More of nothing in our feted village...

As was to be expected, there was the usual uproar at the hastily-engendered and un-announced Council Meeting at Sodden Prickney last Thursday - or was it Friday?

Cllr. Dr Norbert Iodine had been dealing with some warts on the various bottoms of one of his larger patients, and had sent his apologies, although explained he might arrive later, if the lesions had been successfully lanced and the p (that's enough medical reference - Ed), also, Cllr. Edwina Baggage had had to curtail an invigorating exercise in damage limitation after breaking a window in the bicycle shed at The Bugle, by inserting a jewel-encrusted elbow at the curtains for some privacy.

So, the meeting began in immediate disarray, as a commotion at the door exhibited an enraged Cllr. Basil Kalashnikov, who had lost his car keys, and had to walk the three miles to reach the council chamber.

The minutes of the previous meetings, whatever they had been, were read out by Cllr. Amelia Newt, and her regular, but still unsatisfied squeeze, Cllr. Ron Groat, sort of seconded them by raising his trouser leg and waving it in front of the committee! This might have been construed as a reference to his allegiance to a local group, 'The Sodden Prickney Elephants', which seemed to meet on odd occasions at 'The Bells' public house, for murmerings, and strange actions.

However, nobody took much notice, so business was resumed, except for one vital fact - nobody knew why they were assembled!

A sudden report, (certainly not a 'body noise'), from Cllr. Cynthia Molestrangler was mentioned after some confusion, concerning the state of the flower-arranging by the 650,000 sq. ft. buildings of the Newt Emporium, was safely ignored by everyone, and while PC Lumbersnatch happily booked a horse and cart outside, for dropping a considerable amount of manure all over his bicycle, the Charman/person/woman/whatever announced an impromptu agenda, which was meaningless, as everyone had started talking amongst themselves, and making plans for the evening...

So, as there was no indication as to why the meeting had been called, indeed, who had actually called it, the happy throng disbanded, and Cllr. Emily D'Artagnan-Minge departed for a long-awaited liason with Cllr. Surgeon Hubert Flange, with whom she had very recently enjoyed a satisfying lunch with afters, and more besides, and was relishing even more attention and possibly a few tinctures of a bubbly variety, or perhaps anything to get the old bugger to perform yet again!