In the early part of last century it was not unusual for our coastal resorts to boast additional entertainment by way of Beach Theatres and, in elegant Bournemouth, prior to WWII, locals and visitors were offered at least two.

At the height of the season their boards would shout ‘THREE SHOWS A DAY’, but then if one looked closer, in smaller letters below the headline they also read ‘Under the Pier if wet’. Presumably this meant the show.

However, as there were two theatres and they both flanked Bournemouth’s pier, one can only imagine the rivalry for poll position among the casts and audiences during the inevitable wet weekends.

The proximity of these venues to the Pier may well give us an insight into the Pier Theatre’s popularity. For the venue was owned by the Borough Council, who were presumably pleased enough with its drawing power, as it was they who granted the licences for the use of the beach below.

The word ‘theatre’ for these venues however, was used rather freely, as they were really no more than portable wooden structures, erected on the sand purely for the summer season, like oversized Punch and Judy tents. To the front there was a stage, of course, while the shed behind housed the dressing room, the props, and other essential offices.

But we all know that live performance weaves a magical spell and once seated in their stripy deck chairs on the sand, the audience would soon be transported by the vaudeville acts to wherever the cast wished them to be.

I imagine that if you were bored with an act you could have nipped beneath the pier from one show to the other.

The choice in the summer of the late 1930s was between the Gay Cadets on one side and Willie Cave’s Revels on the other, and with the pier’s own theatre above, Bournemouth’s visitors would have been spoilt for choice.

A selling feature for the beach theatre’s less formal style of show was the more relaxed method of charging.

Tickets would have to be bought for the pier’s shows, but the beach audience would pay ‘The Bottler’ (or not, if they got away fast enough).

Quite simply a member of the cast, heavily disguised in a bow tie and dinner jacket, would come around the deck chairs holding out a bottle. The audience showed their appreciation by dropping in a few coins.

Then at the end of the evening, when the final curtain came down, the bottles were emptied and the takings divvied out. I guess these were happy days for the cast if not for the taxman.

However, one fateful night disaster struck the seafront. A great storm had broken over Bournemouth and such was the strength of the deluge that come morning only one Beach Theatre was left standing. Billy Caves Follies had been washed out to sea. A great tragedy I’m sure as far as the Gay Cadets were concerned as they were left to bravely soldier on alone.

We are all aware of the many wrecks that litter the sea-beds around our coasts, but how many bays I wonder can boast a sunken theatre - I imagine not many.

But the story doesn’t end there. Shortly after the sinking a policeman’s uniform was found washed up around Swanage Bay - not an everyday occurrence in Dorset, and legend tells us that high drama swiftly ensued with the local constabulary, searching high and low, for the body of the unfortunate Constable.

Perhaps communication between counties in the 1930s was difficult - Bournemouth was then in Hampshire - but the uniform eventually transpired to be one of Billy Caves Follies props. It had drifted across the bay in the storm.

Billy Cave incidentally did not go down with his Theatre. But what about the uniform’s previous occupant? I’ve no evidence to confirm or deny it, but it’s possible that he would soon be found waiting in the wings of the no doubt very busy Gay Cadets ... After all, the show had to go on.