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Peter in Blunderland. A Dialectical Fantasy in Two Negations [1945]

Act Two

page 17

Act Two.

(The curtain rises on a sea-shore, with rocks, sand, sea, etc. The ocean can be seen stretching out to the horizon, and a low wall at the water's edge runs across the rear of the stage. There are one or two rocks scattered about on which the various characters stand. On a grassy bank, left, is standing Holy Willie Appletree, and in his shade are resting a number of Land Girls. On a rock, up centre, Haybell Cowyard is standing, singing to the Land Girls. On an ornate throne, right, the Gryphon is lying, asleep. He is dressed as the Gryphon in "Alice".)

Solo and Chorus - Haybell Cowyard and Land Girls.

(Air - "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree.")

Don't sit under the apple tree, there's plenty of work to do,
The cows begin to moo, for milking time is due. Yes, yes, yes, yes.
So don't sit under the apple tree, my little ingenue -
The cows are coming home.

Don't sit under the apple tree, or in the alien corn,
The sheep are being shorn, and lambs are being born, Yes, Yes, yes, yes.
Don't sit under the apple tree, when the shepherd blows his horn,
The cows are coming home.

The cows are pipped
If they don't get stripped,
So pull, my sisters, pull!
The only male
By the old cow-bail
Is an ugly Jersey Bull.

So don't sit under the apple tree - the cows have sat there too,
The cows are coming home!

Chorus:

Don't sit under the apple tree, etc.

(A short tap ballet could appropriately follow at this juncture. Peter enters towards the end of the Ballet, and watches.)

Peter:

Excuse me, Madame - could you tell me the way to a Better World?

Haybell:

Haven't the slightest, son. But the Dock Turtle may be able to tell you?

Peter:

Who's that? I don't even know what a Dock Turtle is.

Haybell:

Well, here he is, waddling along the beach now - and he shall tell you his story.

Peter:

But who are you, anyway?

Haybell:

My name is Haybell Cowyard. I'm an M.P., you know - and they made me leader of the Land Girls because I wanted a cushy Job - in case I don't win in the Grand Election Hack Handicap next year. And they couldn't get away with giving any more Jobs to defeated candidates - so they gave me this one while I'm still in office.

Peter:

And what do you and these girls do?

Haybell:

Oh, we strip cows in the virgin fields. You like it, don't you girls?

Girls:

Oh, yes - wo love stripping.

Haybell:

And all our vices are guaranteed, too.

page 18

(Enter the Dock Turtle, right, slowly and mournfully. He is.dressed as in "Alice", except that he wears no mask, but his face is adorned with horn-rimmed spectacles and a soulful expression. He is sobbing deeply into his handkerchief.)

Haybell:

(To Turtle) This young man wants to know your story.

Turtle:

(In a deep, hollow tone) I'll tell it him. Sit down, both of you, and don't say a word till I've finished.

(Peter and Haybell sit down with the Land Girls under Holy Willie Appletree.)

Turtle:

(After a long pause - striking his breast) Mine is a hard case! Once I was a real Turtle, the idol of the Commercial Broadcasting Service - and paid fifteen hundred a year for being idle, too. Uncle Scrimatra, they used to call me. At the sound of my golden voice oozing out of the loudspeaker, young maids would swoon, and elderly spinsters would go all Freudian. (He sobs) Now all that is gone for ever! (He sobs) I'm going away!

(The Land Girls, who have been visibly affected by the Dock Turtle's story, rush over and surround him. The orchestra very softly plays the tune of "Somebody Else is Taking My Place".)

Girls:

Oh, Unkie! You're not going away! No, stay here! Ah, Uncle Scrimatra! Don't leave us! etc., etc.

Turtle:

(Reciting) Ah, what it is to have a friend,

To ease your life when it starts getting to its end. Isn't that a sad thought? No, girls. My mind has been made up for me.

Girls:

Sing us a song before you go! Yes, sing us a song! We'll die if you don't, etc., etc.

Turtle:

All right, girls, all right - now give me some air, please.

Song - Dock Turtle

(Air - "I Couldn't Sleep a Wink Last Night".)

I couldn't sleep a wink last night;
At 2ZB we had a fight,
I would have been there still, but for that row,
I'm sure that they'll be sorry, but I'm sorry now.
It all seems like a dreadful dream,
That night on which we all got tight.
They're sure to call me up this morning,
To send me overseas and make me fight -
Yes, they're sure to call me up this morning,
So I couldn't sleep a wink last night!

(During the last few lines of this song, a number of the Land Girls who are sitting on the sea-wall, swoon, and fall over into the sea. They remain there.)

Turtle:

Isn't that a sad story?

Peter:

It is, indeed. But why do they call you the Dock Turtle, Uncle Scrimatra?

Turtle:

Well, I tried to get a a job on the wharf, you see. But it didn't come off, and now I'm going away to a better world.

Peter:

(Excited) To a Better World? But that's Just where I want to go!

Turtle:

I'm travelling to a land far across the sea, where the microphones are made of solid gold.

page 19 Peter:

Surely you mean the country I come from - Ao Toheroa, the Land of the Long White Shroud?

Turtle:

No, child I mean Bossfailure, the Land of the Long Pink Curtain.

Peter:

Will you take me with you, Uncle Scrimatra?

Turtle:

Are you an infant prodigy? Are you a virtuoso of the violin, or a maestro of the Marimbaphone?

Peter:

No, I'm afraid I'm not very talented.

Turtle:

Then I'm sorry I must go alone,
Over the seas to my lovely new home;
I would not trust your precious little life
To the stormy seas, with their awful raging strife.

Isn't that a beautiful thought?

(The Gryphon at this stage gives a very loud snore.)

Peter:

Please, Uncle Scrimatra, what is that?

Turtle:

That, child, is a Gryphon. It is almost extinct, but you can still find one or two on the black market. You see it has a lion's legs - British to the core, of course - and wings. We call this one the Gryphoner-General. It's name is Sir Cyril Knowall.

