With the best of intentions, and the sincerest of apologies for the limitations imposed upon us, (the good Lord forgive us) the company is overjoyed to celebrate the victory of Lord Punch.

For your enjoyment he has triumphed over Satan upon the devil’s own ground as represented here within the confines and boundaries of our humble proscenium. Within the limitations circumscribed by our humble stage, Lord Punch has been our trusty guide and mentor during the trouble tossed, teapotted tempest that is, has been and most likely always will be, the worrisome lot of the common man.

We mourn the loss of the Beadle, Jim Crow, the Clown, the Doctor and Jack Ketch, they have all been dispatched by Lord Punch and his trusty cudgel and poker, some by accident and some by design. Even Punch's very much adored wife and child have shared a similar fate and are no more. In spite of his quick temper and his awkward thrusts with cracked cudgel and bent poker, he stands victorious as the aforesaid members of the cast lie moldering on our tiny stage floor.

God bless you all. I confirm to you my most sincere thanks for your attention, patronage and support, and I hope you'll come out handsome with your gold and silver when the plate comes round.