There were the usual grumblings in the committee room of Sodden Prickney Parish Council, when it was announced that Waynetta Slobbess, the errant offspring of Ms Cynthia Molestrangler, had eventually pinched an invitation to Count Basil Kalashnikov's son's wedding, and wouldn't give it back.
Waynetta (48) taught bicycling to Ms Edwina Baggage at quite an early age, which is why the famous column (whaaaat! - Ed) is so prominent in 'The Bugle', and Ms Baggage is an expert in such matters, having had many bicycling experiences in her turbulent career. The landord in 'The Bells' will testify to that, as her expenses didn't always cover the bill, but parts of her did - allegedly, and usually when the landlady was absent.
So it appears that the caterers have to find three more places on the trestle tables and get three more chairs - extra reinforced, as it seems that the two very plain sprogs belonging to Ms Slobbess are being dragged along as well, much to the astonishment of anybody who bothers to show interest. The two are rather odd females but no doubt the Sodden Prickney PC will help shoulder the bill for their voluminous appetites and peculiar table manners (shurely not table-ending again - Ed).
Meanwhile invitations have been pouring through the doors of the rest of the committee, including the new secretary, Madame St Mont-Shemel, who hails from Brittany, and who has apparently been invited three times, although why Ron Groat feels he is in a position to invite anybody, is somewhat obscure! Miss Amelia Newt has already ordered a new pair of overalls, and a different sort of hat. She will be dealing with Alderman Groat when he next calls round for his tea, and it is understood that it won't be a pleasant experience.
Count Kalashnikov has decided that only the local mild beer will be served at the wedding breakfast. This is mainly because some of the lady members got over-excited at the last public gathering and did a communal 'Zulu Warrior' on one of the tables, until they were asked to leave, mainly by being dragged by the hair and dumped outside the back door until they sobered up. Mr Kalashnikov suffered a partial embolism at that particular event, well, that's what was reported in The Bugle, but others know better...
So it seems that the bloody wedding is still going ahead, and most people in the village are fed up with the incessant rubbish being printed in 'The Bugle', and really couldn't give a monkey's.
(Edited on strict instructions from our Proprietor, The Hon. R.E.Evers)
(Edited on strict instructions from our Proprietor, The Hon. R.E.Evers)
6 comments:
As usual, up to date and right on the button....
Jolly good for Waynetta demanding her rights and standing firmly on (what currently remains) of her illustrious dignity. But as you so lucidly put it "... it seems that the bloody wedding is still going ahead, and most people in the village are fed up with the incessant rubbish being printed in 'The Bugle', and really couldn't give a monkeys....
(notwithstanding the missing astropofe and the misuse of "invites" as a noun!!..) Ah well.. Shirley Williams has a lot to answer for....
I am also given to understand another such upcoming coupling is due to clash with the cup final - neither of which will find favour with certain members of the village clog dancers.
You know, that's the trouble with having relatives, especially of the younger variety, who cannot bear to be left out of simple private occasions. My good lady and my very esteemed self currently constitute the "grandad" generation of our lines. There remain only three of us now at this level, but owing to the, er, bicycling adventures of our elders and (not necessarily) betters some 40-50 years ago, we now seem to be dealing with the fifth generation down, the latest having arrived only two weeks ago.
Mainly just to keep in touch with those who will soon enough be fighting over inheritance matters - some 170+ of them! - (my lady wife came from a very large family back in the 1930-40s and there was no television back in those balmy days, so bicycling was how one's elders spent their evenings), occasionally we like to invite some of the senior nieces and nephews for a meal in one of the more salubrious establishments hereabouts just to catch up with them and their doings. However, despite exceptionally strong hints and indeed instructions to the contrary, most of them still insist on carting along their noisy and misbehaving offsprogs, most of whom are now quite capable of staying home alone for a couple of hours, which actually rather spoils the purpose of the invitations.
Fortunately, we are both fairly easy going and it usually takes no more that three "Will you lot kindly shut up and let the adults converse in silence", issued in one's most stern headmistressy dulcet tones, before the penny drops and a modicum of peace is established and they all go back to their mobile phones.
No doubt we can expect detailed coverage of the actual day, even if only to confirm those who drank themselves under the table, and those whose eyes were scratched out once the dancing started. Ah, the modern generation(s). I think I am glad I know what I am missing!
Ah - the everlasting memories of the many wedding sagas that either make your heart leap up into the cosmos or make you wish you had the worst 'flu' ever and couldn't possibly go! If Basil Kalashnikov's son has anything about him he should put his foot firmly down on the parquet floor and demand a recall of all the invites sent out so he can personally peruse them in order to eliminate those who are teetotal, have loose dentures and halitosis, vegans, plus those who insist their beloved birthling only wants to explore the world as it careers around the tables on rollerblades nicking everyone's sandwiches as it screams past. Having eliminated about 80%, he should have the dignity to invite some homeless people as it would make him a hero in his beloved eyes although, if he's marrying "the right sort" as they say, she must make her own views very clear as to what to wear for the theme they decided on i.e. "Stone Age". It should be a rather interesting day.
I’ve heard that Waynetta acquired her bicycling expertise years ago when she thought she could cycle through the Channel Tunnel to pick up cheap booze. She even went to the trouble of making a special cycling cape with huge pockets.
Ah what it is to be young and full of ideas. At least a chap could admire her energy, as in those days many did to their eventual cost.
PS: I forgot to mention that this weekend we will be attending the nuptials of one of the aforementioned third generationals. That is if we can find it as they live way out in the middle of nowhere in one of the relatively new towns.
The last time went went to that house we used the indefatigable Googly maps on the mobile - and much to the surprise of the corporal on the gate - ended up outside a police barracks located at the end of a cul de sac!
If I am not back next week, please send a search party.
My Sat Nav is re-charging as I type. Let me know if you're still comatose and I'll bring a hair of the dog. Is there any particular breed you prefer?
TQVM, but a nice cold glass of mountain spring water will do nicely.
Made it there and back OK as I had two senior nieces as navigators (at least one of whom correctly knew the difference between right and left!) and who knew the way (in both directions).
Just as well we didn't require technical assistance as way out there there was no signal anyway...
Post a Comment