Imogen: Come quickly Hermione. Look out of the window. Tell me I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.

Hermione: Relax. It’s fine. It’s Jory the out of work tin miner. You met him in church at the carol service.

Imogen: I feared as much. I knew I’d seen him recently.

Vere: Ah! Hello girls. Did one hear excited voices?

Imogen: Vere. Turn the hounds loose at once, Vere. We have an intruder in the grounds.

Vere: Isn’t that a bit nineteenth century Russian, old girl?

Hermione: More like Ivan the Terrible I think. You can’t...

Imogen: Some pre-Revolution Russian ideas are worth adopting. Please do it at once.

Hermione: Stop! It’s Jory. You can’t turn the dogs on him.

Vere: Hwah! Hwah! Jory eh? He’s not an intruder. Splendid chap. I invited him here.

Imogen: You’re going soft in the head Vere. What on earth are you thinking? He’s not our type of person at all. I insist you set the dogs loose at once.

Vere: Hwah! Hwah! You’re over reacting old girl. Magnificent fellow. Played in goal for Penzance Magpies. They’ve still got a photo of me in their clubhouse.

Imogen: Why’ve you invited him here? Do you want Jasper and Seraphima listening to his hideous mangled English?

Vere: I’ve asked him to put up some goal posts in the garden for Jasper.

Imogen: Somewhere out of sight I hope.

Vere: Where I can see them from my study window. I’ve arranged for his son to come round and play football with Jasper.

Imogen: This is just too awful. But I suppose if it’s just the goal posts and he goes away afterwards never to be seen again, I can cope with that. So long as his boy doesn't expect to come inside the house.

Vere: Actually I’ve got a rather nice surprise for you darling.

Imogen: I hope it’s not like your nice last surprise. I really didn’t enjoy sleeping beside an open sewer surrounded by drug dealers and hypodermic needles.

Vere: Hwah! Hwah! Not quite how I'd describe Glastonbury.

Hermione: And it was worth it for Bruce Springsteen.

Vere: Mansions of glory in suicide machines. Don’t write them like that anymore.

Imogen: You’re in on this, aren’t you Hermione?

Hermione: Me? Whatever...

Vere: You know you’ve always been going on about our needing a butler and housekeeper.

Imogen: Yes Vere. Be careful how you break this to me.

Hermione: You’ll love this one Imogen.

Imogen: Why is one not convinced?

Vere: I’ve persuaded Jory and his wife to be our butler and housekeeper.

Imogen: You’ve done what?

Vere: Hwah! Hwah! I knew you’d be thrilled.

Imogen: One means mortified surely. He’ll be as much use as a donkey at the Derby. And as for that slattern...

Vere: No listen. They’re going to be apprentices. Hugo’s sorted it all out for us. He’ll be trained by someone who used to work at Buckingham Palace.  Minimum wage for three years. We get a government grant and Charles will cough up a few quid from one of his charities.  It’s hardly going to cost us a penny. Hwah! Hwah!

Hermione: Please say yes Imogen. He’s been out of work for a year and he’s desperate for a job. And he’s a lovely man.

Imogen: Let me put on my spectacles. Ah that’s better. Perhaps he’ll look all right in white shirt and tails and gloves... and it will be nice to have someone to polish the silver and clean the Aga. He can come round when I’m shopping so I don’t have to see him.

Vere: And we can do proper dinner parties darling. All the trimmings. Someone to take the hats and coats.

Imogen: It doesn’t look as if I’m going to have any say in this. Very well. He’s on trial for one week and if I don’t like him he goes. Grant or no grant.

Hermione: Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Mwah! Mwah! Mwah!

Imogen: Please control yourself. You’re ruining my make-up.