This year, because of the global fiscal chaos, rocketing prices, everybody going on strike and all that, I’ve had to rein in my usually extravagant production budget, and the cast has been trimmed accordingly. Here, then, is the cast list for TMMMCS2022 (See? I’ve even economised on the title):
Mrs Miggins: Herself
Mrs Poo: Herself
Mrs Pumphrey: Herself
Mrs Slocombe: Herself
Bambino Bobble Wilson: Himself
Ptolemy Pheasant : Himself
Kenneth the Phantomime: Kenneth the Antiques Dealer
A Mysterious Stranger : Jack Green
(N.B I did consult with the cast about their preferred pronouns. They said, ‘What the chuff are you talking about?’ Mrs Pumphrey offered to lift her skirts and show me, but I gracefully declined.)
Crowd scenes will be provided, as usual, by locals from the nearby village who are easily bought with promises of being fed and an autograph or two.
The setting of the story is Much Malarkey Manor. No budget for global travel. Nor scenes of an extravagantly special effects nature. And I can’t afford to buy a licence for an already scripted story to mangle in my own special way like I usually do, so it’s all going to be made up from my own enormously creative imagination. Lucky you, eh?!
In order to clear the domestic decks so that I can devote more writing time to you, dear reader (s), I have, this morning, installed the Advent Bunting on the bannister rail of the stairs, which included my usual argument with Bambino about how much help he should give in the tying of the ribbons to the spindles. (Answer: preferably none.) I have filled the bunting pockets with chocolate coins. Heather and I have conducted an in-depth planning meeting re: our shared Christmas celebrations. We have booked cinema tickets and a visit to a Christmas Craft Fair. We have organised a Strictly Come Dancing Final party. We have decided who is providing what for the Christmas Day celebration itself. We are all over the planning, sharp as Mrs Miggins’ sarcasm. If you want anything organising, Heather and I are your gals. (Heather is also an Angel because on the day Edith and Sidney died, she arrived with flowers, scones, Maltesers and hugs aplenty. I know…I cried…)
I’ve dispatched all presents and cards that needed sending via courier/Royal Mail so that they arrive in time and don’t get caught up in this year’s Festive Royal Mail StrikeFest. I’ve pre-ordered a couple of things that can be sent straight from company to recipient. Basically, if Christmas arrives early, I’ll be ready. And yes, I do feel a teensy bit smug. Smug Malarkey Manor!
Join me, then, for kick off tomorrow, and I’ll try and wrangle in as much seasonal magic as I can. Magic, after all, costs nothing.
Comments
TMMMCS2022 Bring it on.
Ptolemy Pheasant has gracefully suggested that, in respect of the challenging economic circumstances, the traditional haggling by his Management over the terms of his contract can be omitted this year. The offered pay rise in line with inflation is much appreciated. Still, if there is any extra corn knocking about the Manor he would naturally be happy to help mop it up. Not least if he were to find himself in an extended pronoun discussion with Mrs Pumphrey. Because, as you will no doubt appreciate, that is hungry work.
(The Theatrical Pheasant Management Co. Inc.)
Thank you for your response to the adjustments to Ptolemy Pheasant’s contract. I hope you appreciate that, in recompense for the limited financial aspect, Ptolemy has been given a more prominent starring role in this year’s production which, we hope, will be a springboard for him to greater stardom. We shall, of course, make sure that the springboard is nowhere near a public highway.
Due consideration is being given to the supplementary corn clause.
Kind regards, Much Malarkey Manor Enterprises
“Springboard to greater stardom”
Steady..
I will have a pheasant strutting about the lawn with a chest puffed out to the size of a small planet.
(Mrs Duck)