A lady fair of lineage high

Was loved by an ape in the days gone by

The maid was radiant as the sun

The ape was a most unsightly one

The ape was a most unsightly one

So it would not do

His scheme fell through

For the maid, when his love took formal shape

Expressed such terror

At his monstrous error

That he stammered an apology and made his escape

A picture of a disconcerted ape

He bought white ties and he bought dress suits

He crammed his feet into bright tight boots

And to start in life on a brand new plan

He christened himself Darwinian Man

He christened himself Darwinian Man

But it would not do

The scheme fell through

For the maiden fair, who the monkey craved

Was a radiant being

With a brain farseeing

While Darwinian Man, though well behaved

At best is only a monkey shaved

For the maiden fair, who the monkey craved

Was a radiant being

With a brain farseeing

While Darwinian Man, though well behaved

At best is only a monkey shaved

Dame Hilda: Well, Miss Primley, do you think that song will be suitable for the end of term concert?

Miss Primley: Oh, infinitely so, Hilda, the echoing emotions evoke a sense of undulating rhythm in the very depths of my turquoise fantasies.

Dame Hilda: Yes. Evadne, we must have the piano tuned.

Dr. Hinge: Perhaps we should have Miss Primley tuned, dear.

Miss Primley:

Oh, rosewood pianoforte,

Passive in its silence,

Yet snarling like the ubiquitous glow worm

When touched upon its strong white teeth

Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle!

Dame Hilda: Yes, I think I know what you mean, I think.

Miss Primley: Well, dear ladies, I fear I have to leave you. anon, friends, anon, I must away to my little nest.

Dame Hilda:  All right, dear, but mind you don't get broody.

Dr. Hinge: And thank you once again, Miss Primley, for bringing us that bottle of carrot and turnip wine.

Miss Primley: My pleasure, Evadne, I'm sure you will enjoy it if you let it stand for a time.

Dame Hilda: Oh, don't worry, we shall certainly let it stand a long, long time.

Miss Primley: Well, I'll see myself out, farewell, good people, hippity-hop!

Dame Hilda: Goodbye, Miss Primley.

Dr. Hinge: Goodbye, dear.

Dame Hilda: Well, there she goes, hippity-hop! A lovely command of the English language, I only wish I knew what she was talking about. Now then, dear, what plans have you made for today?

Dr. Hinge: Well, actually, Hilda, I'd like to do a spot of writing.

Dame Hilda: Oh, I see, so you won't be going down to the shops?

Dr. Hinge:  No, dear. I, um...well, I'd like to do some writing.

Dame Hilda: I see, who are you writing to, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Nobody, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: But you must be writing to somebody, dear, come on, who is it?

Dr. Hinge: It doesn't matter, Hilda, I'll tell you, all in good time.

Dame Hilda: All right, is it your mother?

Dr. Hinge: Is what my mother?

Dame Hilda: No, no, it can't be, you wrote to her last week.

Dr. Hinge:  Last Wednesday, actually.

Dame Hilda: I thought you did, well, of course, it can't be that pen friend in Wagga Wagga, because you haven't written to her since you were 16, she could have left Wagga Wagga by now.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, will you stop it?

Dame Hilda: And it's too early for Santa Claus.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, it is something rather personal, do you understand?

Dame Hilda: Yes, dear, yes, yes, of course I do...so you're not going to tell me?

Dr. Hinge: Eventually, when I'm satisfied that the time is right.

Dame Hilda: I see, you mean like in a couple of minutes?

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, it is quite obvious that I shall get no peace until you know the full story, the ins and outs, the type of paper I'm writing on, even the colour of ink I'm using.

Dame Hilda:  Yes, I think that's a fair assessment, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Well, then you'll have to wait.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, Evadne, I wish you wouldn't behave so childishly.

Dr. Hinge: I am not behaving childishly, Hilda Bracket.

Dame Hilda: Of course you are, of course, I mean, it doesn't matter to me who you're writing to, I'm not bothered, dear, I'm not bothered in the slightest.

Dr. Hinge: Then why are we having this argument?