Peter:

What does it do?

Turtle:

The White King sent it out to look after Humpty Dumpty's wall. Well, I must be off. The Gryphoner-General doesn't like me at all. Just because I didn't want to become one of the King's men. Goodbye, little boy. Goodbye, Haybell. Goodbye, dear girlies.

(He mounts the sea-wall. The Gryphon sits up in his chair and blinks his eyes. The Girls crowd round the Turtle.)

Turtle:

Well, there's one consolation - now I've gone, those bloody Varsity students wont be able to throw off at me any more in their extravaganzas.

(He lowers himself into the water. The Land Girls weep bitterly; one or two leap into the water after him; the others walk sadly off stage, followed by Haybell Cowyard.)

Appletree:

(Sadly) Just like that! And he wouldn't even let me give him an official farewell in the Concert Chamber!

(Exit Holy Willie Appletree. disconsolately.)

Gryphon:

TenShun! Who are you, boy?

Peter:

My name is Peter - I'm looking for the way -

Gryphon:

Silence! What are you doing here?

Peter:

If you please, Sir, I'm looking for the way to a Better -

Gryphon:

You aren't a spy of the Red King, are you?

Peter:

No. (In a burst) I'm looking for the way to a Better World.

Gryphon:

A better world? How could there be a bettor world? I mean, one can sleep and eat and drink and sleep and eat -

page 20 Peter:

Yes, but I mean a world where there aren't any wars or depressions or eruptions of Mount Ruapehu -

Gryphon:

Well, you know, my lad - all that's the struggle for existence, you know - er - the survival of the Grade Four, and all that sort of thing.

Peter:

So there really isn't any way to a Better World?

Gryphon:

Oh, yes - you could make it a lot better. Put the women back in the kitchen, my boy. Then there'd be lots more babies - and lots more baby shows for me to open. (Looking at his watch) I must go, my child. I have to address the Armed Forces at Ngahauranga, and there'll be an awful stink if I don't get there in time. Where's my speech? (Takes a piece of paper from his pocket, and reads) Here it is.

(He walks off stage slowly, reading his speech.)

Gryphon:

(Reading) Men of the Army, lads of the Navy, and Gentlemen of the Royal Air Force. It is with the greatest of pleasure that I, the representative of -

(His voice fades away. Peter comes forward towards the footlights, Dimout. When the lights go up again, Peter is standing in front of the tabs.)

Peter:

Well, all this is very discouraging indeed. I wonder whether -

(There is a heavy tread behind him, and he spins round, to see Tweedlesid and Tweedlelee march in and halt, perfectly motionless, near the left entrance. They are dressed as in "Alice", but their make-ups are, of course, distinctive.)

Peter:

(Delighted) Well, if it isn't Tweedlesid and Tweedlelee! Let's see - how does the rhyme go?

Tweedlesid and Tweedlelee
Fought with sword and sabre,
Each thought the other one would be
A crueller foe than Labour.

But when they saw the masses go
And purchase pink apparel,
It frightened both these heroes so
They quite forgot their quarrel.

(Peter goes over and inspects the figures closely).

Tweedlelee:

If you think we're waxworks, you ought to pay, you know.

Tweedlesid:

We're not really dumb, even though we look it, you know.

Peter:

I'm sure I'm very sorry.

Tweedlelee:

Nohow!

Tweedlesid:

Contrariwise!

Peter:

If you please, gentlemen -

Tweedlesid:

Do you like poetry?

Peter:

Yes, some poetry. Can you tell me the way to a Better world?

Tweedlesid:

Which one shall we repeat to him?

page 21 Tweedlelee:

The one about ourselves is the longest.

Tweedlesid:

(Reciting) Tweedlesid and Tweedlelee -

Peter:

If it's very long, would you please tell me where I can find -

Tweedlesid:

(smiling gently)

Tweedlesid and Tweedlelee
Were filled with anguish dread;
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of red.
"If Labour could be cleared away
It would be grand," they said.

Tweedleee:

"If seven press proprietors
Attacked them for half a year,
Do you suppose", asked Tweedledee,
"That they would disappear?"
"We've tried that", answered Tweedlesid,
And shed a bitter tear.

Tweedlesid:

"O workers, come and Join our throng",
Did Tweedlelee beseech;
"Just pay your sub, and Join our club,
And I shall make a speech.
A few will do, for that is all
That I can hope to reach."

Tweedlelee:

And when he heard him, Tweedlesid
Began to laugh and gloat;
He Jumped with Joy, and with his hand
His hairy chest he smote.
"This is the very thing", said he,
"To split the Labour vote."

Tweedlesid:

A few young workers hurried up,
And bourgeoisie galore,
And thick and fast they came at last,
And more and more and more.
And each one was for Tweedlelee
Prepared to shed his gore.

Tweedlelee:

Tweedlesid and Tweedlelee
Seduced the workers thus,
And in the Election Handicap
Poor Peter missed the bus;
And all the workers gathered round,
Their wages to discuss.

Tweedlesid:

"The time has come", said Tweedlesid,
"To talk of many things;
Of cuts, slave-camps, and income-tax,
Of grafts, and pulling strings.
Of hours of work, and holidays.
And combines, trusts and rings".

Tweedlelee:

"Don't cut our pay", the workers cried,
Turning a little blue;
After such promises, that would be
A dismal thing to do!"
"Excuse me, gents", said Tweedlesid,
"But that is ballyhoo".

Tweedlesid:

"I weep for you", said Tweedlesid,
"I deeply sympathise";
For income-tax he sorted out
Those of the smallest size.
"We can't tax companies", he said -
"Nohow! Contrariwise!"

page 22 Tweedlelee:

"O workers dear", said Tweedlesid,
"Your wages have been halved;
Now isn't that a funny thing!"
But not a worker laughed.
And this was scarcely odd, because,
The bloody lot had starved.

