Home is the story of two odd couples from opposite ends of the social spectrum, incapable - for whatever reason - of coping with what life has thrown at them. 

 These two charming, nattily dressed gents meet in what at first seems to be a municipal park. They reminisce about the war (Jack feels that had it continued for another thirty years the nation's moral fibre would have been much improved), discuss the weather and exchange views on work - Jack is in the wholesale business, Harry had to abandon his youthful dream of becoming a dancer and is now a heating engineer. Both are decidedly eccentric and Jack has an inexhaustible fund of stories about his accident-prone family and friends, who tend to fall off cliffs or break their necks tumbling down stairs the day before they were due to move to a bungalow. 

  If you've ever sat next to an empty seat in a park or public library, the chances are that you'll have attracted the company of someone like Harry or Jack - strange but harmless. 

But with the arrival of the raucous Kathleen and Marjorie, the plot thickens; we realise that the park is in fact the grounds of a psychiatric hospital, the "home" of the title. Kathleen's feet may be tortured by her hospital-issue shoes (her comfy lace-ups were confiscated as a suicide risk) but there's nothing wrong with her libido, much to the disgust of the prim and proper Marjorie. 

According to her Kathleen was already well known to the boys in blue called out when she wrecked her flat - "They had to send out the police in threesomes, they couldn't trust two and one was never enough".

 How much of this is true? Was Jack really admitted because of his unhealthy interest in little girls? Did Harry's wife dump him merely because she couldn't cope with his depression? We never really find out, but of course that isn't the point.