The
following day, activities at the Manor can only be described as ones of hustle,
bustle, noise and tussle. The festive season seems back on track and although
Mrs Slocombe ventures once into the attics and gazes forlornly at the space
where her perambulator once stood, she is soon called back to the activity in
the house as Operation Yuletide gets underway.
Mrs Miggins
has taken to the library with Jack Green in order to write refreshed and modern
up-to-date Yuletime stories. They’ve decided that perhaps tales of murder,
kidnap and vandalism aren’t wholly appropriate as festive celebrations in this
modern age, no matter how hilarious they might have been during their heyday. Mrs Slocombe is in charge of catering, Mrs Poo is in charge of
advertising and promotion, Mrs Pumphrey in charge of costume and set design and attracting
stallholders for a Christmas Market. Not too many German sausage stalls,
though. Because yes, you can have too much of a good thing. Ptolemy Pheasant is grounds and logistics manager. Bambino is all music
and light.
It has been
decided that Much Malarkey Manor will open its doors to the village community
and the towns beyond for three days, and tickets will be sold to raise funds
for the attics renovation project. The reminder of the attics project elicits
some grumblings amongst the anti-brigade, but these grumblings are soon
squashed by Mrs Poo emerging from the estate office where she has been busy
designing and printing posters to advertise the Yuletide festivities.
‘I’ve
called it ‘Yule Love Much Malarkey at Much Malarkey,’ she says, waving a poster
in the air. ‘I’ve advertised it on the village Facebook page, and Instagram and
Twitter. And now I am going to cycle down to the village, whack up these
posters, leave tickets for sale in the Post Office and then come back and set
up on-line ticket sales on our website.’
And off she
dashes leaving a trail of fizz and excitement in her wake. The others agree
that they very much like her cunning play on the word ‘Yule.’
By lunchtime,
Mrs Miggins and Jack Green have developed an official ‘Programme of Yuletime
Events.’ Ptolemy, Mrs Pumphrey and Bambino look over them and set about
organising light shows, scenery, costumes and car parking. Mrs Slocombe has
gone into refreshment baking overload and has to be carried onto the lawns in
front of the Manor to cool off in the frost for ten minutes. We are talking
team effort, here, dear reader(s). Hurrah!!
The
afternoon is devoted to rehearsals. Because of the limited cast availability,
the theatricals have been kept simple, mostly with Jack as the Storyteller and
the others conveying the story meanings via the medium of mime, dance, shadow puppetry, melodrama and, at Mrs Poo’s insistence, martial arts. It’s all going VERY well
indeed, as you’d expect from previous experiences of the Much Malarkey Manor
Christmas Story, where anything is possible.
However…
There could
be trouble brewing. A spanner approaching the works. A stirring stick edging
ever closer. A pile of poo sitting just a little bit too close to that fan over
there.
For Kenneth
the Phantomime, ex-star of the show, rejected and bloody annoyed about it, has been sorting
through the treasures from the Manor, cataloguing them ready for auction.
And he finds the little Viking doll.
‘Hello,’ he
says. ‘What have we got here?’ He reaches for his ‘Surprising Treasures in Myths and Legends’
auctioneer’s directory and riffles through the pages.
‘Aha!’ says
he, stabbing a finger at one particular page. ‘I thought so!’ says he.
‘Mwahahahahahaha!’ says he.
It seems that the Viking doll IS actually an
artefact of great importance. That it promises to make a huge amount of money
at auction. The ‘made in Taiwan’ stamp on its bottom IS a red herring. Not an
actual red herring, though, even though the Scandinavians are partial to that
particular fish.
‘You
fools,’ says Kenneth, cradling the doll in his hands. ‘You have no idea what
you’ve given away here. This rare and fine piece could have solved all your
financial worries. And am I going to tell you? No – because I paid for it fair and
square, and it’s all mine now. All mine! Mwahahahahahahaha!!!’
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