Peter:

I liked Tweedlesid best - at least he felt a little sorry for the poor workers.

Tweedlelee:

Yes, but he did more dirty work than Tweedlelee - be-cause Tweedlelee missed the bus at the Election Handicap, too, and Tweedlesid had to cut the workers' wages all on his own.

Peter:

Yes, that's true. Then I like Tweedlelee best, if he didn't do as much dirty work as Tweedlesid.

Tweedlesid:

But he did as much dirty work as he could.

Peter:

Well, in that poem you both appear as very unpleasant characters. I only hope the poem doesn't come true. Now, gentlemen, I wonder if you could tell me the Way to a Better World?

Tweedlelee:

Well, you can go through Bolton Street cemetery -

Tweedlesid:

Past the Brewery -

Tweedlelee:

How dare you mention breweries to me? After that in-sult, I suppose you agree to have our usual battle?

Tweedlesid:

Yes, it's about time we staged another one, Just to try to make people think we're on opposite sides of the fence.

Peter:

Do you fight very seriously?

Tweedlesid:

I hit everything I see when I get excited.

Tweedlelee:

And I hit everything whether I can see it or not. You ought to read Tweedlelee's Weekly.

(Suddenly a red glow begins to cast itself over the scene. Peter and the others look about them apprehensively.)

Peter:

What's that?

Tweedlelee:

I don't know. I'm told there's some important meeting on in the Duchess's kitchen - I wonder if it's anything to do with that?

Tweedlesid:

Look - it's coming nearer - it's the Red King - it's the Monstrous Joe!

Tweedlesid:

(Trembling) We can't stay here! Nohow!

Tweedlelee:

Contrariwise!

(Tweedlesid and Tweedlelee rush out. The red glow gets brighter, and a rushing of wings is heard. There is a large thump as of a body landing on the ground. The orchestra strikes up "Invitation to the Dance", and the curtains part to reveal the Duchess's kitchen.)

(The interior of the Duchess's kitchen is seen. It is a small room with two casement windows, one on each side. Through one of them, Peter is seen watching the proceedings throughout the scene. On the left hand side of the stage a large gas stove is seen, cluttered up with a large number of pots and pans. In the centre of the stage is set a large cauldron, with a fire burning beneath it. Other kitchen utensils and furniture ad lib. At the centre of the back wall is hung a shield bearing a coat of arms, consisting of a bull-dog rampant, with the words "Duchess of Marlborough" page 23 beneath it. An arm-chair stands left, near which the Duchess, dressed as in "Alice" but with distinctive make-up and cigar, is standing. She is soulfully sniffing a large bunch of deadly nightshade which she holds in her hand.

After the audience has drunk in the scene, the Duchess dances heavily over to the arm-chair, in time to the music, reclines in the chair and goes to sleep, the deadly nightshade dropping from her hand. At the appropriate moment in the music, La Spectre de La Roosevelt leaps in dramatically through the right casement window. He wears a costume made of stars and stripes, with a red rose in the centre of each star. He has rimless glasses, and smokes a cigarette in a holder. After an inspired solo dance a la Rubinstein, he kisses the sleeping Duchess loudly and tenderly on the cheek. She wakes.)

Duchess:

Good heavens! La Spectre de la Roosevelt! What have you come to haunt me about this time? Now, once and for all, Franklin, it must be de Gaulle and Tito. And no more of your lend-lease kisses, either!

Spectre:

No, Winnie, dear. What I came to see you about was this. I've discovered an old Red Indian book on witch-craft which contains a recipe for a magic soup that will stop another war from breaking out. I found it under one of the Dumbarton Oaks in the Bretton Woods. Security Soup, they call it.

(There is a flash of light, and the Red King leaps in through the window.)

Red King:

Security soup, eh? You can't make that without me!

Spectre:

The Red King!

Duchess:

(To herself) Now, Winnie - don't be embarrassed - remember you're a lady, and a Marlborough! (Aloud) Well, if it isn't Joe! What a pleasant surprise! And the moral of that is, Too many cooks spoil the broth.

Trio - Duchess. Spectre and Red King

(Air - "Three Little Sisters")

All:

The three mighty planners, beneath united banners, Are meeting here to talk today;

Duchess:

One comes from England -

Red King:

One comes from Russia -

Spectre:

And one comes from the U.S.A.

All:

The Germans and Japanners abhor the mighty planners, They know that this is Judgment day;

Duchess:

So they say in Malta -

Red King:

So they say in Yalta -

Spectre:

And so they say in U.S.A.

All:

Though the Polish landlords whine,
We intend to shove them back
To the good old Curzon Line -
The three mighty planners will teach the blighters manners,
And rob the vultures of their prey -
So say the planners - the mighty Teheranners -

Duchess:

From England -

Red King:

Russia -

Spectre:

And U.S.A.

(There is a short ballet, dancing round cauldron, etc.)

Spectre:

And now to make the magic Security Soup. I bet they don't brew anything like this in Invercargill.

page 24

(The Red King produces from his bosom two witch's caps and two black cloaks, which he and the Duchess don. The Spectre puts on a white cook's cap and apron, and begins to stir the soup with a rifle. The Red King and the Duchess dance around the cauldron a la "MacBeth", chanting wildly.)

Red King:

Where hast thou been, sister?

Duchess:

Killing swine.

Both:

When shall we three meet again,
In Moscow, London or in Spain?
When the hurly-burly's done,
When the battle's lost and won.
Blood and tears and toil and sweat -
Bubble, cauldron, fiercer yet!

(The Spectre takes from the sideboard a large scroll, with the words "Atlantic Cooking Charter" written on it. The Duchess and the Red King look over the Spectre's shoulder as they dance past, reading the ingredients and dropping suitable articles into the cauldron.)

Red King:

A little trust, a lot of "Truth",

Duchess:

Musso's left-hand molar tooth,

Red King:

A little dope and balderdash,

Duchess:

A strand of Hitler's black moustache.

