Dick Sadiqkhan and his Cat

The cast: 

Dick: A humble solicitor who dreams of bigger things

Corbie: A cat who just dreams

Woolfiona: The dame

Campanological chorus: Bells, mobile phones, car alarms, mayoral candidates etc etc

 

Scene 1: A solicitors’ office on the edge of LONDON, a town in Merrie England. Dick is hard at work at his desk 

CHORUS (‘Oranges and Lemons’)

‘Tenants disputing

With landlords in Tooting

Refugees threatened

On the high road of Peckham

Please will you pay me

O Legal Aid A-gen-cy…’

NOISES OFF: ‘No, you’re out of scope!’

DICK: Sigh. So much for the glamorous life of a high street solicitor in south London. When will I really make my mark?

Enter WOOLFIONA through trapdoor, to ‘Fanfare for the Uncommon Woman’

DICK: Who’s this?

WOOLFIONA: Dame Woolfiona at your service, ladylord mayorperson (as was) of England’s last rotten borough, the City!

DICK: You ain’t nuthin’ like a dame – where’s your blowsy costume and green makeup?

WOOLFIONA (sternly): I’m not that sort of Dame. Look out of the window. What do you see shining out over the City?

DICK: She’s beautiful! Who is it?

WOOLFIONA: That’s Lady Justice. But to win her over, you will have to be more than a high street solicitor. You’ll have to go to… Westminster!

DICK: Pass me my bundle on a stick!

WOOLFIONA: Northern Line from Colliers Wood, change at Waterloo (disappears through trapdoor in puff of smoke)

 

Scene 2: Houses of Parliament

DICK: Well, guess what, kids? I made it! And I backed the right man in Ed Merrieband

KIDS: Oh no you didn’t!

DICK: Soon we’re going to be able to start passing new laws! All together now for a resounding majority: ‘Ding dang ding dong, Grayling will soon be gone!’

CHORUS: (‘The Red Flag’)

‘The People’s Ed is deepest red,

But with the voters he had no cred!’

DICK: Curses, confound those voters, why don’t they ever sing along? It’s the backbenches for the next five years. Hey ho, off to the wilderness 

 

Scene 3: Halfway up Brixton Hill (a wilderness of unaffordable houses). Enter CORBIE, a cat who got the cream

CORBIE: Team up with me, I never worry about the voters 

DICK: You mean you’re from – Islington? 

CORBIE: Miaowww!

DICK: Sorry, that was catty! OK – you’ll get my nomination

CORBIE: I can bring in a new kind of politics!

DICK: What’s wrong with the old kind, we were in power for 13 years (Makes to leave)

CORBIE: Hang on Dick – can’t you hear those dulcet tones calling?

DICK: What, the bells?

CORBIE: Not in south London: they’re car alarms

CHORUS: 

‘Turnagain Sadiqkhan

Humble bus-driver’s son

Mayor you could become 

(but we’re not sure about your chum)’

DICK: That’s funny. What did they mean about my chum?

CORBIE: It’s just a feline! 

ALL: Groan

 

Scene 4: The steps of City Hall

DICK: Right kids, let’s get this mayoral campaign on the road!

BELLS: (‘Wheels on the Bus’)

‘The tills on the bus go “kerching!” “kerching!” “kerching!”

All day long…’

(Editor’s note: don’t you mean ‘Oyster card scanners’?)

DICK: Corbie, show the people what we’re made of – start killing rats!

CORBIE: Sorry I’m not happy about that. I think it would be dangerous and counter-productive. The rats should be taken into custody and arraigned before a court of law. Only following meticulous due process should … (continues at some length)

DICK: We’re doomed!

Enter ZAC GOLDENLOCKS, a candidate 

ZAC: Don’t worry, you’re doomed anyway!

DICK: Why? Just because I’m not a posh boy?

ZAC: Not at all, old chap – but ask yourself when the last solicitor rose to high elected office in England

DICK: Hmm, I see your point 

ZAC: Shall I tell you about your future?

DICK: Please do

ZAC (loudly): It’s behind you! (exits stage right [not left], with an aristocratic cackle)

WOOLFIONA: May the best man win! Well, a man is going to win anyway 

DICK: That reminds me, Dame Woolfiona, why is it always you they turn to for a credible female character? Surely thousands of women reach the top in the City?

WOOLFIONA: Come on, even in a panto we can’t be too far-fetched! Music!

ALL: ‘Here comes the iPhone to light you to bed

And here comes the lord chancellor to abolish legal aid!’

 

CURTAINS (for everyone)