[1]

MRS FITZGERALD: Will you make up your mind now, Mrs Pearson dear? Put your foot
down,an’ be the mistress of your own house an’ the boss of your own family.
MRS PEARSON: That’s easier said than done. Besides I’m so fond of them even if they are so
thoughtless and selfish.
MRS FITZGERALD: Let ’em wait or look after themselves for once. This is where your foot
goes down. Start now.
MRS PEARSON: Mrs Fitzgerald —I know you mean well, I just can’t —and it’s no use you
trying to make me.
MRS FITZGERALD: Then let me do it.
MRS PEARSON: It couldn’t possibly be somebody else — they’d resent it at once and wouldn’t
listen
MRS FITZGERALD: We change places. Or — really — bodies. You look like me. I look like
you.
MRS PEARSON: But that’s impossible.
MRS FITZGERALD: How do you know? Ever tried it?
MRS PEARSON: No, of course not...
MRS FITZGERALD: I have. Won’t last long, but long enough for what we want to do. Give me
your hands an’ keep quiet a minute. Just don’t think about anything. [Taking her hands] Now
look at me.
[2]
MRS PEARSON: [now with Mrs Fitzgerald’s personality] See what I mean, dear?
[Mrs Fitzgerald, now with Mrs Pearson’s personality, looks down at herself and sees that her
body has changed and gives a scream of fright.]
MRS FITZGERALD: [with Mrs Pearson’s personality] Oh —it’s happened.
MRS FITZGERALD: But whatever shall I do, Mrs Fitzgerald? George and the children can’t see
me like this.
MRS PEARSON: They aren’t going to —that’s the point. They’ll have me to deal with —only
they won’t know it.
MRS FITZGERALD: But what am I going to do?
MRS PEARSON: Go into my house for a bit — there’s nobody there —then pop back and see
how we’re
doing. You ought to enjoy it. Better get off now before one of ’em comes.
MRS FITZGERALD: Yes — I suppose that’s best. You’re sure it’ll be all right?
MRS PEARSON: It’ll be wonderful. Now off you go, dear.
[3]
DORIS: [before she has taken anything in] Mum— you’ll have to iron my yellow silk. I must
wear it tonight. [astounded] You’re smoking!
MRS PEARSON: That’s right, dear. No law against it, is there?
DORIS: But I thought you didn’t smoke.
MRS PEARSON: Then you thought wrong.
DORIS: Is the tea ready?
MRS PEARSON: Yours isn’t. I’ve had all I want. Might go out later and get a square meal at the
Clarendon.
DORIS: Who might?
MRS PEARSON: I might. Who d’you think?
DORIS: I must say it’s a bit much when I’ve been working hard all day and you can’t even
bother to get my tea ready. Did you hear what I said about my yellow silk? I’m going to wear it
tonight. So I want it ironed.
MRS PEARSON: Want it ironed? What d’you think it’s going to do —iron itself?
DORIS: No, you’re going to iron it for me... You always do.
MRS PEARSON: Well, this time I don’t. I put in twice the hours you do, and get no wages nor
thanks for it. Moreover, why are you going to wear your yellow silk? Where are you going?
DORIS: Out with Charlie Spence.
MRS PEARSON: Why?
DORIS: Why shouldn’t I go out with Charlie Spence if he asks me and I want to? Any
objections?
MRS PEARSON: Can’t you find anybody better? I wouldn’t be seen dead with Charlie Spence.
Buck teeth and half-witted… When I was your age I’d have found somebody better than Charlie
Spence — or given myself up as a bad job.
[4]
CYRIL: Hello —Mum. Tea ready?
MRS PEARSON: No.
CYRIL: Why not?
MRS PEARSON: I couldn’t bother.
CYRIL: Well, snap out of it, Ma —and get cracking. Haven’t too much time.
MRS PEARSON: I’ve plenty of time.
CYRIL: Yes, but I haven’t. Got a busy night tonight. Did you put my things out?
MRS PEARSON: Can’t remember. But I doubt it.
CYRIL: Now—look. When I asked you this morning, you promised. You said you’d have to
look through ‘em first in case there was any mending.
MRS PEARSON: Yes — well now I’ve decided I don’t like mending.
CYRIL: I don’t get this, Mum. What’s going on?
MRS PEARSON: Changes.
[5]
MRS PEARSON: You look terrible. I wouldn’t wear that face even for Charlie Spence.
DORIS: Oh —shut up about Charlie Spence.
MRS PEARSON: [rising and preparing to move to the kitchen] Have we any stout left? I can’t
remember.
CYRIL: Bottle or two, I think. But you don’t want stout now.