Red King:

Goering's medals, Himmler's glove,

Duchess:

A little force, a lot of Love -

(Suddenly they stop, puzzled, looking at the recipe).

Duchess:

A piece of democracy? We haven't got any in the kitchen.

Spectre:

Have a look in the servants' quarters.

Duchess:

I remember Sir Walter Latrine said he found a lot in Finland - but then he's such an awful liar you can't believe a word he says.

Red King:

We have plenty of democracy in Russia.

Duchess:

(Shuddering) Please, please, Joe, none of that kind of talk here! This is a respectable house. The servants might hear.

Spectre:

Respectable, huh? Was it respectable when you drove poor poor Count Scorcher out into the cold cold snow at three o'clock in the morning?

Duchess:

He insulted my virtue.

Spectre:

He did not!

Duchess:

He did so!

Spectre:

Didn't!

Duchess:

Did!

(And so on, ad lib. The Spectre grabs various pots and fire-irons and throws them at the Duchess, who catches them and hurls them back again. The Red King sits watching, impassively sucking his curved pipe. One pan hits Peter, and another flies into the wings, and a baby begins crying.)

page 25 Duchess:

There now - look what you've done! You've wakened the brat with your arguing.

Spectre:

I say - couldn't we christen the baby "Democracy", and get over the difficulty that way?

Duchess:

Franklin, you're a genius - for an American, Of course, we can! And the moral of that is - Necessity is the mother of intervention!

(The Duchess runs off to bring in the baby. The Red King produces a bottle labelled "Vodka". The baby howls very loudly.)

Spectre:

Hurry up - christen it quickly, before the soup gets too cold.

Duchess:

(Breaking the bottle over the baby's head) I name this baby Democracy, and may the Lord bless all who sail in her.

(The baby howls even more loudly.)

Red King:

I say, can't you keep that baby quiet? Sing it a lullaby or something.

(The Duchess nurses the baby, shaking it wildly as she sings the following little ditty.)

Duchess:

(Singing)

Speak roughly to your little boy,
And send out General Scabies;
That's the way you make them coy,
If they are naughty babies!

Trioe:

And how! And how! And how!

Spectre:

(Looking at book) There's another ingredient here that you're not likely to keep in the kitchen. Honour.

Duchess:

Honour? On her what?

Spectre:

No, Honour. You know, knights, and escutcheons, and all that sort of thing.

Duchess:

Oh, I've got an escutcheon. (Points to shield on wall) It belonged to the dear old Duke. He got it at the Battle of Blenheim - you know, fighting to get on the Wellington 'plane. And the moral of that is, First come, first served - except for Members of Parliament.

Spectre:

Well, fetch it down, then.

Duchess:

(Standing on chair to get shield) By the way, how are the folk in the oven getting on?

(The Spectre takes a large hat-pin, opens the other door, prods inside and inspects the pin.)

Spectre:

Hm, hm. Muss is done to a cinder. Hit is frizzling nicely, and dear old Tojo's gradually getting browned off.

Duchess:

The old escutcheon's still pretty bright, even though it did get a bit tarnished in Greece. And the moral of that is, Elas, Elas!

Spectre:

Now for the soup. First the Honour - (The Duchess throws in the shield... then the Democracy... The Duchess throws in the baby.)

Both:

(Chanting and dancing)

page 26

Blood and toil and tears and sweat,
Bubble, cauldron, fiercer yet!

Red King:

Stop!

(The Duchess and the Spectre back away in alarm).

Red King:

There's a dirty little insect in the soup, spoiling it.

(He puts his fingers into the cauldron, and pulls out, with an expression of acute disgust, a little figure wearing a khaki uniform and a moustache).

All:

General Franco!

(Blackout, When the lights go up again, Peter is seen in front of the tabs near the foots. Enter, left, a large fat gentleman, dressed as the White Knight in "Alice", and mounted on a peculiar horse whose back is about six feet from the ground. This is the White Knight, alias Barkus Trimmer, the dramatic critic of the "Opinion". He speaks oratorically. Peter stares at the strange figure spell-bound.)

White Knight:

I see that you're admiring my horse.

Peter:

It - it's a very high horse, isn't it?

Knight:

It's my own invention. It enables me to ride the high horse wherever I go.

Peter:

I'm looking for the way to a Better World. Can you tell me where it is to be found?

Knight:

(Very excited) Ah, here, my child, here! (He falls off his horse.)

Peter:

(Running to help him up.) Oh, dear, are you hurt?

Knight:

Not at all, child, not at all. (He manages to get back on to the High Horse.) Did you notice I was looking rather thoughtful when you helped me up?

Peter:

You were a little grave.

Knight:

I was thinking up my review for tomorrow morning's "Opinion". It will be all my own invention.

Peter:

Indeed? But, Sir - you said the Better World was here. Is it really, Sir? I'm awfully interested.

Knight:

Indeed, it is. But if we're going to talk about art, do you object if I speak in blank verse? It isn't, my own invention - others, alas, have done it - but it suits my mood more.

Peter:

Oh, yes - I don't mind.

Knight:

O rash intruder in these sacred groves!
O vile invader of these holy haunts!
Know you that I am Barkus Trimmer - I
Who in the founts of art have drenched myself!

(Modestly) You'll read ray stuff in the "Opinion".

Peter:

Well. Mr. Trimmer, I'm glad to meet you. And you say the Better World's here?

Knight:

Here, here, my friend, here in these holy haunts
Of Art, the Better World is manifest.
So stray no further, pilgrim - rest thou here!
Attend first nights with me, and hear the sound
Of crackling shirt fronts - smell the scent of moth-balls.

page 27 Peter:

Personally, I don't go much on this Art stuff. And first nights I'm sure must be awfully embarrassing. But I'll try anything once.

Knight:

Stay here, then, friend. In half a minute's time,
The men and maids of Ranterbury College,
Will play us "Hamlet", dressed fantastically
In ultra-modern dress. Wilt stay and see?

