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For centuries, it was the custom for the great and small festivals of the church and the changing seasons to be marked with Mumming plays, burlesques on historical, mythical and local themes.
It was also the custom to do the same for the very small festivals indeed… Like the Filkins Feast, an annual village lunch held on the paddock opposite the Village Hall. The entertainment sometimes included a performance of either of the two parts of the Filkins Feast Play. Here, rescued from well-
The Filkins & Broughton Poggs Feast Play: Part One
Hints to players:
Tell the story big and bold. Ham it up and keep it moving! Watch for all the breaks in rhythm which accent the doggerel. Keep up the momentum, particularly where the couplets are broken by a change of speaker.
Try to end each longer speech “on the up” rather as a music-
Come in quickly where couplets are split between two speeches.
If learning the lines is a problem, it would be better to act flamboyantly with script in hand.
The Characters: (There is plenty of scope for doubling up)
Herald
An Everyman, fits his persona to the lines. Plays all his parts with intense gusto in an Alec Guinness (Kind hearts) sort of way.
King
Slightly daffy, in awe of everyone while standing on the ceremony of his position. Michael Hordern meets Stephen Fry
St Filica
On top of the situation, knows there’s more than one way to bell a cat. Diana Rigg meets Ann Widdecombe
Lawyer
Pernickety, pedantic Jarndyce type. (Unlike any lawyer we have ever met)
Fool
Goonish in the Spike Milligan mould, with something of the mad Lear
Dragon
Saturnine, menacing. George Sanders meets Jack Nicholson
Lost Cause
Pessimistic, mournful. Half cup is half empty. Malcolm Muggeridge plays the Caterpillar
Dr Butcher
Wild-
King’s Horse
Slightly lugubrious and quixotic, remembering past glories. Timothy West
Princess Mary
Fotherington-
The Woman on the Clapham Omnibus
Miss Marple: elderly, but prescient..
The Play:
[Enter Herald]
Herald:
[To audience, as if reading a scroll]
My friends, Filkins Feasters, listen up!
Lay down your forks and fill your cups.
For right before your crapulous eyes,
A gallant gallimaufry of every size
Of dastard, bastard, saint and sinner
Has come to interrupt your dinner
[Alternative first lines if performed after the feast, rather than before
My friends, Filkins Feasters, listen up!
Sraighten your chairs, and fill your cups.
For right before your crapulous eyes,
A gallant gallimaufry of every size
Of dastard, bastard, saint and sinner
Will aid digestion of your dinner]
With a tale that’ll make your heart go pitter,
That’ll make every sitting citizen squitter,
But’ll also we hope squeeze a muffled titter
From even the crustiest guillotine-
For while the deeds we’ll show you right this minute
Are gory and gross and beyond the limit
Of what is normally served with lunch,
There are also heroes, damsels, magic places
Charming manners, warm embraces...
As one by one our troupe will strut a fretful hour
from blood soaked pit to dainty bower.
So, settle down and welcome please:
First, the King himself, a ripe big cheese!
[Enter Lawyer, leafing though big legal book]
Lawyer
Hang on, hang on, before his Majesty draws near
Methinks I’m smelling something mighty queer.
The speech you opened with is fine and dandy, but
It’s as you gave four years ago, tut tut!
Herald
Mr Lawyer, Sir, you do as ever spot the catch.
[To audience]
It’s true, we tell our story once again from scratch.
One reason is the many Filkins feasters new to town
The other is… the doggerel merchant let us down.
[Exit lawyer]
So, again I say… settle down and welcome please:
First, the King himself, a ripe big cheese!
[Enter King]
King:
[To audience]
Good burghers of fair Filkins Town,
Without the piping of this clown
You’d still have known me for a King -
My robes, my crown, my golden ring...
I have a Gormenghastic palace,
A large red queen, a maid called Alice,
And darling daughter, Princess Mary.
And that’s where this tale gets quite hairy.
In fact, I’m feeling rather glum,
for Mary, my sweet Sugar Plum’s
been kidnapped as she worked her sums,
been trussed and hauled off on a wagon,
By, you’ve guessed it, by that bloody dragon!
However, the standard oh-
The telegram’s been sent, and brave St George should be here late today.
And then, Godly purpose and a razor-
That dragon doesn’t stand a chance!
