LOOK, TWO SLICES OF CENSORED CHEESE AND THE SHOW MUST GO ON!

So to the opening night and the song of the excited actors – “waiting in the wings”. But the harm of censorship too, just like the need for Royal approval, with the intervention of the head of the King’s secret police, Monsieur Malleece, and the closure of the old Paris theatre! Eeeeek.

But never fear, Bobolan is here, for his very first meeting with Jean Baptiste Moliere, where he finds his courage and persuades him to visit the King of France himself, Louis XIV. Who, as it happens, has a secret taste for musical theatre himself and sings “DOING THE REGAL RAG”. Before a mouse in Moliere’s pocket, who the King can’t hear, leads to a sudden turn around of fortunes…Hooray!

LYRICS – WAITING IN THE WINGS

Reprise

Look who’s back in Paris
Just the name to know
Life’s a gas in Paris
When you’re at a show!

Some are sane, others cracked
Some make pots of clay
But since I was a girl, I’ve longed to act
To act in a Moliere play…

The show is going up
The seats are almost full
Waiting to speak
Feels like a week!
The night is still so young
A song that’s not yet sung
Lord, I feel weak
What do you seek?

And will you hate us
Or will you fate us?
My hands are shaking,
On the verge of fainting,
See what the crowd brings
Think only good things
When you are waiting in the wings…

(Bobolan’s wonder at the crowd…)

At least the play’s a pull
The theatre’s almost full
And that’s a fact,
Waiting to act.

My play will soon be born
Each one’s another dawn.
Will they react
Jeer or applaud?

And will you love it
Tell us where to shove it?
My knees are knocking
Now I’ve torn a stocking
See what the night brings
Hope only good things
When you are waiting in the wings…

Will it be a smash hit,
Will he have to trash it?
Will they their lob some thunder at
Or just come to wonder at…

It’s magic waiting in the wings…

Will it be a smash hit,
Will he have to trash it?
Will they their lob some thunder at
Or just come to wonder at…

It’s magic walking from the wings…

(So Bobolan meets his hero and takes him to see a King, which is quite tricky to stage!)

LYRICS- DOING THE REGAL RAG

It’s really very hard to be King
Even the King of France
They don’t let you play, and never let you sing
And they very rarely let you dance!

It’s really rather drab to be boss
Even as bright as the sun!
They think you’re always stern, or cruel, or cross
And never let you have much fun.

High in Paris
On your toes
(Don’t tell Malleece)
Here’s the way the rhythm goes now –
In my throne room,
Don’t look down
With a show tune
Earn my crown!

It’s really rather dull to be right
Even when I’m Divine!
They don’t let you see the palace in the night
But they always wake you up on time!

I’d rather be an actor of plays,
Isn’t the prospect so neat?
And while away my time, and spend my days
A bishop, villain, slave or cheat!

(Enter messenger)

In my palace
No one knows,
(Even Malleece)
Here’s the way the rhythm goes
Clap, dance, tap, sing
Never pause,
Even Sun King’s
Need applause!

It really isn’t hard to have fun
Doing the Regal Rag
As long as I creep, shaded from the sun
And keep my promise not to drag!

It’s really very tough to be me
Even playing this part,
But since I have to rule, I’ll still be free
And hike your bloomin’ tax to start!

Enter Moliere with a brave Mouse in this pocket…

Mr Moliere’s Mouse (aka CHEESE), Royal Academy of Music workshop. Story, book and lyrics by David Clement-Davies, music by Michael Jeffrey. All rights reserved Phoenix Ark Press 2014.

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WHAT A CITY IS THIS!

Well, forget the rats, or a journey down into the terrible Paris sewers, and sing of the wonder Bobolan feels seeing Paris and just being alive…!

LYRICS – WHAT A CITY IS THIS!

What a city this is, what a brave new world
What people, what wonders, what streets
There’s everything here, like a banner unfurled,
Like a star-spattered heaven, where worlds have been hurled
Or a heart, that eternally beats.

