The story so far.

Tall, angry, acquitant, aristocratic beekeeper, Sir Trantam housemower, is hiding in the priest hole of his 16th century castle,

accompanied only by his small dog Edwin, played by Luther Ray Abel with the help of a sheepskin rug.

Woof, woof.

Oh, I see. The agency said you were a charming actor, but I...

I guess not.

Below stairs roams the voluptuous, lascivious, and yet inexplicably pescatarian pastry chef,

Angelique, who, in a fit of monstrous jealousy, has armed herself with a tattered copy of gentlemen's weekly,

a slice of last night's plum pudding,

and a rolling pin she inherited from a long lost aunt.

Ten thousand feet above them in a biplane of his own invention, roars the flying ace Cavendishmak Henhouse, also played by Luther Abel, wearing a pair of goggles that he picked up at

World War I auction in Bavaria.

Swish. I say swush. Swish. Unbeknownst to all at this very moment, a knock.

Swish. What? Swish. I'm an airplane. I know, but I think we've had enough swishes. You can never have enough swishes.

I beg to differ. Anyhow. We wouldn't have this problem if you'd written me a proper part.

Wow. That's all I wanted, Charlie. A good part in the play, but you won't let me. You never let me.

I offered you Angelique. Well, yes, but I'm married. It's not what I meant. I even got you a feather boa and a series of rolling pin jousting lessons.

It's not enough.

All right, then.

I guess we should forget it.

I'm sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen.

I was assured by the agency that Luther was a, quote, charming Shakespearean actor, but

...