Major: It's about the fancy dress ball that I come, Ladies.

Dame Hilda: You want us to buy our tickets, Major? Well, of course. Now wherever did I put my purse?

Dr. Hinge: It's under the cushion on your chair, dear. Where you put it when the Major knocked.

Dame Hilda:  And if you want yours, dear, it's on the window ledge behind the Mary Gregory jug.

Dr. Hinge: Thank you.

Major: No, no, it's not about the tickets that I come. No, I'm afraid there's a little problem this year.

Dame Hilda: There are little problems every year, Major. But you always managed to surmount them. We marvel sometimes at the simple ingenuity of your solutions, don't we, dear?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, we do.

Dame Hilda: Like the year the French chalk for the dance floor didn't arrive. And you ran the cricket roller all over those empty milk bottles and sprinkled the floor with the ground glass.

Dr. Hinge: Oh yes. Very resourceful.

Major:  Don't remind me. The good lady wife was a bit cut up about that.

Dr. Hinge:  Anyway, what is the little problem this year, Major?

Major:  Well, little is probably not the right word, Doctor. No, the right word is probably big. We have a big problem this year. Lorna won't have the ball at all.

Dame Hilda: Won't have it?

Major: She's disbanded the committee, cancelled the order for tickets and posters and told the tent people we shall not be requiring the marquee!

Dr. Hinge: She has been a busy little bee. Hasn’t she?

Dame Hilda: But can she do that, Major?

Major: I don't know about can, Hilda. She's done it.

Dr. Hinge: Let's face it, Hilda, The ball is always held at her house and she always bears the brunt of the organisation. So if she says it's off, it's off and that's an end of it.

Dame Hilda: But the fancy dress ball was something we all look forward to, Evadne!

Dr. Hinge: Yes, well now it's something we can all look back on, isn't it?

Dame Hilda: But why, Major?

Major: The straw that finally broke the camel's back, as it were, was the amount of damage done last year to Lorna's geraniums when that Apache war party crept up on those cowboys and caught them in the gazebo?

Dame Hilda: I don't remember that. I think I must have been dancing in the shrubbery at the time, with that charming young man from the chamber of commerce, because he came as the Sundance kid.

Dr. Hinge: He came as Billy the kid.

Dame Hilda: Oh, don't be so pedantic, it was a dance, Evadne, not an identification parade.

Major: It was a wild night.

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, the entire rugby club, Silly arses!

Dr. Hinge: And what about all that horse play in the ornamental pond then?

Major: Yes, God knows what they were up to. But you know, we never saw the garden hose again. And the water lilies have been decidedly sickly ever since. Lorna really loved those lilies. So, you see, her decision is a culmination of a number of unfortunate little incidents.

Dame Hilda: Well, I feel most strongly that the fancy dress ball is one of the traditions of Stackton Tressel that must under no circumstances be permitted to die.

Major: Now, that is precisely what Lorna said you'd say.

Dame Hilda: Is it?

Dr. Hinge: Careful, Hilda.

Major: You see, Lorna has suggested that you might like to assume responsibility for organising the ball this year and that it might even be possible to hold it here at the old manse.

Dame Hilda: Oh, has she? Well, Evadne, what do you think, Dear?

Dr. Hinge: I'm sorry, Major. It's out of the question.

Dame Hilda: Well, there you are then, Major. Evadne won't have it.

Dr. Hinge: Not here, I won't.

Dame Hilda: Well, then, perhaps we could hold it somewhere else. I mean, it really should not be allowed to die.

Major: Now, that was Lorna's other idea.

Dr. Hinge: She's certainly full of ideas, Lorna, isn't she, Major?

Major: She never stops.

Dr. Hinge: Never!

Dame Hilda: Did she say that? Well, now, wasn't that nice of her, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, wasn't it, Hilda? Ever so nice.

Major: Well, then, can I report mission successfully completed?

Dame Hilda:  I think we could lift him off the hook, couldn't we, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge:  Well, dear, if we can do the entire ring cycle in a single day at Crewe. I think we should be able to organise a fancy dress ball in Stackton Tressel.

