Hoodening Play 1987

(Moll enters)
Moll:: The Hoodeners are here! Clear the stage!
At Christmas time we're all the rage!
There's six of us if truth be known
But I'm here standing on me own
They're always sending me in first —
They must think I'm best — or worst!
Come on, be quiet, and stop your frolicking
Or Joe'll come in and give you a… rollicking!
(All enter, bar Adam)
Joe:: C'mon you lot, move out the way
Our 'orse has had a helluva day!
(SPECIAL LINES perhaps starting…: I'm going to use a written cue
'Cos this bit we wrote just for you…
… and ending…): Still, as Joe said, old Dobbin feels rough
(Now back to our lines that are not off the cuff!)
Moll:: He's got a problem "down below"
(Moll points to Dobbin's underparts; others look up and under): It really is laying him low
Boy:: He needs an "op" to make things better
The boss has written the vet…
(Boy holds up letter, taken off Joe): … this letter
Sam:: He's going to fall at any minute
(All help support Dobbin, except Joe)
Joe:: (Well — that's just 'is 'ard luck, now, innit?)
Move aside — just let him fall
Moll:: Oh, not down 'ere — out in the hall
Boy:: Come on, someone, lend a hand
The poor old nag can hardly stand!
(Dobbin gradually keels over, back to audience)
Joe:: I'll HOPERATE to do the trick
Now let's get at his poorly… principal parts!
(Joe gets down and starts to examine the suspected area)
Moll:: You can't do that; 'twould be unethical
You can't deal with things uretical!
Joe: (looking up at Moll): They say if in doubt, then cut it out…
(Joe turns to open the toolbox and examines the contents)
Boy:: Then cut it out, you pompous lout
Joe:: Shut up,Boy, don't be so pathetic
'Ere, Molly, do the anaesthetic
Moll:: A-A-Anaesthetic?
Joe:: Please don't stammer
(passes hammer to Moll): Just give 'im one with this old 'ammer
One sharp tap, or so it seems
Should send old Dobbin to his dreams
(Moll "bops" Dobbin; Joe turns back to the toolbox and holds up a sink plunger. He puzzles as to whether he could use it)
Sam:: Cor! Dyna-Rod and the Supremes!
Moll — stand by to stitch the seams!
'Struth, he's gorn into a stupor
(Bet he wishes he'd joined with BUPA)
Quickly, Boy, bring on the screen
(Boy produces sheet and covers the prostrate Dobbin, except for head and belly): We don't want to make a scene!
They might well get a funny feeling
Watching all that blood congealing!
Watch out, folks, the stage is set
Joe really is an INVETERATE vet!
Boy:: Don't that mean "spineless" — that long word?
Joe:: Not INVERTEBRATE, Boy — don't be absurd!
You're stupid as a day-old lamb!
Boy:: Well? What's it mean then?
Joe: (not looking up): Ask old Sam
Moll:: Come on, come on — all at the double!
If we get caught, we're ALL in trouble
Shouldn't you wash in antiseptic?
Sam:: Shut up, Moll. You are a sceptic!
Boy:: Joe's like some equine engineer —
He'll mend his member, never fear
Moll:: But will it make the nag feel better —
Tinkering with his carburettor?
(Joe selects an evil-looking saw…)
Joe:: I thinks I'll make a small incision…
Sam:: One slip and there'll be circumcision!
Boy:: Watch out, or it'll be your pigeon
That our nag's changing his religion!
Sam:: Hey, steady Joe — look what you did!
We don't want the bugger to end up a yid!
Joe:: This is a question of mind over matter
I don't mind…
Sam & Boy:: … and HE don't matter!
Moll: (sobbing): You got the right TOOL for the job?
Joe:: He's only got ONE, so please don't sob
Sam:: Here's Adam! Perhaps he'll muck in…
Adam:: What are you doing to our Dobbin?
Boy:: He can't manage a Jimmy
Moll:: He can't strain the greens
Joe:: There's a choker on his poker
Adam: (sounding "thick"): Do what?
Boy:: He can't cock his leakie
Moll:: Percy will not point at the porcelain
Joe:: He can't tinkle with his winkle
Adam: (even more puzzled): DO WHAT?
Sam:: There appears to be some obstruction in the urinary tract
Making bladder evacuation an impossible act
Adam:: Ah! A blockage in his private parts
You mean he pees in fits and starts
Joe: (concentrating; Moll wipes his brow: Now, this is the bit I really dread…
Boy: (horrified): Why worry? Our poor Dobbin's dead!
