Sidone went on. “Kate is depicted as a shrew because she thinks that men seek to disempower her. As indeed she might. You have only to think of me, girls, last term, a delicate woman pitting herself against the bullying male forces of darkness, Mr. Smitheebottom, the assistant tax inspector.”

Monty started sighing, “Aaaaaah, me. Madam, the plague that is my sex.”

Sidone wafted herself with her pussycat mask and smiled coyly from behind it, glancing at Monty.

Monty tried to cross his legs carelessly. Sadly his legs were willing, but his tights were not, so he changed it to a sort of scissor-legs effect.

Sidone said to him, “Nay, nay, Mr. de Courcy, you are not as other men!”

We all looked at each other and raised our eyebrows.

Sidone went on pacing up and down. “So, girls, how do we stage a play like this? In a modern way. In our way. Mr. de Courcy and I will improvise on the theme of male versus female, to give you some ideas.”

Monty started to strut around. Puffing his chest out. Vaisey said quietly, “Why is he being a chicken?”

I said, “Perhaps he’s feeling a bit peckish.”

Sidone stood on the other side of the room, facing Monty. Just watching him and doing acting laughing. He was still chickening about.

Sidone yelled, “Desist, you larrikin! You man!!!”

Monty did a comedy double-take and mid-strut put his hands on his hips. He shouted back, “Fie, madam, a curse on your bustle!”

Sidone stepped towards him shouting, “My bustle? My bustle!!! You rapscallion in tight trousers!”

Monty stepped nearer. “Aha!!! My tight trousers?! A shiny groat for your hard and straining stays, MADAM!”

We watched in amazement as they got nearer and nearer to each other. Shouting insults all the way.

“Prancing poltroon!!!”

“Wittering wench!”

“Lumpy lout!”

“Prattling primpbottom!”

Until they were nose to nose.

And both yelled together, “Touché!!!” and fell into each other’s arms.

Sidone said, “Oh, my Petruchio.”

And Monty said, “Ah, my sweet Kate.”

Flossie whispered, “They’re not going to snog, are they?”

And they started to waltz.

Then it was our turn. Half of us had to be boys and half girls. Sadly I’d got Jo as my partner and she said, “I’m the bloke.”

She joined the other “blokes” and I joined the “ladies.” Insults began flying backwards and forwards across the room. Everyone was really getting into it.

Jo took an enormous step forward and shouted, “I can see your corkers from here!”

I shouted back, “You’re not supposed to take such a big step, you loon.”

She shouted, “Oh, shut up, going on, you lanky streak of lard.”

I shouted, “I’m not going on actually, you criminal.”

Jo shouted, “I’ll give your nose a big lick in a minute.”

Oh. Oh.

In a quiet shout I said, “Don’t you dare start that.”

Jo yelled, “Or what? Show us your corkers!”

I yelled back, “Shut up, you big, you big black crow!”

Jo had got a glint in her eye now. She was so close I could see it. She said, “You know you love it!”