Peter:

But certainly: I shall be glad to do so.
My God! I'm talking in blank verse myself!

(The Knight falls off his horse, picks himself up, and addresses the audience oratorically.)

Knight:

Ladies and gentlemen! The students of Ranterbury College will now present that murky melodrama "Hamlet", in ultra-modern dress. The play is produced by that distinguished woman of letters, Clio Harsh, author of such masterpieces as "Murder in the Morgue" and "Death in the W.C." There will be Occidental Music by Douglas Stillborn. The settings are - oh, I beg your pardon - this is a modern play, so there wont be any settings. The background is provided by M.G.M.'s Celestial Choir. So now - ring up the curtain on this most colossal of all shows, in gorgeous technicolour, with a cast of thousands. Oh - wait a minute. I forgot something. (Hastily) Book by William Shakespeare. Now, ring up the curtain.

(The curtain is rung up on an empty stage. The orchestra begins to tune up)

Knight:

But hark! There wafts into my listening ear
The dulcet strains of Douglas Stillborn's music.
(Drummer swings it)
With what finesse, with what intense restraint
That drummer plays! (Trumpeter swings it.)
O fine interpretation!
What masterly acuteness, depth, and feeling!

Orchestra:

We are but tuning up, Sir.

Knight:

Ha - is't so? (Weeps)

(Three men in overcoats, hats, and carrying large travelling bags and alarm clocks, walk slowly across the stage. The alarm clocks are ringing lustily).

Peter:

Mr. Trimmer, Just what does that represent?

Knight:

O donkey! Dolt! O dullest of the dull!
Those are alarums, and excurs - i - ons!

(Hamlet, dressed in plus fours and smoking a cigar, enters meditatively. Marcellus and Horatio, dressed as American soldiers, are with him.)

Horatio:

Say, buddie, d'you still reckon we didn't glimpse them spectres?

Hamlet:

(Oxford accent) Well, you know, you had been drinking over-proof whiskey.

Marcellus:

We're not taking you for a ride, pal. You just wait till you see 'em. (A clock strikes thirteen)

Hamlet:

It is the very witching time of night,
When revellers yawn, and cabarets shove out
Their drunk upon the street. But what is this? (Sniffs)
But pray, what is that smell like Rotorua?
There's something rotten in the State of Denmark!

page 28 Horatio:

That's the ghosts, buddy. They smell of fire and brimstone.

Marcellus:

(Trembling) Here they come, Hamlet. Excuse me -
(Orating) I have to go and interview a man
Concerning a domestic an - i - mal! (Exits)

(Enter, to a swing version of "Onward Christian Soldiers", a Chorus of Bogie-Wogies.)

Chorus of Bogie-Wogies.

(Air - "Onward Christian Soldiers", swung)

Bogie-wogie spectres,
From the yawning tomb:
Swing it, trumpet, swing it -
Drummer, let her boom!

At dead of night we spectres
Are disembodied souls;
In the daytime for our sins
We Jive upon the coals.

Bogie-wogie spectres,
From the yawning tomb:
Swing it, trumpet - swing it -
Drummer, let her boom!

(A short Jive ballet follows)

First Ghost:

I am thy father's spirit,
Doomed for a certain time to walk the night,
And, for the day, confin'd to waste in fires
With all these other bogie-wogies.

Hamlet:

You're looking a bit peaky, Dad.

First Ghost:

Hamlet, avenge my death!
Claudius the King, while we were in the bar,
Did pour some prussic acid in my beer,
So that I died in awful agony.

Ghosts:

(Singing) The old sod!

Hamlet:

O earth! O heaven! O help! O everything!
O villain, villain, villain, villain, villain!
I shall avenge thee, father!

First Ghost:

O.K. Swear!

Hamlet:

Oh damn! Oh blast! Oh thrice three thousand bloodies!
Forgive me, father, that I swear not more -
The Censor cut out several juicy words.

First Ghost:

All right, boys. Let's hop along and haunt Ophelia.

(The Ghosts exeunt, singing the last verse of their chorus.)

Hamlet:

Well, who'd have thought it. Let's come and have a quick one, Horatio old pal. I need it.

Horatio:

It's after closing time, old chap.

Hamlet:

(Anguished)

The time is out of Joint! O cursed spite!
I hope the Royal Commission puts it right!

(Blackout. Blues music. Spot on Knight and Peter.)

Knight:

An int'resting experiment, forsooth!
A great first Act! Didst thou not think so, infant?

page 29 Peter:

Well, I liked the Bogie-Wogies. But I'd rather wait end see what comes next before I make up my mind. You see, my only experience of the drama is University extravaganzas, and I don't like those one little bit.

(Cut spot. Lights on inner stage. Ophelia, a very fat woman in evening dress, is doing exercises.)

Ophelia:

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt!
I should not have to do these exercises,
And eat with care and circumspect - i - on.
One, two, one, two, one, two.

(She continues with her exercises. Enter Hamlet.)

Hamlet:

Hiya, Phelie.

Ophelia:

Hotcha, toots.

Hamlet:

How's the weight? Getting it down?

Ophelia:

Only half an ounce today, I'm afraid, Hammy.

Hamlet:

Well, I'm not going to marry you until you look a little less like a barrage balloon. I object to paying for two seats at the pictures for you.

Ophelia:

Forget it, brother. I'm going to eat dripping every day. They say constant dripping wears away a stone.

Hamlet:

Oh God, these puns! Get thee to a Punnery, go!

Ophelia:

Say, are you going crackers? Turn on the radio - it's time for Dad and Dave.

Hamlet:

(Soliloquising, while turning knob on radio set.)

2ZB or not 2ZB, that is the question.
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The Scrims and Daisies, and outrageous serials,
Or to take arms against this heap of rubble,
And, by switching off, end them.

(Polite applause from the White Knight.)

