A Pooclub Play

        "Murder At Ffelchingham Manor"


                    ACT 1



        SCENE - THE KITCHEN

IT IS THE KITCHEN OF FFELCHINGHAM MANOR.
MRS BEASLY, THE COOK, IS SCURRYING AROUND PREPARING
A MEAL OF GREAT PROPORTIONS.

MR GISHAM, THE BUTLER, ENTERS THE STAGE BUT DOES
NOT ACKNOWLEDGE MRS BEASLY WHO CONTINUES THE
PREPARATION OF THE SUMPTUOUS MEAL WHILE HE ADDRESSES
THE AUDIENCE.

Gisham: [narrating]
  Whene'er thirteen sit down to dine
  Before some great repast so fine,
  To put about their airs and graces
  Establishing their social places,
  The first to leave the banquet table
  According to old lore and fable
  Has much to fear, I can't deny,
  For he shall be the next to die...

Gisham: [towards Mrs Beasly] Mrs Beasly I really must
admire your dumplings.

Beasly: Oooh, thankyou Gisham me dearie! I moulded them 
this morning out of dung. I modelled them on the testicles 
of the late Mr Beasly. Ah yes, sizeable gonads he 
certainly had. [shines fork on apron, far away look in eyes]. 
He used to call me his little dumpling, you know... 
[begins prancing round the table, speaking in a gruff man's 
voice] "Who's my little dumpling then? My chubby-titted 
little suet ball? C'm here and let me bite into..."

Gisham: [interupts, embarrassed] Yes, yes, Mrs Beasly. I 
recall you telling me this before. Now, how many to dinner 
tonight?

Beasly: A dozen me dear. There's Lord and Lady Ffelchingham, 
Mr and Mrs Whoreburger-Smithe from Jismgate, the 
Danglysore-Catspankers from Kipperknix and their daughter 
Pissy, and that dreadful Menstrual-Carnage family. 
Fortunately their satanic son, Demon, can't make it. 
But Jimmy Widdle and Sanpad are coming, and the three kids, 
Cock, Fanny-Batter and Spunk Eater.

Gisham: Oh Good Lord. Those Menstrual-Carnages are dreadful. 
There is bound to be trouble. Thank God Demon can't make it 
though. How terrible that would have been! I hope he doesn't 
turn up unexpectedly and cause havoc. I really do.

DOORBELL GOES.

Gisham: Oh well, here goes. Wish me luck.


        SCENE - THE ENTRANCE HALL

GISHAM APPROACHES A GRAND OAK DOOR WHICH HE OPENS TO REVEAL
A SNOTTY LOOKING 14 YEAR OLD BOY.  DESPITE BEING ATTIRED IN A
PUBLIC SCHOOL UNIFORM, THE BOY DOES NOT LOOK SMART.

Demon: Ah, Jism, let me through. I want some grub.

Gisham: As I have informed you on many an occasion, Master
Demon, my name is pronounced "Jiz-ham".  There is an H in there 
if you care to look.

Demon: Then I shall call you Spunk Hhhhhhead - with a
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhh-aitch!

Gisham: I had been informed that you were not attending this
evening's dinner. Otherwise I would have got out your bib
and high chair.

Demon: Change of plan, Nobcheese.  I have an important announcement
to make, and I must make it this evening and I must make it here.
Not that it's any concern of yours.  Kindly stand aside and take
my coat.

Gisham: You are not wearing a coat.

Demon: Then take my dick!  God you're dumb. [Barges past Gisham.]
Anyone else arrived yet?

ENTER MR AND MRS DANGLYSORE-CATSPANKER AND THEIR DAUGHTER PISSY.

Demon: Well, hello Pissy [he drools at her huge tits]

Gisham: Mr and Mrs D-C, an honour to have you here tonight, 
and Pissy, may i say you are looking delightful tonight

Mrs Dangleysore-Catspanker: I have told you a thousand times 
about not abbrieviating our names...

Mr Dangleysore-catspanker: And stop staring at my daughter you 
paedophile.

DURING THIS EXCHANGE PISSY AND DEMON HAVE SLINKED OFF TO AN
EMPTY BEDROOM.


