Critics review of The Mikado, performed by St Trinians School for Young Ladies. -- Anon Guest
The papers flew in, and for once, the girls did not blow up the paperboy. They'd been waiting for these particular editions with bated breath. They were the ones with the reviews in them. The girls wanted to read about the raving.
The dozen or so in the cast thundered down the stairs to their school song, "Maidens of Saint Trinians, gird your armour on/ Grab the ne-arest weapon, never mind which one/ The battle's to the strongest, might is always right/ Trample on the weakest, glory in their plight!" The girls who were awake and not currently nursing a hangover joined in for the chorus. And then fell into silence for the rest of it, "Stride towards your fortune, boldly on your way/ Never once forgetting there's one born ev'ry day/ Let our motto be broadcast, 'get your blow in first'/ She who draws the sword last always comes off worst!"
By the end of the second chorus, they had retrieved the papers and undiplomatically divided them by a brief round of Stab Dodge Grapple[1]. And the victors took plinth positions as they paged through to the reviews.
"More blood than I expected," read Faith. "The performance had more grounding in a grand guignol than messrs Gilbert and Sullivan. Oxbury Times."
Cheers abounded from the conscious.
"I was rather confused by the plethora of understudies until I realised that the weapons and the injuries were real," read Charity, "Binkworthy Herald."
Hoots and hollers.
"Murder! Bloody Murder," cheered Constance. "Titbury Whistler."
Riotous cheering. Followed in time by merely a riot.
As far as the girls were concerned, the play had been a hit.
[1]: A fine St. Trinians tradition that only ends in minor wounds unless someone let Cynthia steal her punch dagger back.
[AN: All of y'all who are unfamiliar with St. Trinians, educate yourselves and look up the comics. It was funnier when that sort of stuff was unexpected.]
[Image (c) Ronald Serle]
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