[Enter St Filica]
St Filica:
Unfortunately, My Liege, there’s been a hitch,
St George has won the lottery, and now is rich.
He no longer has the need like drawing breath,
to joust for gold, or goodness, with dragons to the death.
King:
You mean our sainted swordsman is not coming?
St Filica:
No, My Liege...
King:
... Oh woe, alack, our plans were humming
And now we don’t know what to do.
We’re absolutely in the stew!
St Filica:
Cheer up, Old King, all is not lost at all.
For like the fairy dame at Cinder’s ball
I doff my ashcloth cloak. Behold!
I am St Filica, a Saxon chieftainess as bold
As Good Queen Bess. With heart of lion,
And oaken staff full-
That Dragon holds no thrall o’er me
Your Mary will be home for tea!
King:
Oh blessed saint...
[Enter Lawyer]
Lawyer:
... Now what’s all this
I’m sorry but a saintly miss
Can not be the one who fights.
For even dragons have their rights.
[looking up the statute in large book]
It must be George, it is the law and must be seen...
... to be done correctly as it has always been.
Para three, subsection nine is quite explicit,
and anything else is totally illicit.
Herald:
Mr Lawyer, Sir, that’s really quite unfair.
[Enter Fool]
Fool:
[Ruminatively to himself]
Can a golden madman not ride upon a mare?
Is it absolutely wrong, beyond a zinc-
for a dog to shoe a rocking horse? Think what that might entail.
King:
[To audience]
Good God, this fool is worse than I am with his meaningless refrains,
And yet his loony maunderings doth give me just the reins
To hold back Mr Lawyer here from scuppering our plan
To let St Filica go dragon-
[To fool]
Foolish fool, draw breath and spout some specious high-
[To audience]
We’ll tie that lawyer up in knots, it’ll be a blooming doddle!
Fool:
[To lawyer]
A girl doth vanquish dragons much as a tortoise lacketh speed.
Lawyer:
No, no, you fool, St George alone must do the dreadful deed.
[From book]
The law is quite exacting.... Here is paragraph eleven:
“St George must kill the Dragon, as God is in his heaven”.
King:
[To fool]
Come on old fool, give him a bit more of your beautiful battiness.
This lawyer is beginning to twitch his whiskers with distinct rattiness.
Fool:
Georgey Porgy’s missing, so why
Can’t Filica make the Dragon cry?
[Exit Fool]
Lawyer:
Fools and knaves and charlatans, I’ll not stand here and bandy
Words with simple minded folk, when there’s a public house quite handy.
So I throw in the towel, and I’m off to the bar at the sweetest of sweet Five Alls,
Though I’ll tell you Sir, Saint Filica’s case is a load of complete ...
[Exit Lawyer]
King:
... All’s well that ends well, we’ve doubtless seen the last of him.
Now brave Saint Filica will rend that Dragon limb from bloody limb.
Why, I’m so excited that if that fiery monster appeared this very second...
[Enter Dragon]
Dragon:
[To King now hiding]
... You would attack me? No, you’d hide behind your herald. As I reckoned.
So, who’s first in the ring this merry afternoon?
And remember, no Queensbury nonsense. Fight to the death, and let the Devil play his tune.
St Filica:
It is I, St Filica, with my trusty staff.
Dragon:
What! A woman! An itsy, bitsy, I’ve-
Don’t make me laugh.
Where’s St George, where’s pass-
Not here? Oh well, Then I’ll whack her, and roast her... and then I can gorge.
[Enter Lost Cause]
The Lost Cause:
Attend close, my gentles, to me, the Lost Cause.
As bloody Armageddon scowls on Filkins, let us pause
And consider that while girl power’s very dear to my heart,
We must accept that even if Saint Filica has a start,
And the Dragon keeps one clawsome paw behind his monstrous back,
His breath will char Saint Filica here to hot toast on a rack.
I might be pessimistic, and I really hope I’m wrong,
But prepare yourselves... For a pile of freshly broiled saint, and one helluva pong.
Quite simply, it’ll be Dragon one
St Filica none!
[Exit Lost Cause]
Herald:
[As if before a boxing match]
And now, ladies and gentlemen, for the main event of the day.
The talking’s over, now brute strength will have its say.