        SCENE - THE BEDROOM

Demon: Did you get my note?

Pissy: Yes I did. Oh, Demon, it all sounds so exciting! I can 
scarcely contain myself.

Demon: And did you get the stuff?

Pissy: Yes, though I'd prefer not to explain how I managed to 
smuggle it out of the lab.

Demon: Excellent! [rubs his hands together gleefully] Tonight, 
thirteen souls will sit at the Ffelchingham's table.  Only twelve 
of them will see the light of day again, heh heh.

PISSY TITTERS GIRLISHLY.

Demon: And do you know what's so beautiful about the 
whole thing? 

Pissy: What?

Demon: Everyone will think the butler did it! [laughs 
maniacally] 

Pissy: Oh Demon, you're so clever.

Demon: [concludes laughter] Can I have a shag, then?


        SCENE - THE KITCHEN

Gisham: Mrs Beasly, WILL you hurry up with the salmon mousse? 
The guests are about to go through. I've delayed them with 
crudites and canapes for as long as I possibly can, and I'm 
rather afraid they are beginning to tire of Lord Ffelchingham's 
tales of beaver baiting on the Mississippi.

Beasly: [huffing and puffing, spooning salmon mousse into 
dirty looking food processor] I'm doing it as fast as I can, 
why don't you go and polish the silver ware or something? 

Gisham: Mrs Beasly, I really must insist. Please stand aside. 
I will finish the mousse myself!

GISHAM STEPS FORWARD AND SWITCHES ON THE FOOD PROCESSOR.
THERE IS A LOUD EXPLOSION, FOLLOWED BY SMOKE AND A FISHY SMELL.
GISHAM IS COVERED IN FISH MOUSSE.

Beasly: Oh for Goodness sake Gisham! NOW look what you've done! 
How are we going to blend the salmon now?

Gisham: Oh God, do we have a sieve or something? We could push 
it through the holes...

Beasly: [angry now] NO! We don't have a fucking sieve! I threw 
the fucking sieve out when we bought the fucking food processor. 
Fuck.

THEY BOTH STAND, THINKING.

Beasly: I've got it! Give us a hand to spoon the mousse up.

THEY CRAWL ABOUT, SPOONING MOUSSE.

Gisham: [with a handful of squashy mousse] Now what do we 
do with it? 

MRS BEASLY GIVES A SECRETIVE SMILE AND TAKES OFF HER DRESS.
SHE THEN HOLDS OPEN HER WRINKLY TIGHTS, EXPOSING A STAINED AND
WORN PAIR OF BELLY WARMER OLD PEOPLE'S PANTS.

Beasly: Stick it in me tights Gisham. We can squeeze it through 
the gusset.

GISHAM SPOONS SALMON MOUSSE THROUGH THE TIGHTS AND TOGETHER
THEY SQUEEZE BEASLY'S GUSSET.

ENTER LADY FFELCHINGHAM

Lady Ffelchingham: AAAAAAAAARGH!

SHE FAINTS. AS SHE FALLS, HER ARM CATCHES THE BLADE
OF A MEAT CLEAVER WHICH HAS BEEN HANGING DANGEROUSLY
OVER THE EDGE OF THE KITCHEN TABLE.  SHE LANDS ON HER
BACK, UNCONSCIOUS, BLOOD SPIRTING FROM HER ARM.

Beasly: Holy mother of God! [She crosses herself.]

Gisham: Quickly! I need a tourniquet to stop the
bleeding!

Beasly: A tea towel! [She hands it to Gisham.]

Gisham: Thank you, but I shall need this for a bandage.
I need a strap or a belt.

Beasly: Your braces!

Gisham: Good idea. [Starts to remove his braces.]
Can you loosen her clothing?

