That vote on a knife-edge...

 

As was to be expected, there was uproar at the Extraparochial (don't you mean Extraordinary - Ed), (No I don't, mind your own business - Scrobs) meeting of Sodden Prickney's Council, when Dr Norbert Iodine decided that enough was enough, and Clr Basil Kalashnikov just had to go!

A vote was taken on exactly where Mr Kalashnikov was meant to go, and a secret ballot, witnessed by just about everybody in the village, as it was taken on the hottest day of the year so far, and everyone was out and about, enjoying the sunshine and several tinctures in 'The Bells', showed that there were plenty of suggestions, most of them from Norman Wibble, that indeed, he should go somewhere else, which was particularly unhelpful under the circumstances!

Normally, Ms Edwina Baggage would conduct the ballot count in the cupboard next to the coffee machine, and in close contact with whichever gentleman was ready to avail himself of her presence, (PC Lumbersnatch was the latest, (three times), but on this occasion, Ms Cynthia Molestrangler was not to be outdone, well, undone maybe, but she inserted her largish frame behind the small desk and pronounced that she was 'Bloody well going to count the bastards')!

The vote mainly concluded that Clr Kalashnikov would be given 50 lines, and told to do better next time, and he surprisingly took this as a vote of confidence in his ability to muck everything up, and anyway, he wasn't going to take any notice of the stupid vote anyway!

So, after Miss Newt admitted that she had lost the envelope containing the votes, and PC Lumbersnatch was rushed to hospital with a suspected sprained groin, the decision to pack up and go home was made, and everybody forgot about the issues for the nineteenth time this year!