Dame Hilda: Because I want to know.

Dr. Hinge: You're not getting to know because as soon as I tell you what I'm doing, you'll just laugh and make fun of me.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, when have I ever made fun of you?

Dr. Hinge: Well, this morning, not yet, but mark my words, as soon as you know, you will laugh.

Dame Hilda: I shan't laugh, Evadne, honestly, I promise you, Guides honour.

Dr. Hinge: You weren't in the Guides.

Dame Hilda:  No, but I've got my cycling proficiency badge, Evadne, there is no way I shall laugh.

Dr. Hinge: All right, then, I'll tell you, I'm writing a play.

Dame Hilda: Ha, ha! Choke!... I wasn't laughing at all, dear, I've just got a tickle in my throat.

Dr. Hinge: Very convenient.

Dame Hilda: So you're writing a play?

Dr. Hinge: I am.

Dame Hilda: Do you think that's a good idea?

Dr. Hinge: I think it's an excellent idea, otherwise I wouldn't be writing it.

Dame Hilda:  I was only thinking of your unfortunate experience last year when you tried to write a pantomime.

Dr. Hinge: And what was wrong with last year's pantomime?

Dame Hilda: Nothing, dear, nothing, it wasn't your fault that nobody wanted to be in it.

Dr. Hinge: Lots of people wanted to be in it, It was just unfortunate that several of them caught the flu.

Dame Hilda: The entire cast caught the flu, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Anyway, Hilda, a pantomime is a pantomime, and a play is a play. I really do think that I have found my niche at last, I couldn't sleep last night at all, I had this wonderful idea for the plot.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, so it's going to have a plot, is it, dear?

Dr. Hinge:  Well, of course it is, Hilda, all whodunnits have a plot.

Dame Hilda: Ooh, it's a whodunnit, is it? Well, did you hear that, Milton? Your Auntie Evadne is going to be another Agatha Christie, {Chirp!} yes, Milton, she could run for 25 years, providing her knees don't lock, {Chirp!}yes, I know he’s a pretty boy, anyway, Evadne, what's your play called?

Dr. Hinge: The Case of the Strangled Budgie.

Dame Hilda: I don't think that's funny at all, Evadne, in fact, I'm very hurt.

Dr. Hinge: Well, then, you know how I feel, being ridiculed by you.

Dame Hilda:  Yes, I'm sorry, dear, but you must admit, you do have these crazes. anyway, let's not fall out, what's the title?

Dr. Hinge: The Railway Station Murders.

Dame Hilda: Oh, a comedy, ha, ha, ha! are you hoping to put it on in the church hall?

Dr. Hinge: Well, initially, I thought of forming a play reading group.

Dame Hilda: What a good idea, you mean to read plays?

Dr. Hinge: Strangely enough, yes, I thought there must be one or two people in the village who aren't very good at learning lines, but who would welcome the opportunity of releasing their pent up emotions in the form of play reading.

Dame Hilda: I've misjudged you, Evadne, and tell me, is there a part in your play that, well, how can I put it, that would suit my acting style?

Dr. Hinge: There is indeed, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Yes, I thought there would be, an important part, is it, would you say?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, absolutely.

Dame Hilda: Good, what is it, dear?

Dr. Hinge: The corpse! {Snigger!}

Dame Hilda: I don't think that was very nice.

Dr. Hinge: It was only a joke, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Jokes like that aren't funny.

Dr. Hinge: No, only when you say them.

Dame Hilda: That's not true, I would never deliberately say anything which I thought would hurt the feelings of a lifelong friend.

Dr. Hinge:  Hums {Hearts and Flowers}

Dame Hilda: I'm not laughing, Evadne.

Dr. Hinge: All right, Hilda, I'm sorry, I apologise for suggesting, even in fun, that you would make an excellent corpse.

Dame Hilda: There you go again, now stop it, dear, stop it, please.

Dr. Hinge: I apologise, I'm sorry.

Dame Hilda: Good, now, what part in your play is really suitable for me?

Dr. Hinge: Mrs Amelia Hammond.