Major: Bless you, bless you. I should be able to get a round of golf in, but only if I run. Bless you, bless you.

Dame Hilda: Goodbye Major!

Dr. Hinge: I think we have just lifted a great weight from that man's mind, Hilda.

Dame Hilda:  Well, I wasn't going to say so, Evadne. But it really is about time that that fancy dress ball was done properly. I mean, I know the poor woman does her best, but she simply doesn't have what it takes when it comes to balls.

Dr. Hinge: No, I am forced to admit, Hilda. I've been longing to get my hands on it for years. But you know as well as I do the only way to succeed with Lorna Dyrenforth is to let her think she's coerced you.

Dame Hilda: Oh, Evadne, aren't we the wicked ones? Oh, that sounds like Maud. Oh, she's got Tom with her.

Dr. Hinge: Then they'll be arguing no doubt.

Dame Hilda: Shh, listen. No, not a sound.

Dr. Hinge: That means they're not talking.

Maud:  Good morning, Dame ‘ilda. Doctor!

Tom: Morning all.

Dame Hilda: Morning, Maud dear, Tom.

Dr. Hinge: Good morning.

Maud: I'm not talking to ‘im!

Tom: And I'm not talking to ‘er!

Dame Hilda: Well, as long as you’re both happy.

Dr. Hinge: Sounds like it’s going to be a nice quiet morning anyway, Hilda.

Maud: I never thought when I first ‘eld ‘im in me arms, that thirty years later ‘ed turn on me in a public place and shame me in front of a complete stranger in a Panama ‘at and two tone shoes.

Tom: Oh, come off it, Ma. All I said was, watch where you're walking.

Maud: Watch where you're walking indeed. It don't sound much do it but you should have ‘eard ‘ow ‘e said it, Dame ‘ilda. Full of nasty undertones, wicked insinuations.

Tom: look, there's this totally deserted street, see?  There's me and Ma walking up it, about fifty yards up on the same side as us there's this man up a step-ladder. Trimming his ‘edge with an electric ‘edge trimmer. Now, does that sound like a dangerous situation or does it not?

Dr. Hinge: Well, knowing certain of the people involved, dear, most certainly does.

Tom: See ma, you've got a reputation.

Maud:  Now, fairs, fair, Tom. ‘ow was I suppose to know that were gonna ‘appen.

Tom: That's why I shouted, watch where you're walking!

Maud: And if you ‘adn't shouted, I'd not ‘ave turned, so I'd not ‘ave tripped over ‘is wire and I'd not ‘ave pushed over ‘is steps.

Dame Hilda: It really does sound nasty.

Dr. Hinge: Was the man all right, Tom, dear?

Tom: Oh, I can see ‘is face now, Doctor. ‘is ladder leaning at a very nasty angle. With ‘is little two toned feet on top in a desperate toe grip, ‘is body arched over the footpath, ‘is Panama ‘at all awry and his arms round the neck of ‘is peacock.

Dame Hilda:  His what dear?.

Tom: ‘e ‘ad one of them fancy ‘edges, dame, all cut in the shape of birds and things and two beautiful great peacocks, one on either side of ‘is gate.

Dr. Hinge: He was obviously a topiarist!

Maud: I thought ‘e were drunk. A sober man would ‘ave just fallen off them steps and not made such a fuss, nor a fool of ‘imself.

Dame Hilda: Oh, well, no real harm, eh?

Tom:  There wouldn't ‘ave been, dame, if only Ma ‘adn't picked up that electric ‘edge trimmer off the pavement.

Dame Hilda: She didn't?

Tom: She did!

Dr. Hinge: She would!

Maud: Well, I didn't want no one tripping over it, did I? But I'd no idea ‘ow sharp them things are. Or ‘ow lively neither.

Tom: Then why'd you ‘ave to start waving it about?

Maud: I weren't waving it, it were waving itself. That thing ‘ad a mind of its own sliced like butter it did right through the gatepost and right through ‘is peacocks and right through ‘is steps about ‘alfway up! Down they all comes tumbling in an ‘eap!

Dr. Hinge: Sounds like some latter day Lizzie Borden.

Dame Hilda: Yes, with a penchant for peacocks.

