Parish council puts paid to elves
In an extra-ordinary
meeting this week, Ambridge parish councillors voted unanimously to support the
following recommendation:
‘That the
owners of the facility known as ElfWorld on Grundys Field shall be required to
remove all plastic dayglo signage on the village green, the hand-painted
bedsheet sign on the highway, and the advertising hoarding reading ‘Ambridge
twinned with ElfWorld’ on the village boundary.’
The Clerk
noted that Messrs Joe and Eddie Grundy had agreed to co-operate with the order
and
accepted that their tourist attraction was no longer viable.
‘Some of us
felt a bit sorry for Joe and Eddie,’ said one councillor. ‘But ElfWorld
couldn’t go on as it was. Joe’s idea to turn the grotto into a cottage hospital
was a nightmare. Children were screaming with fright, their parents’ Volvos
were getting stuck in the mud and Environmental Health were all over us.’
‘It’s true;
ElfWorld has gone down the plughole,’ said Eddie Grundy. ‘But Dad isn’t taking
it lying down. He’s got the elves stashed away somewhere, and he’s busy writing
a play called “George Grundy and the Sycamore-Cursed Child”. There might be
something in it, you never know.’
New series: Ask Aunty Satya
Are you
struggling with a moral dilemma or stuck on a point of etiquette? With her
warm-hearted wisdom and forensic legal skills, Usha Franks’s favourite aunty
has the answers!
Dear Aunty
Satya,
My granddaughter’s
heart was broken recently, yet she is having a passionate relationship with a
most unsuitable young man and when I tactfully asked her about it, she said it
was ‘just a summer fling’. This young man’s father was a cad and I am worried
about my granddaughter’s welfare. What would you advise? Jill A.
Dear Jill,
At times
like this it is often wise to look to the ways of our ancestors. Perhaps you
could take this young man on one side and threaten him with a shotgun. Or
contact his father and urge him to cut his son off without a penny. But
youngsters today are very headstrong. You may find it more effective to follow
them around and burst in saying: ‘Hello you two!’ whenever they are alone.
Dear Aunty
Satya,
I was
desperate to confess to perverting the course of justice in order to help my
cousin, who is facing a charge of attempted murder. But her lawyer tells me
because I lied to the police once, I am an unreliable witness and my evidence
about my cousin’s violent husband is inadmissible. I feel I need to be
punished. What can I do? Shula H-L.
Dear Shula,
I believe
there are places where ladies who feel they have been naughty can go to be
chastised; my niece Usha once defended a gentleman who ran a ‘dungeon’ in
Cricklewood, I think it was. But I digress. Dwelling on the past is unhealthy
for your spirit. If you meditate on your present life – at your absent son,
dull husband, thankless job and unrealised dreams of romance – you may well conclude
you are being punished enough already.
Dear Aunty
Satya,
I am
running a business with my brother and reluctantly I have had to admit to
myself that he is an an arrogant, lazy, selfish leech who is more interested in
chasing skirt than being responsible at work or looking after his family. Our
father recently had a heart attack and he has refused point-blank to help. Do
you have any advice? Rex F.
Dear Rex,
I think if
you read through your letter again, my dear, you will find you have answered
your own question.
Dear Aunty
Satya,
The legal
case I am working on is giving me sleepless nights. A key witness – my client’s
husband’s first wife – has refused to testify; my client still won’t tell me
what really happened to her; her brother can only think about his Nuffield
scholarship and my own mother is driving me mad, fussing over me. How can I
make progress? Anna T.
Dear Anna,
In a difficult
situation we should turn to family. When Usha was working on a tough case I
made sure I was always there with a pot of tea and a pile of pakoras. I would recommend
you take your mother’s good advice and eat your muesli. You cannot fight a
devious psychopath with low blood sugar.
The Trials of Rob Titchener
In the latest chapter of our summer saga, by
award-winning novelist Lavinia Catwater, our hero struggles with turbulent
emotions as events begin to spin out of his control…
‘Congratulations
captain – first round’s on me!’ Rob slapped Burns on the shoulder. PC Plod lacked the Titchener will to beat Darrington
at any cost, but at least he’d had the wit to take Rob’s advice.
‘Um, well
actually Harrison, we’ve got plans…’ Fallon whispered urgently in her boyfriend’s
ear, obviously making up some lie. Rob felt the pulse throbbing in his head. To
think he’d forced himself to praise her grubby little tea room. Ungrateful cow.
‘No worries
mate! We’ll have one for you, won’t we lads?’ But the rest of the team seemed
to take their cue from their captain, making excuses and hurrying off. Suppressing
his irritation, Rob burst into the changing room, where Adam Macy was still
towelling himself off. ‘Adam! Come for a drink. Bring Ian!’ ‘I’m sorry Rob. You
might as well know Ian’s agreed to be a character witness for Helen. So to be
honest….’
Adam’s cool
gaze was more than Rob could bear. Using every ounce of strength he had not to strike
the man, he spat: ‘Honest? Your lot don’t know the meaning of the word!’
He turned
on his heel, ignoring Adam’s outraged reaction, red clouds of anger swirling in
his head….
*
‘Henry.
Stop that!’ Rob clenched his hands on the steering wheel. ‘I said stop kicking the
seat, or I’ll take your new tablet away.’ ‘You said we were going to see Granny
Ursula!’ the boy whined. ‘But I told you, we’re seeing an old friend of mine
first. Now be patient.’