Radio:

(Gong) The time is 8.18, and your station 2YD. Our next request comes from Lily of Lambton Quay, who asks for that celebrated Quartet. Rose and Crantz and Guild and Stern, singing that vital number "Rose and Crantz have ants in their pants". A very well-selected programme, Lambton Quay Lily.

(Gong. Blackout. Spot on Peter and Knight.)

Knight:

Despite some strange misgivings, I am moved.
How grim and ghastly, how completely Greek,
Are these unclothed emotions! How my heart
Doth flutter at the sound of Shakespeare's music!
Let's see - the programme - what is next i' th' play?
Ha ha - the Players scene - this should be good.

(Lights go up. Claudius (in dinner suit), Gertrude (in pyjamas), Hamlet (as before) and Ophelia (as before) are sitting at a card-table playing bridge.)

Claudius:

You and Phelie are too good for us, Hammy.

Hamlet:

(Gathering cards) Ay, there's the rub!

Gertrude:

It's all your fault, Claude. Haven't you read your Culbertson? You know the good old rule:- Double, double - toil and trouble.

page 30 Claudius:

You'd better be quiet, Gertie, or I'll tell the Gestapo you got those pyjamas on the black market.

Hamlet:

Say, folks, can't we think of anything to do a bit more lively than playing cards? How about charades?

Gertrude:

Suits me - so long as I don't have to do anything. These war-time Berleis are a bit restrictive, you know.

Claudius:

Go on, Hammy- do your stuff.

Hamlet:

O.K. I'll act the first word.

(He goes down on his hands and knees, and crawls round the room, baaing.)

Claudius:

I've got it - it's me - a Great Dane!

Hamlet:

It's a sheep, not a dog. The word is "ewe". Now for the second word.

(He pulls a kilt out of his pocket, puts it on, and does a little Scotch dance.)

Claudius:

Oh, that's an easy one. "Macbeth".

Hamlet:

The word is "kilt". Now for the last word.

(Hamlet stretches his hand up into the air, as if trying to reach something then leaps up into the air higher and higher.)

Gertrude:

I know - Borovansky.

Hamlet:

The word is "farther". That's all.

Claudius:

I don't get it. "Ewe, kilt, farther". I can't understand all this complicated stuff - give me Brick Bradford every time.

Hamlet:

(Striking a pose) You killed father! Come on, react, you bloody bawdy villain!

Claudius:

I say, Hammy, what is all this hysterical nonsense?

Hamlet:

Well, didn't you polish Dad off? The ghost said you did.

Claudius:

The ghost must have been pulling your leg. Your father and I were in the bar, and he demanded that the barman shout. The barman wouldn't, so there was a brawl, and your father got hit over the head with a bottle of Waitemata.

Hamlet:

Why, what an ass am I! But why did the ghost lie to me?

(Enter First Ghost, roaring with laughter)

First Ghost:

My dear chap - there wouldn't have been any play if I hadn't, would there? You might have known it wasn't true, though - if it had been, how do you think any author could have got this show through the Hay's Office?

(Gong. Blackout. Spot on Peter and Knight.)

Knight:

Strange - I remember not this turn of plot.
I'll read the play before I write my blurb.

Peter:

(Looking at programme over Knight's shoulder.) The programme says the next scene is the "Mad Scene". This should be pretty good, I think.

(Cut spot. Ophelia, clad in a bathing costume, enters and bows.)

page 31

Song - Ophelia.

(Air - Original Music, or, if nothing is forth coming, a modified version of "An Apple for the Teacher".)

I'm nutty over Hamlet,
I don't know right from wrong;
If Hamlet coveted my charms
I'd sell them for a song.
I love your sweet soliloquies,
I love the things you do -
O Hamlet, Hamlet, Hamlet -
I'm nutty over you!

I'm nutty over Hamlet,
I don't know left from right.
I woo him in the light of day,
And dream of him at night.
I think that I'm embraceable,
I wish that you did too -
O Hamlet, Hamlet, Hamlet -
I'm nutty over you!

(Blackout. Gong. Spot on Peter and Knight.)

Knight:

How dull is Hamlet that he sees not there
The cream and flower of virgin womanhood!
(Aside) I think I'll go back-stage when the show is over.

Peter:

The next scene is the graveyard scene. It's apparently the last scene in the play. I hope it makes things a bit clearer, because I'm afraid I haven't understood very much of it yet.

(Cut spot. Lights up. The scene is the Karori Crematorium, with a large funnel stretching upwards towards the flies. Harpo, Chico, and Groucho Marx, dressed as in their films, are stoking a fire beneath the platform. An old man with huge whiskers stands left, watching.)

Marx Bros.:

(Singing)

Here we are again,
Very sad and glum -
Here we are at Karori
In the Crematorium!

Groucho:

Stoke up, boys. Ophelia was a hefty wench, and she'll need a lot of cooking.

Chico:

I'm not used to this. I'm a sexton by trade.

Groucho:

Trust you to choose a trade that's got something to do with sex.

Chico:

How did this Ophelia dame meet her doom?

Groucho:

Her whom?

Chico:

Her doom.

Groucho:

She wanted to reduce so she went in swimming at Oriental Bay and forgot she couldn't swim.

Chico:

(Peeping at the whiskered man.) I say, don't look now, but I think we're being watched.

Groucho:

I don't know who he is. He's either the Archangel Gabriel, or the first part of a Before and After advertisement.

(Enter Hamlet. Claudius and Gertrude, dressed as before.)

Hamlet:

Is she done yet, boys?

Groucho:

About another five minutes, I reckon.

page 32 Hamlet:

So long? O heavens! - put in an hour ago, and not done yet!

Chico:

The coal's ersatz. The miners have struck.

Claudius:

(To Gertrude) I say, Gertie, where are we going to put the ashes? I reckon on the Grand Piano.

Gertrude:

Good God no, Claude. Do you want to spoil the look of that room entirely? No, I must be firm. They are to be framed and put in the hall next to the Van Gogh.