MRS PEARSON: I do.
CYRIL: What for?
MRS PEARSON: To drink —you clot!
[6]
DORIS: If she’s going to be like this when Dad comes home... [She giggles]
CYRIL: [beginning to guffaw] I’m staying in for that —two front dress circles for the first
house...
[7]
MRS PEARSON: You two are always talking about being grown-up —why don’t you both try
for once to be your age?
DORIS: [almost tearful again] What’s making you talk like this? What have we done?
MRS PEARSON: Nothing but come in, ask for something, go out again, then come back when
there’s nowhere else to go.
CYRIL: Mind you, I’ve been working all day.
MRS PEARSON: Eight-hour day!
CYRIL: Yes —eight-hour day
MRS PEARSON: I’ve done my eight hours.
CYRIL: That’s different.
MRS PEARSON: It was. Now it isn’t. Forty-hour week for all now. Just watch it at the weekend
when I have my two days off.
[8]
DORIS: Mummy, you don’t mean you’re not going to do anything on Saturday and Sunday?
MRS PEARSON: [airily] No, I wouldn’t go that far. I might make a bed or two and do a bit of
cooking as a favour. Which means, of course, I’ll have to be asked very nicely and thanked for
everything and generally made a fuss of.
[9]
GEORGE: Stout?
MRS PEARSON: Yes.
GEORGE: What are you drinking stout for?
MRS PEARSON: Because I fancied some.
GEORGE: At this time of day?
MRS PEARSON: Yes — what’s wrong with it at this time of day?
GEORGE: Nothing, I suppose, Annie — but I’ve never seen you do it before...
MRS PEARSON: Well, you’re seeing me now.
GEORGE: Yes, an’ I don’t like it. It doesn’t look right. I’m surprised at you.
MRS PEARSON: Well, that ought to be a nice change for you. It must be some time since you
were surprised at me, George.
GEORGE: I don’t like surprises — I’m all for a steady going on —you ought to know that by
this time. By the way, I forgot to tell you this morning I wouldn’t want any tea. Special snooker
match night at the club tonight — an’ a bit of supper going. So no tea.
MRS PEARSON: That’s all right. There isn’t any.
GEORGE: You mean you didn’t get any ready?
MRS PEARSON: Yes. And a good thing, too, as it’s turned out.
GEORGE: That’s all very well, but suppose I’d wanted some?
MRS PEARSON: My goodness! Listen to the man! Annoyed because I don’t get a tea for him
that he doesn’t even want. Ever tried that at the club?
GEORGE: Tried what at the club?
MRS PEARSON: Going up to the bar and telling ’em you don’t want a glass of beer but you’re
annoyed because they haven’t already poured it out. Try that on them and see what you get.
GEORGE: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
MRS PEARSON: They’d laugh at you even more than they do now.
GEORGE: Laugh at me? They don’t laugh at me.
MRS PEARSON: Of course they do. You’re one of their standing jokes. Famous. They call you
Pompy-ompy
Pearson because they think you’re so slow and pompous.
GEORGE: [horrified] Never!
MRS PEARSON: It’s always beaten me why you should want to spend so much time at a place
where they’re always laughing at you behind your back and calling you names. Leaving your
wife at home, night after night. Instead of going out with her, who doesn’t make you look a
fool...
[10]
GEORGE: Here, Cyril, you’ve been with me to the club once or twice. They don’t laugh at me
and call me Pompy-ompy Pearson, do they? [Cyril, embarrassed, hesitates.] [Angrily] Go on
—tell me. Do they?
CYRIL: Well —yes, Dad, I’m afraid they do.
GEORGE: Well —I’ll be — damned!
[11]
It’s that silly old bag from next door —Mrs Fitzgerald. You don’t want her here, do you?
MRS PEARSON: Certainly I do. Ask her in. And don’t call her a silly old bag either. She’s a
very nice woman, with a lot more sense than you’ll ever have.
[12]
Come in, come in, Mrs Fitzgerald.
MRS FITZGERALD: Is George home?
MRS PEARSON: Yes. I’ve been telling him what they think of him at the club.
MRS FITZGERALD: Well, they think a lot of him, don’t they?
MRS PEARSON: No, they don’t. And now he knows it.
MRS FITZGERALD: [nervously] Oh —dear —I wish you hadn’t, Mrs Fitzgerald...
MRS PEARSON: Nonsense! Doing ’em all a world of good. And they’ll be eating out of your
hand soon— you’ll see...
[13]
MRS PEARSON: [taunting him] Why don’t you get off to your club? Special night tonight, isn’t
it? They’ll
be waiting for you —wanting to have a good laugh. Go on then. Don’t disappoint ’em.
