Dame Hilda: Since 1956 when we first moved into the old manse at Stackton Tressel, Evadne has been fully able to indulge her interest in the culinary and medicinal uses of herbs. Of course as she never tires of telling me, she is one of the only three registered part-time herbalists in Britain who's been certified. And you know, the other day I arrived in the kitchen just in time to prevent her adding a pinch of a plant called devil's dung to the poached turbot, she said it would give it an interesting and unusual taste and I believed her. She has cures for diseases that haven't been seen since the Middle Ages. However, I recently discovered that she was getting interested in the more esoteric aspects of herbalism. It began one morning when I was sitting in the kitchen nibbling my elevenses and Evadne was at the stove boiling some strange concoction. {Kitchen.} Dame Hilda: Double, double, toil and trouble. Fire burn and cauldron bubble. Dr. Hinge: Shut up Hilda! Dame Hilda: Eye of newt, toe of frog, wing of bat and tongue of dog. Dr. Hinge: Hilda I am trying to concentrate. Dame Hilda: Why don't you come and sit down and have a biscuit dear? Dr. Hinge: I've told you Hilda. I have to fast for at least 10 hours before I drink this. Dame Hilda: Oh, Evadne, I really don't think you should drink it dear. I mean, look what happened to Dr. Jekyll. What is it anyway? Dr. Hinge: They call it water of magnanimity. I'll just move it off the gas and let it cool down. Just an infusion of chicory, mugwort and loose strife. Dame Hilda: Yes, well, I don't know what it'll do for your health, but it sounds as if it might be extremely bad for your morals. Dr. Hinge: It's not for my health Hilda. It's to increase my perception, to open my third eye. Dame Hilda: I don't think I'd like you with three eyes, Evadne, and anyway, dear, you'd never be able to find a suitable pair of spectacles, not on the national health. Dr. Hinge: The third eye is in the brain Hilda, the pineal gland, among other things, it helps us to remember previous incarnations and water of magnanimity is said to stimulate it. Dame Hilda: What on earth do you want to remember previous incarnations for? You might have been something worse than you are now. Dr. Hinge: Then I should like to know. Dame Hilda: You might have been a mole. Dr. Hinge: It's hardly likely. Dame Hilda: Or a sea horse. Dr. Hinge: I think you're confusing it with metamorphosis, dear. Dame Hilda: No, no, it all depends on whether you're going up or down. Mind you're probably too tall to be going down. Dr. Hinge: What are you talking about? Dame Hilda: Well, I don't know all the ins and outs of it, you know. But broadly speaking, you're supposed to start as plankton. And if all goes well, you end up as god. But you can do an awful lot of upping and downing in between. Dr. Hinge: I must say I've never heard that particular theory. Dame Hilda: Well, that's what they believe in the east, according to that man I met in the mikado at Worthing. Do you remember him? Milford Pleight. He reckoned he'd been a dodo. Dr. Hinge: Milford was a dodo. He was certainly as dead as one. Dame Hilda: I liked him. He was mysterious. Dr. Hinge: Oh yes, he was that all right. But he was no great shakes as Nanki Poo. Dame Hilda: Well, he was always very generous to me. He said my yum-yum was the best he'd seen. Dr. Hinge: So much for the state of philosophy in Worthing. There we are. It's done. Now, a glass. Dame Hilda: Oh, Evadne, don't! Dr. Hinge: Hilda, haven't you got something you could be getting on with? Dame Hilda: Well, to tell you the truth, dear, I'm a bit torn. I don't know whether to sit here and watch you reincarnate yourself. Or go and phone the insurance man to up your life insurance. Dr. Hinge: Well, you better make your mind up. Dame Hilda: All right. I'll stay. Dr. Hinge: Then I must insist on absolute silence. Dame Hilda: Don't you want me to tell you if you turn a funny colour or