Blibala and the Forty Thieves, part the first

As promised a while back, here's the first chunk of "Blibala and the Forty Thieves, "A Seasonal Nosegay by Sundry Messrs. Especially ac messpots Kevin Musgrove, spinster, and Frog Dropwort, late Queen's Own Mounted Stewart Graingers.

(It might be worth warning you at this stage that this whole farrago was written as a game of email ping-pong between the two of us while we were having a particularly trying time in the bowels of Helminthdale Central Library. Just in case you thought any of it was supposed to make sense.)

Scene One: A desert wadi

Enter two scurvy knaves, Mustapha Fagg and Mustapha Pony.

Fagg: We've been wandering the desert now for three days. Are you sure we're not lost?
Pony: No, we're not. In fact, we are nearing our destination. This is Wadi Youwantmatey, home of the forty thieves.
Fagg: But it is so desolate.
Pony: Don't be deceived... See those small streams over there?
Fagg: Yess..
Pony: Those small streams roll on to become the mighty Blue Nile.
Fagg: Oh, Juveniles.
Pony: That's right. And if you look over yonder -- see how the streams spread across the burning desert like some enormous hand?
Fagg: Fingerniles?
Pony: But come, we have another hour's walk before we meet with our new friends.
Fagg: Are the forty thieves really as evil as their reputation would have us believe?
Pony: Of course, who do you think sold me those last two jokes?

Enter a stranger (John Hanson with a curiously unbelievable mop of black hair and a bath towel over his shoulder)

Hanson: Ho strangers! What are you doing here?
Pony: We are but poor men travelling through the desert in the hope of finding some succour.

At this point, the audience are invited for the double entendre of their choice by pressing the little button on the underside of the person sitting in front of them

Fagg: But who are you?
Hanson: I am the Red Shadow, leader of the Rifs. (takes out stratofender guitar and plays a few choice licks from the Desert Song [Bert Weedon Songbook page 47])

Enter Hank Marvin and the rest of the Shadows (minus Cliff Richard who is appearing as "Heathcliffe" at the Snetterton Arms, Aylesford). They play a medley of hits from the Sex Pistols "God Save The Drag Queen" album.

Fagg: Oh, Red Shadow, can you help us to our destination?
Hanson: Strangely, oh stranger, we are making for the same place ourselves: Wadi Youwantomakethoseyesatmefor.

Enter, with full inevitability, full chorus

Hanson: But enough of this mirth, it says here. We mustn't tarry. These are dangerous parts.
Fagg: Wouldn't they best be kept in your trousers?
Hanson: What? And live in the dark? They'd go all white and weedy.
Fagg: Is that thing supposed to glow like that?
Hanson: That is the hotline to the king of thieves.
Fagg: And that?
Hanson: That was an unfortunate accident with a camel.
Fagg: You're nuts.
Hanson: Maybe but it's rude to point.

Enter a spear carrier

Spear carrier: Red Shadow! A rider approaches.
Hanson: Oh dear, this means trouble.
Pony: Who is it?
Hanson: It is Abu Ben Dover, the Kharzi of Baghmum.
Fagg: And who is that gorgeous creature by his side?
Hanson: That's his horse.
Fagg: No, riding it.
Hanson: Oh. You have been in the desert too long, haven't you? That is his Sultana, A'Ah Gra'isi.

The Red Shadow's entourage scatter into the wings shrieking "Eh mother!"

Hanson: Good day, oh exalted one.
Kharzi: (the late Frank Randal, who's too drunk to notice) Eeeeh, I've supped some ale toneet.
Sultana: Sally, Sally, pride of our alley, you're more than a raisin to me.
Kharzi: Oh dear, your breath smells of gin.
Sutana: I can't afford to drink Chanel No. 5.
Hanson: And what can I do for you, great Kharzi?
(The Kharzi falls off his horse, yelling: "It's my mother's birthday today!" As this isn't in the script all the other players shuffle embarrassedly while they wait for the Assistant Stage Manager to get the curtain down sharpish)