MRS BEASLY UNFASTENS LADY FFELCHINGHAM'S DRESS AS GISHAM
TIGHTENS HIS LEATHER BRACES AROUND HER UPPER ARM.
THE BLEEDING STOPS AND GISHAM WRAPS THE TEA TOWEL AROUND
THE WOUND.  HE ATTEMPTS TO STAND UP BUT SLIPS ON A
DOLLOP OF SALMON MOUSSE.  HIS TROUSERS FALL TO HIS ANKLES
AND HE LANDS ON HIS KNEES, ONE LEG EITHER SIDE OF LADY
FFELCHINGHAM'S HEAD.

Lord F: [from outside the kitchen] What was that scream?

THE KITCHEN DOOR OPENS.
ENTER LORD FFELCHINGHAM.

Lord Ffelchingham: Good Lord!


        SCENE - THE DINING ROOM

Mrs Whoreburger-Smithe: Did you hear something dear? 
It sounded like Lord Ffelchingham in the kitchen?

Mr Whoreburger-Smithe: No, Hairyarse, I didn't hear 
anything. [whispers] Gosh, I'm terrible hungry. Do you 
think they're planning on feeding us at any point?

SHE IS ABOUT TO REPLY WHEN...

Mrs Danglysore-Catspanker: [brightly] Anyone for 
charades?

THEY ALL LOOK AT THEIR KNEES, TRYING TO APPEAR
INVISIBLE.

Mrs Whoreburger-Smithe: [whispers to husband] Oh no. 
That dreadful woman. I might have known she would do 
something like this. I truly wish someone would poison 
her wine.

Mrs Danglysore-Catspanker: Go on, Stiffnipple. You go 
first!

Mr Danglysore-Catspanker: Oh Jane, must I really?

SHE PRODS HIM TO HIS FEET.

Mr. D-C: Oh, er, let's see... right!
[Does the camera mime.]

Fanny-Batter: [with a distinct lack of interest]
It's a dumb-ass film.

Mrs. D-C: [with enthusiasm] Oh yes, well done
Fanny-Batter. It is a film. How many words?

MR D-C HOLDS UP FIVE FINGERS.

Mrs. D-C: Five words! How exciting!

MR D-C HOLDS UP THE PALM OF HIS HAND, AS IF
TO MAKE A 'STOP' SIGNAL TO HIS AUDIENCE.

Jimmy Widdle: Hand?

Sanpad: Palm?

Spunk-Eater: Stop?

MR. D-C SHAKES HIS HEAD AT EACH OF THESE. HE
THEN MIMES A FEATHER STICKING UP FROM THE BACK
OF HIS HEAD AND WITH HIS OTHER HAND MOTIONS A
SILENT "WOO! WOO!" NOISE FROM HIS MOUTH

Cock: [curiously] Red Indian...?

MR D-C NODS AT COCK AND REPEATS THE 'STOP'
GESTURE.

Mrs. D-C: How!

MR D-C POINTS AT MRS D-C AND NODS. HE THEN
HOLDS UP TWO FINGERS.

Mrs. D-C: Second word.

MR D-C NODS AND THEN HOLDS TWO FINGERS UP AGAIN.

Mrs. D-C: Second word?

MR D-C SHAKES HIS HEAD AND HOLDS HIS TWO FINGERS
UP AGAIN.

Mrs. D-C: Well, it's either the second word or it isn't.
Make your mind up you silly sausage.

MR D-C REPEATS HIS GESTURE.

Mr. W-S: Perhaps he's trying to tell you to fuck off.

Mrs. W-S: [scoldingly] Hairyarse!

Jimmy Widdle: No, no, old chap. He's got his fingers the
wrong way round for that. It IS the second word but it's 
also something to do with the number two.

Spunk-Eater: [giggling] What, like poo-poos?

MR D-C POINTS AT JIMMY WIDDLE.

Jimmy Widdle: Two?

MR D-C BECKONS JIMMY.

Jimmy: A bit like two? Hmmm..... I know!  To!

MR D-C NODS AND POINTS AT JIMMY, THEN HOLDS
THREE FINGERS UP.

Mrs. D-C: Oh, well done Jimmy! "How to..."
Now, third word.

MR D-C MIMES STRANGLING MRS D-C.

Fanny-Batter: Strangle?

Jimmy: Choke?