suddenly grow fur on your face? Dr. Hinge: I just want you to be quiet, Hilda. Dame Hilda: I might have to pick you up off the floor and pop you into a matchbox. Dr. Hinge: Be quiet. Once I've drunk this, I have to sit perfectly still with my eyes closed and meditate. Dame Hilda: Why don't you let me make you a nice hot cup of tea? Dr. Hinge: Hilda! Dame Hilda: All right. Please yourself. Transmogrify if you must. Dr. Hinge: Right. Here goes. Mmm, Not too bad. Now not another word. Perfect silence and a total concentration. Dame Hilda: Ahhh! Dr. Hinge: What on earth is the matter? Dame Hilda: You were a mouse! At some time, somewhere, Evadne, you were a mouse. My goodness, you've come up in the world. Dr. Hinge: I don't think that's very funny, dear. Dame Hilda: Didn't you see it? Dr. Hinge: I certainly did not! Dame Hilda: So much for your water of magnanimity. Do you know I'm doing better with two eyes than you are with three? It suddenly appeared on the back of your chair, then it ran down the side and vanished. Dr. Hinge: What a very silly game to play. Dame Hilda: Well, if you didn't see the mouse, Evadne, what did you see? Dr. Hinge: Well, to tell you the truth, all I saw was that stupid Milford Pleight in his Nanki Poo costume. Dame Hilda: Perhaps Milford's been reincarnated as a mouse. Dr. Hinge: Well, you've ruined that little experiment for me. I shall have to leave it for now and try again some other time. The trouble with you, Hilda, is you just never know when to stop. Dame Hilda: Evadne, just turn your head round and look. Do it quietly. Over there by the fridge. I'm sure it's a tail sticking out. Dr. Hinge: Doesn't look like a tail to me. Dame Hilda: Well, they keep them still if they know they've been spotted. Dr. Hinge: I am going into the drawing room to do a bit of piano practice, Hilda. If you want me, you know where I'll be. Dame Hilda: As you pass the fridge, just have a look down by the skirting board. I think you'll find that's a tail sticking out. Dr. Hinge: It's striped black and white Hilda. Dame Hilda: It could be a very small raccoon. Dr. Hinge: It's a piece of wool, dear. Dame Hilda: Then the mouse must have dragged it over there. Dr. Hinge: Well, if it sits behind the skirting board knitting, it does begin to sound rather like your young man from the mikado. Dame Hilda: Oh, that's the front door. It must be Maud. Dr. Hinge: That’s all I need. Dame Hilda: Look, the mouse, look there it goes out into the hall. Maud: Ahhhh! Dame Hilda: Now do you believe we've got a mouse? Maud, are you all right dear? We're here! Maud: Dame ‘ilda, I'm shaking like a jelly. I suppose you know you've got a mouse. Dame Hilda: Yes, Maud, we know. Maud: Ran right across my foot, it did. Dr. Hinge: Well, I don't suppose it's broken any bones. Maud: No, I don't suppose it ‘as, Doctor. But that ‘appens to be my dickie foot and it's set it off throbbing again. Dame Hilda: Well, take your coat off and sit down, Maud, dear. Evadne, put the kettle on and we'll have some tea. Maud: Oh, no, Dame ’ilda, thanks all the same. I only come to tell you as I can't come this morning. Dame Hilda: Can’t come, Maud, why ever not? Maud: Well, it's funny as you should ‘ave a mouse today of all days because we ‘ad a spider and Arthur’s all covered in bruises. Dr. Hinge: It must have been a big one. Maud: No, it weren't, Doctor, not specially, but I treats ‘em all the same. Dame Hilda: Very wise! Maud: See, Arthur ‘ad a bath first thing and while ‘e were in there, I ‘ad to go in for the scouring powder. Now, ‘e don't like a crowd in the room while ‘e's bathin’. Dr. Hinge: And of course you tend to get crowds in your bathroom, do you? Maud: I dare say you know what I mean, Dame ‘ilda. I dare say you're much like my Arthur in the bath. Dame Hilda: Well, I hardly think so, but I do know what you mean. Maud: Anyhow, I creeps in and there ‘e were lying there soaking with ‘is eyes closed, dozing. Well, I didn't want to