Dame Hilda: Ah, now that sounds more like me, what is she?

Dr. Hinge: Her husband's an undertaker.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, I think I'll go and have a small sherry? I can feel my twinges coming on again.

{Door opens.}

Dr. Hinge:  Oh, dear, that sounds like Maud.

Dame Hilda: Oh, good. well, at least I shall get a few kind words from her, are you going to tell her about your play reading group, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: I suppose so, I presume she can read.

Dame Hilda: Oh, hello, dear.

Maud: Morning, Dame ‘ilda, Doctor.

Dr. Hinge: Good morning, Maud.

Maud: I called at Mrs Flathers’s, she's on me way, she said she ‘ad a dozen duck eggs for you.

Dame Hilda: That's right, dear.

Maud: So I told ‘er I'd take ‘em and bring them up.

Dame Hilda: Oh, thank you, Maud.

Maud: Only I wish I ‘adn't.

Dame Hilda: Why, dear?

Maud: I dropped ‘em.

Dr. Hinge: Well done, Maud.

Maud: And they broke.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, they do, you know, and where are they now, Maud?

Maud: In the bottom o’ Tom's sidecar, and they looked lovely duck eggs, Dame ‘ilda, great big yolks they ‘ad.

Dr. Hinge: But they're hardly any good splashed on the bottom of Tom's sidecar, Maud.

Dame Hilda: Unless he was going scrambling, ha, ha, ha! Oh, I couldn't resist that one, dear.

Dr. Hinge: You should have tried a little harder, dear.

Maud:  I thought o’ scraping ‘em up onto a plate, but Tom ‘ad been deliverin’ some firewood, you see, and ‘e ‘adn't brushed the bits out o’ ‘is sidecar.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, that was a kind thought, dear.

Dr. Hinge: It wasn't at all, I always enjoy my omelette with half a tree in it.

Maud: ‘e's doin’ well is Tom, with ‘is firewood business, I don't know where ‘e gets all ‘is wood from, apparently it's very scarce.

Dame Hilda: Yes, well, it doesn't grow on trees, does it? Ha, ha, ha!

Dr. Hinge: Of course it does, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: It was a joke, dear, you'll have to start watching out for those now that you're a writer. Oh, we haven't told Maud, have we, Maud, dear, Doctor's writing a play.

Maud: It's not one o’ them sexy plays, is it?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, don't be silly, Maud, of course it isn't.

Maud: There were one on the telly last week, disgustin’ it was.

Dame Hilda: How do you mean, dear?

Maud: Well, this woman and this man were in bed, you know, in bed? and they weren't married.

Dame Hilda:  Well, probably they were only having a little afternoon nap.

Maud: Not likely, it were disgustin’.

Dr. Hinge: Why, Maud, what did they do?

Maud: I dunno, I shut me eyes, Arthur would ‘ave done, too, but ‘e says ‘e'd better watch, so as when it's over ‘e can tell me when to open my eyes.

Dame Hilda: Yes, always been a tower of consideration, has Arthur.

Dr. Hinge: Well, you've no need to worry, Maud, there's no sex in my plays.

Dame Hilda: But you could always do a rewrite for Arthur, couldn't you, dear?

Maud: What's it called, then?

Dr. Hinge: The Railway Station Murders.

Maud: I live in a railway station.

Dr. Hinge: Where do you think I got the idea from, Maud?

Dame Hilda: Who's your detective, then, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Klaus Gerber, a German.

Dame Hilda: Really, I mean, you don't get many German detectives, do you? Well, unless you're in Germany.

Maud: I don't like Germans.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, Maud.

Maud:  You can't trust ‘em.

Dame Hilda: Maud, really?

Maud: Shifty eyes they ‘as.

Dame Hilda:  Maud, you can't say things like that, people from all over the world have shifty eyes.

Maud: Not as shifty as Germans, look at ‘im on the telly, ‘e has shifty eyes.

Dame Hilda: Who, dear?

Maud: Charles Aznavour.

Dr. Hinge: Maud, Charles Aznavour is Armenian.

