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davepottsworld-blog · 8 years ago

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A tale of our times Or the evil that men do

A brief nonsense by

Dave Pottinger

(2017)

This is a work of pure fiction and any similarity to any persons dead or alive is purely coincidental. Further, any likeness to any product, brand, website or publication is completely unintended.

(Yeah Right!)

This nonsense is dedicated to my daughters and was partly inspired by a ‘grubby little midlander’ who should forever remain anonymous.

Published by AcmePublishing (www.We’llPublishAnything.com)

All rights, and wrongs, preserved.

1 Upper Snobsbury

In which we are introduced to the ways of Upper Snobsbury and learn a little of Lower Snobsbury

Back in the mists of time the world was a far smaller place than it is today. For the ordinary man it was maybe 30 miles in diameter and for the ordinary woman maybe a tenth of that. Everyone knew their place and what their future would bring, the poor were poor and the rich were rich. That was the way of the world and very right and proper it was too!

In the village of Upper Snobsbury at the very top of the tree were the Vicar and the Squire – they defined how life should go on, and go on it did just as the Squire and the Vicar knew it always should. Sunday church was the clearest demonstration of this. Everyone in the village went to church - and if you didn’t the Vicar would want a damn good excuse - and only death or dying were good enough – in fact death didn’t count as an excuse as you had to be buried didn’t you! The poor, the common and the worthless had to be settled in church before the Squire and his family would make their grand entrance, the Vicar would preach his sermon (or lay down the law) to the rabble whilst the Squire and his family gently dozed. Never for one moment would the blacksmith envy the Squire his riches nor would the blacksmith’s wife envy the Squire’s wife’s fine clothes. The blacksmith was the blacksmith and the Squire was the Squire, the blacksmith was poor and the Squire was rich – that was the way it had always been and that was the way it always would be.

The common people of Upper Snobsbury knew, of course, some of the people of Lower Snobsbury but they never really got on and would rather that they kept themselves to themselves. The village was ‘a-buzz’ with gossip for months on end when the baker’s daughter ran off with the son of a tenant farmer from Lower Snobsbury. The gamekeeper’s wife said the bread never tasted the same again. But that was the extent of their gossip. There were rumours that the Squire drank too much and that the Squire’s son had got the scullery maid into an “interesting condition” but that was what the Squire and his family were for, that’s what they always did.

It was said that the Squire would go up to London (wherever that was) for business (whatever that was) but what happened in London didn’t matter a jot. London didn’t make the crops ripen, the lambing easier or the rain stop. They heard rumours of war with the French (or was it the Spanish or the Dutch?) but it didn’t matter to the herdsman, all he cared about was keeping the cattle alive. The Squire and the Vicar would discuss important matters after their fine lunches but none of that affected the butcher.

Fashion was defined by the wives and daughters of the Squire and the Vicar and they got if from their rare visits to London. In Upper Snobsbury blue was the colour this spring because, it was heard, that blue was the colour last year in the fine saloons of London. Next year it might be green or red or yellow but this year it was blue. Those that could afford it brought new, those that couldn’t dyed last years, but the truly poor didn’t care, fashion wasn’t for them.

When the old king died the good folk of Upper Snobsbury were told, at church of course, some five weeks after the funeral. But who the old king was or what he did was all a mystery to the shepherd, not that he wasted any time in worrying about it. If the Vicar said the new king was a good man then the new king was a good man, but would it make any difference once lambing came around?

And so life went on; the people of Upper Snobsbury continued to look down on the people of Lower Snobsbury, the cattle fattened, or died, the crops were good, or bad, the ladies wore blue, or green, and all was well with the world. The Squire and the Vicar remained rich and did very little. The poor remained poor and worked very hard to do so. The poor grew what needed to be grown, made what needed to be made and tended what needed to be tended. Everyone knew what he or she had to do and, providing they did it, all went well.

2 Blandsbury

In which we are introduced to Blandsbury and to the Blands.

Today the villages of Upper and Lower Snobsbury have gone completely. Gone is the blacksmith, the shepherd, the baker. Gone is the Squire, the Vicar remains but no one is really very sure who he is or what he’s for (except at Christmas of course). Blandsbury is a commuter town, designed by mindless planners for mindless residents.

Upper and Lower Snobsbury were bulldozed completely to make room for the motorway access roads, the station, the community centre, the leisure centre, the shopping centre, the recycling centre and the houses, the schools and the hospitals that now make up Blandsbury. It’s as if a child of 9 playing SlumCity 3000TM had run the planning department. It had everything that the guidelines for a new town (www.LocalGov.org/HowToMakeACrapTown section 12.3.7.9 ) said it should have. On the screen it looked wonderful, everything anyone could want was there, all made of shiny glass and concrete. It was a planner’s delight.

Gregg and Elaine Bland moved to Blandsbury with their three children, Gavin (15), Sharon (13) and Dwayne (11), because their old tower block in London was demolished as part of the 2012 Olympic Games. Blandsbury had everything they had ever dreamt of; good housing, new schools for the kids, easy commuting to London, so Gregg could carry on with his job at YodaTel in town, a good neighbourhood and a local Ladies Institute (www.LadiesRuleTheRestCanGoSuck.com) for Elaine to get to meet like-minded women. There was a supermarket just ten minutes’ drive away and the mall was full of interesting looking shops. So, mortgaged up to their eyeballs, the Bland family, along with thousands of similar families, moved to Blandsbury.

It was just as the planners had planned, everything worked as it had been designed. The station had enough parking and the trains ran on time. The schools were all getting good Offsted reports, the shops thrived and there was zero unemployment. The Police had little to do apart from catching people speeding or talking on their mobiles while driving. CCTV took care of any crime. There was nowhere in Blandsbury where you weren’t on CCTV but that was a “good thing” said Gregg “if you aren’t breaking the law then you’ve nothing to worry about”. All the pubs had bouncers and so the riff raff were kept out and if people did drink too much then they were only “having a laugh” and never caused any real trouble. Admittedly Gregg and Elaine didn’t like the town centre on a Friday or Saturday night much, “youngsters these days just can’t hold their drink” said Gregg, so they would get a couple of bottles of wine from the supermarket and stay at home in front of the telly.

Saturday nights were always the same at the Blands. Elaine would get a “Full Family Bucket o’ Mush”TM and the family would eat their way through that as they watched Man U [Manchester United Football Club just in case you live on another planet] beat whoever it was that Saturday, miss out on the lottery, “Just one number short of £10” moaned Elaine, laugh as ‘that posh bird’ gets kicked out of “Celebrity whatever” and then settle down for their favourite American imports. The kids pretty much stayed in their bedrooms listening to their JPeds, taking the mickey out of their teachers on HeadMagTM (www.TellYourFriendsTheGossipAndWasteYourLifeAway.com), wiping out the world in Mood 3000TM and watching clips of their favourite celebrities making idiots of themselves on UBoxTM (www.WeShowAnythingWe’reNotProud.com). Gregg and Elaine had brought each of the kids a computer last Christmas, “well they’ll need it for school”, and it was the best money they’d ever spent, no more fights about who gets to use Gregg’s laptop anymore. OK some of the games said they were for 18 and above but they were alright really “our kids don’t get upset about violence and it’s not as though its real is it?”

On Sundays Gregg and Elaine would drive Elaine’s new four by four out to the retail park and justify to themselves that they really did need that new 97” plasma screen HD telly or why they really couldn’t do without that patio heater in the garden centre (yes, they knew all about global warming but everyone else in the close had one…) Anyway Gregg was due a big pay-rise soon “so of course we can afford it”. Then they’d pick up a McMonster Happy MealTM for five, go home and wake the kids up in time for lunch.

When they’d first seen the show home in Blandsbury Elaine had bullied Gregg into having an exact copy of the kitchen in their house. Granite work surfaces, gas hob, eyelevel gas oven, a huge American style ‘fridge, food processors and every kind of cooking gadget Jimie or Nogella had ever mentioned on the telly. “Yes I know it’s expensive but if you want me to cook in it then it’s got to have all the best in it” said Elaine. But cooking took so long and never ended up quite like it did on the telly and it was impossible to actually get everyone to sit down at the table at the same time. So the only pieces of kitchen equipment that really ever got used were the microwave and the ‘fridge. Elaine would bulk buy frozen ready meals and people would just zap one in the microwave as and when they felt hungry. It was just easier that way, Sharon was a vegetarian and Dwayne was allergic to wheat products. Gregg and Gavin like “proper meat” and Elaine would pretty much eat anything so take aways and ready meals kept everyone happy. The dining room only ever got used when Gregg or Elaine’s parents came round or for special family events like Christmas.