Tom: And the telegraph pole.

Maud: Stupid place to put a telegraph pole. Right outside somebody's ‘ouse. Mind, there weren't that many tiles broke. And that attic window looked rotten anyhow. There was no need to make a fuss. And do you know what that man did, Dame ‘ilda?

Dame Hilda: No!

Maud: ‘e picked up his chimney pot.

Dame Hilda: His chimney pot dear?

Maud: One of the four that ‘ad come down off ‘is roof. Well, ‘is and the ‘ouse next door. And he raised it above his ‘ead. And I'm sure ‘e'd have thrown that chimney pot at me if ‘e ‘adn't tripped over ‘is guttering what was lying about on ‘is lawn?

Tom: That's when we left.

Dame Hilda: Very sensible, Tom. It was obviously turning nasty.

Maud: Now, I'm going to make us all a nice cup of tea. And see if I can get my poor old’ ands to stop trembling.

Tom: I'll give you an ‘and. If you like, ma,

Maud: You best stay right away from the kitchen, my lad. You've done quite enough damage for one day. Watch where you’re walking, indeed? That's what started it all!

Tom: You know, if she wasn't my mother, I'd wonder why I'd ever ‘ad anything to do with ‘er.

Dame Hilda: She means well, Tom. And she'd do anything for anybody.

Dr. Hinge: Yes. Especially damage.

Tom: Well, I'll be away then.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, Tom, dear, while you're here, now you may be able to help. You see, we are going to organise the fancy dress ball this year. And we have to find somewhere to hold it. Any ideas?

Tom: Ain't they ‘aving it up at the big ‘ouse this year, then?

Dame Hilda: No, dear. It was getting a bit too much for them. Well, the Dyrenforth’s aren’t as young as they were, alas.

Tom: So you're looking for somewhere a bit unusual, eh? The castle moat, the abbey ruins, that sort of thing.

Dame Hilda: Well, that's the sort of thing exactly, isn't it, Evadne?

Dr. Hinge: Yes, dear, exactly. Or if wet in Westminster cathedral.

Tom: Well, if I can borrow your blower for a bit, I'll see what I can do leave it to me, ok?

Dame Hilda: Thanks very much, Tom, dear. That's very sweet of you.

Tom: No trouble.

Dr. Hinge: Of course, the other thing we need, Hilda, is a theme. Something that's not been done before.

Dame Hilda:  I know what you mean, dear. The sort of thing that would never occur to Lorna Dyrenforth. Cowboys and Indians, I ask you.

Dr. Hinge: Tell you what, Hilda, I'll rummage through the music. It might give us an idea.

Dame Hilda: Oh, yes, dear. And we can find an appropriate song at the same time, because they're bound to ask us to sing, dear. They always do.

Dr. Hinge: Ah, now we're organising it, Hilda, we don't have to wait to be asked. We can sing whether they like it or not. Ah, now wait a moment. How about Gendarmes duet? Now, that's quite good. The theme could be law and order.

Dame Hilda: I really don't think though that I could face an entire evening in serge and lace-up boots. No, I should like to represent something symbolic, dear.

Dr. Hinge: You mean like a needle in a haystack?

Dame Hilda: If you're going to be dim, dear, you could go as a Toc H lamp. I mean, you've got the perfect figure for it. No, I want something like justice in a long sequinned dress with a train!

Dr. Hinge: I don't think justice wears sequins, dear.

Dame Hilda: Well I am going to a ball, Evadne, not to sit on the Old Bailey roof.

Dr. Hinge: Ah, Tom dear. Any luck?

Tom:  Yes, Doctor. I think I've got you fixed up.

Dame Hilda: Where's it to be, then? The castle moat or the abbey ruins?

Tom: The co-op hall.

Dame Hilda: The co-op hall?

Tom: Well, I tried quite a few places.

Dame Hilda: Yes.

Tom: But quite frankly, as soon as they found out what it was for...

Dame Hilda: Yes.

Tom: They didn't wanna know.

Dr. Hinge: We've played worse places, Hilda.

Dame Hilda: You may have done, Evadne. I have not.

Dr. Hinge: Then here's your chance. When can we see it, Tom?

