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Another Day In The Village...

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mrs_overall | 10:37 Sat 20th Dec 2014 | ChatterBank
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In the village of Answerbank-Under-the-Wold (twinned with Ooomegoolies, New South Wales), PC Andy Hughes was settling down in the police station to deal with paperwork. He held the world record for the fastest promotion to sergeant and subsequent demotion (20 minutes) , due to the incident involving a photo of the leader of North Korea, a can of WD40 and a mallard, but that is a story for another day. He had barely licked his pencil when the phone rang and an an anonymous caller informed him that all hell had broken loose in the village hall. He left the station and made his way along the main street, observantly noting the village life around him. A lone figure was sitting on a bench by the village green, clutching a highlighter pen and a copy of the Daily Mail and muttering to himself about Muslims. PC Hughes noted a scruffy white van, half in and half out of a ditch and made a mental note to try and catch Tonyav with his breathalyser sometime soon. As he approached the village hall he saw that the obligatory crowd had gathered outside, not wanting to miss any action. Their attention was focused on Naomi and the lone Jehovah's witness who lived in the village. Naomi was beating him soundly around the head with a copy of Woman's Own. Calmly removing the tattered pages from Naomi's hand, he asked "Right, what is all this about?" A dozen voices answered in unison. He held up his hand for quiet and asked Naomi what had happened. "It's him...he went into the party in the hall and began telling them they were all sinners and should repent." Ever the voice of reason, PC Hughes said "Well, religious people don't hold with drinking and all the other stuff that goes on at parties." The villagers were outraged. "It's the Christmas party for orphans aged 5 and under" shouted Naomi. PC Hughes face darkened. "Right, you lot clear off NOW....and don't any of you go near the back of the village hall for at least 15 minutes, and ignore any screams you hear."
En masse, the crowd headed for the pub, the Quizzes and Puzzles Arms. The barmaid and part time bouncer on duty was Murraymints (female World Wrestling Champion 1984) whose homely and somewhat battered face rearranged itself into the semblance of a smile at the sight of customers. Svejk was the first customer at the bar. "I'll have a Akvavit please." Murray's face remained impassive. "Erm, how about a Brennivin...or a Punsch...or even a Tuborg?" "Listen up" said Murray with a hint of menace, "I've told you before, we don't stock any of that Scandinavian muck. Why don't you have a proper English drink like a Carlsberg?"
Just then, the door burst open and the villagers looked on in amazement as Sunny-Dave rode his moped into the bar. It had two mis-matched cattle horns cable tied onto the handlebars and being dragged behind it was a blue plastic bread crate.
Before anyone could say "What the f.....?" Murray grabbed her hidden baseball bat and moved surprisingly swiftly out from behind the bar.
TO BE CONINUED.....
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Hey Mick, just felt like it x
I see, well..............................I can't think of a better reason.
Hey mrs overhang, I swear theres something wrong with the steering rack.
I love this, look forward to a further instalment.
Good start.lol
Hurray another epistle from our favourite author! We've been so missing these! Did DTC inspire you out of your writers bloc Mrs O ....... good to see you well and scribbling (as opposed to ill and dribbling!!!) ;) xx

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