Nobody really knew what it was that Gregg actually did for a living at YodaTel (www.TalkingIsGoodWeAreBetter.com) but as long as he kept getting pay rises and bonuses no one really cared – least of all Gregg. He went to a lot of meetings, thought outside of the box, pushed envelopes, strove for synergies and plucked low hanging fruit. He didn’t actually make anything, apart from decisions, but he did facilitate other people to do things. His boss went on “fact finding” trips abroad (“jollies” according to Gregg) and kept Gregg “up to the minute” via e-mail and endless video conferences. Gregg was constantly putting StrongComma presentations together to justify his existence and as long as the figures looked good (and Gregg made sure they did) then he got his pay rise and his bonus.

For one of Gavin’s school projects he had to write a two page essay on what his father did for a living and so he asked Gregg to explain it. For Gregg this was harder than explaining the facts of life to Gavin (Gavin knew all about that from the Internet anyway). Whilst Gregg explained all about the meetings and presentations Gavin kept coming back to the question “But what is it that you actually do?” (Gavin got an F for the project.)

Unlike in Upper Snobsbury, fashion was a thing of the moment. If Sharon didn’t have this new dress or those new trainers now then she’d never be able to talk to any of her friends ever again. Yes, Sharon knew that she, Sharon that is, couldn’t afford it “but you couldn’t make me go to school in those old trainers – they’re so yesterday. You wouldn’t want my friends to think we were poor would you?” So Elaine would give in and they’d buy them in the shopping mall that afternoon. The same with the boys Gavin simply had to have that new hoodie and Dwayne just couldn’t survive without that new trackie…

Fashion is ruled by the Internet and the telly. Someone who had once played football was wearing so and so’s designer shoes and so everyone but everyone had to have them by Saturday at the very latest. Someone who was once photographed for page 3 in her bikini is wearing so and so’s dresses so everyone must have a copy now. If so and so in so and so’s new film says that green is ‘sooo yesterday’ then green is out (until tomorrow that is when green will become ‘the new black’ again).

The media defines everything and celebrities define the media. What makes someone a celebrity is a complete mystery. One day you’re a nobody and the next you’re a celebrity, you don’t actually have to do anything to become a celebrity you just become one. And once you’re a celebrity the world is your oyster. Prime Ministers will want to be photographed with you, Presidents will want you for their inauguration, and lesser celebrities will want to be seen with you. But be warned being a celebrity is hard work; you have to do it (whatever it actually is…) all the time. But the common herd of your loyal fans are very fickle, today’s celebrity can easily become tomorrow’s “has been”, so take my advice, get an agent now and get one for your children as they’re bound to be celebrities soon.

Gregg and Elaine are just the same - they try doing what the celebs do, they buy copies of what the celebs buy and think like the celebs think (in other words they don’t think at all but simply follow the rest of the herd). And where do they get all this celeb information? From the telly and the Internet. If the telly says “do this” then Gregg and Elaine will dutifully do it. If the Internet says “buy that” then Gregg and Elaine will dutifully go out and buy it (or a copy of it).

In Upper Snobsbury what the Vicar and the Squire said was true, right and proper. In Blandsbury what the telly and the Internet say is true, right and proper. In Upper Snobsbury they probably had never heard of Shakespeare (and definitely not in Lower Snobsbury!) and nobody really cared. In Blandsbury if you don’t know who got thrown out of “Celebrity Big Whatever” last night then you may as well commit social suicide.

3 Dinner at the Manor house

In which we are introduced to the very pinnacle to society in Upper Snobsbury.

On the Saturday night dinner was delayed at the manor house as the Squire had been delayed on his return from London. Dinner was a serious affair for ten and the cook and all the kitchen staff had worked hard to produce a meal worthy of celebrating Roderick’s twenty first birthday. Roderick was the Squire’s heir and only son and his coming of age was an event worthy of a grand celebration dinner. There were to be five courses, soup, followed by fish, game pie and a suckling pig all rounded off with a fruit syllabub. To ease the food down there were copious bottles of wine for the menfolk and fruit cordial for the ladies.

Around the table were the Squire, his eldest daughter Amelia (22), estate manager Runwell, the Squire’s youngest daughter Verity (16), Roderick, the Squire’s wife, the Reverend Preachwell, the Squire’s middle daughter Constance (17), Charles, a friend of Roderick’s who was staying at the Manor for the summer, and the Vicar’s wife. Conversation was of a superficial nature revolving around the collection of the rents, the Squire’s business in London “What news of the latest fashions Papa?” chipped in Verity and the Vicar’s sermon for tomorrow’s service and of course hearty congratulations and toasts to Roderick.

Roderick, however, was finding it difficult to appear at ease as he had had a somewhat difficult conversation with the scullery maid that morning and felt it important that he should discuss this with his father as soon as possible. It had been his intention to buttonhole the Squire before dinner but due to the Squire’s late arrival this had proved impossible.

By the time the food was finished, copious amounts of wine having been consumed by the gentlemen, the ladies left the table for the men to drink their port, smoke their cigars and talk of more serious matters. “So Roderick, now that you’ve come of age how do you intend to occupy yourself?” asked the Squire. To Roderick this seemed and fairly pointless question as he intended to occupy himself now as he had always occupied himself; hunting, gambling, womanising and drinking and whilst he pondered this Charles suggested that “Roderick should join the army”. “Don’t be a damned fool Charles; why on earth should I want to join the army?” Charles was taken aback at this as it was his intention to join the army as soon as he reached 21. The Vicar, concerned at the language Roderick was using and suspecting too much wine and port suggested that “Roderick should not be so hasty – many a good man had improved his standing in the world by joining the army”. “God you’re an old woman” thought Roderick but simply asked his father to pass the port. “No, I think not” said the Squire “I think we’ve all had enough and it is time to join the ladies” and so saying rose from his chair and went to leave.

“Father” called Roderick as the Squire was about to leave the room “I have a serious issue I need to discuss with you, perhaps you could spare me some time before church tomorrow morning?” “Of course Roderick, of course, shall we say nine thirty in my study?” Whilst this was considerably earlier than Roderick had planned for he had urgent need of a favour or two from his father so he agreed to the time and venue.

When the gentlemen re-joined the ladies the Squire took his wife to one side and smilingly told her that he thought that Roderick was “finally growing up and taking responsibility for his life” as he was confident that tomorrow’s discussion with Roderick would centre on Roderick’s plans for a career – how sadly mistaken he was.

Charles, who was an acknowledged admirer of Constance’s, stood by the piano as Constance played and her two sisters sang. The Vicar and his wife quietly dozed while the estate manager Runwell sat on his own feeling, as usual, out of place at such a party. He was unaware that the Squire’s wife continued to invite Runwell to important family dinners as she had hopes that perhaps he might be enticed to marry Amelia. Amelia, now 22 was still romantically unattached and if something didn’t happen soon she would become a confirmed old maid. “There’s nothing wrong with Amelia, really” mused the Squire’s wife “it’s just that there’s nothing right either. She’s attractive, but not very, intelligent, but not outstandingly so and entertaining if you liked that sort of thing” but of all the likely candidates the Squire’s wife had presented none had actually taken the bait. “Charles and Constance will make a good match, Verity will be simple as she’s going to become a very beautiful young lady, its Amelia I worry about” she thought.

And so the evening came to an end, the Vicar and his wife departed for the Vicarage, accompanied by Runwell. The Squire, his wife and daughters retired for the night. Roderick and Charles sat up into the early hours with a bottle of brandy and several large cigars.

Finally, after two, all in the manor house were asleep and dreaming; The Squire of his son’s future, the Squire’s wife of what to do about Amelia, Roderick of the scullery maid, Charles of Constance and Verity of the new dress, blue of course, her father had promised her. If Amelia did dream history does not relate its contents but we suspect it was dull.

4 A Bland summer

In which the Blands go on holiday and beards become a bit more important than perhaps they really ought to be.

So Gregg and Elaine did what they were told to do, went where they were told to go, wore what they were told to wear, bought what they were told to buy, holidayed where they were told to holiday and were the very models of the consumerist age. The Internet and the telly ruled their every decision. The media and the celebrities defined who Gregg and Elaine were. When an ex-Chelsea footballer grew a beard Gregg dutifully grew a beard but when the ex-Chelsea footballer shaved his off Gregg didn’t. For the first time in his life Gregg made a decision on his own. It was only a teeny weeny little decision but it was his decision. He liked his beard and if he liked it then that was good enough for him.