Maud: Don't matter, ‘e's a foreigner.

Dame Hilda:  You know, Maud, I'm surprised you never worked for the United Nations.

Dr. Hinge: Is that like the co-op?

Dame Hilda: Carry on, dear, you were saying your detective was Klaus Gerber?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, he's on holiday over here, you see, touring round when he finds himself stranded on a lonely rural station with five other people and Seamus O'Shaughnessy, the stationmaster.

Dame Hilda: This Seamus O'Shaughnessy character?

Dr. Hinge: Yes.

Dame Hilda: Irish, is he?

Dr. Hinge: Well done, Hilda.

Maud: I don't like Irishmen, they ‘as shifty eyes, an’all

Dr. Hinge: Maud, is there anybody you do like?

Maud: I like Dame ‘ilda.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, thank you, dear, I don't have shifty eyes, then.

Maud: You've got kind eyes, I've always said Dame ‘ilda ‘as kind eyes.

Dame Hilda: And what about the Doctor?

Maud: I think I'll go and make a cup o’ tea.

Dame Hilda: And how long will it be before you finish writing the play, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: Well, given no interruptions, I think I can complete it by the weekend, in fact, I thought of having our first play reading evening here next Saturday.

Dame Hilda: Excellent! Do you want me to contact the National Theatre and ask them all along?

Dr. Hinge: I don't think so, Hilda, we wouldn't have enough cups and saucers to go round, especially if Maud's washing up.

Dame Hilda: Yes, point taken, well, I'll just invite Sir Lawrence, then.

{Saturday.}

Dr. Hinge: Right, then, well, are we all well met? as Shakespeare said. Has everyone got a script, Vicar?

Donald: Yes, Evadne, yes, yes, I'm terribly excited at being given such an important part.

Dame Hilda: Miss Primley, do you mind sharing a script with Maud?

Miss Primley:  Oh, not at all, Hilda, what is life if not for sharing? Like radishes and tripe.

Dame Hilda: Yes, yes, indeed, now, Maud, you know which part you're playing?

Maud: Yes.

Dame Hilda: And you're sure you'll be able to cope with the accent?

Maud: Yes.

Dame Hilda: So, we’ve no problems?

Maud: Only one, I've left me glasses at ‘ome.

Dame Hilda: Oh, dear.

Dr. Hinge:  Look, do the best you can, Maud, we must make a start or we'll never get through it.

Dame Hilda: I'm only trying to help, dear.

Donald: I'm terribly excited, you know.

Dame Hilda: You keep saying that, Donald.

Dr. Hinge: Right, well, let me set the scene for you. The time is nine o'clock at night.

Maud: Oh, beggin’ yer pardon, Doctor, but it can't be much after ‘alf past one.

Dame Hilda: No, Maud, no, no, she means the action of the play takes place at nine o'clock at night.

Dr. Hinge: Thank you, Hilda. The scene is the waiting room of a lonely railway station.

Dame Hilda: Yes.

Dr. Hinge: Huddled round the stove are our six characters, all stranded there for the night.

Dame Hilda: Yes.

Dr. Hinge: Slowly the waiting room door opens and in comes Seamus O'Shaughnessy, he, of course, is the Irish...
 
Dame Hilda: Creeeeeeaak!

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, have you got a stomach ache?

Dame Hilda: No, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Then why on earth are you making that revolting noise?

Dame Hilda: Sound effects, dear.

Dr. Hinge: But I don't need the sound of somebody being ill.

Dame Hilda: No, it was supposed to be the creaking door, you see... you said, slowly the waiting room door opens, so, I thought it would add to the drama if I did a creaking door.

Miss Primley: And very good it was, too, Hilda.

Donald: Oh, yes, excellent.

Miss Primley: I distinctly felt a chill run up my spine.

Dr. Hinge: Yes, well, this door doesn't creak.

Dame Hilda: It must do, dear, all railway station doors creak.

Dr. Hinge: Well, this one doesn't because Seamus O'Shaughnessy has oiled it personally every day for the last 60 years.

Dame Hilda: And does this come out in the play?

