Superplod wades in - again...

There was a Richter 8 commotion in Sodden Prickney's village hall last Thursday, when a resident had complained that the provision of the new bus lay-by had been pushed through by the Chairman, Basil Kalashnikov, and that the alternative, at Gatport Airwick, would be abandoned until everyone changed their mind again.

PC Lumbersnatch had realised that things were not what they should be, and had decided to check the issues yet again.

The news straddled (don't you mean overtook - Ed), (STRADDLED, as in 'got on top of', bugger off), the other news concerning Ms Billary's postcards to various citizens, and the pictures thereupon. Mr Clinchton's favourite pictures of fat ladies on the beach, and even fatter men with obese kids were being handed out like a person with no arms, and Mr Kalashnikov was having none of it! (not what I've heard - Ed).

Mr Trumpet was leaping around in all directions when he heard the news on his Walkman, and began a whistle-stop tour of every street in the village including Boris Villas, as he wanted the spotlight maintained on Ms Billary's use of a laptop (oh, not again - Ed), and also getting in touch (THAT'S ENOUGH - Ed) with residents of other places where bus-stop laybys had been used for nefarious purposes including buying kebabs at the local typhoid dispensary.

When the embargo has been lifted, there will be much more news, but suffice it to say, there will be much to learn about Ms Billary, and her partner, Willy Clinchton, and also Sid Trumpet's endeavours to negotiate with Miss Newt about the rent on her 450,000 sf retail emporium, which she and Ron Groat leased all those years ago, when life was dismal under Gordon Brown.

The Billary emails...

During the Sodden Prickney meeting, which was hurriedly convened (after the unpleasantness in the church hall last Tuesday), to vote in a new Chairman for the Ways, Drains and Minge (don't you mean 'means' - Ed), committee, there was some commotion owing to certain personalities causing mayhem, while Mr Sid Trumpet took to the podium. (and allegedly to several usherettes - Ed)

Ms Billary and Mr Clinchton were seated in the front row of the assembled throng, and Mr Trumpet was in full flow under the searching light of the forty watt bulbs used to illuminate the flats on each side of the stage, and still bore the sad efforts of the Sodden Prickney AmDrams to produce a musical tribute to 'Ben Hur' last autumn.

Mr Trumpet pulled a silk handkerchief from the top pocket of his Harris Tweed, and out fluttered a Victoria's Secret receipt, which was pounced on by Mr Clinchton, to use as evidence of Mr Trumpet's inclination to aver towards the ladies more than somewhat, which was always his personal domain.

In doing the pounce, Mr Clinchton crashed into the trestle table where the rest of the committee were seated, and the result was rather like group sex in an E Type Jag, all legs, arms and broken glass! At a signal from Mr Trumpet, the back two rows of the assembled throng, which consisted of the bass section of the Basingstoke Ebenezer Church Girls Choir, began to march forward in unison, pointing accusatory fingers at Mr Clinchton, and singing The Hanging Song from 'Cat Ballou'!

Of course, Ms Billary became agitated, and as is the case when she is agitated, she sent off three emails to various countries, firing a small missile in India, causing all the traffic cameras in Scunthorpe to crash and starting a small famine in Denmark. She blamed Brexit of course, so Mr Obammaloo was as pleased as ever, as he wanted to be at the front of the queue, but nobody would let him! (I think you're becoming a little confused in that last bit, Mr O'Blene - Ed).

Sid Trumpet is ninety-three.

To one.

(As erudite as ever, Mr O'Blene. Perhaps we can alter one or two or seven passages during lunch - Ed)

Trumpet call...

Report on Local Parish Council Meeting. - (First draft)

There was uproar at Sodden Prickney village hall, on Friday, when Sid Trumpet, (a later addition to the throng) who gets his dinner at Ms Billary's cottage on Sundays after chapel at The Ebenezer Hardline Adventist Buffaloes, and often an embrocation later - taken intravenously, said that he once asked her to consider taking up a voucher for a Janet Reger unmentionable, and she had concurred; several times apparently. He was sorry but was overtaken by her astounding balcony (Change this - Ed), and wanted to make amends.

Ms Billary is a well known character in the village, having been the first person to use a computer in the Sodden Prickney library for checking waste disposal lorry times, and also the number of atomic warheads in Russia. Mr Trumpet is a well known property magnet (they're a builder's merchant aren't they? - Ed), and was instrumental in building the Sodden Prickney's vast retail, sports and fast-food extravaganza some years ago, most of which lies empty these days on account of someone losing the keys to the front gate.

(Mr Elias Sagtrouser and his wife, Gloriette, were heard to mutter that there were several bills unpaid and that a visit with a baseball bat may be the only solution).

Ms Billary and her 'partner', Mr Clinchton, who famously heard a young lady in his office exclaim, that 'she would forget her head if it wasn't screwed on', has supported him through thick and thin, although these days, it's more thin than thick, but that's God's way of telling you to wear better supportive undergarments. Mr Trumpet understands that she still has questions to answer at the HMRC, who believe that she and Mr Clinchton also had an interest in the fast-food extravaganza, but were turned away for being lewd in the queue. Most customers in the same queue were also being lewd, (it's their nature), but that's mainly down to them being sort of customers who join queues just for the sake of them, especially if there's a pizza and chips at the end of them.

(I think we need to edit this some more, Mr O'B. There's a lot to be desired, and I don't mean Ms Billary either)!