disturb ‘im and I were just tip toeing towards the shelf when I see the spider drop off the ceiling and into the water, plop. it went, Dame Hilda: Yes, I know, they do. Maud: Well, I couldn't let it drown. Dame Hilda: Well, of course not, dear. Maud: So I goes for it with me ‘and... I don't know where I touched my Arthur, but you should ‘ave seen ‘im jump. ‘e come up out of that water like a porpoise in a pleasure park. Like a tidal wave it were. Water all over the place, and the ‘ole room full of gas. Dr. Hinge: Gas, Maud? Maud: Well ‘e knocked the geyser off the wall yer see? And the gas were getting out. GAS! I shouts. Steady on, I shouts! And ‘e gets up and ‘e gets out and... Oh, dear me. I’d no idea the soap were on the floor. ‘e puts his foot right on it ‘e does. And the soap goes one way and Arthur goes t’other. ‘e went out of that bathroom like a bat out of ‘ell. I could ‘ear him tumbling down the stairs. ‘elp ‘e shouts and there ‘e were, lying at the bottom of the stairs, stark naked and dripping. And a man from British telecom peering through the letterbox. Dame Hilda: They do always arrive at such inconvenient moments, don’t they. Maud: Well he’d come to mend the phones you see. Dame Hilda: Well of course. Maud: That’s why I come round to see yer, ‘cos tain't working. Dr. Hinge: So he hasn't mended it yet then, Maud? Maud: Well ‘e ‘adn't when I left, Doctor. So I best be getting back and... Oh! And if you'll take my advice, I get rid of that mouse. Dame Hilda: Yes, Yes. Maud: They breed like rabbits. You start with one and you end up with ‘undreds. Dr. Hinge: I rather think you have to start with two for that one. Maud: Tell you what, I'll send old Mousey Butler up. Dame Hilda: Mousey Butler, dear. Maud: ‘im as lives in church row. ‘e's ‘ad more mice than you've ‘ad ‘ot dinners. Well, I'll be off, Well, bye now, Dr. Hinge: Goodbye, Maud. Dame Hilda: Do you know Mousey Butler, Evadne? Dr. Hinge: No I don't. Dame Hilda: I don't like the sound of him. He sounds like an exterminator to me. See if he's in the yellow pages. Dr. Hinge: Oh very well. Though it hardly matters if he is or not. What would he be under? Dame Hilda: Well have a look anyway dear, look under EX! Dr. Hinge: Oh here we are. Oh, pest control. Mainly firms by the look of it. ‘Kill em quick!’ ‘Massacre mouse!’ ‘Slaughter pest!’ ‘Splat limited!’ Dame Hilda: Oh Evadne, that's quite enough. I don't want that poor little thing splatted. Dr. Hinge: Mousey Butler doesn't seem to be here. Dame Hilda: He probably is ‘Splat limited.’ I can see him, a little grey man with whiskers and a twitching nose, wearing mouse skin trousers and tails hanging off his belt. Well we've got to get that mouse out of here before he arrives. Dr. Hinge: Easier said than done. Dame Hilda: What about the cats? Oh Evadne the cats? Where are they? Dr. Hinge: They were in the drawing room. Dame Hilda: But that's the way the mouse was going. Oh my do hope it hasn't upset them. We must go to them at once, Evadne. It's all right my darlings. Be brave, mummies here. She's on her way. Dr. Hinge: Well Hilda can you see them? Dame Hilda: Yes it's all right, oh thank heavens for that. All three of them curled up, absolutely sound asleep. Look. Dr. Hinge: But look at Tibbles, Hilda. Dame Hilda: What's the matter with Tibbles? Dr. Hinge: Isn't that the mouse peering over his head? Dame Hilda: Good heavens I think it is. Oh get it away, dear. If he wakes up and sees it it'll frighten him to death. Dr. Hinge: I'll open the window, I think it'll run out. Now drive it across Hilda. But leap in the air and yell. {MIAOW!