Wednesday, 11 July 2012

I'm running the village now: part 2

I am appalled. Appalled and disappointed. Appalled, disappointed and angry. Since I took over the village of Chopping Wallop, I have worked tirelessly for the good of its inhabitants. Now I am kicked in the teeth by a bunch of backstabbing malcontents!

I will explain to you, in words of one syllable, the events behind this night of calumny and drama. Old people. Our village rejoices in a fine 24 hour walk-in Old Folks facility. Everything is top notch, as indeed it should be for those who fought to keep our great country free from the black hordes [note to PR: cue martial music, DC to look stern but fatherly]. As I was saying, we're rightly proud of the way we treat our old age pensioners in this village but there are problems.

The walk-in centre is just down the road from my house. And I mean my house - not one of the little places the village puts forward should I need to rest my head from my travails. Not only is the facility that close, it is expensive to run and, let's face it, neither it nor the users are particularly attractive. As Sam says, one smells of polish and the other of pee. Haw haw.

Now, I had the brilliant idea of improving the facility by improving the standard of old person allowed to use it. Even the best families (well, not mine of course) have the odd old buffer who has to be wheeled out at Christmas and fed creme de menthe until they shut up but why should this sort be allowed to use the crayons at the old folks centre? Especially as we have to pay? My father, though not hugely old, is just waiting for me to change the tax rules so he can visit the old country and take advantage of the new tax breaks welcoming atmosphere to wealth creators. He's the sort we want in our centre: stout, loyal, picture of Churchill on his arse, shoots Kaffirs and ...

Note from Mr Lansley, a neighbour, who looked it up on the Internet: "Mr Cameron is a little overworked at present. He will resume normal service tomorrow. There is nothing to worry about. Do not adjust your votes."

Dave here, folks, Sorry about that. I do care deeply and that's why I sometimes shout. Not like Gordon Brown of course - he shouted because he was mad and incompetent. Not like me. Oh no.

Right (sometimes). Right, where were we? Oh yes, the coffin dodgers. I was decsribing my plan to a few chums from the Bullingdon in the village pub, the Fox And Werrity, adding the fine detail. Between ourselves, that means making sure People Like Us aren't affected by the new rules and there are no loopholes to allow the Clarkson chavs or that red-haired besom through the doors - god alone knows what she'll be like in a few years.

We'd just told a couple of old farts to stop the dominoes (dreadful clacking and they drink a sip an hour - bad for trade). Suddenly, a bunch of oiks, day trippers I assumed, were shouting and bawling at us. A fellow named Jesse (I ask you, one step above Wayne) was droning on in a peculiar accent (carrot abuser, I believe) and then, worse, Mrs Whatshername from the local curry house was wittering on.

Fortunately, the local Whipping Club was having its monthly meeting in the Snug Bar and intervened before the malcontents got nasty. And I'd like to correct a few things misreported by the Chopping Guardian, rag: Mr McLoughlin, our esteemed village butcher, did not use Anglo Saxon words. He was holding a parallel conversation about the local hunt. Mr Fabricant, coiffeur to the stars, did not offer to scratch anyone's eyes out. Nor were there any punches thrown, whatever the shandy-drinking yobs from the public bar may have said. I handled things in my usual masterly way: I said we'd leave it for now. Sorted, as the young people say.


Stop Press: Mr Cameron announced today the cancellation of the Old Folks Christmas Party. "This has been an annual event in our village for three hundred years," a atatement from Mr Cameron's barn conversion read, "quite enough." A source close to Mr Cameron said, "up yours Milliband."

Stop Press: Mr Cameron has announced the immediate termination of the weekly library bus. Mr Cameron's nanny, whose English improves daily, said, "they must all be word perfect on Dick Francis by now and they can use Amazon if they want. They make me cringe, with their wrinkly skin and their 'dearie this and dearie that' and the way they drone on for hours."


Guardian piece on the events, government spin kicking in already.

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