Damn. Where
was she? Typical of her to mess him around, even if she wasn’t expecting him.
At last, a woman and a buggy came out of the house with the red gate. Rob
quietly put the car into gear and
followed her to the park. Once he’d had a word with Jess and baby Ethan, she’d
be clear on what to say to that bitch Anna Tregorran…
*
‘OK Henry, let’s
play the game one more time before we get home. What do you say to the nice
social worker tomorrow, when she asks you about living with me?’
Rob kept an
eye on the little boy in the rear view mirror as he recited his lines like a
nursery rhyme.
‘Daddy
gives me sweets. Daddy lets me play in the mud. Daddy plays cricket. Daddy buys
me a tablet with apps on. I have lots and lots of fun with Daddy and not with
anyone else. Not Grandma Pat with her nasty food. Not dirty Emma. Not bad
Mummy. Is that right Daddy? Can I have pizza afterwards?’
‘Yes Henry,
you certainly can. Good boy.’ For the first time all week, Rob felt relaxed…
To be continued…
Recipe of the week
Cheers to
Alistair Lloyd for sending us this celebration cocktail recipe. ‘Unfortunately
I wasn’t able to make my wife Shula’s birthday party at The Bull as I was busy
transporting veterinary-standard paperclips from Penny Hassett to The Stables,’
he said.
‘But I
asked her twin Kenton to whip up this cheeky cocktail for her.’ Sounds like it
packs a punch, Alistair!
St Shula’s Martyrita
1 large
glass whine
1 measure
tomartyr juice
1 measure
dry martyrini
1
egg-white-on-face
Plenty of
bitters
Mix all the
ingredients together. Pour into an Old Fashioned glass, garnish with a sour
cherry, top up with ice and drink through the last straw.
Letter to the Editor
Dear Madam,
I must
protest in the strongest terms about your report of our beloved dog Scruff’s
funeral service last week. I can’t imagine where your so-called journalist got
his facts (although the fact that Scruff’s former owner couldn’t even be
bothered to attend his memorial speaks volumes in my opinion. Shocking.)
Anyway, far
from the disrespectful parodies of hymns you list, Robert read a very moving
poem by John Galsworthy, and we played Enigma Variation #11, which was inspired
by a bulldog called Dan. This was a thoughtful link to Scruff’s former owner’s
son, which she completely ignored. And this from a pillar of St Stephen’s.
Please
print a prominent correction at your earliest convenience.
Yours
faithfully (unlike Scruff’s former owner)
Mrs Lynda
Snell
We have apologised to Mrs Snell for any
distress caused by our report, and have made a donation to the Eternal Paws Pet
Crematorium in recognition of the fine work they do. Ed.
Oh, just wonderful. More Auntie Satya please. Followed by St Shula Martyritas..
ReplyDeleteA big jug of Martyritas all round... with extra anguishtura bitters (courtesy of the brilliant @felisstee on Twitter)
DeleteAre you absolutely sure Aunty Satya's still with us. Although her advice from beyond the grave would still be priceless.
ReplyDeleteHappy to confirm that Aunty Satya is very much with us and we are in discussions with her agent about a regular column!
DeleteEavesdropping on Rob's inner monologue is about as appetising as watching the internal footage of his last colonoscopy. However, being privy to his inner thoughts has become a strangely addictive attraction, and I can only ask for MORE! Keep it up!
ReplyDeleteAfter accessing Rob's inner thoughts Lavinia always asks for extra gin to help her recover...
DeleteSimply brilliant, particularly drinking the Martyrini cocktail through the last straw.
ReplyDeleteOops, martyritas...
ReplyDeleteHad one too many martyritas there David? Thank you!!
ReplyDeleteThe Observer is BRILLIANT! I'm a first-time visitor to the site, but I'll be a regular from now on! How do I join in the fun?
ReplyDeleteBristolMagpie
Hi BristolMagpie, thank you and welcome aboard! You can sign up by email to have the Ambridge Observer delivered to your inbox every week - saves missing an issue... see the box, above right.
DeleteBrilliant as ever, loved the Shula wringing and cocktails!
ReplyDeleteBrilliant as ever, loved the Shula wringing and cocktails!
ReplyDeleteThanks very much Darren; hope you've rustled up a Martyrita or two...
DeleteThis comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDeleteSince ElfWorld went underground, it's been growing stronger by the day. It's a home from home for elves - as Eddie intended it would be. The elves all seem to be doing well, when there's no busy body imps around.
ReplyDeleteThe elves' best move was to make fiction of their true identities and whereabouts so none of the stories about what goes on in ElfWorld can be successfully challenged by the likes of neighbouring farmers, local councils and tellers of big film tales.
Eddie's happy that his good ideas will surface in good time but like Willy Wonker, he's a bit concerned about his cider making secrets going astray. There's no telling what'll happen in the future but he wants to hand over his recipe to someone he can trust and there's no doubt that elves are trustworthy ones. The Elves aren't exactly Oompa-Loompas rescued from a violently dangerous and terrible country but nevertheless, Eddie feels that they are Earth spirits and could easily go extinct if their field environment was upset or they lost their revenue stream.
As a safeguard, rumour is that Eddie's been raising a bit of funding for ElfWorld by writing and selling Elf Books for children. His aim is to raise enough to keep their home preserved and safely away from any future developers.
Grant, I think this is a masterly analysis. Let's hope Eddie is as creative as you, and that his ventures are richly rewarded!
Delete