} Well that's the cats gone! Dame Hilda: The mouse was gone as well. Dr. Hinge: Yes, but the three cats have gone out of the window. The mouse has only gone behind the skirting board. Dame Hilda: Then we've got this haven't we? Dr. Hinge: I suppose we have. All we have to do is crawl in after it and fish it out. Dame Hilda: We could smoke it out. I don't think they like smoke you know. Dr. Hinge: And how do you suggest we do that? Light a bonfire? Dame Hilda: No, no, no, no, I tell you what. Supposing we bought a big cigar and a packet of straws. Dr. Hinge: You intrigue me Hilda. Dame Hilda: We poke a straw down behind the skirting board and then take it in turns to get down on our hands and knees. Now, we take a big mouthful of smoke and blow it through in the straw. Now if we kept that up for an hour or two! Dr. Hinge: You're mad. You're quite mad. I'm certainly not spending the rest of the day down on my hands and knees blowing cigar smoke into the skirting. It’s your mouse! You get it out. Dame Hilda: It's not mine it's yours. You're the one who conjured it up. You and your water of magnanimity. Dr. Hinge: Then in that case we'll leave it to Mousey Butler. The first sight of his mouse skin trousers will probably see it off. Dame Hilda: We'll do no such thing. We'll have to lure it out and trap it. Dr. Hinge: Tell me how do you propose to lure the mouse out? Dame Hilda: Music. Yes. Now remember the pied piper of Hamelin? Dr. Hinge: That was rats. Dame Hilda: Well I don't see why they should be any more musical than mice. Just because they're bigger. Look at you and me dear. I mean, I tell you what. Play something from the mikado, Evadne! Dr. Hinge: Why the mikado in particular? Dame Hilda: Just in case it is my Nanki Poo. If it is he might come out and join in. Dr. Hinge: God forbid.
   Dame Hilda: Well, wasn't that nice? Oh, I say, Evadne, I can see the mouse's little face at that hole in the skirting board there. Keep playing, dear, he might come out. Yes, yes, yes, oh, he's coming. Now pick up the waste paper basket so, creep very, very slowly and there…. Dr. Hinge: Did you get it? Dame Hilda: Well, it's very difficult to tell. I'll just lift the basket up the teeniest weeniest bit and see if I can see him. Oh, drat, oh, I did have it. Now it's gone behind the skirting board again, oh dear. Oh, Evadne I give up. There are so many ways into that skirting board. {Door knocks!} Dr. Hinge: Ah, that's probably Mousey Butler. I’ll go? Dame Hilda: Oh, little mouse, come on. Come on, there's a sweetie. Come on, this is your last chance. Come on, lovey. Come on, come out and give yourself up before that nasty man gets you. Come on, mousie. mousie, mousie, mousie, mousie, mousie! Mousey: Good morning! Dame Hilda: Oh, oh, right, Mr Butler. And I hope you didn't think I was referring to you? Mousey: I am well aware of the nickname, of course, Dame Hilda, although most people do refrain from using it to my face. Dame Hilda: Yes, yes, well, I was talking to the mouse, you see. It's somewhat unimaginative, I know, but I simply couldn't think of anything else to call it. Mousey: Hector, Hannibal, Alexander, Agamemnon. Dame Hilda: Pardon? Mousey: Are just some of the names I've given mine, they're heroic little beasts. Dr. Hinge: Yours, Mr Butler? Mousey: Mine, Dr Hinge, here, my card. Dr. Hinge: PG Butler Esquire, MM. Military medal? Mousey: Master of Mice. I breed ‘em, I train ‘em, I show ‘em, but more importantly, I love ‘em. Dame Hilda: So you're not an exterminator? Mousey: An exterminator? Madam, do I look like an exterminator? Dame Hilda: Well, no, not really, no. I mean, you're not even wearing mouse skin trousers. Mousey: Don't, don't, you are making my flesh creep. Beautiful creatures, mice, loving, affectionate, agile, amusing, harshly treated, and misunderstood. Dr. Hinge: You're obviously very fond of them, Mr Butler. Mousey: The mouse's friend in a hostile world, Doctor. That’s me. It says that on the card there, if you look just under the proverb, ‘Today a man, tomorrow a mouse.’ Dame Hilda: Just like poor Nanki Poo. Mousey: Who? Dr. Hinge: Just an old flame that she blew out. Mousey: Well. To business then. Now, what sort of a mouse do you have? Dame Hilda: Well, I'm afraid I've no idea, Mr Butler. They all look very much alike to me. Mousey: Ah, yes, the old misconception. What we in the mouse club refer to as the Chinese syndrome. Now, how long was it? Exclusive of tail. Dame Hilda: Well, I don't know. You don't think I got close enough to measure it, do you? And does it make any difference? Mousey: Well, of course it does. House mouse, three inches. Harvest mouse, two and a half. Wood mouse, three and a half. Pigmy shrew, two inches. You’re sure it's a mouse and not a shrew. It could be a vole. Dame Hilda: It could be a giraffe, but it's not. Dr. Hinge: I think I can describe it for you, Mr Butler. Dame Hilda: How can you describe it, dear? I've seen a good deal more of it than you have. Dr. Hinge: But I happen to be more observant, Hilda. Three eyes, remember? It was about three and a half inches long. Dark brown on the back, red on the sides, shading almost chestnut with white underparts. And a long tail. Dame Hilda: You didn't happen to notice the colour of its eyes, did you? Dr. Hinge: Black. Dame Hilda: Clever clogs! Mousey: Apodemus sylvaticus, by the sound of it, the long-tailed field mouse. Dr. Hinge: Yes, very probably. Mousey: No problem. I'll soon have him out. Now, I just put this little box up to the hole here. Dame Hilda: How do you know that's the hole? Mousey: Madam, are you doing this or me? Dame Hilda: You are. Mousey: Then believe me, I know. Now, we bait it with marrow seeds. Dame Hilda: I thought they liked cheese? Mousey: They also like marrow seeds. Dame Hilda: I've got plenty of cheese in the larder. Mousey: Then may I suggest you go and make yourself a sandwich! Dame Hilda: There's no need to be rude! Dr. Hinge: Hilda, why don't you come and sit down, dear? Dame Hilda: I want to watch. Mousey: Then please be quiet. Now, to relax and encourage him...♬La, la,{Greensleeves!} Dame Hilda: I told you they liked music, Evadne! Mousey: Shhh! I must have quiet. Dr. Hinge: I know how you feel. Mousey: La, la, la. Dame Hilda: Does it like that song? Mousey: It's a field mouse, isn't it? Dame Hilda: What would you sing if it were a town mouse? Mousey: The Lambeth bloody walk! Now, are you going to be quiet, Madam, or shall I have to go get my gun? Dame Hilda: I'm not having that mouse shot. Mousey: It's not the mouse I was thinking of. Dr. Hinge: Hilda, come and sit on the settee with me, dear, and let Mr. Butler get on with it. Dame Hilda: Oh, all right. Mousey: La, la, la, Oh, there we are then, done. One mouse in the box ready to be returned to the wild. Dr. Hinge: Well done, Mr. Butler. How much do we owe you? Mousey: Owe me, you don't owe me. You can't put a price on the happiness of mice. So, ladies, unless you have any other uninvited guests around the house, I'll say good day to you. Good day. Dr. Hinge: Goodbye, Mr. Butler. And thank you. Dame Hilda: What a very strange man. Dr. Hinge: Well, not perhaps if you're a mouse, Hilda. Dame Hilda: Well, no, but he hasn't got much of a way with people, has he? Dr. Hinge: Anyway, let's just be grateful that's all over. Now for another shot at the water of magnanimity. I'm going to take it in here this time. Dame Hilda: You're surely not going to start that again. You've already wished a plague of mice on us. Dr. Hinge: Hardly a plague, Hilda. Dame Hilda: Only because we didn't give it a chance. Dr. Hinge: Now, I want no nonsense this time. Here I go. Concentrate. Dame Hilda: Evadne. Dr. Hinge: What? Dame Hilda: There's a nasty vicious looking big black dog peering in through the French windows at us. Dr. Hinge: Good heavens. Where on earth did that thing come from? Dame Hilda: It looks like Cerberus. You've probably conjured it up from Hades. {Woof!} Well, at least it's driven the cats back in again. Dr. Hinge: Quick, Hilda, close the window it’s going to try and follow them in. Dame Hilda: Oh, goodness me. Shoo, shoo!. And I warn you, Evadne. The next time you try to open your third eye, I shall stick my metaphysical finger right in it. Transcribed by Lorraine Taylor |