Tom: I'll run you down there now. If you don't mind sharing the back of a van with a sack of cement and me chimney sweeping gear?

Dr. Hinge: Oh, come along, Hilda, do cheer up. I'm sure we should be able to work wonders with a lot of tulle and a little imagination.

Tom: I dare say the caretaker will have a few ideas of his own about what you can do. Mind you, he's not an easy man.

{Co-op hall.}

Caretaker: Tool? You're not ‘aving tool. It's absolutely out the question.

Dame Hilda: What do you mean?

Caretaker: Fire regulations.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, but surely.

Caretaker: There's no such thing as surely when it comes to fire regulations.

Dame Hilda: So what do you normally do for decorations when you have a do here?

Caretaker: We use our own stuff, don't we? It's specifically treated with inflammable substances so it's not a risk to life and limb like the stuff you wanna bring in. Well, if you're planning a ‘ollacaust it's over my dead body.

Dr. Hinge: Very well then. What do your own things consist of?

Caretaker: Well, there's two strings of red, white and blue pennants. It goes from that nail there over to that screw there and from that screw, over to that one. Thirty flags, twenty-five feet.

Dame Hilda: I bet that's a sight worth seeing.

Dr. Hinge: Very spectacular. Anything else?

Caretaker: Of course. There's a white ensign.

Dr. Hinge: Just the one?

Caretaker: Certainly not. ‘ole string of ‘em.

Dame Hilda: Don't tell me. Thirty flags, twenty-five feet?

Caretaker: Precisely!

Dr. Hinge: You lashed out on the flags, didn't you?

Caretaker: Oh, there's a painted backdrop for the stage.

Dame Hilda: Oh, there's a painted backdrop for the stage, Evadne!

Dr. Hinge:  I wouldn't get too excited if I were you, dear? It's probably of flags!

Caretaker: It's a wood.

Dame Hilda:  A wood? How original.

Caretaker: Two oaks either side, four bushes of uncertain nature. A rabbit left front, a squirrel top right, twenty feet by fifteen. That's not the squirrel, that's the erm..... They use it in the pantomime you see.

Dame Hilda: Well, they would, yes.

Dr. Hinge: Which pantomime?

Caretaker: Well, every pantomime! Oh, yeah, and there's a banner for across the room. ‘ail the conquering ‘ero co.

Dame Hilda: Co, dear. How do you spell it?

Caretaker: C O. It should ‘ave been comes, but the banner were too long, so we ‘ad to trim it up a bit!

Dr. Hinge: I see? And that's it? 

Caretaker: That's it.

Dame Hilda: Do we really have to have those fire buckets and hoses on the wall?

Caretaker:  You got your ‘eart set on a ‘ollocaust, ain't you?

Dame Hilda: But it looks just like one of those brick air raid shelters.

Dr. Hinge: Perhaps our theme could be a night in the Second World War, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: No, it must be a symbolism, Evadne, the spirit of Britain at war!

Dr. Hinge:  I was joking, Hilda. I don't really think we ought to suggest war, dear. Not with the rugger club coming.

Dame Hilda: You've really got your knife into those poor boys, haven't you? Anyway, I've got a better idea. Patriotism. I bet they're patriotic. They're built like patriots. And I can come as the spirit of England.

Dr. Hinge: What about the rest of us, Hilda?

Dame Hilda: You can come as anything you like. Use your imagination. But the theme shall be patriotism. And we shall choose a marvellous patriotic song. Then everyone can learn it and they can all join in. And the rafters will ring with England's name.

Caretaker: Well, that's settled then. Red, white and blue pennants, white ensign, union flag. I might even wear my medals.

Dame Hilda: And so it was that Stackton was soon consumed by the fun of dressing up. Evadne, well she decided to go as Boadicea. {Boudicca.} And I must say that when I agreed with this suggestion I had no idea how ferocious she would look, glowering over her pinz nez with a four foot shield in one hand and a boar hunter's spear in the other. But I do know that if the Romans had run into her we'd have got shot of them a good deal sooner than we did. I stuck to my original idea of going as the spirit of England and I slipped into a loose, shimmering ball gown made entirely of red, white and blue. I carried in my left hand a scroll inscribed Magna Carta concealed in my beaded evening bag in a cardboard mock-up of the Domesday book. Well, the day finally arrived and punctually at eight o'clock, anybody who was anybody as well as a good few who weren't anybody. Jammed the co-op hall.