What a town this is, what a marvelous dream
What houses, what buildings, what lights
A place that’s forever, where all can be seen
From a lord to a beggar, a cat to a Queen
From crime, to earthly delights
What a City is this?

EVICTION!

Walk through the city, seeking a home
People all dreaming and people all scheming
And people all alone.
Lost in the city, walk on your own
Guard for the danger that creeps in the wings
Barred like a stranger, but ready to sing
That’s the thing
Sing!

What a fable is this, yes, a story worth telling
What music, what rhythm, what tone
Though hard when the smells in the lanes are repelling
The citizens all on the point of rebelling
This Mouse is walking alone
Am I really alone?

No, I’m never alone
And I think I see home…

THE PEOPLE AND PARIS MOB SWEEP BOBOLAN UP…

Mr Moliere’s Mouse, aka CHEESE, from The Royal Academy of Music workshop. Story, book and lyrics by David Clement-Davies, music by Michael Jeffrey. Phoenix Ark Press All Rights Reserved.

 

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AS CHEESE CONTINUES, NOW, TO RAISE HIS SPIRITS, BOBOLAN FALLS AMONG THIEVES!

Well, after meeting all those terrible, tragic characters down in the filthy Paris sewers of course Bobolan must meet lovely Collette and sing their love song “Now I know his Face“. To hear it again just CLICK HERE. But separated from Colette and his family and getting further and further from the theatre and his dreams, now our hero falls among thieves and their leader Zola, quite a mouseketeer!

So, to take us to the interval and thunderous applause, but to underline needed rehearsal too, nervous and rather skeptical Bobolan meets the sharpest bunch of cut purses and murderous mouse pads in all of Paris, with good hearts though and plenty of courage! Who of course adopt Bobolan immediately, show him how to fight and celebrate the fact that he wants to be an actor. But who exactly are they and what do they do?!

LYRICS – SONG OF THE DESPERATE CREW

What a place, is it true?

Just sit down and listen, you.
Take some wine, break some bread

First, please tell me, who are you?

We’re the wild bunch,
We’re the brat pack,
We’re the meanest dudes around
We’re the cool gang,
On a free lunch,
We’re the keenest crooks in town.

Down here, near us,
You can’t fear us
Zola’s word will do
Though you’re here late,
Drink a beer, mate
Join our gang, won’t you?

And we’ll all gang up to show you what to do
Yeah, we’re all join in to praise our Desperate Crew!

Just budge up – why don’t you?
Then sit up and listen, do.

Take some cheese,
Break some bread.

First, please tell me, what you do!

If you knew the sew-ers,
Where the cut-throats creep,
Soon you’d learn the lesson – that our life is cheap!
If you lived in fe-ar
Starving for some bread
Nights – as black as coal – are never done with
Days – that eat your soul – you can’t have fun with
How we’ve all bled
While we’re living down here.

Where is here, is this true?

YES – sit down and list-en do!
Rob some cheese
Steal some bread

First, PLEASE tell me, who are you?

We’re the Brat Pack
In a Rat Race
We’re the keenest swords around
We’re the Cool Bunch
On a free brunch
We’re the meanest dudes in town.

Don’t be wary, down here near us
Zola’s word is true
It ain’t scary – IF you hear us
Join our gang, yeah do.
Then we’all all be here to show you something new
Now we’ve all joined in to praise a Desperate Crew!

THE CREW PERFORM FOR BOBOLAN

For it’s often fun – when you’re on the run
And your colleagues aren’t so able
And you’re not alone, in our nice snug home
And there’s food upon the table

Cheese and meat and bread and wine

But it’s really great, when it’s getting late
And you wander down the cobbles
Then you stumble son, on a very tidy sum
Stolen from the nobles!

