Hoodening Play 2005

Moll:

The Hoodeners are here!

All right you lot, keep clear of my broom

Stand back to the wall, give us some room

I could 'ear you lot halfway down the street

So keep quiet, stop stamping your feet

I've had enough, can't hear myself think

I'm hungry and thirsty — is that your drink?

Moll helps herself

Must get on or we'll never get done

Where are the others? Ah, here they come

George (in pubs):

Cor, the smell of smoke couldn't get much stronger

Still we won't have that for very much longer

Enter Sam, George, Boy, Dobbin

Sam:

It's parky outside, I can't feel my toes

There's a dewdrop forming on the end of my nose

Why do we work when the weather's like this?

I'm knackered and shattered

Boy:

                      I need a p...

Moll:

Boy!

(Boy goes off)

Sam:

I must say, now he's gone to the lav

He's turning into a right little chav

George:

He'll be back wearing a Hoodie in a minute

Sam:

That's why we're called the Hoodeners, innit?

At some venues sing "Hoodies... Hoodie Hoodie Yum Yum" [Goodies theme]

George:

This cold gets deep down into your bones

All we get from Molly is groans

About this and that and all things mournful

Sam:

It's either than or she's being scornful

Times are hard and money's tight

Desperate, George...

George:

                      Ay, you're right

Boy returns

Moll:

Time we all had a few days' break

Had a rest for goodness' sake

I'll ask the Boss to see if he might

Give us Christmas off...

George:

                      Yeah, right!

Sam:

Dobbin needs it, he's on his last pole

We go on like this, we'll be on the dole

Moll:

It's time this horse cheered up for sure

He really is no fun anymore

George:

It might be that diet that's stopped his frolic

Moll:

Either that or a dose of colic

George:

Give him a pill for his digestion

Praps that will ease his congestion

Moll:

Dobbin will then cease to shirk

Maybe then we'll finish the work

Boy:

If 'arry had stayed and not gone to France

The work would be done...

Dobbin:

                      Fat chance!

Moll:

He's just working there, not planning to stay

A few roofs to mend, some bricks to lay

We'll manage without him, that's all I'll say

Sam:

He never did that much anyway

Boy:

He did more than you, yer miserable git

Sam:

You cheeky wussock, watch your lip!

Moll:

He's been drinking again, binging it's called

Sam:

A right little p...head, I'm really appalled

George:

The amount he drinks is totally absurd

Takes after his father, that's what I've heard

Sam:

The other night he was thrown out the Anchor

Out of his head, the little...

Moll:

Sam!

Sam:

He's on something, from what I can see

George:

Praps he got it from that Tory MP

Boy:

Am I bothered? I can hold my liquor

I can down ten pints without a flicker

Then a dozen shorts to end the night

Sam:

Do you ever throw up?

Boy:

                      Sometimes I might

Moll:

Flintoff don't worry when you go to the wicket

This boy just drinks, he can't play cricket

Sam:

You said he'd got a good cut and can catch

Moll:

No, half cut I meant, that's most of the match

Sam:

I've seen him slash down to deep extra cover

Moll:

If he does that again I'll tell his mother

Sam:

I've seen him drop balls at silly mid-off

George:

That's because of his nasty cough

Boy coughs. Enter Bill.

Moll:

What do you want?

Bill:

                      What's it to you?

I've come to see what's to do

'arry said I could take his place

I'll need new clothes, his were a disgrace

George:

You can't just waltz in like some flaming Mathilda

'arry's clothes fit — if you've a bum like a builder

Boy:

Yeah, go take a hike

Or I'll slap your face. On yer bike

Bill:

He's a stroppy bugger, a right little brat

I'll mark his cards, be sure of that

Bill goes out

Sam:

Don't worry if he gets your goat

I'll tighten that Burberry scarf round his throat

Moll:

Best be careful 'case we get the sack

Look out... he's coming back!

Bill slaps envelope on Boy

Bill:

There, I'll come back when it suits me

I travel about for a living, you see

Moll:

What is it Boy?

Boy:

                      He must be a warder

All:

Why?

Boy:

It's an anti-social behavement order

What can I do? It's spoilt my night

Moll:

Best behave, eh George?

George:

                      You're probably right

Sam:

I hear rumbling afar

Moll:

                      Is it cannons praps?

In honour of Victory won by Nelson's fine chaps?

Boy:

If it's cannons, I'm hiding and downing my tools

I don't want to be hit by one of those balls

Moll:

You daft little sod, there's no need to break ranks

I'm pretty sure that they only fire blanks

Sam:

I quite see myself as Nelson you know

A fine English bloke who knew where to go

I hope to be mounted upon a big column

Moll:

That could be arranged, with this broom up your bottom

George:

I don't think that noise means we're going to be shot

I think that it's coming from one of you lot!

Sam:

There's turbines and windmills a-whirlin' offshore

And I think I heard tell that they want to build more

Boy:

If it's wind that they need then ol' Dobbin's for rent

Our 'orse farts for Britain, he could power all Kent

Moll:

It won't be long before Dobbin quits

I think he's getting a dose of the squits

Whoever:

As we're here Hoodening today

We've some special lines we'd like to say... [or not]

Sam:

We've got a few minutes before it gets dark

Let's play some cricket, just for a lark

Music: Soul Limbo!

