As the local village fete once more approaches, my thoughts wander back to the corresponding events of last summer, which were blessed with blazing sunshine throughout and many an attraction that quickly became the talk of the surrounding countryside.
I was deeply gratified and honoured to be appointed judge for the day of the Miss Wet Satin Blouse Competion, taking my duties very seriously indeed and inspecting every single moistened contestant most scrupulously before solemnly pronouncing my verdict.
I went on to raise quite a charitable sum with my two-hour stint in the stocks having wet knickers thrown at me for sixpence a piece...all the while gnashing furiously like the proverbial mad dog in the noonday sun.
But an absolute fortune was claimed by the Local Ladies' Benevolent Society For The Preservation & Relief Of Strapping Young Men, who's sponsored contest of Blindfolded Bra-Unhooking went down an absolute storm.
And then there was the Elderly Spinsters' Tug-o'-War , which was quite a spectacle to behold and the Reverend Felchpott's single-handed display of Self-Flagellation & Pre-Rennaissance Bishop-Bashing, which was undoubtedly a real eye-opener and source of inspiration for all concerned.
Controversy reared its ugly head when the barmaid from The Mound Of Venus was disqualified from the Prize Fruit & Veg Growers Associated Challenge Trophy when her melons were deemed both artificial and amazingly plump beyond the laws of nature.
But regrettably, the afternoons festivities came to a premature climax when the White Elephant Stall was pelted with sticky buns by a village inebriate, causing the elephants not only to commence an unholy trumpeting and trampling, but also to stampede across the village green scattering terrified residents in fear for their lives...myself foremost amongst them.