THE GROG TAKES EFFECT

We’re the Brat Pack
In a Rat Race
We the keenest blades around
We’re the Cool Bunch
On a free Brunch
We’re the meanest dudes in town

But don’t be wary, down here near us
Zola’s words are true
It ain’t scary, if you hear us
Take a nap, yeah do
Then we’ll all be here to show you something new
Now we’ve all laid down to dream a Desperate Crew!

THUNDEROUS MOUSE APPLAUSE AND COMMENTS FROM THE INVESTORS!

MR MOLIERE’S MOUSE, aka CHEESE, aka LES MOUSERABLES – Story, book and lyrics by David Clement-Davies, music by Michael Jeffrey. From the Royal Academy of Music Workshop. Sound effects by Lee Crichlow. All rights strictly reserved. 2014

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PARIS, SEWERS, ROMANIANS AND HAVE YOU RUSHED OUT TO VOTE IN THE EUROPEAN ELECTIONS?

It felt very odd voting in the European and local elections this morning, simply out of too long a sense of disconnection, perhaps. But have you rushed out to vote, to prove we aren’t that apathetic and to stop not only the rise of UKIP but far right parties right across Europe? Which brings up Nigel Farrage, Cheese, sewers and Romanians! The night before last there was the most tragic and terrifying report not on sewers, like those terrible Paris sewers of a blogged musical, but the tunnels beneath Bucharest, in the Romanian capital and especially the abandoned young people living there. I heard about them nearly 25 years ago, when I went to Romania just after the ‘revolution’ and the shooting of Ceaucescu ad his wife, that bitter winter. Which somehow highlighted the brutality of Romanian politics itself. A society where somehow the twentieth century met a kind of rural peasant world, stuck back 200 hundred years ago, before even the Russian Revolution. That brave Newsnight film might well make us count our blessings, know how hugely lucky we are, because in those hot house tunnels everyone is HIV positive, mostly out of sharing needles, or hooked on glue sniffing, to cut through the pain. It is still a tragedy and rather than clearing it just to try to cover up, EU money and help must be given to Romanians to help themselves, bit by bit, which will be much harder than any band aid. It is also tragic greater advances have not been made there in nearly a quarter of a Century.

Yet on the day of the elections does that make Nigel Farrage right about his supposedly throw away remark on Romanians living next door or coming here? Of course not, as the comic Stuart Lee so brilliantly spoofed one UKIP councillor talking about the Little England mentality of ‘them’ ‘stealing our jobs’, by ploughing through the history of vital British immigrant influence, from now to the Huguenots, back to the Anglo Saxons to the Beaker peoples and then to fish crawling out of the sea onto land! I would add the Normans or the story of ‘aliens, foreigners and strangers’ settling in London and especially Southwark in Shakespeare’s London, especially the Flemish and the Dutch. Shakespeare’s plays are much the friend to strangers in all foreign lands. It was the Privy Council’s resistance to pot stirring voices like Sir Walter Raleigh’s that stamped a tolerance then, in a far more violent and brutal capital, and partly just to protect business.

I don’t have a huge problem with Farrage as a man, he’s fairly bright and seems to have decency too, while political correctness is also an enemy in any democracy. I do have a problem with such single issue politics, which so often both masks and encourages atavistic hatreds, fears and stupidities, not to mention lunatic candidates, and to give people power on the strength of such issues alone is totally wrong. It is the proper function of policing and real law and justice that must deal with true criminal elements, at home and abroad, for any arguments about specific border powers and controls, not prejudice and projected fear. But it is also apathy that has for so long given the UK its real problem with Europe. Perhaps understandably out of traditions of uniqueness, independence and Empire too, we have always thought ourselves slightly better than Europeans and could have had far more positive impact on those institutions too, by playing a more direct and indeed leading role from the outset. Basically that means taking our sense of law, institutions, decency and self worth, if we haven’t lost them in little England fear and ignorance or the banking corruption that allowed the likes of Goldman Sach’s influence in Greece, back into Europe, to change the system, with the sense of what’s really Great in Britain. Then of course the truth of globalisation and the modern world is we need to see ourselves as part of one planet too. I think people should rush out to vote to mark their opposition to UKIP then, but whatever happens, voting will prove you are not apathetic or simply grumbling.