Dame Hilda: Well, I must say, Evadne, everybody's really gone to town, haven't they? This dreary old hole looks just like the field of the cloth of gold, only English. Oh, there's Maud now, dear, let's go across. Who on earth is she supposed to be? She's all dressed up in black with a feather boa, button boots and a bird cage in her hand.

Dr. Hinge: God knows, but she looks like a Victorian taxidermist!

Dame Hilda: Not so loud dear, she's coming over.

Maud: Good evening, Dame ‘ilda, Doctor!

Dame Hilda:  Good evening, Maud.

Dr. Hinge: Hello, Maud.

Dame Hilda: I do hope you won't mind me asking in this dear. Just out of curiosity. Who exactly are you supposed to be?

Maud: I'm Mrs. Potterton.

Dr. Hinge: And who on earth was Mrs. Potterton?

Maud: Well, she was my mother's next door neighbour during the first war Doctor! There's no one more patriotic than Mrs. Potterton. She wouldn't even let ‘er family ‘ave German measles. Not while the war were on. Absolutely forbid it she did.

Tom:  ‘ere, ma, don't you want your stuffed canary? You dropped it in the car.

Maud: Oh, Tom. I never. Oh, pop it in me cage. That canary was Mrs. Potterton's pride and joy.

Dame Hilda:  I say, Tom, dear, the theme is supposed to be patriotism. Why have you come as Guy Fawkes?

Tom: Well, he was English, wasn't he?

Dame Hilda: Yes, but he tried to blow up the houses of Parliament, didn't he, dear?

Tom: Well, I think that was very patriotic of him!

Major:  Oh, Tom there you are. May I have a quiet word with you?

Dr. Hinge: You look a bit worried, Major. Is everything all right downstairs at the door?

Major: Well, as a matter of fact, Evadne, the rugger club has just arrived.

Dr. Hinge: Oh, no! What are they dressed as this time?

Major;  Oh, no, no, They look absolutely splendid. They've come as the Queen's beasts, you know. The heraldic animals, the lion, the unicorn, the stag, the bear, the bull, the boar and so on.

Dame Hilda: So virile!

Major: Their intention, apparently, being at some suitable moment during the evening, to provide an  heraldic tableau.

Dame Hilda: What an absolutely lovely idea, how very imaginative. Oh, I do hope, Evadne, that you will now take back everything you said about that silly business with their bottoms.

Major: I haven't quite finished yet. You see, the unicorn was just passing through the door.

Dame Hilda: Yes​?

Major: When a group of yobbos lounging on the wall across the road, passed one or two loud and ribald remarks about the length and position of the horn.

Maud: Not a fight, Major?

Major: No, Maud, a battle royal, punks versus Queen's beasts!

Tom: ‘ang about, I'll rustle up a few of the lads.

Major: Good idea, but discretion, Tom. We don't want to cause alarm in the hall.

Dame Hilda:  Don't worry, Major. Now, you and Tom cope with the war beneath us and Evadne and I will prevent panic on the home front.

Major: Come on, Tom.

Tom: OK, Major.

Dame Hilda: Evadne, dear, now to the piano, we'll do the patriotic song now and then get everybody singing.

Dr. Hinge: Very well.

Dame Hilda: All right. Give us a chord dear, a loud one! And now to get the ball rolling as it were and before we hand the stage over to Freddie Waters and his banjoleros, here is the song we asked you all to learn. The song that reminds us that tonight, the toast, is England.

Oh England, mother, England. The land that gave us birth.

To all thy sons and daughters,

 the fairest land on earth.

Oh England, happy England, the land that we adore.

God give thee greater glory and God be evermore.

Dame Hilda: Good heavens Evadne, it's getting worse. Now come along, everybody. Here's your chance to demonstrate just how well you've learned the chorus. And this time, let's really raise the roof. Come along, dear, piano!