beautiful.

Mr. Plomley: And why are you taking it, Dr Hinge?

Dr. Hinge: The same reason.

Mr. Plomley:  Well, now, I can't imagine why, but we seem to be overrunning, so I'm afraid we'll have to end the programme on your record. So, thank you, Dame Hilda Bracket and Dr Evadne Hinge, for letting us hear your Desert Island Discs.

Dame Hilda: Thank you, Roy, what a nice man.

Dr. Hinge: isn't he dear?

Tell me when you've got an hour to spare

I'll arrange the time to meet and where

I should like to make it very soon

Say perhaps tomorrow afternoon

We'll compare engagement books and see

Just when both of us are free

On Monday, I must go shopping

On Tuesday, I've calls to pay

On Wednesday, I’m asked out to luncheon

And on Thursday, I'm booked all day

On Friday, I've several appointments

That somehow I must get through

But I've nothing much to do on Saturday

So I’ll meet you at half past two

Will I come and meet you all alone

Or do you think I'll need a chaperone

Chaperones should never be allowed

Three is such a very fearful crowd

Will you name the place of rendezvous

That's the point I leave to you

I'll meet you at Hyde Park Corner

I'll meet you at Rotten Row

We might try the British Museum

Well perhaps that's a trifle slow

There's always the Tower of London

Unless you prefer the zoo

Why the animals are fed there on Saturday

So I'll meet you at half past two

Oh I am looking forward to Saturday

So I'll meet you at half past two