Written by Gary Hoadley
Ruthlessly But Caringly Edited by Clivey Dee
“Great editing Clivey!”
“Fuck off Gaz”
A small village somewhere in England.
“Ere, Nathan, come an ave a look at this”.
“Okay, will I need my hat?”
“Yes, it’s quite serious”.
“Better wear me scarf as well”.
The two men walk to the edge of the village, laying in the lane, a man with a rucksack strapped to his back, has been run over by a tractor.
“Bit of a daft place to sleep ain’t it Ben?”
“He were not asleep just now Nathan”.
“How does thee know?”
“When I ran him over, he were screaming in pain”.
“Did he swear?”
“Very loud indeed he did”.
“What you going to do with him Ben?”
“Throw him over the wall”
“Nay, he’s not road kill”
“He is now”.
From the body on the ground, there comes a loud groan.
“He’s alive Ben”.
“I thought that were you Nathan”.
“Did he see yourn face Ben?”
“Best throw him over the wall then”.
The two men lift the body, and throw it over the wall. It lands with a thud. No other sound was ever heard from the body on the road.
The Sows Nipple public house sits in the middle of the village. It is the only place to get an alcoholic drink, except for Mr Barleys back bedroom, when he has been brewing. Inside the locals are enjoying a drink and a chat.
“Ere, Jed, as thee still got girlfriend?”
“Nay Gerd, she left me”.
“Said she didn’t like me mum sittin in lounge starin’ at her”
“Yourn mums been dead two years”
Over at the bakers, Mrs Plume was serving the daily bread.
“That bit of green is the wheat Marge”.
“Well, looks like mould to me”.
“Nay, would I serve rotten bread?”
“It were bread that killed last husband”.
“Was it one of me loafs?”
“No she were run over by baker’s van”.
On the village green, two gardeners enjoy a well earned rest.
“Got to keep an eye out for burglars Norris”.
“Why? Have they got foot and mouth”
“Burglars, not Badgers Norris”
“Course, I make it very hard for them to break into my house”.
“How’s that Len?”
“I bring me front door to work with me”.
In the church graveyard, Mr Duddy is digging.
“Good morning Mr Duddy”.
“So sorry to hear of the loss of your wife”.
“Thank you vicar”.
“What are you doing?”
“Just making sure vicar”.
And so, our journey ends, I hope you have enjoyed your look around the village. Please give this post lots of likes and comments so that Clivey will think he’s a brilliant editor. Don’t address any comments directly to him mind you, as he thinks it’s a complete pain in the fucking arse replying to em. Anti-social git!