eat anything, they say. No complaints, anyway, and it’s
all good for — You dirty old… person!
What a mess, dropped the lot!
Thought you were feeding Ralphie, did you? I tell you
Ralphie wouldn’t touch it after you had! He
has only the finest dogmeat, two tins a day, two large
tins, that is. Come here, Ralphie my darling, did
they try to tempt you with muck, Ralphie?
There, there. Feel the flowing of
those muscles, how tense he strains. Five
times! What a dog!
Mrs Bowen, I think we’ll make that
your last chance to drop anything, shall we?
Come on now! Last one to clear up is a cissy! Really
must get on to the office again about help. Can’t run
this place any longer with just a part-time cook. And
I’m not cooking once more in that place when she’s off
sick or drunk. They’ll have to give me help, have to.
Right, at last
we’ve finished clearing up our mess, haven’t we, and
so now it’s time for the House Song. Not
to say the House Hymn!
Are we ready,
then? Altogether now, let’s be hearing
from you in the Balcony as well, one,
two,
three!
The joys of life continue strong
Throughout old age, however long:
If only you can cheerful stay
And brightly welcome every day.
Not what you’ve been, not what you’ll be,
What matters now is that you’re free:
The joys of life continue strong
Throughout old age, however long.
The most important thing to do
Is stay alive and screw and screw:
No matter if the future’s dim
So long as I can use my quim:
For I know best, and bring no cheer,
Oh, lucky me, that I am here!
The most important thing to do
Is screw and screw, and screw and screw.
What a delightful song that is!
Now it’s work, everyone, work, and then play, play
later. Our little good deed for the day, work.
Ivy,
fetch the boxes, please. It’s Fancy Goods
again tonight, my dears, Fancy Goods except for
Sarah and Charlie who I’ve got something very special
in mind for. Now my little Fancy Goods man
wasn’t too pleased with the work you did yesterday,
I’m sorry to say — sorry for your sakes, that is, not
for mine, of course. Can we just be a little
bit more careful tonight? Not get the
sticky glue all over our fingers but only where it’s
supposed to go? Ivy, give me one of those here.
You see, it’s quite simple: you
just cut your crêpe paper to the width of your little
wooden roller, roll
it round like this and very carefully
glue all along the edge — very carefully, mind you,
very carefully. You don’t need
much glue, just a smear, just a smear along one edge.
Is that all clear?
So do let’s do our little good deed for the day, but
do it well if we’re going to do it at all. Ivy,
give out the work then, please.
Sarah and Charlie,
my trusties, I have something special for you tonight.
Charlie, I want you to pour about
a quarter of each of these bottles into one of the
empty ones here until it’s three-quarters full –
three bottles pour a quarter out of, that is, until
this one’s also three-quarters full, and when you’ve
got them all three-quarters full then top them up
with water from your tap. All right?
But please be careful not to stain any of the labels
with drips, there’s a good trusty, my old Charlie?
No, I know you haven’t, I
know, Charlie. Now Sarah, I want
you to do a similar job for me, though not quite the
same. You see these little bottles? I’d like you
just to soak the labels off, make the bottles quite
clean afterwards
No, I don’t want the labels kept for
anything, no, so you can get them off any way you
like, tear them, scrape them with your nails, oh?
Yes, by all means
use a knife from the washing up.
Everyone happy, then? Ivy, see that everyone
has a pot of glue and enough to get on with.
All right, friends?
I’m going to work, too, get on with my own
work up on the stage.
Talk by all means, but let’s not have too much
noise, eh? Bless you.
My children. From this dais
I am monarch of all I survey. This is my Empire.
I do not exaggerate, friend. They are dependent
upon me and upon such minions as I have from time
to time. Nothing is more sure than that I am
in control of them. And they know it. They
vie with each other for my attention. This is
especially noticeable on the tablet round
each night and morning. On the weekly medical
round their attention is divided between the
good doctor and myself: they are undecided as
to whether to play for the once-a-week prestige
of his attention, or for mine that it may
perhaps be available more than once a week,
perhaps even daily. Oh, how comic that is!
For I love only Ralphie, Ralphie is my darling!
Where are you, Ralphie?
Ralph, come here at once! The dirty doggie,
licking at that mess under poor old Mrs Stanton!
Hope it’s only water. Perhaps it’s gravy from
dinner. There, there, Ralphie, there’s a good
dog, that’s my hairy darling.
There are always complaints, of course. Complaining
is one of the few activities into which they put
some genuine feeling. It is good for them, of course.
I listen very carefully to their complaints. And then