“ ‘Morning, Les”
“ ‘MORNING, VILLAGE IDIOT”
I looked around, I was the only person at the bus stop, he
must have been shouting at me.
Poor old Les, Strelczenie’s factotum. He deserves better. Les Stebbings must have been tired out and in
a bad mood after all that trudging up and down Main Street trying to find
‘Factotum Number 2’ to stand as a Parish Councillor to replace Eddie
Kinsella.
Strelczenie, in a foul mood
because he can’t co-opt another drudge on to the Council, doesn’t want McCann and
all those Hagg Lane Green rows back on the Council, at any cost, is what I hear
on the grapevine.
Find another factotum, Les!
Raise your hand and vote, Les!
Raise your hand to support my motions, Les!
Put your tongue back in, Les!
Don’t forget to wipe your arse, Les!
No wonder the Parish History Society is falling apart, down
from seven directors to three, Strelczenie, his wife and Les. Council Vice-chairman Procter was first out,
flags and gobby instructions the reasons, I hear. The astute Councillor Chilvers was out next;
he has a well-developed nose for trouble and smelling a rat.
Councillor Kinsella was openly seeking advice
about the Parish History Society just before he chucked it all in. I’m sure I wasn’t the only one he asked as he
walked his dog - “It’s falling apart, Strelczenie ignores our agreements.
The planting of the trees. Les and I
have been summoned to a meeting and there are only four directors left! What can we do? (Is it
You and Les against Strelczenie and his wife?)
Yes! (You’re ****ed, then) Yes!
I don’t care about the Parish History Society catastrophe,
they can do what they want, in private, but it’s easy to see why the Parish
Council Chairman (and Les) are impatient to dump the diesel fuel tanks on the hapless
Parish Clerk and unsuspecting rate payers.