DCD

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NOW IT’S TIME TO GO DOWN, DOWN INTO THE TERRIBLE PARIS SEWERS

So, with the old Paris theatre open again Bobolan gets to see some wonderful acting and dream his dreams, (with an in-the-wings argument about calling a musical CHEESE!) But with all the noise and those enormous human feet around, Scarapino and the rats decide to take it out on the mice and drive the poor Mousette family down into the underworld and the terrible Paris sewers! Where, inspired by Victor’s sewing and Hugo’s writings perhaps, as Bobolan dreams of a play, we really meet that miserable, struggling mass of mousery, who sing their song too…

LYRICS – WE HAVEN’T EATEN FOR A WEEK

We haven’t eaten for a week
We never rest and barely sleep
We’re lost and hungry, cold and sad,
What hope is there
When life is cheap
When life is Maaaa-ad?

We know the price we have to pay
The cost of living every day
We’re racked with illness, half insane
What health is there
When life is cheap
When life is Paaaa-in?

Pain and sadness, fear and sorrow
Total madness, no tomorrow
Tell us why?
Here we live in filth and horror
Born in darkness, raised in squalor
Where’s the sky?

Our friends will cheat us of our bread
We only eat, when someone’s dead
Our only reason, if we fight
What peace is there when life is cheap
When life is bliii-ght?

We pick our living through the dust
But rarely dare to ever trust
We wade through filth and live in grime
What love is there
When life is cheap
When life’s a crime?

Crime and evil
Hate and blindness
No more love and no more kindness
Born to die!

Thus we wade through vice, not virtue
Born to cheat you, raised to hurt you
Tell us why?

ANGELIC VOICES
We wait like shadows for the end
A fate that waits round every bend
What kind of life is this we lead
So wrought with sickness, filled with need?
What can we do but cry and weep
When life’s so cheap.

Story, book and lyrics by David Clement-Davies, brilliant music by Michael Jeffrey, Copyright Phoenix Ark Press 2014. This sequence was sound synced by the multi bafta winner Lee Crichlow. PS M Jeffrey is a twat (this is the personal opinion of the author and has no reflection on any real characters involved.)

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THEN OF COURSE ENTER THE YOUNGEST OF THE MOUSETTES AND OUR HERO – BOBOLAN

But if the Mousettes are both troubled and noisy, and Victor is obsessed with practicalities, our stuttering hero Bobolan simply must go on dreaming…

LYRICS – ‘DREAMS’

Dreams, we’re all made of dreams
Or so it seems.
Dreams, we’re all in a dream
What can dreams mean?
I dreamt last night
While I wandered the moon
That her snout was made of cheese.
And I dreamt the earth
As I dozed in my room
Was rich with kindness and ease.
Dreams, we’re just made of dreams
Or so it seems.
Dreams, we’re all in a dream
What can dreams mean?
I dreamt one day that I’d walk like a King
And climb on a marvellous throne
Then love a girl on a beautiful swing
With her I’m never alone.
Oh Dreams, we’re all made of dreams
Or so it seems.
Dreams, we’re all in a dream
What can dreams mean?

(Bobolan’s head almost explodes as he looks around the theatre)

Dreams, we’re all need our dreams
Like bright sunbeams.
Bright, that’s how you should dream
The brightest dream.
To take you far from the dark and fear
To a world where all is light
Where all our loves are so happy and near
And no one fears the night.
Dreams, that’s just what they seem
They’re bright sunbeams.
Dream a beautiful dream
That’s what I mean.
For nothing’s as bright as a dream
There’s nothing as bright as a dream…

(Return of Moliere’s Company to the old Paris theatre)

 

Royal Academy of Music workshop of Mr Moliere’s Mouse (aka Cheese). Story, book and lyrics by David Clement-Davies, music by Michael Jeffrey. Phoenix Ark Press 2014. All rights reserved.

