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Martha
The Tart that 'does'.
Left, or rather was invited to leave, Dorset after the residents of Verwood realised she was related to Richard Cabel (the inspiration for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Hound of the Baskervilles).
Her tearful mother gave her a parting gift of her best dress and some spare curlers. She had to buy her own bra from George (from ASDA that is) but still hasn't realised that in Yorkshire it isn't customary to wear it on the outside.
Pioneer of the coconut implant -easier to source than the silicone implant- get it down the market...
Eschews the traditional tankard for a low slung hot water bottle complete with Mother's ruin.
Rarely to be seen without her..........................
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Black Dog
Were the good folk of Verwood right after all??
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The Vicar
The Vicar was rescued from almost certain disgrace in the
early days by the Tarts, following an ‘unfortunate incident’ at a funeral
involving a heavy glass of communion wine, a pair of warring siblings and some
bike clips. In return for their hospitality he offers divine intervention for
every aspect of Tarting, including ordering rain for when the supposedly ‘big
name sides’ are dancing, to the resurrection of the souls of the fallen women
who make up the Tarts.
The inspiration
for Dick Emery’s Barmy Vicar (before he got his teeth fixed), the Vicar is
actually much older than he appears, and is the high kick specialist of the
team. Just don’t ask him what time the services are on Sunday, as he hasn’t
been inside a church for years.
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The Witch
Mystery surrounds the early years of the Witch. An
apparently ageless specimen, she is believed to be around 300 years old and
hails from the wilds of the South Yorkshire forest. Though, as she is prone to programming her
broomstick’s sat nav system (formerly a cat) incorrectly on a frequent
basis, she has lived all over the country.
She is one of the more elusive members of
the Tarts, latching onto them during one of their Hallowe’en excursions and
feeling quite at home amongst the weird and wonderful characters. A rather grumpy,
plump looking creature, she is to be approached with caution by anyone not
proffering beer or chocolate.
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Arty Tarty
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Celtic Tart
Following the music tradition of Ireland and having roots in Clonakilty on the south coast of Ireland she loves playing music for dancing. Joining the Tarts she continues to play music for the dancing. The team can rely on her to perform the many complex tunes that are favoured by them. |
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The Ever-So-Slightly-Scary Tart
Ever-So-Slightly-Scary Tart has left the safety of the
Rhubarb Triangle to become a Fiddle-Maker’s Assistant in the Scottish Borders. Quite
the scariest move she has ever made! As one of the original Rhubarb Tarts, tarting is in her
blood, and ESSST hopes to make a guest appearance or two when time and
circumstances allow. Until then, should you find yourself in the vicinity of
the Scottish Borders, watch out for her with Small Strings musical instruments and continuing the true
Reivers’ tradition of terrorising the inhabitants of small, picturesque
villages…
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Lady Tart
Lady Tart is the senior member of the Rhubarb Tarts. She was
initially drafted in to enable the slightly flagging Tarts gene pool with a bit
of class, elegance and the ability to make the meanest pavlova this side of
Russia.
However not even the cultured vowels and globetrotting escapades of
this most elegant creature was enough to bring the standard of new recruits up
to the desired level, so she passes the time whooping the Mississippi, banging
an exotic variety of drums, sitting in any old gutter and making sure that the
Tartlet has a ready supply of crisps so that chaos does not ensue.
A truly
fascinating Tart.
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Feather Tart
Often confused with being the Vicar’s carer, the Feathery
one is actually one of the founding members of the Tarts. Unfullfilled by being
a long standing member of just ONE team, she yearned to spread her wings
(covering everything with feathery bits) and dance dance wherever she may be.
After everyone else had stopped sneezing, they agreed that yes, she might be on
to something and....
LO! It became that on the First Day of Rhubarb the Feather
gave to all ten tambourinemen, nine lime and sodas, eight tankards gleaming,
seven muscles aching, six bangles clinking, FIIIIVE DIFFERENT HATS!!!, four
packs of tissues, three tubes of Savlon, two pairs of glasses and a fine Molly
dancer was born! (There are also rumours she is responsible for the arrival of
the Witch, claims she frequently denies).
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Hungry Tart
Another rather more cultured member of the Tarts, and one of
the more recognisable with his bright red Fez and assortment of instruments,
the Hungry Tart is also one of the original crew. Always on hand for those
wishing to know where the nearest cafe is, HT is a versatile musician. He was taught
how to play the squeezebox by a Moroccan pharmacist in Tangiers, whilst he was
searching for a pork pie one rainy afternoon.
The Hungry One was so entranced by the cocktail of music he could
produce from this wonderous instrument that he missed his tea for the first
time in some 60 years. He was so grateful to the pharmacist that he brought the
instrument to the Tart community and adopted the Fez in honour of the
pharmacist’s favourite comedian Mr Tommy Cooper (RIP).
He is rarely allowed to
wander on his own during breaks in dances, so if you spot him on your travels,
do escort him back to where he belongs.
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Princesstarta
The country of Sweden has given us many fine things- the
Vikings, IKEA and Stefan Edberg immediately spring to mind- however one its finest
exports has to be the Princesstarta, who comes armed with an insatiable appetite
for dance and an even more insatiable appetite for ice cream.
A devotee of the
fine work of ABBA, our little Chiquita rarely meets his Waterloo during a
session, mainly due to being the Dancing Queen (and always knowing where the
nearest public convenience is- ask him if you see him. Quite extraordinary...).