On the train to work Gregg began to notice fewer and fewer beards and soon his was the only facial hair at meetings. Nobody actually said anything, it wasn’t a crime to have a beard it was just becoming a bit unusual. Elaine mentioned it a couple of times “Beards are a bit out of fashion now” and “When are you going to shave that off?” but Gregg stuck to his guns - he kept it neat and tidy and became more and more adamant that he wouldn’t shave it off. To the children it became a bit of a joke, they didn’t call him Dad anymore they called him “Beardie”. But as time went on the children realised that their father was different to all the other fathers, he had a beard! There is nothing worse for children at school to have an ‘odd’ parent and soon they were getting jokes flung at them on HeadMagTM “Your Dad’s weird he’s got a beard”. They complained to Elaine about it “Get Beardie to shave it off – it’s embarrassing” but Gregg wasn’t having any of it and point blank refused to shave. He liked to think that it was a demonstration of his independent side.

Little more was said about the beard and the Bland life went on. The children did passably well at school, Gregg presented his presentations and thought blue sky thoughts and Elaine enjoyed her leisure time.

A week before the schools broke up for the long summer holiday the Blands flew off for a fortnight in Greece. “It’s always cheaper if you go a bit early” argued Gregg “and it’s not as though they’d learn anything in the last week of term!” The villa was beautiful; set in its own grounds about a mile from the town. The swimming pool was even better than the website (www.SunSeaAndDammnedExpensive.com) had promised, the barbecue, the food, the wine were everything that Gregg had hoped for. The family lazed by the pool (Elaine had thought about sunbathing topless but the thought of Gavin’s disgusted face persuaded her otherwise), ate too much of Gregg’s cooking (well Gregg did the burgers on the barbecue while Elaine made the salads, puddings and vegetarian options) and the grown ups drank too much retsina. Within three days they were all lobster red and daren’t leave the villa until the sun was close to setting.

Now they were all in the villa Gregg appreciated that perhaps it wasn’t quite as big as it had appeared when they first arrived, the children in one bedroom and Gregg and Elaine in the other, the kitchen was miniscule and the ‘living room cum diner’ was positively crowded with all five of them in it. The telly only got “crappy Greek channels” and they’d only bought one computer so there was a constant fight for “who’s turn is it”. Whilst www.SunSeaAndDammnedExpensive.com had guaranteed Internet access Gregg still hadn’t been able to get a connection.

Tempers got frayed, sunburn still hurt and everyone was getting fed up with Greek salads. Elaine tried persuading everyone to walk into town with her but there were no takers “It’s too hot Mum” said Sharon and the others just nodded in agreement. So Elaine set off for town with a huge shopping list knowing that she’d never be able to find half of the things on it. Three hours later she returned at the wheel of a large 4 wheel drive camper van. “Yes I know we don’t need a camper van” she explained to Gregg “but this was the only vehicle for hire in the town and I point blank refuse sit around here for the next 10 days”. So the next day Elaine got everyone out of bed and dragged them out for a drive around “the beautiful scenery of the island”. The children sulked in the back firmly glued to their JPeds while Elaine tried to enthuse Gregg about the history, the views and the local culture (she’d read it all up before they set off). All in all it wasn’t a great success.

Eventually the sunburn wore off and Elaine said that they could use the pool again but only smothered in sun tan lotion so they settled down to “enjoy the holiday” whilst they all secretly wished that they were at home again. By the end of the fortnight, which had felt like a month to Gregg, they all had a healthy brown tan, had bought their souvenirs, packed their bags, forgotten who knows what and arrived at the airport.

The flight back was a nightmare; O’Ryan Air www.WeFlyCheapest.com wouldn’t accept that they had reserved five seats together so Gregg an Elaine spent the flight walking up and down the airplane trying to get the kids off to sleep. The food, which cost £10 extra each, was inedible and there were no free drinks “Last time I fly cattle class” thought Gregg. Eventually they found the car in the long term parking lot and drove home only to find that they had been burgled.

5 A difficult conversation

In which Roderick talks to his father and the consequences of this

Roderick woke at nine with a thick head and remembered that he was supposed to meet his father in half an hour. Feeling somewhat wobbly, perhaps he and Charles had drunk a little too much, he bathed, dressed and made his way to his father’s study. Punctuality was one of the Squire’s ‘big things’ (in others of course, if the Squire himself was late then that was ‘unavoidable’) and so he was pleased to hear his son knock on the door as the clock struck the half hour.

“Morning Roderick, sit down sit down, help yourself to some coffee” said the Squire “What can I help you with?” Normally Roderick would have had a plan for how to handle his father but on this occasion he just blurted out the crux of his problems. “I’m sorry father but I owe some chaps £75, have spent my years allowance and Mary’s, ummmm, pregnant...” Whilst he had started out quite confidently the end of his announcement was barely audible. “Yes, yes Roderick, you owe some money and you need to borrow some but what was that about Mary?” “Errr Mary’s pregnant Sir” replied Roderick. “Pregnant is she, why should you care, I don’t know this Mary Roderick, what’s it to you if she’s pregnant?”

“Umm Mary’s the scullery maid and I got her pregnant Sir” muttered Roderick “She’s threatening to cut up rough about it if I don’t take care of her.” “Take care of her, take care of her, what the devil do you mean take care of her?” shouted his father. “She wants me to marry her Sir.”

“Well you’re a damned fool Roderick! Nobody minds a bit of hanky panky with the staff but pregnancy and marriage are simply out of the question, you’ll have to pay her off.” The Squire was now red in the face and getting very angry with Roderick. There was he expecting a sensible conversation with his son about careers and ‘taking responsibility’ and here was Roderick making a complete idiot of himself. “I’m sorry Sir, but as I said I already owe £75 to the chaps at the club, I have nothing to pay her off with.”

“You’re a damned fool Sir, I say it again you’re a damned fool!” shouted the Squire and pounded the desk with his fist. It was only a knock at the door that saved Roderick from any further abuse, “Its time to leave for church dear” said the Squire’s wife. “I’ll be with you in a moment” replied the Squire “and as for you Roderick; I’ll deal with you later.”

The Squire didn’t tell his wife why he was so angry but his wife could guess the most of it. Had she known the all of it her anger would have equalled her husband’s but she would never have shown it. Whilst she wasn’t the brightest of women she had grown accustomed to her husband’s moods and was generally good at calming him down, but not this time. Throughout the sermon the Squire harrumphed and muttered to himself, replaying in his mind the conversation with Roderick. “This is my only son and heir and this is how he re-pays me. Gets the damned scullery maid pregnant! I ought to take him out and flog him!” The Vicar, greeting the Squire at the door on the way out and having seen him muttering through the sermon, asked him if “everything was alright?” “Alright you fool; of course it’s not alright!” replied the Squire as he left for the Manor.

Roderick had pleaded ill health to his mother and had retired to his bedroom. As he heard the family return from church he escaped to the stables, saddled up his horse and went for a ride through the park. The fresh air and exercise would clear his head and he needed some time before he could face his father again.

6 Back from holiday

In which we hear about the joys of the telephone and some more about beards.

Burglary was not that common in Blandsbury, and was unheard of in Upper Snobsbury. Crime did happen in Lower Snobsbury but it certainly not in Upper Snobsbury, The Vicar and the Squire simply wouldn’t allow it.

There was uproar in the Bland household as they discovered more and more of their prized possessions missing. All the tellies, all the computers, the DVD players, the stereo and all of the kitchen appliances were gone. Gregg was on the ‘phone to the police becoming increasingly impatient with the recorded message – “Test Valley Police appreciate your call. All of our operatives are helping other customers at the moment and your call is being held in a queue. We know you don’t have a choice so please hold until an operative becomes free. Test Valley Police are sponsored by McMonster MushTM foods; please visit their website at www.WeKnowItsCrapButYouLoveIt.com. All calls may be recorded for training purposes.” Eventually a voice with a Eurasian accent said “Hi, my name is Gary; how can I help you tonight?” “We’ve just returned from holiday and our house has been burgled.” “Is the offender still in the residence?” asked Gary. “Of course he’s not” snapped Gregg. “In that case your call is of low priority, please call again during normal office hours or register the offence on our website www.YouCantGetBetterThanATestValleyCopper.com” replied Gary “Thank you for choosing Test Valley Police, I look forward to helping you again in the future. Have a nice day.” And with that the call was terminated. “Bloody useless!” thought Gregg.