George:

We'll 'ave Molly's broom to use as a bat

Sam's apple for a ball...

Sam:

                      I dunno about that

Boy:

We need something else to use as the stumps

Let's use Dobbin, he's down in the dumps

Moll:

His back legs and tail will probably do

George:

What about bales?

Sam:

                      I think he's got two

George:

Come on Boy, your turn at the crease

Work on the ball, Sam, use your grease

Sam bowls

Sam:

Howzat George, must have been tight?

Plum LBW?

George:

                      No, not quite

Boy misses next ball, hits Dobbin who kicks back

Moll:

Oh no! Dobbin's felled our poor boy

Sam:

Tossed on the ground like a broken toy

George:

Felled by a hoof from our vicious horse

Now let nature take its course

Moll:

It's the danger of drink that's caused his demise

Sam:

He lost his balance when he closed his eyes

Anyway, did the last ball go for four?

Did anyone stop it?

George:

                      I'm not sure

Moll:

You two, how can you, have you no compassion?

Our Boy's laid out

George:

                      He took quite a bashin'

Moll:

Dobbin's upset, he meant him no harm

Dobbin kicks out at Boy

Moll:

Anymore of that and you'll go back to the farm

Sam:

Out of the way, no ifs or buts

Those pills have upset Dobbin's guts

Dobbin craps over Boy

Moll:

As usual for this time of year

Dobbin's got a bad case of diarrhoea

George:

Let's cover him up, 'cause I think he'd dead

Get out the sheet, tuck it under his head

Sam:

That proves it, he's dead 'tis true

I hope he ain't got that there bird flu

George:

Should we wait a while before we dig a hole?

Moll:

He may still come round, the poor little soul

Sam:

We could of course always cremate

In which case, I've an idea... wait

He wanted to give them Aussies some bashes

Now he can — he can be the Ashes!

All:

Sam!

Enter Bill

George:

Oh no, it's him again

He really is a bit of a pain

Bill slaps ABSO on Dobbin

Bill:

I'm a part-time doctor and I'll find a cure

What's up with the lad?

Moll:

He's dead

Bill:

                      Are you sure?

I'm not much of an expert, but I think you'll note

That there's an apple gone and lodged in his throat

Sam:

I'll give him a slap on the back of his neck

Moll:

It's out!

Sam:

             Howzat?

George:

                      Flipping 'eck!

Boy splutters back to life

All:

He's alive!

Boy gets up

Sam:

You pulled him through — saved us some strife

How can we thank you for saving his life

Bill:

You can take me on, put me in charge

I'm right for the job... Is this hat too large?

Moll:

The Boss won't agree, that's all I can say

So thanks for your help, but...

George:

                      On your way!

Bill:

I'll be back later when you've made up your mind

I'm right for the job, I'm sure you'll find

I must pop back and see [to] my wife

See you later...

Boy:

                      He saved my life!

Moll:

Seriously Sam, we must not tarry

Someone's needed to replace 'arry

Sam:

There's nobody else, not in this house

We need someone with a bit of nous

George:

Bill's not bad, useful I'd say

Boy:

He saved my life

Sam:

                      Yeah, OK

Moll:

But we must ask the Boss if it's OK to hire

Next time we see him we should enquire

Sam:

He's bound to agree, we'll give Bill a shout

Boy, go find him, and don't hang about

Boy:

OK, I'm going, that apple was rife

I must find him — he saved my life!

Moll:

Go quick as you can, there's no time to be lost

George:

So best not go via Westwood Cross

Boy goes off. Sound of Dr Who music and arrival of TARDIS. Bill emerges.

Sam:

Crikey, what's that? Is it some form of art?

Moll:

Don't be daft, you stupid old fart

Sam:

It has the look of the Turner Centre

George:

I rather think it's the return of our mentor

Bill:

I said that I travelled, and was a doctor part-time

I hope you like this TARDIS of mine?

Moll:

What an entrance, take my advice

Give him the job... Name your price!

George:

That beats riding Dobbin for sure

I want a go!

Bill:

                      Stand back from that door...

Right, stand in line, there will be no slacking

Anyone who skives will be sent packing

Enter Boy

Boy:

Who's he, I know his face

Move aside, I need Space

Bill:

You certainly came in well on cue

Join with me as one of the crew

Boy:

The Boss answered our Christmas suggestion

He said it spoilt his digestion

Moll:

What else did he say?

Boy:

                      My ear got cuffed

And just like the turkey, we can all get stuffed

Sam:

I think we're all in need of a drink

Best tell about our cause, I think

George:

Please dig deep, give all you can afford

For care of the elderly at St Augustine's Ward

Moll:

They need a new scanner to look in the bladder

When mine's full, nothing makes me madder

Sam:

You leave it too late, that's even sadder

Help us to climb this financial ladder

Boy:

We want your quids, not your tanners

Bill:

They come expensive, diagnostic scanners

George:

However much money that we sends

Will be topped up by the League of Friends

Sam:

And finally, by way of a marker

In memory of the late Ronnie Barker

Moll:

An item of late news we must say:

Dobbin's decided to call it a day

George:

Yes, he's confirmed the worst of our fears

He's hanging up his hooves after 40 years

Sam:

So it's goodnight from us

All:

And it's goodbye from him

For, if ye the Hooden Horse do feed

Throughout the year ye shall not need