GEORGE: [bitterly] That’s right. Make me look silly in front of her now! Go on —don’t mind
me. Sixes and sevens! Poor Doris been crying her eyes out! Getting the neighbours in to see the
fun!
[14]
MRS FITZGERALD: Hello —Doris dear!
DORIS: [miserably] Hello — Mrs Fitzgerald!
MRS FITZGERALD: I thought you were going out with Charlie Spence tonight.
DORIS: [annoyed] What’s that to do with you?
MRS PEARSON: [sharply] Stop that!
MRS FITZGERALD: [nervously] No — its all right...
MRS PEARSON: [severely] It isn’t all right. I won’t have a daughter of mine talking to anybody
like that. Now answer Mrs Fitzgerald properly, Doris —or go upstairs again...
MRS PEARSON: [fiercely] Well? Answer her.
DORIS: [sulkily] I was going out with Charlie Spence tonight —but now I’ve called it off...
MRS FITZGERALD: Oh —what a pity, dear! Why have you?
DORIS: [with a flash of temper] Because —if you must know —my mother’s been going on at
me making me feel miserable —an’ saying he’s got buck-teeth and is half-witted...
MRS FITZGERALD: [rather bolder; to Mrs Pearson] Oh —you shouldn’t have said that...
MRS PEARSON: [sharply] Mrs Fitzgerald, I’ll manage my family —you manage yours.
GEORGE: [grimly] Ticking her off now, are you, Annie?
MRS PEARSON: [even more grimly] They’re waiting for you at the club, George, don’t forget.
And don’t
you start crying again, Doris...
MRS FITZGERALD: [getting up; with sudden decision] That’s enough —quite enough.
[George and Doris stare at her bewildered.] [to George and Doris] Now listen, you two. I want to
have a private little talk with Mrs Fitz—[she corrects herself hastily] with Mrs Pearson, so I’ll be
obliged if you’ll leave us alone for a few minutes. I’ll let you know when we’ve finished. Go on,
please. I promise you that you won’t regret it. There’s something here that only I can deal with.
GEORGE: [rising] I’m glad somebody can—’cos I can’t. Come on, Doris.
[15]
MRS FITZGERALD: Mrs Fitzgerald, we must change back now— we really must...
MRS PEARSON: [rising] Why?
MRS FITZGERALD: Because this has gone far enough. I can see they’re all miserable —and I
can’t bear it...
MRS PEARSON: A bit more of the same would do ‘em good. Making a great difference
already...
MRS FITZGERALD: No, I can’t stand any more of it —I really can’t. We must change back.
MRS PEARSON: Well —if you insist...
MRS FITZGERALD: Yes — I do —please — please.
[She stretches her hands across the table eagerly. Mrs Pearson takes them.]
[16]
MRS FITZGERALD: Now —listen, Mrs Pearson. Don’t go soft on ’em again, else it’ll all have
been wasted...
MRS PEARSON: I’ll try not to, Mrs Fitzgerald.
MRS FITZGERALD: Well, what is it you’d like ’em to do that they don’t do? Stop at home for
once?
MRS PEARSON: Yes — and give me a hand with supper...
MRS FITZGERALD: Anything you’d like ’em to do —that you enjoy whether they do or not?
MRS PEARSON: [hesitating] Well—yes. I— like a nice game of rummy —but, of course, I
hardly ever have one — except at Christmas...
MRS FITZGERALD: That’ll do then. But remember —keep firm —or you’ve had it. [She opens
the door. Calling] Hoy! You can come in now. [17] I’m just off. To let you enjoy yourself.
[18]
DORIS: [anxiously] Yes, Mother?
MRS PEARSON: [smiling] Seeing that you don’t want to go out, I tell you what I thought we’d
do.
MRS FITZGERALD: [giving a final warning] Remember!
MRS PEARSON: [nodding, then looking sharply at the family] No objections, I hope?
GEORGE: [humbly] No, Mother —whatever you say...
MRS PEARSON: [smiling] I thought we’d have a nice family game of rummy —and then you
children could get the supper ready while I have a talk with your father...
GEORGE: [firmly] Suits me. [He looks challengingly at the children.] What about you two?
CYRIL: [hastily] Yes — that’s all right.
DORIS: [hesitating] Well —I...
MRS PEARSON: [sharply] What? Speak up!
DORIS: [hastily] Oh —I think it would be lovely...
MRS PEARSON: [smiling] Good-bye, Mrs Fitzgerald. Come again soon.
MRS FITZGERALD: Yes, dear. ’Night all —have a nice time.
[19]