“There’s nothing else we can do tonight, lets get some sleep and I’ll sort it in the morning” said Gregg and reluctantly they all trooped off to bed. In the morning Gregg was again on the ‘phone and having entered 1 (to report a crime) 3 (household burglary) 2 (burglar not on premises) and 4 (want to talk to an operative) and was again being held in a queue. After half an hour he gave up and called his insurance company. After numerous recorded messages and touchtone selections he finally got through to a real human being whose immediate response, after Gregg had explained what had happened, was to ask for the Police crime incident number. “I don’t have a number from the police as I can’t get through to anyone at the bloody police to give me one.” “I’m sorry Mr Bland but our procedures state that we cannot proceed with your claim until you have the Police crime incident number. Thank you for calling, please visit our website www.WeTryNotToPay.com and have a nice day” and the call ended.

Gregg tried to use the one remaining computer in the house to register the crime via the Internet but Elaine and the children were too deeply engrossed in searching www.EverythingYouReallyWantButCantReallyAfford.com for replacements for everything that had been stolen. Gregg was horrified when he saw the checkout total of something in excess of £17,000. “We’ve never lost that much, we can’t have done” said Gregg. “No, maybe not, but that’s what insurance is for, everyone adds a few little extras to their claim, that’s why we pay the premiums.” replied Elaine smugly “We are up to date with the premiums aren’t we?” “Ummm, yes I’m sure we are” said Gregg and he went away to check.

Eventually everything was resolved, Gregg finally got a Police crime incident number, registered his claim with the Insurance company (he was up to date with the premiums) who finally agreed to a pay out of just short of £20,000 and advised him that he had now lost his no claims bonus and that his premiums would go up dramatically next year. “Next year” thought Gregg “Who cares? I’ll find it cheaper somewhere else on www.IllFindItCheaperSomewhereElse.com before I renew.” Two days later a vast lorry arrived outside the house and more electronics than had guided Apollo 11 to the moon was delivered to the Bland household. “Who’s this electric razor for? Surely Gavin isn’t shaving yet is he?” “Don’t be a fool Gregg of course he isn’t, it’s for you. We’ve all agreed that the beard has to go.” “Don’t be ridiculous Elaine; I can’t shave it off now. With the suntan I’d have brown cheeks and a white chin – I’d look stupid!” Elaine bit back several suitable replies and let it go for the moment.

Gregg hadn’t really thought about his beard for a while but now Elaine reminded his of it he admired his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “No” he thought “I don’t care what they say it makes me look more mature and intelligent so it’s staying.” And so, living in his own private little dream world, Gregg continued to refuse to shave. There was a small part of him that liked being different. It wasn’t as though he was doing anything really radical he was simply wearing his independence on his chin. Each day; on his way to work, at work and on his way home from work Gregg would look out for other beards but there were none. In Gregg’s world his was the only facial hair to be found and, somehow, this reinforced Gregg’s refusal to shave it off. For once he was ‘different’ and it made him feel good. No one could accuse him of sheepishly following fashion. “It’s not doing anyone any harm, I like it and I’m going to keep it.” And each time his children called him ‘Beardie’ it only added to his stubbornness about keeping it.

Little did Gregg know that, in truth, his beard was doing someone harm and this someone was Dwayne, his 11 year old son. When Dwayne had put some of his holiday snaps up on HeadMagTM his friends came back with comments like “You’re weird your Dad’s got a Beard” which was OK just on HeadMagTM but once he got back to school it became a constant refrain “Dwayne Bland’s weird, his Dad’s got a beard”. It was as though it was all Dwayne’s fault. No one listened when he tried to make a joke of it; no one listened when he insisted that he thought it looked stupid too. His dad had a beard and Dwayne had to suffer because of it. Even his best mates seemed to blame him for it. He told Gregg and Elaine about it but they never really listened. Elaine’s response was “Talk to your father about it” and when Dwayne did Gregg’s response was “Don’t be silly Dwayne, it’s only a beard”.

So Gregg kept his beard and Dwayne continued to get teased about it.

7 What’s to happen about Mary

In which the Squire steps into the breech and promises to sort it all out.

Mary, the impregnated scullery maid, was the blacksmith’s eldest daughter and had always thought that she was better than that. “You’ve ideas above your station young lady” said her mother when Mary voiced such thoughts. If she could get Roderick to marry here then all her dreams would come true; no more washing out the kitchen, no more dragging in fresh water from the well. She’d even have her own maid. All she had to do was to make sure that Roderick married her. Yes, it’d be difficult, yes the Squire would kick up a fuss, and yes her father would be furious when he found out that she was pregnant. Yes, yes, yes but it’ll all be worth it in the end. She and Roderick would have their own farm with their own money and Mary would go to tea with the Vicar’s wife and she’d have new blue dresses whenever she wanted.

Mary was certain that only she and Roderick knew of her pregnancy, she’d told him yesterday, and had wanted it kept a secret between them until Roderick had agreed to the wedding. She didn’t know that Roderick had told the Squire and worse she didn’t know that the cook had guessed the truth of it a week ago. How the cook knew was a mystery but know she did and she’d passed it on to the chambermaid, who’d told it to the butler, who’d told the stableman, who’d told… And so now most of Upper Snobsbury (and much to their amusement all of Lower Snobsbury) knew her secret. The only ones not to know were the blacksmith and his family. The blacksmith was a good upright sort of man, but he was known to be a bit fiery if he’d had too many drinks in the Ferret and Fox on a Saturday night and nobody wanted to be the one to break the news to him.

When Mary was sitting in the kitchen at her parent’s house (she got Sunday afternoons off once a month) her mother asked her for all the news from the Manor. “Nothing much mother, it was the young master’s birthday yesterday and I suspect he drank too much as he didn’t go to church this morning. They say Mr Charles will marry Miss Constance soon and that Mr Runwell hasn’t done his duty towards Miss Amelia yet.” “Duty, what do you mean duty, they’ve never been carrying on have they?” asked her mother. “No, of course not” replied Mary “it’s just that everyone knows he’s her last chance around here. Everyone except Mr Runwell that is.” This made her mother laugh “And who’s Master Roderick to marry then young lady?” A blush came to Mary’s cheek at this “They say he has a young lady up in town but he’s not really courting her” replied Mary.

After his ride Roderick sat with Charles in the library and told him of his problems. “Pregnant you say” laughed Charles “What did your father have to say about that?” “He’s furious with me, called me a damned fool.” “Well he’s not wrong there, but what’s going to happen, you can’t marry her.” “Of course not, but I’ve not the money to pay her off. I have to put my faith in father. He’ll sort it out for me.” While Roderick knew that his father was furious with him, he also knew that his father wouldn’t let the family name be dragged through any sort of scandal. So all he could do was wait to be summoned to meet with his father again and see what he had to say then.

The Squire had spent most of the day being angry with his son but now set his mind to working out what to do about it. In any other circumstances he would have talked it over with his wife and acted as she suggested, but not now, this was something that he had to sort out for himself. Roderick had caused the problem and now he, the Squire, must settle it. He wouldn’t talk to his wife about it and he certainly couldn’t talk to the Vicar, maybe he should take the bull by the horns and talk to the girl about it, or possibly her family and make them see the impossibility of any marriage.

He’d pay for the baby to be brought up but it was out of the question for his son to marry her. He couldn’t face talking to the scullery maid herself and so resolved to talk to her parents instead. He called the cook to his study “Cook, you know the scullery maid, Mary’s her name I believe” “Yes Sir, the scullery maid’s called Mary Sir” the cook replied with a knowing chuckle. “D’you know her family at all?” “Why yes Sir, her father’s the blacksmith in the village Sir.” “How does he do then cook, what would you say, well off or struggling to make ends meet?” “Definitely struggling Sir, definitely, always has a problem with the rent come quarter day Sir.” “Right, thank you cook, that’ll be all.” “So that’s how it’s going to be then” thought the cook as she left “he’s going to pay ‘em off, let’s see how the blacksmith reacts to that!”

So the Squire had resolved it in his mind and sent for Roderick to meet him in his study as soon as possible. Before Roderick had fully closed the door the Squire started “You’re a fool Roderick, a damned fool, but you’re still my son so I suppose I’d better sort this mess out for you. I’ll pay off your debts and I’ll sort out this nonsense about the scullery maid, no don’t interrupt me. I’ll tidy up your mess for you but this is the last time d’you hear me?” “Yes Sir, thank you Sir.” “Don’t thank me too soon young man. I’ll sort this out but you have to start acting your age and taking responsibility for your future. I give you until church on Sunday to let me know your plans or I’ll have your name down for the army first thing on Monday morning, do you hear me Sir, do you understand me?” “Yes Sir, I understand Sir and I’m very grateful to you Sir. I’ll definitely straighten my ways.” “Very well then Roderick, we’ll talk no more about it until next Sunday, leave it to me and I’ll sort out this nonsense about the scullery maid.” “Yes Sir, no Sir, three bags full Sir” thought Roderick as he left the room, but as long as his father sorted things out Roderick had little choice but to grovel.

