Once upon a time in the year 1985 there was a beautiful land called STRETTON ON DUNSMORE but, although it was beautiful, the good citizens had become very serious. "No laughing", said a notice on the Great Grim tree on the Green. "No silliness", said a notice on a silent telegraph pole. "No singing", said a notice in the sombre pub.
Life was was SERIOUS that some of the younger peasants were revolting. A small band of them met to plan important changes. "What we need is fun", they said. So they decide to hold a variety show. Now this made the citizens smile for a while but the land soon became serious again.
The young peasants thought long and hard. "Then what we need is a pantomime", they said. And in no time at all there was drama from the dramatic, comedy from the comics and quite a lot of pathos... Rustling and hammering, humming and muttering was heard behind dozens of doors as the merrymakers rehearsed for "Cinderella". Sewing machines whirred, paint pots were stirred, notes were scribbled and brows were mopped. For three whole months the rebels locked themselves away in great secrecy.
THE SERIOUS STRETTONIANS were very intrigued. When the day of the show arrived they flocked to see it. As they sat in the darkened hall they could hardly believe their eyes or ears. The young group enjoyed the challenge so much that they stayed together.
Before long they brought plays, musicals, reviews and even more pantomimes to the lucky inhabitants. As they became more ambitious, the number of actors grew and grew - and the size of the stage grew and grew too. At each performance the little audience laughed and clapped so loudly that before long the land became known as Stretton on Funsmore.
Only a very few serious people remained - but most of those were on the PARISH COUNCIL. Twenty five long years passed. The young peasants became wrinkled and crinkled but still they sang and danced. Wonferful talent had been discovered and much hysteria overcome behind the scenes.
Members old and young had become confident and everyone had made good friends. Makeup had become thicker and lights needed dimming, newcomers had arrived and dear ones slipped away but the group had grown stronger. And so by the year 2011 the land was still ringing with laughter and applause for the revolting peasants, who called themselves STRETTON ON STAGE.