In the red-
And in the blue-
King:
[To audience]
Actually, St Filica’s colour is imperial purple, but that virgin blue stuff makes better copy
And dragons are generally greenery orangey, rather than red like a poppy.
[Exit King]
Dragon:
OK, Saint Filica, as the King says, let’s tango baby
[The Dragon and St Filica begin to circle each other warily. Herald acts as referee]
St Filica:
Have you ever thought, maybe
Your fiery breath might cause you internal damage?
Dragon:
Well I do get a cough, so I’ll not use the gas, but be savage
With my claws and my tail, and I’ll soon have you licked.
St Filica:
I once knew a warrior whose broad back was ricked
From the bumping and thumping of battle.
I’ve heard, and it might be the slightest of tattle,
That he ended his days prostrate on his bed,
Paralysed, comatose, and then dead.
[Note: stress on last syllable on “paralysed” and “comatose”]
Dragon:
I might not be a butterfly, I certainly am no bee,
But I’ll still have you flat on the canvas, Babe... Just watch me!
St Filica:
You are old Father Dragon, your fire is but ash.
To fight in your state would be thoroughly rash.
Dragon:
Dammit, Saint, you fight low.
Without even a blow,
You have dealt me the hardest of cuts.
For I dare not lash out
With fire or a clout,
Or my body will give up the ghost
St Filica:
[To audience]
So I’ll pick up a my staff and give him the most
Almighty whack right on the nose.
That’ll vanquish this horriblest of foes.
[Pokes at Dragon]
And unless I’m mistaken,
Then life has forsaken
This beast -
[Herald holds up St Filica’s hand as winner.
Exit St Filica and Herald]
[Enter Dr Butcher]
Dr Butcher:
[To audience]
I’m Doctor Butcher, and there hangs a tale,
I heal up the sick and cut up the dead.
Well, mostly it’s sort of the way that I’ve said.
But I have to admit that I have lost my cred
When sleeping chaps end up as chops on the slab.
But, hey, who’s keeping an eye on the tab!
[Goes over to Dragon]
Now, a dragon is always a pain in the bum,
‘Cos first off there’s likely a helluva hum
As three tonnes of flesh putrefy in the sun.
And second, of course, there’s always the chance
That the damned thing was only just stunned by the lance,
And will jump up and give me a poke in the pants.
[Enter King’s horse]
King’s horse:
My dear Sir, may I be of assistance? Oh, do let me try!
My colleagues, the other King’s horses, and I
Together with upper deck staff, the King’s Horsemen, I mean
Have always worked very well as a team, and have been
Instrumental in many a hush hush affair.
From enticing the minotaur out of his lair,
To ridding the siren of snakes from her hair.
Dr Butcher:
OK, horse. Pull his legs out straight, give them a yank, no time to be polite
This dead dragon’s got to be sausages and naked bones this night.
King’s horse:
The only time when things didn’t work out at all,
Was when that ovoid old chap fell dead off the wall.
Like an eggy jigsaw he was, but quite beyond us.
So we dumped Humpty Dumpty. What a terrible fuss!
Dr Butcher:
Omelettes for a week, no doubt. Excellent tucker!
You can’t beat the fresh laid fruit of a clucker.
[Holding up some red piece of offal]
Or what about this? A huge succulent liver.
With an egg in the pan, you’d need only a sliver!
Dragon:
[Plaintively and a little wavering]
I love liver too, oh dear Dr B!
Especially mine, in its place, inside me!
[Dr Butcher and King’s horse continue cutting up Dragon. Lots of blood and entrails!]
[Enter Lost Cause]
The Lost Cause:
While Doctor Butcher’s splattering the tent with dragon guts,
And slicing up the fleshy parts into the choicest cuts,
I hang my head for questioning the saintly Filica’s
Ability to beat the beast, oh, terrible faux pas!
But there! That bloody heap is proof of what I have to say:
That Broughton Poggs and Filkins folk will always win the day!
[Exit Lost Cause]
Dragon:
May I rise from the dead for a minute to two, for long enough to ask,
That while you fellows concentrate on this Burke and Harish task
Of packaging my body for the Royal kitchen freezer,
Wasn’t the reason for this fracas to liberate poor Lisa,
Or Jane, or Sue or Prudence or what ever is the name
Of the princess in my dungeon, for whom St Filica came?