The Squire found out all he needed to know about the blacksmith and his family from Runwell who had had many dealings with the blacksmith on estate matters. It was in the Squire’s mind to summon the blacksmith up to the Manor there and then but decided to leave it for a couple of days and said no more of the blacksmith to Runwell.

Roderick told Charles all the details of his interview with his father and was happy to receive Charles’s congratulations “Well done Roderick all your troubles are over, all you have to do now is settle on a future. What’s it to be – don’t be too quick to write off the army.” “The army” scoffed Roderick “I don’t know what I will do but I’ll tell you this for nothing - I’ll never join the army!”

And, for once, Roderick was one hundred percent correct. He never did join the Army.

8 Dwayne’s suffering

In which all this beard stuff gets way too much attention and we question whether the Blands’ daughter is ever to justify her existence.

Life at school became worse and worse for Dwayne. Everyone in the playground, it seemed, knew only one thing about Dwayne, that he was “that weird kid whose father had a beard.” Dwayne had no one to talk to about it; the teachers were to busy to care, his parents wouldn’t listen and even his brother, Gavin, thought it was ‘all a bit of a laugh’ and was far too wrapped up in his GCSEs to worry about ‘poor little Dwayne.’ If only his father would shave his beard off then everything would go back to normal. Dwayne had never been a big favourite at school, but he had never been unpopular. But now Dwayne dreaded school, each morning he feigned sickness but Elaine had a strict rule “You either go to school or you go to the Doctors, take your pick” so Dwayne had to get up and go to school.

The only solace Dwayne could find was on www.IHateMyParents.com where each night he would pour out his heart in chat rooms and forums. As soon as he said that the cause of his problems was his father’s beard the chat room was divided. Some tried to cheer Dwayne up with a few weak jokes but others were straight in with “Weirdo Beardo” comments and eventually the forum moderators had to intervene. “This chat room is supposed to be supportive, give Dwayne a break.” In a private e-mail to Dwayne the moderator offered to get in touch with Dwayne’s parents to try and help sort things out. Dwayne jumped at the chance and gave the moderator Gregg and Elaine’s e-mail addresses.”

“Dear Mr and Mrs Bland” started the e-mail

“Your son Dwayne has been using our website (www.IHateMyParents.com) as he is being bullied at school. Dwayne tells us that the root of the problem is Mr Bland’s beard. Whilst we at www.IHateMyParents.com have no formal powers we feel it would make Dwayne’s life at school more harmonious if Mr Bland were to remove his facial hair. It may be that Mr Bland is unaware of the problems that his particular fashion choice is causing his son and we would strongly advise Mr Bland to consider this.

We feel that Dwayne has received little or no parental support through this difficult time. Our role in life is to provide a safe environment for vulnerable children to express their feelings, we cannot resolve all problems but in this case we can only say that Dwayne’s life would be improved dramatically if Mr Bland was to shave.

With best regards

www.IHateMyParents.com”

“What a bloody cheek!” was Gregg reaction to this. Elaine’s reaction was similar “Who are they to say that we’re bad parents – ‘little parental support’ indeed!” Elaine again suggested to Gregg that he should shave it off, but with little enthusiasm. The evildoer in this now was the author that wretched e-mail. Both Elaine and Gregg sat down with Dwayne and talked about the beard and Gregg’s attitude towards it. “You should be proud of your Dad for being independent and not following the crowd” said Elaine. “Don’t worry son, I’ll have a word with your teachers about it, I’ll make sure that they stop you getting picked on.” Gregg was as good as his word and the following day he talked to Dwayne’s head of year and tried to justify the beard.

“I’ve a suggestion for you Mr Bland. Why not come along to our parent’s assembly next week and talk to the school about it.” “Parent’s assembly – what’s that?” asked Gregg. “Ah, this is a new scheme we’re piloting this term. Every now and again, depending on parental interest, we’re inviting parents along to give the school a chat about anything on their minds – your stance against mindlessly following fashion would be ideal!” “Um, OK then if you think it’d be worthwhile?” “I’m sure it will be Mr Bland, we’ll see you on Wednesday then.”

And so it was that on Wednesday morning Gregg stood up into front of the school and tried to explain his resistance to shaving off his beard and asked that Dwayne should be forgiven for having such an independent father. All in all Gregg thought it had gone rather well but Dwayne had nearly died of embarrassment. “If that was Dad’s idea of ‘sorting it out’ then he’s really lost the plot” thought Gavin as he left assembly. The brothers met up at break and decided that they’d just have to leave school and join a monastery as they’d never be able to live that assembly down. “Why are parents so stupid?” thought both the boys. [For those readers who have been paying attention and are be wondering where Sharon is in all of this - it should be noted that she attends a different school – lucky her!]

It wasn’t until the following morning that Gregg realised that it might not have gone quite as well as he’d thought. “Father puts beard before son’s education” ran the headline on the front page of the “Blandsbury Bugle”. “This is a total distortion of what I said” spluttered Gregg “It’s a tissue of lies and misconstructions, how can they get away with printing rubbish like this?” In the following week’s edition they had, to be fair, printed Gregg’s letter of rebuttal but they had also printed half a dozen letters condemning Gregg for his selfish attitude towards his son’s education.

Before anyone knew it Gregg, and his beard, was everywhere; local TV, national TV, countless websites and all of the tabloids covered the story. [It was a very quiet news week that week and the media was more than happy to push this for all it was worth.] By appearing to be prepared to sacrifice his son’s education for a beard Gregg had reached the dizzy heights of fame; or rather infamy as there was not a voice anywhere in the media prepared to do anything other than condemn Gregg and his beard.

9 Where’s Mary

In which Mary goes missing, gets found and several questions are asked but are left unanswered.

On the Monday morning it became apparent, when there was no fresh water from the well, that Mary had absented herself from her duties. The cook sent one of the under-maids to get “the lazy little madam” out of bed and the boot boy to fetch water from the well. “Breakfast can’t wait for young Mary even if she is a favourite with the young master” grumbled the cook. But when the under-maid returned to say that there was no sign of Mary and that her bed hadn’t been slept in the cook became mildly worried. “Get down to the blacksmiths and get young Mary back up here as soon as possible” she told the boot boy and carried on with the preparation of breakfast. But when the boot boy returned with the news that Mary hadn’t been seen at the blacksmiths since Sunday evening the cook organised a search of all the servant’s quarters for the errant scullery maid. When this proved fruitless the cook had no option but to inform the Squire that one of his staff was missing.

“Thank you cook, I’ll deal with this now. If you hear of her whereabouts then let me know immediately. When did you last see the girl?” asked the Squire. “Yesterday evening Sir” replied the cook. “Roderick, you wouldn’t know anything about this would you?” asked the Squire suspiciously after the cook had left. “No Father, I’ve not seen Mary since Saturday Sir” replied his son. “Hmm very well then I supposed we’d better search the house. You and Charles can see to that.” Half an hour later Roderick and Charles reported back to the Squire that Mary was nowhere in the house or in the immediate gardens.

“Charles, would you ride into the village and talk to the girl’s family. Don’t get them too worried but if they have no news then bring the father back up here.” “Right Sir” said Charles and left for the village. “Roderick are you sure you know nothing about this?” “Absolutely father as I said I’ve not seen her since Saturday.” “Very well then, take your horse and have a look round the park, but make sure you’re back here within the hour.”

An hour later Charles and the blacksmith had returned from the village and Roderick from the park, but there was no sight or news of Mary. “What’ve you done with my little girl?” asked the blacksmith. “Calm yourself Sir, I’m sure she’s just gone for a walk and will be here again within the hour, wondering what all the fuss is about” replied the Squire but not quite believing his own words.

The whole household now knew of Mary’s disappearance and various suggestions were made as to her favourite hideaways. These were all investigated but to no avail. The blacksmith, now seriously worried, returned home to get together some of the villagers to search for his daughter.

It wasn’t until midday that Mary was found. Her dead body was found submerged in the pond at the west side of the park. The blacksmith took her body home and he and his family sat grieving over it until the Vicar arrived. “What can I say my son” said the Vicar “a tragic accident.” “An accident, you call this an accident. Look at the marks on her neck” bellowed the blacksmith. “This is no accident, my girl’s been murdered and when I find out who done it I’ll make sure they pay for it. You mark my words Vicar someone’ll pay for this.”

