Tuesday, 21 March 2017

Family fortunes...



There was yet another chaotic disturbance at Sodden Prickney's monthly meeting last Thursday, when it was announced that after the next local election, no members would be able to charge expenses and wages for family members. The decision had been taken by an overpaid crowd called IPSA, presumably funded from an island in Greece.

Sid Trumpet, who more or less runs the whole council these days, on account of Basil Kalashnikov sectioning himself, (not a pretty sight - Ed), announced that he couldn't give a damn, as he had enough money of his own, and also owned a string of garages. and as the mandatory uniform of a full length sheepskin coat and tweed cap was classed as a business expense, he charged no more to the hard-pressed general public.

Basil Kalashnikov, in a rare lucid moment (are there any - Ed), complained that the salary list of his family, plus two 'partners', a parrot for the answer phone, his eight children of assorted hues and nationalities and an aged aunt as a receptionist in his shed was a necessity to keep the wheels of local governance moving smoothly, and refused to come out and discuss the matter further without his bent solicitor, Herr Wilhelm Nargh taking notes and gabbling into an old Nokia.

Ms Cynthia Molestrangler went even further, and stripped off in protest, much to the annoyance of Norman Wibble, who's been trying to get her to do that for several years, but in the safety of her own home, but nobody else took much notice, so she had to stand there in the draught until someone put an old raincoat round her and ushered her to the geezerbird toilets to calm down.

The local press, under the influential Bicycling column headed up by Ms Edwina Baggage thought it was a good idea as Mr Kalashnikov's seven bedroom sheltered gated community home was not to the taste of most people, who seemed to be paying for all of it, but she was pointed at by Mr Nargh's ring-finger, and decided to say nothing further.

So there you have it, little local councils have to pay for their own stuff, and real business people carry on doing what they do best - earn their dosh!
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8 comments:

rvi said...


Hah! At last it all becomes clear! Thanks to your unmatched detection capabilities, we now know why the Councillors availed themselves recently, before the axe fell, of an 11% increase in their salaries.

Many congratulations are also due to Ms E Baggage on her promotion to the very influential Bicycling slot. When she ran the Catering Supplement she earned well deserved respect for her curry dishes (which were without doubt a major part of her repertoire).

T.P.Fuller said...

My sister will be most vexatious.

Sen. C.R.O'Blene said...

Reevers, Ms Baggage is well known for her version of poppadoms, which were often made from lumps of dough left under the mattress for several days, to acquire the flatness and shape so much loved by several councillors in various stages of delight...

Sen. C.R.O'Blene said...

Aaaah, Mr Fuller! What a delight to see your lucidity returning to the parish, and please see the response via your esteemed newspapermagazineblogflyercatalogue!

Please remind me, was your sister at the house during the celebrations? Was she in the Blue Bedroom?

A K Haart said...

I have an old Nokia but I don't gabble into it. These days I can't think fast enough to gabble.

T.P.Fuller said...

Honoured friend. So nice to pick up! Hasn't time flown!? My sister, Phillida... the blue room? She has not breathed a word. Then again she has given up all forms of communication for lent. She had been requesting books from the mobile library on the life and times of Anchoress Margaret Kirkby. Trevor (from Travis Perkins) give me the wink, luckily, on the order for sand, cement and bricks. Otherwise she would have bricked herself up in the pantry again, as sure as eggs are eggs.

Michael said...

Phillida was a good sport back then, always leaving something on the plate for next time!

I always like to think that Lent is a good time to take things up, like Tesco trousers which are sometimes two yards long at the cuff...

T.P. Fuller said...

Michael. She might well regret that tattoo you paid for in Andover, but as Dr. Cuddler said, it's hardly going to see the light of day.