A victim of the operatin' table —
You should have done this in his stable
If the old horse had been asked to choose
That's where he'd want to turn up his shoes…
Moll:: We'll bury the brute down near Plucks Gutter
Now his heart don't move or flutter
Sam:: Ne'er a soul will care a jot —
Get Dave Grey to mark the spot
On a monolith across his back
(That'll stop the bugger from coming back)
Boy:: Just 'cos Joe made such a cock-up
He's entered the eternal lock-up
There'll be no mourners there a-sobbin'…
Joe:: 'Twas about bloody time we got rid of Dobbin
(The rest stand back in amazement): 'Cos now, you see, we'll raise the factor
Of getting the boss to buy a tractor…
Sam:: The first task it would have to start
Would not be plough, or pull the cart
But to drag this corpse to Gore Street
Moll:: His final journey would be complete
Joe:: Hang on a bit — what's that I see?
I'm not too sure what it could be…
(Joe gropes around Dobbin's privates): Oh gawd, it's come off in my hand!
Boy:: His thingy!?
Joe:: No, this rubber band…
(Joe holds band aloft; Dobbin stirs and starts to get up)
Adam:: Well, this really is fantastic
Cured by losing your elastic!
(Molly checks her knickers; Dobbin gets very excited)
Joe:: Molly — quickly, try to stop…
(Dobbin blasts away with his squirter)
Sam:: TOO LATE — someone, fetch a mop!
Moll:: He never was a trail blazer
Joe:: After this, he really will amaze yer!
Boy:: As a vet, you make a damn' good plumber
(I don't think I've seen anything dumber!)
Try and catch him — get a lasso…
Joe:: Not likely — it might be the last thing you do!
Look at him go — he's cock-a-hoop
No more sign of brewers' droop!!
He's rushing round like… Bucky Phallus
Not a hint of fear or malice…
(Sam grabs Dobbin, who quietens and comes "to heel")
Sam:: I got the horse — now, hang on, Joe
There's just one thing I want to know
Bucky Phallus! What does it mean?
Tell us more — it don't sound clean…
Joe:: Alexander the Great had a big, wild horse
He was strong, and hard to keep on course…
Adam:: You mean Bucephalus, stupid twit!!
Sometimes you talk some right old… rubbish!
Boy:: After all this palaver, I need a drink!
C'mon, you lot, what do YOU think?
Sam:: We all feel dry, but haven't a penny
So I can't see how we'll get any
Joe:: Well — having got old Dobbin better
Let's see if there's cash in this vet's letter
If so, it should be mine to spend
'Cos I cured Dobbin in the end
(Joe fumbles with the envelope)
Moll:: Come on! Open it up — and let's all see
If we can get some drinks for free…
Boy:: What does it say, Joe? Read it out
Moll:: Is there enough for a pint of stout?
(Joe clears his throat and reads…)
Joe:: "Please Mr Vet, we're at a loss
If there's no cure, shoot the 'oss
Else mend his ills
With big round pills
Keep the cash. With love, the Boss"
(Joe holds up a "oncer")
Sam:: So we can keep this legal tender —
This ought to GUARANTEE a bender!
Boy:: Sorry 'bout our horse's water
And doing what he shouldn't oughter…
Sam:: Just one more thing to talk about
'Fore you good people throw us out
Moll:: We expect you remember the October gales
Which went right off the Beaufort scales
Well,our cause has no winter sails
Joe:: Sarre Mill was in a sorry state
Till some folk came to renovate
They almost left it much too late!)
Boy:: Up on the hill, this Eight-Mile sentry
Has had no sails since 1920
And, since the war, has been quite empty
Adam:: The preservationists have, by heck
Secured a millstone round their neck
So please help them. Write a cheque
Sam:: They needs cash for more good wood —
They'd pay it themselves if only they could
Help us to help them do some good
Moll:: For gold and silver now we pause
(Even that loose change of yours)
But no worthless shares, of course!
Boy:: Stone ground flour is all the rage
Reminds us of a bygone age
(Now p'raps our thirsts we can assuage)
Joe:: Forget old Dobbin's "penal reform"
Save our old mill from some future storm
Now the famous last words we must perform…
All:: If ye the Hooden Horse do feed
Throughout the year ye shall not need