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In Cheese, or Les Mouserables, ENTER THE FAMILY MOUSETTE!

So, ignoring whether the 12 days of Christmas run up to Christmas day, or Twelfth Night, and in a Dickensian spirit of ‘carolling’, a little more of the musical Mr Moliere’s Mouse (Cheese).  Set in Pre Revolutionary Paris it is about the Old Paris Theatre, where a family of mice live below the stage. Our hero, the stuttering Bobolan, who dreams of being an actor, his father Victor, a tailor, uncle Hugo, who wants to be a writer, Victor’s frantic Spanish wife Maria, and the children, Pierre, Collette and Marie Antoinette. Facing Scarapino and the rat’s invasion of the Theatre, and a host of woes, including having to finish Scarapina’s dress, but in the spirit of Pierre wanting to join the army, they sing!

LYRICS – “When you’re really in a hole” – The Mousette’s Anthem

When you’re really in a hole
When you’re down, just like a mole
Draw your sword from out its sheath
Raise your head from underneath
And Mouse the barricades!

When you’re starving, for a crust
When your tail, drags through the dust
Draw your sword from out its sheath
Push your snout from underneath
And Mouse the Barricades!

Twitching, stitching,
Writing, fighting
Looking for some cheese
Flirting, skirting
Often hurting, life is never ease

Forever on the go
Clothes I have to sew!
Just the job
To lead us on to fame.
Oh my god,
Please take me back to Spain!

(Medley)

MARIA
I’m a donya, a Mouse with class
Whose pride you should not shame
Now I’m always slaving, my family’s raving
Just send me/her back to Spain!

ALL
When the Mousettes sing a song
Then the sorrow’s never long
Lift your chin and flash a smile
Find a husband with a pile
And Mouse the Barricades!

Peeking, sneeking
Dreaming, scheming
Dodging Paris cats!
Prancing, dancing
Always chancing,
Waiting for the rats

Forever on the make
(Victor – ‘I’m sewing’!)
Cakes I have to bake!
(Maria – ‘I’m going!’)
Just the job, to lead us on to fame
Oh my God, please take us back to Spain!

We work and slave, just to earn some cheese
But soldiers, we’re singing, a stirring reprise
We toil and chore, just to meet our debts
A family, together, the brave Mousettes!

(Medley)

CHILDREN
When your dresses, are in rags
And your sisters, look like hags!
Thread the needle, start to stitch
Dream you’re happy, loved and rich
And Mouse the Barricades!

VICTOR
I’m a Tailor, A Mouse of threads
A King of bows and braids
Now I’m always sewing, my clothes are growing
So Mouse the Barricades!

ALL
When you’re really in a hole
When you’re down, just like a mole
Draw your swords from out their sheaths
Stand up straight, not on yours knees
And Mouse the Barricades,
And Mouse the Barricades!

Story, book and lyrics by David Clement-Davies, music by Michael Jeffrey, Phoenix Ark Press 2014. All rights reserved.

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BITING DOWN ON THE MOULDY CHEESE!

I tell you what, this Mr Moliere’s Mouse thing may be a work of incandescent genius, but what it needs is a bit more bite! So to go inside the old Paris theatre and meet the villains of the piece, lording it up in their balconies, Scarapino, his lady love Scarapina, having her beautiful birthday dress made by Bobolan’s tailoring father Victor, and the rats. Their theme song is very Kurt Weil!

LYRICS – Song of the Rats

Teeth, teeth, as yellow as bile
Ready for work, both mean and vile
Stand on guard at the theatre door
Greet the leader with an ea-ea-ea-ea-ger paw

Kings of crime, Lords of vice
Making slaves of the stupid mice,
Stay awake, don’t take a nap
There’s nothing as strong as a dir-ir-ir-ty rat

Teeth, teeth, as yellow as bile
Ready for work, both mean and vile
Stand on guard at the theatre door
Greet the leader with an ea-ea-ea-ea-ger paw

Spreading hate, loving rage
Always there, to hog the stage
On the move, can’t sit still
The rats bring the teeth that will make mice ill!

