The Village, part deux

The Sun struggled to lift his head above the treetops and gazed, bleary-eyed, on the Village. Instantly, he regretted his action: he'd had more than a skinful of Fred's best Couldn't-Give-a-XXXX underthecounter Scrumpy the night before……….

Instinctively he took evasive action. The scene which met his horrified gaze would have been enough to make the bravest of hearts quail. It was the sight of Sgt. Bagheera using his truncheon in a highly unprofessional and imaginative fashion on what appeared to be an unwashed bundle of rags someone had left tethered to the Village Maypole, presumably when everyone else had passed out following the previous evening's debaucheries.

Suddenly the bundle of rags found a voice, and stirred of its own volition even though Sergeant Bagheera had taken a breather and had not actually kicked it for at least the last two seconds. It was more than likely that the Guardian of the Law had succeeded in finding a delicate and sensitive part of the bundle's anatomy which had (until now) been cunningly concealed.

The rags parted and dropped to the concrete flagging which surrounded the Maypole, revealing a hirsute and unwashed body of approximately humanoid appearance which was so 60's Retro as to have been briefly fashionable at least three or four times since that golden era of innocence, the Summer of Love. For the moment it was impossible to judge the age or gender of the apparition with any certainty without getting far closer than would have been either comfortable or advisable. It appeared harmless and unarmed, but the overpowering fragrance of unwashed armpit had a triple-X warning sign attached (and even THAT had seen better days). A Close Encounter of the Third, Fourth or even Tenth variety was not recommended ……….

The amount of hair, fairly evenly distributed all over the naked body of the object led Sgt. Bagheera to assume (until further notice and/or indications to the contrary) that it was a male of the species, regardless of what that species might prove to be. He hesitated a moment before addressing himherit, and in that moment it chose to speak.

The timbre of its well-modulated RP vowels had been acquired via a very expensive education, and suggested Oxbridge to any anthropomorphologist who might chance to pass by.

"I say, old chap! Avaunt and soddingwell desist, what?! I'm sure Old Gibbsy will be baaaack soon enough, to release me from this .. totem thingy of yours! Just as soon as he's 'wet the babbie#'s head' donch'a know? What? And aaafter aaaaaaaall, I must admit I did rather catch an execrable crab just when we'd got the stroke right, and we were catching up with the blighters on that laaast stretch o' the river …….. "

"Wot be'm torkin' un, Sa'g?"

Billy, the token yokel of the Village, has oozed out from under one stone or another and was now drooling alongside the good Sergeant.

" 'Tis nowt for thee t' worry abaht, Billy" replied Sgt. Bagheera (Billy had this strange effect on the mannerisms people used when they spoke either to him directly, or even if he was close at hand). There wasn't much anyone could do about it, either. It was pointless suggesting to Billy that he should go home, even if he'd had one, He was totally incapable of finding anything further away than his own arse, and even to do that he would have needed both hands and a flashlight.

Fred West stuck his head out of the pub door and took in the situation at a glance.

"Billy! Beer!!"

Recognising the sound of his name, swiftly accompanied by one of the few words in his limited vocabulary, Billy began to salivate for England as he turned in the direction of this most welcome of all sounds. Having gained Billy's attention, Fred reinforced the invitation by taking one of the glasses his wife Rose was polishing as she stood at his elbow. Raising it above his head, where it reflected the sun's rays thanks to the sparkling cyanide which Rose had adopted as the secret ingredient in her patent cleaning liquid. Fred began making irresistible slurping noises, to encourage Billy to hurry across the village square.

Sergeant Bagheera opened his notebook, licked his pencil, and began reading the prepared script printed at the top of each page to remind him of police procedure.

"'Ello, 'ello, 'ello ………."  he intoned.

The naked ape tied to the Maypole immediately began to protest. Curiously, he still spoke in the most dulcet and refined of tones:

" I say, oss-ifer, I only have two ears, you know – not three! And you're not so far away as you need to shout so loud! Give one one's due, please: whisper me your sweetest nothings, I beg you! Yon Inkeeper, methinks, doth deliver a deadly draught!"

He nodded at Fred, who tried to look inconspicuous but failed on several counts, not the least of which being that he was unable to disappear from the scene before Billy had attained the hallowed portals of the Promised Land of Free Beer.

"Name" Sgt Bagheera felt it was time he attempted to take control of events.

"Got one, thanks, and I'm quite fond of it! Use your own, old man, donch'a know, what?"

Sergerant Bagheera looked up and fixed the apparition with his steeliest of steely looks.

"No, sunshine: your name, my book. Or I turn the Kids loose. The Village Under 10s team had their ASBO match cancelled last weekend when Pentonville Prison couldn't raise a full team and chickened out ….. they're not in the best of moods just now!"

Beneath the close covering of hair, it was evident that the hippy's dirt-encrusted skin immediately turned several shades paler.

"Alright, alright! My name's Charles: Charles Parker-Bowles Spencer. But, please don't tell Mumsy – One will be sooooooo cross, and Two won't be very happy, either …!"