Dr. Hinge:  Oh, Hilda, do drop the subject.

Dame Hilda: Well, I'm only trying to be constructive.

Dr. Hinge: Good, now, where was I?

Dame Hilda: Oiling a door.

Dr. Hinge: Right, Seamus staggers into the room just as the London Express hurtles through the station.

Dame Hilda: Tiddly-push, tiddly-push, diddly-dee, diddly-dee, diddly-dee, diddly-dee, diddly-dee, diddly-dum, diddly-dum, diddly-dum, diddly-dee...

Dr. Hinge:  Hilda, what are you doing?

Dame Hilda: You said the London Express hurtles through the station.

Dr. Hinge: Well, what has that got to do with tiddly-push?

Dame Hilda:  Sound effects again, dear, I was hurtling through the station.

Miss Primley: And very effective again, Hilda, I felt yet another chill run up my spine.

Donald: Yes, yes, I must admit that I was similarly affected.

Dame Hilda: What about you, Maud?

Maud: Well, I thought you were singin’ Dame ‘ilda.

Dr. Hinge: Look, I do not want sound effects in my play, right? Seamus O'Shaughnessy speaks.

Dame Hilda: Donald, that's you, dear.

Donald: Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, indeed, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, yes, yes, I was carried away by your tiddly-push, Hilda, most effective. Right, right, here we go again. {In a welsh accent.}Well, now, look here, begorrah, what is it we have in the waiting room, to be sure and bejabers?

Dame Hilda: Eer... Donald?

Donald: Yes, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: I don't quite know how to put this, but Seamus O'Shaughnessy is Irish.

Donald: Well, yes, I know, well, what do you think? I've been practising.

Dame Hilda:  Oh, I could tell, but you see, dear, that was Welsh.

Donald: Was it?

Dame Hilda: Yes, I would put the accent somewhere between Pontypool and Pontefract.

Donald: That is quite incredible, I've always used that accent for my Irish characters, I'm afraid it's the only one I can do.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, really, Donald.

Donald: Oh, yes, I forgot, I do a very good Eskimo.

Dame Hilda: I wouldn't bother, Donald, you see, I don't think you'll find many Eskimo stationmasters in this country.

Dr. Hinge: This is quite ridiculous.

Dame Hilda: I know, dear, it would seem you'll have to do a rewrite of the play, shall we meet again next week when you've done it, or shall we sing a song instead?

Dr. Hinge:  We are not singing a song, Hilda, we shall read this play to the bitter end.

Dame Hilda: I was afraid of that.

Dr. Hinge: A quick alteration, Taffy Evans, the Welsh stationmaster, enters the waiting room.

Dame Hilda: That's clever, dear.

Dr. Hinge: Off you go, Donald.

Donald: Oh, yes, right, yes. Well now, look here, begorrah, what is it we have here in the waiting room?

Miss Primley: Land of my fathers. Cwm Rhondda, Aberystwyth, Llandudno and Megan Lloyd George.

Dame Hilda: I don't seem to see that in the script, Miss Primley

Miss Primley:  I'm sorry, Hilda, I was quite carried away by Donald's beautiful accent.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, are you sure you wouldn't rather sing a song?

Dr. Hinge:  I am quite sure, may we carry on? You have the next line, Maud, Maud! Wake up, Maud.

Maud: Oh, sorry, Doctor, do yer want me to make some tea?

Dr. Hinge: We want the next line, Maud, Klaus Gerber, the German detective.

Maud: I'm not ‘appy playing a feller, especially a German feller.

Dr. Hinge: It is important to the play that the detective be German.

Dame Hilda: Well, I shall have to play the part, then, I can, of course, do a very good German accent.

Dr. Hinge:  Hilda, you're already playing two characters.

Dame Hilda:  Well, that's the sort of thing that happens when you're multi-talented.

Dr. Hinge: What's Maud going to do?

Dame Hilda:  Well, I suggest you write a special part for someone who's lost her glasses and doesn't like Germans. Come along, Donald, give me the line, dear, cue please.