Teeth, teeth as yellow as bile
Ready for work both mean and vile…

Enter Scarapina and Scarapino, talking of his Lady wife’s tail…

From Mr Moliere’s Mouse (aka Cheese) by David Clement-Davies and Michael Jeffrey, Copyright Phoenix Ark Press 2014. All rights strictly reserved.

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Marathons, Moore and Krishnamurti in Rome

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It’s the Roman marathon today. Big plastic inflatable gates, sponsored by Pepsi and Adidas, are wobbling in the breeze and spring sunlight near the Piazza Espagna, as thousands run the yellow tape lined course, to cheers and claps, and officials handing out soaking sponges, to cool brows along the cobbled course. Roman tourists though seem only partly interested, with so much to see, and as the bells ring out, it has a decidedly scrubbier and more relaxed feel than London or New York. Last night’s amazing super moon has gone, and today spring Rome is beginning to open up and blossom. On the internet Michael Moore is twittering his over easy attacks on the US action in Tripoli, without answering the question of how murderous or mad Gaddafi is, or what should be done to stop more killing. How do you think clearly if you always have the same bad…

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CHEESE – THE CURTAIN RAISER!

For a bit of a laugh and to say Happy Christmas and New Year to Pietrasanta and one and all, the opening of the Musical Cheese (AKA Mr Moliere’s Mouse) workshopped all those years ago at The Royal Academy of Music in London.  ‘N as the man says, God Bless Us Every One!

LYRICS – THE SONG OF THE MOB

Where is this and what are we
Wondering what our fate will be?
Marching bravely through the light and shadows,
Paris raises alters and a gallows
Seeking our destiny
Bondage or liberty

Waiting gaily till they serve our supper
Slaving daily for our bread and butter
Yearning for a thrill
Learning how to kill

Look – we’re called the mob
That’s our job!

Have you known such poverty
Can they want equality?!
Sewing clothes that cover toff or peasant
Making, baking, plucking scrawny pheasant,
Theatres, for you to see
Prisons, won’t set us free

Come join us
Come out and join us – The People

Finding roles that we can make our mark in
Paris street girls love to strike a bargain!
Fighting, for a slice
Gambling, with the dice
Dear, they’re such a mob,
That’s our job!

Death is never far away
And fear is just the price we pay
So tell me, where’s my bread,
I need to ply a trade
And so I’ll fight, not be afraid
This I say

Drinking lovely grog
Scoffing, snails and frog,
Hear that noisy mob,
Spare a bob!

(The Mob speak)

Hope is waiting round the bend
A hope that never, ever ends
So show me to his bed
I ache to know the way
And live to love another day
Thus I pray

(The Church Doctors and Nobles speak)

Love is what we need to feel
A love as deep as it is real
Oh help us on our way
And take me by the hand
Together we can understand
Hand in hand

(Nothing more!)

(MEDLEY)

Where is this and who are we
Do we want fraternity?
Raising houses, filled with hope and sadness
Paris brings us joy or lonely madness
Bitter, our life can be
Life’s not – quite up to me!
Scrambling up from filth and utter squalor
Even Priests can wear a dirty collar

Come be us
Your heart beats through us – in Paris

Love is what we need to feel
A love as deep as it is real
So help us on our way
And take me by the hand
Together we can understand
Hand in hand

Living in the drains
Stinking, for our pains
Strolling through the park
Loving, in the dark
Fighting, for the King
Freedom, that’s the thing!
Jostling, in the crowd
Testing – what’s allowed
There, we’re quite a Mob
Just the job!

Enter Mr Moliere!

Copyright David Clement-Davies, Story, Book and lyrics and Michael Jeffrey, Music, Phoenix Ark Press 2014. All rights reserved.

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