Hamlet:

Am I not to get any of her? Not even a single tiny charred vertebrae?

Claudius:

After all, Hammy, be reasonable. She was my daughter.

Groucho:

(Lasciviously, to Gertrude) We won't let him into our little secret, will be Gertie?

Hamlet:

I demand my rights! Just a fraction of fibia will do!

Claudius:

They're going on the piano, Gertie.

Gertrude:

(Screaming) By the Van Gogh!

Claudius:

(Screaming) On the Grand Piano!

Hamlet:

(Screaming) Just a little toe-bone!

Claudius:

Ah, bully!

Hamlet:

Hog!

Gertrude:

Villain!

Hamlet:

Dog of Houndsditch, die!

(Hamlet, Claudius and Gertrude draw revolvers and shoot one another simultaneously. Their bodies collapse on the platform.)

Groucho:

(Surveying the bodies) Oh well, boys, there's one consolation - we'll get double time for overtime.

(The old whiskered gentleman comes forward hesitatingly.)

Old Man:

Excuse me one moment. Are you the three Marx Brothers?

Marx Bros:

We are.

Old Man:

Then let me introduce myself. I am your long-lost brother, Karl.

Chico:

Karl! Oh, Da's Capital! (They dance around him.)

Karl Marx:

I am pleased to be present at this, the symbolic death of an epoch.

(He pushes the three bodies through the curtain into the furnace.

Karl Marx:

The expropriators are expropriated. It is the cremation of the cremation.

(Gong. Blackout. Spot on Peter and Knight.)

Peter:

Well, I'm afraid I didn't understand much of that - did you, Mr. Trimmer?

Knight:

(Mounting his horse, with Peter's help.)

page 33

O block! O stone! O worse than senseless thing!
Can you not see I'm writing my review?
Come, on your way, lout - interrupt me not.
(Reads)"Hamlet was played by A.J, Bandyson,
A little man, with most uncertain legs."
Hm - hm - not bad. That's rather good, I think,
Now what? "These students' pranks" - that's patronising,
And in my usual style...

(Mounted on the High Horse, the Knight wanders off, still writing his review. Peter looks around in dismay.)

Peter:

Well, this is my last square - and I haven't found the way to a Better World yet.

(Suddenly he feels something heavy on his head. He looks up, and removes a golden crown.)

Peter:

I'm a King! I'm a King!

(There is a flash, and the Red King appears, accompanied by the Red Knight.)

Red King:

I see you've done it, Peter.

Peter:

Yes - all by myself! I'm a King at last! I always had a sneaking hope I might squeeze into the Honours List somewhere - but this is far beyond my expectations.

Red King:

Let me introduce you to a comrade of mine - Marshal Veto, the Red Knight of Frugalslavia, Marshal Veto - King Peter.

Red Knight:

(Bursting with rage) King Peter? King Peter? At last! (Draws a long sword) I've been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.

Peter:

(Clutching Red King's skirts) Help! Help! He's going to kill me!

Red King:

Hang on, Veto - this is another King Peter. This one's quite harmless. (To Peter) Well, are you ready for the Banquet?

Peter:

Oh yes, please - the White Rabbit told me you'd give me a banquet when I became a King.

(Enter a Chorus of Red Pawns, left, carrying bottles of Vodka, lunch baskets, etc.)

Chorus of red Pawns

(Air - "The Man on The Flying Trapeze.")

Then fill up the glasses with vodka and gin,
King Peter is here, let the banquet begin!
With Molotov cocktails and whiskey and tea
We'll welcome King Peter with thirty-times-three!

The samovar's ready, the vodka is brewed,
There's oceans of liquor and buckets of food;
So let us repair to the banqueting-shrine,
And welcome King Peter with ninety-times-nine!

Red King:

All right, lads. We shall march in state to the Kremlin.

(They are about to march off, when a number of White Pawns rush on, right, together with the "Veritas" Reporters. Haybell Cowyard and Dormouse.)

Dormouse:

If you please, your comradeship -

Red King:

Veto, remove this bauble.

page 34 Haybell:

We've revolted against the Caucus leaders, your comradeship. We've put the Mad Hatter and the Harsh Hare in the Legislative Council - that was the grimmest form of slow death we could think of.

Dormouse:

And the Kidderminster Cat's wavering -

Clever Bane:

And we've just about got the White Queen on our side -

Dormouse:

Ana we want to break down Humpty Dumpty's wall!

White Pawns:

Yes! Humpty Dumpty's wall! Break it down! etc., etc.

Red King:

Now wait a minute, boys and girls. Breaking down Humpty Dumpty's wall isn't as easy as all that. He's got all the King's horses and all the King's men, you know. And we're only a few. Any ideas, Marshal Veto?

Red Knight:

We need some pretty good strategy. Let's see. (To Peter) He trusts you, doesn't he?

Peter:

Well, hardly. In fact, he was quite rude when I saw him last.

Red Knight:

Yes, but you're a King now. That makes you politically safe in his eyes. O.K. (To Haybell) Did you say you'd almost got the White Queen on your side?

Haybell:

Just about.

Clever Bane:

We're working on her. You see, we managed to unearth a lot of interesting royal scandals -

1st Reporter:

Disgraceful orgies at the palace!

2nd Reporter:

The most unhealthy goings-on!

Clever Bane:

And we threatened the White Queen that we'd publish them in "Veritas" if she didn't come over to our side. With flash-light photographs!

Red Knight:

If that's so then - By Lenin, I think I have a plan. Gather round, comrades.

(The Pawns and others gather around the Red Knight conspiratorially

Red Knight:

Now the idea is this, you see. King Peter goes up to the wall, and tells Humpty Dumpty that the White Queen -

(Gradual dim-out. Red Knight's voice fades away. Lights up on wall scene, with Humpty Dumpty sitting on top of the wall, and the Soldiers guarding him as before.)

