CliveNation in conjunction with SomersetClive is proud to present the Christmas Pantomime, with an all-star cast and seats more comfortable than those at the White Elephant Enclosure, we invite you to join us for an amateur production of the world premiere of The Princess and the Forty Thieves. Showing thrice daily.
Our story opens deep in the heart of Somerset, where the Squire of Teflon rules the sleepy little villages of Smallvillia and Dullford with a rod. Of iron.
The Squire is used to getting his own way and woe-betide anyone who foils his plans for the Squire is not to be crossed.
Act One. Scene Two
The stage revolves to reveal the quant seaside location of Smallvillia. The residents are dancing around a May Pole. The Town Shouter strolls into view and the villagers rush to gather round him.
Town Shouter (singing) – Oyez, Oyez, Oyez.
I have news on this day.
Baron McGoat wants to hear,
From anyone who has no fear,
A challenge for the strong of heart,
Who will rid me of this tart?
No, not tart, for that is fake.
Who will this Princess please take?
I don’t want much,
A plan, a scheme or some such,
To put a smile upon my face,
Please will someone join the race?
I can’t afford her mighty fees
Someone help me off my knees.
The residents mutter amongst themselves and the Squire of Teflon enters stage left. He has a strange glint in his eye.
Villager Padraig Irishh is thinking it over – Why, I could do with a Princess. She could help me with my magic-lantern shows.
The Squire hovers behind him, writing down his words in a notebook.
Audience (shouts) – He’s behind you.
Padraig Irishh spins around quickly and the Squire slinks away, whistling nonchalantly.
On the other side of the stage a small group of villagers are also discussing the challenge.
Villager Mark Lung – We could really do something with a Princess. We could tart her up and rent her out to the other villagers. Everyone could have a time share in a Princess. It’s every man’s dream!
The Squire makes more notes.
Audience (shouts) – He’s behind you.
Mark Lung spins around quickly and the Squire slinks away, whistling nonchalantly and stroking his chins as if deep in thought.