“Don’t be hasty now; we don’t know what’s happened yet. Don’t go flinging wild suggestions around. I’ll talk to the Squire and we’ll get to the bottom of this. I’ll send the doctor round to you.” The Vicar left the family to their grief and headed off for the Manor his mind full of concerns. “There’s no question about it, this was no accident, the poor child has been murdered. If there’s any truth in the rumours about her and young Roderick this could look tricky for the Squire. We must be careful about this.”

“Squire, can we have a word in private” asked the Vicar. “Of course, of course” said the Squire “Come this way” and he led the Vicar into his study. “Squire, may I speak frankly?” “I wouldn’t expect anything else” replied the Squire. “Very well then, as you know the poor girl’s body was found in Marsham’s pond. I’ve just been with her family and whilst I’m no doctor it has to be said that it looks as though she was murdered.” “Murdered?” repeated the Squire “murdered, what makes you say that?” “As I said, I’m no expert but the bruises around her neck point in that direction. We’ll know more once the Doctor’s seen her. I asked him to meet us here once he’s seen the body.”

“Hmm very well then we’ll see what he has to say” muttered the Squire. “Before he arrives perhaps we should discuss a difficult matter” said the Vicar. “What’s that you say, a difficult matter, what could be more difficult than this poor child’s death?” “Well Squire, I don’t want to appear indelicate, but there are rumours you know… rumours about the young girl and, err, your son. Umm I pay no heed to tittle tattle but I have heard the rumours….” “Yes, yes” said the Squire “I know all about that but you don’t believe, you couldn’t believe, that my son could have anything to do with her death. No it’s out of the question. It was an accident, that’s all it was. I’ll pay for the funeral, she was, after all, working here and we’ll leave it at that. No more need be said. You’ll take some sherry?”

“Very well then” replied the Vicar “We’ll wait for the Doctor and see what he has to say.” As he accepted a glass of sherry the Vicar thought “You may think that no more need be said but I suspect that before too long a great deal more will need to be said. The whole village knows about your son and the girl and its all going to come out in public before the weeks out. What ever will they think in Lower Snobsbury?”

10 To shave or not to shave

In which Gregg has to make a decision but things are taken out of his hands.

“Morning Gregg” said a colleague of his as he arrived at work “saw your face splattered all over the web last night. What are you playing at? Are you trying to make your family’s life hell?” “Listen Simon, it’s only a wretched beard, it’s no big deal. Elaine and I talked it over last night and it’s all a storm in a teacup. Give it a day or so and they’ll all be on about a wardrobe malfunction at the Dome or something.” “I wouldn’t be too sure Gregg, have you seen this?” and pointed to an article on the DMM (www.We’llKeepTalkingEvenWhenWeHaveNothingToSay.com) news website ‘Ladies Institute declare beards to be evil’. “What?” exclaimed Gregg “What’s the world coming to? Beards can’t be evil, it’s all nonsense!” “Looks like the LI are taking it pretty seriously though” chuckled Simon.

“This is lunacy” thought Gregg “the LI must have something more serious to be worrying about.” But as he read through the rest of the article it became apparent that they hadn’t. A whole new language had sprung up ‘beardology’, ‘beardism’, ‘beardophobia’ “God you’ll be able to get a degree in facial hair next! This is plain insanity!”

Gregg and Elaine had, indeed, discussed it last night in bed. What had started as a simple little beard was now major news all around the world. “Should I shave it off?” he’d asked Elaine. “No, you can’t now. You should have shaved if off weeks ago, but if you shave it off now then it’ll be seen as you admitting you were wrong. You’ll have to keep it until all this blows over. I’ve talked to the kids about it and we’re all agreed, if you shave it off now then you’re no better than a wimp. Once everyone’s forgotten about it then you can shave it off, but until then the beard stays.”

He’d received an e-mail from his boss. “Whenever you get interviewed mention the company but only in a good way! Play this right and you could get a promotion, but get it wrong and you’re out of here. Talk to the PR people in New York and do whatever they tell you. DON’T talk to the press until you’ve talked to New York.”

“I don’t want to talk to the press at all either before or after I talk to New York” thought Gregg as he picked up his ‘phone. “Good morning, is this Gregg Bland?” “Yes, who is this?” “Hi Gregg, you don’t mind if I call you Gregg do you? I’m Alex Hack calling from ‘The Moon’ I was just wondering if you’d like to comment on the Ladies Institute debate regarding beards.” “No comment” replied Gregg remembering his boss’s e-mail.” “No comment Gregg? You know if you say that then we’ll just make something up about you, why not tell me what you really think, what the ‘inner Gregg’ really thinks about it all. Come on Gregg just give me something to work on.” “No comment” repeated Gregg and slammed the ‘phone down.

Gregg spent the rest of the morning ignoring the ‘phone until, at 2, he called the company PR department in New York and asked them what to do. “Don’t worry about it Gregg, we’ve sorted everything out for you.” replied Al. “All your calls to your work number and home number will be automatically diverted to me here in NY. We’re moving your wife and family into a hotel suite as we talk; apparently your house is surrounded by the media. I’ve cleared it with everyone both sides of the pond. You’re to keep out of the public eye for a couple of days. So get over to the Mulberry Bush Hotel (suite 372) and play happy families. Don’t you or your family leave the hotel without our people being with you (they’re in suite 373). Everything is being paid for by the company so have what you want. Just keep out of the public eye. OK do you have any questions?” “Umm not right now” replied Gregg somewhat shell-shocked. “Great” replied Al “well you have a good day now, I’ll talk to you later, just get over to the hotel now” and Al hung up.

Gregg felt tired just listening to Al. “What the hell’s going on?” thought Gregg as he waited for the taxi to take him to the Mulberry Bush. “The LI declare beards evil, the company coughs up for a hotel suite for him and his family, his house is surrounded by the media. All because of a stupid beard and a lousy school assembly.”

Gregg arrived at the Mulberry Bush (“Why go round and round when you could be in the middle with us”TM) and went up to suite 372. There was a huge man outside the door, in fact he was bigger than huge he was a man mountain. “Good afternoon Mr Bland, I’ve been expecting you. I’m Matthew. My team and I are here to make sure you have everything you need. You understand that you are not to leave the suite under any circumstances. If you need anything, and I do mean anything, then you ask me. You don’t call room service, you don’t make any outgoing calls at all, you just ask me. Got it?” “Umm I just ask you right.” “You got it, anything you need you ask me. Anything apart from a razor that is.” “What?” puzzled Gregg “What do you mean anything apart from a razor?” “Right now the company policy is that you keep the beard, so no razors. Got it now?” “Umm I suppose so, but I need to talk to Al in New York.” “No problems Mr Bland. I’ll put his call through in ten minutes Sir, have a good day now” and with that Matthew stepped aside and opened the door to suite 372.

For the first time his life, Gregg fully appreciated what they meant by a “Hero’s Welcome”. “Hi Dad” cried Gavin “This place is amazing, it’s got everything!” “Gregg darling are you OK you must be exhausted” said Elaine as she gave him a kiss and a hug “you’re all over the DMM news.” “They say you only grew the beard because we wanted you to. Is that right Dad?” asked Sharon. Even Dwayne gave his father a big grin from behind a huge plate of chips.

“You’re big news darling” said Elaine “in fact you’re bigger than that DMM haven’t covered any other story in the last hour!” “What are you on about? How can ‘man grows beard’ be big news?” “Sorry dear, but we’re way past ‘man grows beard’ ever since the Ladies Institute declared beards evil its way more than just about you. Four people have been murdered in Scotland just for having a beard, they say it’s the Real Ladies Institute but no one’s claimed responsibility yet. Two senators in Washington have been impeached because they’ve refused to shave. The Prime Minister’s just made a statement in the House saying that he supports the “right to wear beards” and the opposition are calling for a vote of no confidence in the Government. I really loved the statement you released though. I’ve never known you to be so strong and manly.”

Gregg was about to reply when the ‘phone rang “Al in New York for you Mr Bland Sir” said a voice on the ‘phone. “Hi Gregg, how’s it going? Everything OK in the hotel for you?” “Err yes everything’s fine, I just want to know what’s going on” “Don’t worry about that Gregg, leave all that to us. You just enjoy some quality time with your family. Listen now, we’ll have a camera crew with you in an hour or so. Don’t worry you don’t have to say anything just a few pictures for the media. OK?” “OK, I suppose that’ll be OK.” “OK then Gregg, you just enjoy the hotel and I’ll call again later on. You’re doing real good, don’t worry about it we’re all really proud of you. Have a nice day! And whatever you do - don’t shave!” and Al was gone.