Should an SOS be required due to a lame Tart, the team are always happy to Take
A Chance On Him as he is indeed a Super Trouper of the highest order.
The baby
of the team (barring any Tartlets), the Scandinavian Fernando is rather a shy
creature, however he is producing a promising double act with the Witch,
determined as they are to be the Bruce and Tess of Molly dance.
We never need
to ask him Does Your Mother Know as....
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Top Tart
is his mother
Can be seen at most dance outs mouthing the next figure to whoever will listen.....this is because she is the repository-yes you read that right- of The Dances.
What more can be said of the creator of Gregory's Powder- the dance obviously, not the ACTUAL pharmaceutical preparation.
Why Top Tart?
Well Rhubarb Tarts are mainly her fault - she did say it was possible, and a few of them believed her.
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The Duchess
Whether she chooses to dress up to her 'Duchiness' or adopt a less elegant look our pocket sized Duch slots in dancing with us between her many diplomatic engagements. She can be a rather formidable founder member, making it her duty to ensure we all maintain Rhubarb standards. As a former Pixie Tart, brought up in magical circles it would be foolish to cross her. With a penchant for pink she lives up to her life's goal of growing old disgracefully - which she achieves with dignity & style. |
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The Cow Man
The Cowman is a parttime Tart-his other job is on the Faaarrm. Don't look too closely at the Fiddle strings you may not like to know what they're made of.......
Lucky audiences may get the chance to see him perform in his signature dance, Pandemonium. The trick is to understand that it's actually everyone else who's going the wrong way- though those in the know will realise it's because he's from Nottingham. If you can't make head nor tail of this please be reassured that we can't either.
The Cowman once provided the practise venue for the Tarts and kept it looking ship shape and bristol fashion for our weekly get togethers. He'd even provide clothes pegs for your nose if the 'residents ' were in the back.
We remember with fondness the freezing and smelly practices in the Cowshed: though now we've graduated to the 'Harrogate of the Rhubarb Triangle' better known as The Cluntergate Centre, Horbury
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MC Tart
Now what can be said about MC Tart? Whilst there have been
many truly great MCs over the years- Shabba, Solaar and, of course, Hammer- MC
Tart actually got his name quite by accident. Born not that many moons ago
following a dalliance betwixt his turtle chef mother and a mysterious Lord of
the Realm who liked a tipple and was rather dyslexic. So what should have been
MR Tart ended up as MC Tart- spellchecker being at a rather primitive stage in
those days. Not wishing to disappoint his father (even though no one was ever
quite sure who he was) MC Tart took to learning a weird and wonderful variety of
instruments. Attempting first the Squirrel mandolin, graduating to the
Caribbean keyboard and finally to the Fruity Squeezebox (sniff it if you don’t
believe me!).
Along the way MC Tart learned how to charm a crowd like one would
a swarm of birds from a tree (albeit more carefully and with marginally more
feathers). His deep, resounding tones will be heard in streets and on cobbles
the length and breadth of the United Kingdom.
You can usually find him propping
up the nearest session (coincidentally these things happen in the pub),
followed loyally by Celtic Tart whose violin is also charmed by his
mellow baritone.
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Doc Tart
Doc Tart has been practising medicine for nigh on 43
years, and one day they might let him do it for real... The Doc was born
and raised in the Fens, and has the webbed feet to prove it (hence he
is more of a quack than an actual medical man). Although a stout
proponent of the NHS, he will, for a small fee, be happy to arrange a
private examination of those willing enough....
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Tarte Citron aka Southern Tart
This recent addition to
the side claims her great, great grandmother was an infamous Parisian
courtesan and thus is a natural (dancer that is). Living in a fantasy
world of faded glamour and past glories, she is proud of her proper
southern English vowels (retained firmly despite living in Yorkshire for
nearly 30 years) just ask her where she spends vast parts of the day
immersed in perfumed bubbles and you’ll understand.
Horrified
by the vulgar antics of the side and determined to introduce some
decorum she can often be seen making notes of serious transgressions of
taste in her “little pink book”. The rip-off Chanel jacket, cheek
kissing, pink handbag and use of a lace-edged hanky is a dead give away
but she can also be recognised by cries of “oh la la, the darling
horses, they are frightened” , the rattle of bone china and the clink of
cheap diamonte.
Whilst her
beverage of choice is
obviously Darjeeling Earl Grey, she has lately been imbibing the
Reverend’s dry sherry at an alarming rate and certain musicians intend
to get several pints of Tim Taylors down her as soon as possible... |
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Tractor Girl
Tractor girl is never happier than creating mayhem in a rural
environment. Give her anything with wheels and she will guarantee to
crash it. she's also a dab hand with a pair of bellows! Often to be
found hiding beneath overalls and large glasses, but watch out for
garish frocks and pink knickerbockers on high holidays and feast days.
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Tricoteuse Tart
Easily spotted in your Eye Spy Book of Tarts as this Tart has knitting needles as an extension to her arms.
Always colourfully attired with a beaming smile and a handy flask of something hot tucked in her knickers, she will knit you a pair of socks while you wait for the team to stop dancing and something more interesting to happen along.....maybe as her name suggests a jolly execution?
A prolific baker of tasty treats ( you'll have to take our word for it, you don't think we let just any Tom, Dick or Harry sample them do you?!)
and a seasoned camper to boot....
Let it be known she collects plastic ducks....we'll let her tell you why!
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