So, there was the usual turmoil at Sodden Prickney's meeting, to advise Cllr Basil Kalashnikov that he was a waste of space and had to be replaced A.S.A.P.
It was a pitiful gathering, the windows had been painted shut by Nibble and Co, during their five-year maintenance programme, so the room was stiflingly hot, and Cllr. Edwina Baggage decided to strip off to her 'intimate' bicycling attire as the temperature reached nearly 90 degrees! Cllr. Ron Wibble decided that enough was enough, and slackened his braces by three notches, which was viewed with some concern by his main squeeze, Cllr. Amelia Newt! The two events were not necessarily connected, just that such moments of inert passion, had been observed before in different circumstances!
'So', as politicians always start their excuses, the requirement to elect Cllr. Kalashnikov's successor had to start, sooner or later, and immediately, Cllr. D'Artagnan-Minge shot her hand in the air to demand a recount, much to the annoyance of her companion for the evening, (among many), and as nobody had actually voted, there was a certain amount of confusion...
'So', While Cllr. Ron Groat was fiddling about with his smartphone, he muttered an obscenity, which rocked the meeting! He was asked by another Councillor present, Cllr. Dr Norbert Iodine, to explain himself, or subject his body to an internal inspection via a Victorian Anal Inspection Device! Cllr. Groat immediately apologised, but in his defence, there was no indication as to what on earth they were all doing here, apart from telling Cllr. Kalashnikov that his reign of terror was being terminated forthwith!
So, a panicked phone call to a relative of Cllr. Molestranglers' third husbands' mistress, produced the telephone number of a rather callow youth, who had apparently been some sort of councillor in an unknown village somewhere in West Wales.
'So', the 'saga' of the arrival of a foreign nonentity from an unknown country will continue, probably with tiresome disinterest from everyone in this sainted village!
1 comment:
I still wonder if Cllr Basil Kalashnikov will hang on. The inevitable comment will be "hang on to what?" It's a good question, not to Cllr. Dr Norbert Iodine and his Victorian devices, that's too close for anyone.
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