[Enter King]
King:
Good grief, I’d quite forgotten that! My daughter’s still in jail!
Alas! Alack! Alarum! Boo hoo, gnash teeth and wail.
Who’ll search the dragon’s catacomb
And fetch my princess home?
[Enter St Filica]
St Filica:
My Liege, it’s done,
I used my cun...
...ning getting past the guards.
O’er walls, cross yards,
Up towers, until
In cellar chill
I found the chick...
King:
... Good work, stout Saint, thou art a brick.
[Enter Princess]
Princess:
Oh father, dearest father dear, my heart is full of girly stuff,
Of satin bows, and just enough
Icky sicky pretty things.
While floppy fluffy bunny sings
Of magic dust and fairy rings.
I love you, kiss, kiss, everyone.
We’ll skippity skip and have such fun!
[Exit Princess]
Dragon:
Being dead seems now not quite so sad:
That Princess drives me barking mad.
[Enter Lawyer, drunk]
Lawyer:
Hic, haec, hock. Courtroom Latin and plenty of hooch
Lubricate my wish to smooch
With good King Whatnot and his daughter
And hope that balthazars of water
Have flowed beneath their royal bridge.
Since, just before this ghastly carnage
I unfairly put a gag on
St Filica’s aim to slay the Dragon.
Now I shout with all my might
I was wrong, and she was right!
Dragon:
Sausages I might be, but I’ve still got an ear
which has heard something good worth a sixpenny cheer.
For a lawyer admitting to making mistake
Is Billy Bunter hating a chocolate cake!
St Filica:
Repentant Mr Lawyer. Sir, I harbour not a grudge
King:
Nor I, Sir, in fact, Sir, I’ll make you a judge
So whenever I fancy some droit de Signeur
There’ll be no strife in court while you have tenure
[Exit Lawyer. King makes encouraging signals at King’s horse]
King’s horse:
[Coming forward, increasingly quavery, surprised to be making this keynote speech]
Doctor Butcher is up to his elbows in blood
The Dragon is dead of course...
Dragon:
Almost!
King’s horse:
... the Lost Cause a dud.
The Princess is soppy, the King is too grand,
The fool is a fool, so it falls to my hand
To tease out the lessons of our little tale.
The first is that Dragons are really the pits
The second, that princesses get on your...
St Filica:
... Nerves, yes they do, [Noticing King’s horse leaving] Hey, where is the horse?
King’s horse:
I’m pooped. I can’t last round this eight furlong course!
[Exit King’s horse]
[Enter Herald]
Herald:
My friend, the horse is a little distraught.
He asks me to take up the list what he wrought...
The third is that lawyers and doctors talk cheesy,
But the fourth, and the last, why that is so easy -
‘Tis that Broughton & Filkins have a saint in their midst
who realising a dragon must fast be got ridst,
Does the biz,
‘Cos she is...
‘Cos she is...
Brave as a lion and lithe as a mogg...
...y Strong as a horse and loyal as a dog.
A typical product of Filkins & Poggs!
[Enter The Woman on the Clapham Omnibus]
The Woman on the Clapham Omnibus
I am the thinking woman on the Clapham Omnibus
I don’t rock any boats, and I don’t make any fuss.
But since old King Methuselah was but a bitty boy
My opinion has been sought, representing hoi polloi.
And on this I am certain, and on this I am sure
The Dragon, he was very bad, and there is one thing more
St Filica is a hero, and deserveth ev’ry honour…
King:
[To the rest of the actors]
… I heartily agree my friends, now the beast’s a gonner.
[Rousingly to Audience]
So, as a saint has a halo, a Turk has a fez,
A slayer of dragons deservest a prez.
[To St Filica, while handing her some huge and ghastly gimcrack statue]
So we had a whip round, and bought you this... thing
All:
Long live St Filica, and God save the King!
St Filica:
[Coming forward in Oscar ceremony mode]
It’s an honour, and, luvvies, en route to the bank
I’ve some weeping to do, and some people to thank...
My mum, my director and...
[Everyone now on stage shouts St Filica down]
All:
... let’s just have a cheer
For the people of Filkins and Poggs who are here
The Dragon is slain, the story is done
Hip hip to us all, and let’s drink once again.
Hurrah!
Hurrah!
Hurrah!
[End]