11 Talk in the village

In which the blacksmith hears some rumours and suspicion falls on Roderick

The Doctor arrived at the Manor and confirmed that, in his opinion, the death was certainly not an accident. He didn’t go as far to say that she’d been murdered just that it wasn’t an accident. “Very well” said the Squire “we must arrange for her funeral.” “Yes” agreed the Vicar “but we’ll have to get to the bottom of what really happened to her, is there any need to delay the funeral Doctor?” “No” replied the Doctor “I’ve seen all I need to see. I suppose we’ll have to call in a magistrate won’t we?” “I suppose so” replied the Squire reluctantly. He would rather have the whole matter over and done with but could see that the Vicar and the Doctor wanted to make more of it so he had to go along with them. “Could you say when she died at all Doctor?” asked the Vicar. “Hmm difficult to say” replied the Doctor “but it must have been at least 12 to 15 hours before I saw her. But don’t rely on that as completely accurate, I’m just a country doctor remember.” [More of a country vet to be honest.]

“Very well then, let’s leave it at that for today. I’ll send for a magistrate and we’ll see when he can carry out an investigation. When could you carry out the funeral Vicar?” asked the Squire. “Well tomorrow’s out of the question, as is Wednesday, let us say Thursday at 11.” And with that the three gentlemen separated.

In the kitchen all were a-buzz with the news. “Murdered you say?” said the butler “That’s what everyone’s saying. Poor girl; we all know she put on airs and graces above her station but she never deserved this. What must her poor mother be feeling?” replied the cook. “I don’t know about her mother but her father’s out for blood. He’s sworn to find out who done it and to make sure they pays for it” said the boot boy. “Does he know about Mary and young master Roderick?” asked the cook. “I don’t think so” said the boot boy who knew all the gossip in the village “but it won’t be long before someone tells him you can be sure of that!” The boot boy had long been known to carry a torch for Mary but Mary had always had her sights set higher than a common boot boy.

At the blacksmiths the Vicar had talked to the family about the funeral and had left them to reconcile themselves to their loss. All the womenfolk were crying around Mary’s body whilst the blacksmith himself paced the room muttering to himself “I’ll find out who did this see if I don’t. I’ll make sure they ‘ang for it. My poor girl never deserved this, just wait until I get my hands on ‘im who did it.” “Calm yourself Tom” said his wife “the Vicar said that the Magistrate will find out who did this, leave it for ‘im to find out.” “Ha! You trust the Magistrate to find out the truth. He’ll just make it out to be an accident and no one’ll pay for my little girl’s life. I’m off out now while you start getting her ready for the funeral, I’ll send old mother Jackson round to help.” and with that the blacksmith put on his cap and jacket and left for the Ferret and Fox.

As he entered the inn the conversation in the bar fell quiet. “Your usual Tom?” asked the landlord “Aye and make it a large one” replied the blacksmith. “We’ve all heard your news Tom” said the landlord “and we’re all mighty sorry to have heard it. Have this one on us” and he pushed a large glass of brandy across the bar. “Thank you for that” replied the blacksmith “the funeral’ll be on Thursday at 11 and they say that the Squire’s sent for the Magistrate, but I put no faith in him. I’ll find out for myself who did this to my Mary and you mark my words when I do find out who did this then I’ll make ‘em pay.” There was general agreement to this around the bar. No one in the village trusted the magistrates ‘too much fancy talking and not enough getting at the truth’ was the commonly held belief. The conversation picked up again after this as all had their own opinion as to the culprit’s identity and it wasn’t long before Roderick’s name was mentioned. “The young master up at the Manor?” questioned the blacksmith “What makes you suspect him?” “Well Tom, this is difficult I know, but there was talk about ‘im and your Mary, you know. There are some of them as says that he’d gotten her into the family way.” “Never!” exclaimed Tom “my Mary weren’t stupid, she’d never have let ‘im. I’ll hear no more of that nonsense.” But the more he thought about it the more suspicious he became.

Back at home, Tom took his wife to one side “Anne, there was talk in the Ferret and they say that there’s talk of our Mary and master Roderick up at the Manor. D’you know anything about this?” “Well Tom, I don’t know anything for certain, but if you’re asking me what I reckon then I reckon they could be right. She was always a proud one our Mary, never one for talking much but I could see something in her any time his name was mentioned.” “Hmm” sighed Tom “but they was saying that she was pregnant by ‘im. That can’t be true no can it?” “Well I’m not saying one way or the other” replied his wife “but the doctor did say he thought she might be expectin’”. “Right, that’s that then, I’m off up to the manor to have it out with ‘em. He’ll not get away with this, not while I’ve a breath left in my body.” “Not now Tom” cautioned his wife “You’ve too much drink in you. We’ll both go up the manor tomorrow and see what the Squire’s got to say. Leave it for today, we’ll both go tomorrow.” “Alright then. You’re probably right, but we’ll have it out with ‘em tomorrow.” said Tom and they left it there for the evening.

“Roderick” said the Squire after their dinner “you’re sure you know nothing about this girl’s death. If there’s anything you want to tell me then tell me now. Better now than the Magistrate dragging all sorts of things out into public.” “I’ll tell you this father, I’m not sorry the girl’s dead, it solves a problem for me, but I know nothing about her death. It was nothing to do with me I promise you that, I give you my word on that Sir. I last saw Mary on Saturday and didn’t see her again until she was found up at Marsham’s pond.” Roderick’s word was good enough for the Squire. Roderick might be an irresponsible young fool but at least he’d always been an honest one.

Roderick joined Charles in the library for a glass of whiskey and a cigar. “Father thinks I killed the girl” he told Charles. “No, surely not?” replied Charles “Ermm you didn’t did you?” “Of course I didn’t you fool, of course not. I told you; father had said that he’d sort it out for me. What on earth makes you think that I might have killed her? Don’t be ridiculous of course I didn’t kill her!” “Alright, alright, calm down Roderick. I’m not suggesting that you did kill her, but someone did. You’d just better have your story straight before the Magistrate gets here because if news of what you told me the other night gets out then people’ll start pointing their fingers in your direction. What time was it the say she was killed?” “Oh, I’m not sure, sometime between 9 and 12 on Sunday night I think. Why d’you ask?” “Like I said Roderick, you need to get your story straight. What were you up to between 9 and 12 that night?” “Hmm I can’t recall now, but listen, let’s not worry about this tonight, we’ll talk some more about it tomorrow.” And with this the young gentlemen retired to their rooms.

The Squire, whilst believing his son, was still worrying about it as he and his wife retired for the night. “You know Roderick had got the girl pregnant don’t you my dear?” “Well I wasn’t certain about it but it’s no great surprise to hear you confirm it” replied his wife “I knew something was going on between them.” The Squire, for the thousandth time since he’d married her, wanted to know how she knew these things but now wasn’t the time. “He swears he had nothing to do with her death though. He gave me his word on that” replied the Squire. “Of course not” replied his wife “he can’t have had anything to do with it. Not Roderick, no it’s out of the question. If the girl was murdered then young Roderick had nothing to do with it.” Relieved by his wife’s confirmation of his own thoughts the Squire slept with an easy conscious that night. He could leave it all to the Magistrate now, it wouldn’t affect him or his family and that was the important thing.

First thing in the morning the blacksmith and his wife arrived at the Manor to “get to the bottom of it” as Tom put it. “We’re all very sorry about poor Mary” said the Squire “and the Magistrate will be here on Friday to get to the truth.” “Ah that’s all well and good” replied Tom “but what about your boy, they say he’d got her pregnant?” “I know nothing about that” lied the Squire “and I’d be very surprised if there was any truth in it at all. Anyway whether she was pregnant or not has nothing to do with her death.” “Well that’s what you’d say anyway ain’t it” said Tom “if he’d anything to do with it then I’ll see ‘im ‘ang for it - you just see if I don’t!”

“Calm yourself man, there’s no need for any talk like that” spluttered the Squire “my son had nothing to do with her death. Let’s leave this to the Magistrate shall we. There’s no point in being hasty now is there.” “Hah!” replied the blacksmith “I knew there’d be no sense from you. C’mon we’re leaving here” he said to his wife. “Just trying to keep his precious son’s name out of it” he thought as they walked down the drive “I’ll have ‘im just see if I don’t.”

12 An Interlude

In which your author has a quick rant. You can skip this with no harm to the story.