Chorus of Soldiers

Guard, oh guard our Humpty Dumpty,
Watch, oh watch his crumbling wall!
He's a wizard, he's a rumpty,
We must guard against his fall.

(Enter Peter, left, a little nervously. Humpty Dumpty sees him and wobbles dangerously.)

Humpty:

There's that damned spy again! Capture him!

(The Soldiers surround Peter.)

Humpty:

So you didn't kill him before, eh? You're a dumb lot. I suppose if I told you to lower your back sights, you'd all sit down. All right - fix him up - oh, wait a minute - he's a King page 35 now! Let him alone.

(The Soldiers take up their places by the wall again.)

Humpty:

You've come up in the world a little since I saw you last. A King, eh? Well, your Majesty, I must apologise for what's Just happened.

Peter:

Oh, that's all right, Mr. Humpty Dumpty, I've got some good news for you, The White Queen wants to see you.

Humpty:

The White Queen! Oh, dear, oh dear! This is so sudden!

Peter:

I'll go and fetch her.

(Peter exits, right. Enter two Pages. with trumpets. They blow a fanfare in swing time. The orchestra strikes up, very suddenly and loudly, "Daisy Bell". Enter the White Queen, mounted on the High Horse, which now has "Horse de Combat" painted on its side. The White Queen is dressed as in "Alice".)

White Queen:

Good morning, everybody! A lovely morning! And how are all the shut-ins and the shut-outs, and all the poor sick people this morning? Oh, getting better, I hope - and you will if you take Califig - Califig, the aperient with the gentle action. And Good morning, you poor, poor Soldiers - standing here in the sunlight all day - you must need a bath in Lifebuoy - yes, I'm sure you do - (handing them cakes of soap) here you are - now run off and have a bath in its lovely gentle lather.

(The Soldiers take the cakes of soap, and walk off, left.)

White Queen:

And now, Mr. Humpty Dumpty, how are you this morning? Having any aches and pains lately? Any circles under the eyes? I'm sure you have!

Humpty:

Well, as a matter of fact -

White Queen:

You should take Pestprufe - Pestprufe - it's a boon and a blessing! Kills all pests and vermin. I put some in Barbara's chest the other day - it gets into all the nooks and crannies and kills everything! And are you suffering from indigestion? Ah, yes - I see you are - those sallow cheeks - ah, very very serious!

Humpty:

(Terrified) Oh, is it really as serious as that?

White Queen:

Oh yes - you'd better get measured for your coffin right away. And don't forget to get the right size - go to Boris Junior - he's never an inch out. What you need is Vix - V - I - X -Vix - sniff it up - rub it on - it's marvellous! I've got some here.

Humpty:

Oh, give me some, quick! I feel faint already!

White Queen:

And Three-in-One Oil! It's a boon and a blessing! Anything that wont go - anything that wont work - use Three-in-One Oil! It's marvellous! Put it in your bath! Rub it on the baby's body!

Humpty:

Here - give me some - I feel I'm perishing -

(He stretches his hand down towards the White Queen, wobbling wildly.)

White Queen:

Here you are - here you are - Just a little further -

(Humpty Dumpty stretches down, and falls off the wall, into the arms of the White Pawns and the Red Pawns, who rush in left and right, followed by the Red King, the Red Knight, Peter, Haybell Cowyard, the "Veritas" Reporters and the Dormouse.)

page 36 Red King:

Nice work, Daisy! Now for the wall, boys.

(Humpty Dumpty is struggling wildly, and groaning; some of the Pawns are holding on to him, and others are pulling the wall into pieces. The White Queen produces a spray, and sprays Humpty Dumpty, who dies.)

White Queen:

Flit - F.L.I.T. - it's marvellous - kills all pests and parasites.

(By now the wall is shifted off stage, and the garden back-cloth is raised, to disclose Wonderland. Birds are singing, the backdrop shows a beautiful garden, the sun is shining brightly, and the Pawns and others advance into Wonderland, UP stage. Back centre is a little ticket-box, with "The Bank of Ao Toheroa (Nationalised)" written on it. Inside, the Kidderminster Cat IS seen doling out banknotes. To the left of the ticket-box, a stall is seen bearing the sign "Commissariat of Free Love", with a notice at one end saying "Marriages Arranged Free", and one at the other end saying "Divorces Arranged Free". A similar stall to the right of the ticket-box says: "Free Beer and Security Soup for All - at All Hours". A Bookmaker stands on a soap box at each side of the stage, shouting out his wares. There are cries of amazement. Some of the Pawns man the stalls; some collect bank-notes from the Cat and buy free beer and security soup; others give bets to the bookmakers, who cry "Two to one on Catalogue", etc., etc. All the characters who are not in the final scene enter, and raise a general noise. Pawns, get married and divorced. The Red. King and Peter watch the scene. The "Veritas" Reporters take up their stand near the Free Love Commissariat, and take copious notes. The hubbub dies down a little.)

Peter:

From Blunderland to Wonderland - a Better World at last!

Red King:

Yes, it's marvellous, isn't it? Legal betting all hours of the day - free drinks all hours - free bank-notes -free marriages and divorces - birds singing - everybody happy.

White Queen:

Now don't rush around so, people, or you'll break your legs. And if you do, I've got the very thing - Seccotine -Seccotine - sticks everything.

Haybell Cowyard:

Free love! A maiden's dream!

Peter:

(Suddenly horrified) Oh, I say! Oh, this is awful!

Red King:

Why, what's the matter, Peter? Isn't this place nice?

Peter:

Oh, yes - it's lovely. But I've Just remembered - I'm only dreaming this - I'll probably wake up at any minute -

Red King:

Don't worry, Peter. I don't think you'll ever wake up. But if you do - if you do - I hope you won't forget this wonderful dream. It might help you to win the Grand Election Hack Handicap next year!

Peter:

I'll remember! Yes, I'll remember!

Final Chorus.