Donald: Well, now, look you, begorrah, what is it we have here in the waiting room?

Dame Hilda: Ve huggled in the waiting room are, and ve are trying to varm keep, vhat time's the next train is yah?

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, the line is nothing like that.

Dame Hilda: I know, dear, I've done a quick rewrite, you see, I know the way these Germans speak, and you haven't got it quite right, you see, all right? Carry on, Donald.

Donald: By the beard of St. Patrick, I have bad news for you, begorrah and bejabers, there are no more trains tonight at all, at all.

Dame Hilda: Vhat is this? There is no trains are at all, at all? It not good is, I vill report, vhat your name is this?

Donald: My name is Taffy Evans from Tipperary.

Dr. Hinge: I'd forgotten about the alterations, Donald, will you change that to Colwyn Bay?

Donald: What? Oh, yes, yes, yes, of course, yes, my name is Colwyn Bay from Tipperary.

Dame Hilda:  No, no, no, no, Donald, you got it the wrong way round.

Maud:  Do you know, Dame ‘ilda, I ain't bin to Colwyn Bay for 25 years.

Dr. Hinge: Well, why don't you make up for it and go now?

Dame Hilda: I still think we'd be much better singing a song.

Miss Primley: Evadne, I wonder if I might make a slight observation.

Dr. Hinge:  I suppose so.

Miss Primley: Does this play have a plot?

Dame Hilda: Oh, it should have, in the cemetery.

Dr. Hinge: After what you've done to it, I'm surprised it has anything at all.

Dame Hilda: We're only trying to be constructive, dear, and if you keep interrupting, we're not going to get anywhere, I mean, Donald was just warming up, weren't you, Donald?

Donald: Oh, yes, indeed, yes, I think I've got this Irish accent pretty well off now, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: Yes, and I'm certainly doing well with my German character, so let's continue with our dialogue, right?

Donald: Yes, yes, my name is Taffy Evans from Colwyn Bay, where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.

Dame Hilda: Do ve here for all night here to stay, meine Herr? I’m so good, aren't I?

Maud: Aarrrggh

Dr. Hinge: What on earth are you doing, Maud? It's Miss Primley who's supposed to scream in my play.

Maud: Oh, it's nothing to do with yer play, Doctor, I got cramp in me leg.

Dame Hilda: Vell, you must not awkvard sit, you haf one leg, and you're with one leg the other vone under yaki dah, did you see what I did there, dear?

Miss Primley: I don't think I'm capable of screaming.

Dame Hilda: You could if you sat with vone leg the other vone under.

Donald: I think I could scream if that would help.

Dame Hilda: Well, it all depends if you scream with an Irish accent or a Welsh one.

Dr. Hinge: It doesn't really matter.

Dame Hilda: Of course it does, Evadne, we don't want your play ruined.

Dr. Hinge: Hilda, it doesn't matter because we're going to sing a song instead.

Dame Hilda: Now, that's the best suggestion of the day, and I've already set the music out for us three hours ago, and you know the one I'd like to go over, don't you? That lovely duet from the second act of Ruddigore.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, yes.

There grew a little flower, ‘neath a great oak tree

When the tempest ‘gan to lower little heeded she

No need had she to cower

For she dreaded not its power

She was happy in the bower of a great oak tree

Sing hey lackaday

Sing hey lackaday

Let the tears fall free.

For the pretty little flower

And the great oak tree.

Sing hey lackaday

Sing hey lackaday

Sing hey lackaday

Let the tears fall free

For the pretty little flower

And the great oak tree

Said she, he loved me never

Did that great oak tree.

But I'm neither rich nor clever

And so why should he

But though fate of fortune sever

To be constant I’ll endeavour.

Aye, forever and forever

To my great oak tree.

Sing hey lackaday

Sing hey lackaday

Let the tears fall free

For the pretty little flower

And the great oak tree.

Sing hey lackaday

Sing hey lackaday

Sing hey lackaday

Let the tears fall free.

For the pretty little flower

And the great oak tree.

Sing hey lackaday

Sing hey lackaday

lackaday