ENTER DEMON AND PISSY.  PISSY'S HAIR IS DISHEVELLED.
DEMON'S TIE IS EVEN SCRUFFIER THAN IT WAS BEFORE.

Demon: Murder!

MR D-C POINTS AT DEMON AND NODS.

Mrs. D-C: [Slightly shaken but still jolly.]
Oh, my word.

MR D-C THEN USES HIS HANDS TO INDICATE FIRST
HIMSELF AND THEM MRS. D-C. HE REPEATS THIS.

Jimmy: Mrs. Danglysore-Catspanker?

Sanpad: Wife?

Jimmy: YOUR wife! How To Murder Your Wife [Mr.
D-C indicates this is correct.] An excellent
film.  Jack Lemmon is just so funny!

MR D-C SITS DOWN. MRS D-C IS NOT AMUSED.

Sanpad: What a terrible title.  I mean, who would
want to murder their wife?

Demon: Who would want to murder anyone, Mrs. Widdle?

ENTER LORD FFELCHINGHAM. HE IS RATHER PALE AND HIS 
CLOTHES APPEAR SOMEWHAT RUFFLED. THERE IS A SCRATCH 
ON HIS CHEEK, WHICH IS BLEEDING PROFUSELY.

Lord Ffelchingham: Ah, I see you're all here. Good. 
I'm afraid dinner will be a little late today, you see...

SUDDENLY, LORD FFLELCHINGHAM STAGGERS, SWAYS AND FALLS 
OVER. HE LANDS FACE DOWN, REVEALING A DAGGER IN HIS BACK.

Lord Fflechingham: Argh. 

Mrs Danglysore-Catspanker: Good Heavens!

Sanpad: Oh, I know this one! Is it a book? It's a book 
isn't it? Oh God, it's on the tip of my tongue. It's... 
no, it's a film! It's that film with what do you call 
him? That man who was in that other film. 
[To Jimmy] You know! We saw it at the Pemberton-
Pheasantbuggerer's a few months ago. He was in it with 
that actress. The one who's married to that man who used 
to go out with that pop star who had a baby recently. 
Oh God! What was it called?

LORD FFELCHINGHAM GROANS, FITS AND THEN DIES.

Sanpad: Oh God! I KNOW this one. It's so infuriating...

Mrs Danglysore-Catspanker: Actually, my dear... 
I don't think this is a charade any more. I'm rather 
afraid...

Sanpad: What? Not a charade? Whatever do you... 
AAAAAAARGH! [Sanpad faints]

Demon [aside, to Pissy]: One down, many more to go.

Pissy: Oh Demon. I'm not sure...

Mrs Whoreburger-Smithe: Silence! Mrs Danglysore-Catspanker 
has something to say.

SUDDENLY THE LIGHTS GO DOWN AND A SPOT LIGHT APPEARS ON 
MRS DANGLYSORE-CATSPANKER. SHE STANDS AND WALKS TO THE 
CENTRE OF THE STAGE, WHERE SHE ADDRESSES THE AUDIENCE.

Mrs Danglysore-Catspanker: Oh what wickedness we have 
experienced here tonight! And the night is still so young. 
Poor Lord and Lady Ffelchingham are now dead, who will be 
next? Perhaps it will be I. But no! I cannot die yet! How 
will they fit my impossibly long name on my grave stone? 
I must change it! It is terribly irritating anyway. And 
what IS a dangly sore anyway? Yes, it is a silly name. 
From now on I will be known as Mrs Jis. Nice and simple. 
Easy to type... erm... I mean SAY, yes. Easy to say. Nice 
and short. Where were we? Ah yes. Who will be next to meet 
their fateful end this dismal and dangerous evening? Who 
will it b...

SUDDENLY A LARGE RADIO - THE OLD FASHIONED TYPE THAT YOU 
SEE ON TELLY PROGRAMMES ABOUT THE SECOND WORLD WAR - FALLS 
OUT OF THE SKY AND LANDS ON MRS JIS. THERE IS A LOUD 
SQUELCHING NOISE. THE SPOT LIGHT VANISHES AND THE CURTAIN 
DROPS.

        END OF ACT 1 

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