The Answerbank Radio Show - The Summer Fete
In the village of Answerbank-Under-the-Wold (twinned with Chernobyl), the village fete committee were huddled around a single candle in the broom cupboard of the village hall.
They had long since abandoned holding meetings in the snug of the local pub, The Quizzes & Puzzles Arms, as they were heartily sick of being interrupted by drunken villagers offering their opinions on how the fete should be run. They had then moved to the church hall but were swiftly ejected by the vicar, the Reverend Venuste Enema, who had called them Godless Heathens for planning to hold the fete on a Sunday. They decided to meet in secret in the village hall in a desperate attempt to finalise their plans.
The chairman, Whiskery Ron, called the meeting to order by banging his pen (stolen from the bookies) on a metal mop bucket.
"Good evening fellow committee members. As this is our last meeting, I want you all to cast your eyes over the list of stall holders and fete attractions and speak up if you forsee any problems."
"I can't thee a thing with only a candle" lisped Talbot. "Ith there any chance we can put the light on?"
"No" snapped Whiskery Ron. I don't want anyone to know we are having this meeting. By the way, we are one member short. Why is Ms Craft not here?"
"I think she needs time to mentally prepare for her role as fortune teller at the fete" volunteered Murraymints
"Stuff and nonsense" said WhiskeryRon. "Right we'll carry on regardless".
"Well I think it is a mistake putting Boo on the "guess the weight of the cake" stall. Last year I baked the cake and it weighed 3lb but by the time the competition closed it only weighed 4oz as she'd scoffed most of it" complained EcclesCake
"Don't worry, that won't happen again" said WhiskeryRon. "This year the cake has been baked by Psybbo"
There was a collective grimace and nodding of heads in understanding by all the committee.
"I thill think I thould be allowed to dithplay my birdth of prey, even it it just the owlth"moaned Talbot.
"We've been through this numerous times" scowled WhiskeryRon. "The insurance premium for the fete has gone through the roof since last year. Part of that is down to you Talbot. Your forgot to tether the bloody things and it was mayhem. The kiddies were screaming blue murder, everyone was covered in bird droppings and the final straw was when one of the damn things made off with Svejk's toupee. The answer is no."
WhiskeryRon banged his fist down so hard on the makeshift table consisting of a plank of wood balanced on two broken chairs, that the plank and the candle on it both flew up in the air. As the cupboard was plunged into darkness the plank knocked over an industrial size can of Jeyes Fluid and sprayed its contents on the committee.
Above the loud sounds of swearing and cursing, WhiskeryRon managed to shout "Meeting closed" before he barked his shin on the mop bucket and joined in with the swearing.
Over the the village post office, the postmistress, Ms Craft, WAS preparing for her role as fortune teller at the village fete. She was carefully steaming open a pile of letters and making note of anything of interest before re-sealing the envelopes.
This is going to be my best fete yet" she chuckled to herself.
TO BE CONTINUED.........