As in those massively boring TV quiz shows when the ‘contestant’ has been asked the question “What is three multiplied by seven?” and has arrived, after much use of his fingers and thumbs, at the answer of “twenty one” in a very hesitant voice. The ‘host’ says “so your final answer, for £75,000, is twenty one, are you sure about this?” “Yes I’m sure that’s right” “OK then we’ll take that as your final answer, so let’s see if you’re right, remember there is £75,000 riding on this answer. The answer to the question what is three multiplied by seven is….” And then there is a gobsmackingly long pause before the inevitable answer of twenty one is confirmed. How stupid do you have to be to enter these so called quiz shows?

And so, if you like, we are now in that overlong pause. Who killed Mary, what’s all this nonsense about beards, does anything in Upper Snobsbury have anything to do with what’s happening to Gregg and his family. These are the questions that your author is expecting/hoping are going through your mind. [And if they’re not then you’re probably reading the wrong book!] Yup, you want to know what the hell’s going on, all these unanswered questions, so just treat this chapter as the long pause following “and the answer is” or “and the winner is” in most of the pap that is served up to us on television on a nightly basis (and don’t get me started on the Saturday night extravaganza!) You can skip this chapter without fear of missing out on anything important – promise!

“Dumbed down” has become a popular refrain recently, everything is getting “dumbed down” but surely we are not all this stupid. If there’s a child of 12 who doesn’t know that three sevens are twenty one then maths education has gone way downhill (and yes it’s called “maths” not “math” why does everyone think that because the Americans call it math then we ought to as well?) Children these days are supposed to get god knows how many hours of literacy and numeracy classes to ‘improve standards’. The National Curriculum is supposed to define what children ought to know and SATs are supposed to prove that they know it. This is just a box ticking exercise, when will anyone realise that children learn at different rates, the schools have to get good SATs results or they drop down the league tables and if the school drops down then they get less funding. This is insanity!

And what do children do outside of school? They can’t go ‘out to play’ (because it’s too dangerous!) so they stay in at home and get fat (or fatter). And what do they do at home? They watch the bloody television. In far too many houses the ‘off switch’ is completely redundant; the box is on all the bloody time! “Ah but it’s educational” I hear. Twaddle! It’s mindless pap, its junk food for the brain. Junk Food, there’s another thing; when did we stop taking fresh stuff home and cooking it, when did that become too difficult? And dining rooms, what are they for? Time was when the whole family would sit down for at least one meal every day around the dining room table (in the dining room!) and talk to each other. “It’s good to talk” was an advertising slogan a while ago (but they meant on the ‘phone) and it IS good to talk, face to face that is.

Talking of talking, as it were, what is it with mobile ‘phones? How did we ever survive without one? It drives me up the wall when you see a bunch of kids in the high street ALL talking on their mobiles. Why did they go out with their mates on a Saturday if they’re going to spend all day on the ‘phone to someone else? And if it’s not a mobile ‘phone glued to the ear it’s a JPed or whatever. Whatever happened to just talking to people? JPeds and mobile ‘phones are really great, don’t get me wrong, but they have their place, you just don’t HAVE to use them all the time! Is it really that important that you simply have to talk to so and so now? Couldn’t it wait? Mobile ‘phones are great in the car. If you break down then you can call someone, if you get lost or are going to be late you can call someone but what the hell are these people talking about for 20 miles up the M6? Are you really that important to global survival that if you’re not contactable for an hour or so then the world will crumble? No, I thought not, so why not leave the mobile at home, leave the JPed at home and just talk to people. It’s just like using a mobile you open your mouth and talk in just the same way it’s just that you do it to someone within hearing distance. Give it a try you might enjoy it.

Television, yes we’re back on that again – sorry but I did say you could skip this chapter! Television is not a childminder; you can’t just leave your child in front of the TV all day. Well you can actually and way too many people do, but you are missing out on so much. Children are fun, talk to them, play with them but don’t leave them in front of the box all day. Yes it’s easy, yes it keeps them quiet, yes it gives you a break but don’t do it all the time, it’s not good for the child and you are missing out on so much fun. Go on try it, I dare you, turn the box off and entertain little Jimmy yourself. If you’ve not left it too late then both you and little Jimmy will gain from it. Believe me children are fun!

And then, when you’ve got little Jimmy off to bed (and read him a bed time story - every night!) don’t go straight back to the box. Talk to your partner (and where did partner come from – why can’t I call my wife ‘my wife’ any more?) read a book, do something, anything, just don’t sit in front of the idiot box (it wasn’t called an idiot box by whoever it was for nothing!) all evening. TV these days is full of so called celebrities (most of whom no one has ever heard of) doing mindless crap; cooking, dancing, surviving or whatever on so called reality TV. There is NOTHING real about reality TV, it’s all scripted and edited down to the last moment. Then there are the “set ‘em up and vote ‘em off” programs where “you the viewer” can make or break some poor sod’s career. “Did you see the little girl crying last night, or the ugly one with a ‘voice of an angel’?” It’s all just cheap TV which a child of three could put together. Believe me you wouldn’t miss anything if you simply turned the bloody thing off. Don’t even get me started on so called “rolling news” channels! Do you really need to know that whoever it is is still Prime Minister, would it make any difference to your life if you didn’t know that whatshisface had died at 3 minutes past 7 as opposed to 4 hours later? Nope, thought not! And finally don’t get me started on “the massive outpouring of grief when Diana died” what’s going to happen when the Queen dies really defeats me!

So end of rant (for now!) let’s go back to the story….

13 Back in Suite 372

In which the question of beards gets more serious

“So where’s this statement I’m supposed to have made?” asked Gregg. “What do you mean supposed to have made? It was all over the web not half an hour ago” Elaine replied. “Well let me see it then, I, er, just want to make sure it’s OK” and so he sat down to read “his” statement.

“Gregg Bland is a key member of YodaTel’s (www.TalkToTheWorld.com) global organisation and has always been admired by his friends and colleagues for his strong independent stance. ‘If you want really constructive and blue sky thinking then Gregg’s your man’.

Recently Gregg, fully supported by YodaTel and his family, took a stance against popular culturalism by refusing to shave off his beard in the face of extreme pressure from all around him. Gregg’s wife, Elaine, told us that she and Gregg had discussed this with their children and that they had all agreed that Gregg should not kow-tow to popular pressure. If he wanted to keep his beard then that was his business. “I know that my children have been given a hard time about this at school, but we, as a family, are stronger than that. I can’t let them down by mindlessly following what the media tells me to do” said Gregg. “It’s an important lesson to learn in life; when we make decisions we should have the strength to stand by them. I know that all my family are full-square behind me in this. We are all making a stand against this dumbed down world we live in today. ”

It’s a lesson in independence that we all should learn. We at YodaTel fully support Gregg’s stance; we don’t employ people just who follow the herd, we want people who think outside of the box, people who set the trend and lead the herd. Following certain incidents regarding facial hair and statements made by certain radical groups YodaTel has put Gregg and his family under 24/7 protection. “Gregg is a major player in the world of international telecoms” said YodaTel CEO Bart Sampson “we can’t afford to lose talent like his, but right now the safety of Gregg and his family is our major concern.” For further information see www.TalkToTheWorld.com/GBland media enquiries should be directed to (1)555 212 9673”

“This is nonsense” said Gregg “I didn’t say anything like this!” “Well maybe they’ve just tidied up your grammar and made it into proper English” said Elaine “it’s what you meant though isn’t it?” “Sorry Elaine, you don’t understand me. The only things I said to the media or anyone was what I said at the school assembly, what I wrote to the rag in response to their pack of lies and ‘no comment’ to The Moon this morning. I’ve never said anything about a dumbed down world, or anything like that.” “Well I wouldn’t tell too many people about that” said Elaine “you’re a bit of a hero because of this and we all loved the bit from Bart Sampson! We all agree with what you’re supposed to have said so just let it go at that OK? Oh here’s the rubbish the Moon printed about you” said Elaine as she passed him the afternoon edition of the Moon.

“Beard more important than son”

Exclusive to The Moon by our facial hair correspondent Alex Hack

I had an exclusive interview with the Beardo (Gregg Bland, pictured below) this morning and was shocked by his attitude towards his family. “My beard is more important to me than any of my family” said the Beardo. “The way I look is all that matters to me. The beard makes me attractive to the ladies and that’s all I care about right now. So my son got a hard time at school – is that more important to me than the way I look? I don’t think so. If I ever shaved the beard off then I could kiss goodbye to my sex life and, sorry, I’m just not prepared to do that.”

It is this kind of pig headed selfishness that will bring our great country down. When will this stupid little man appreciate that he is never going to be attractive with or without a beard (see our artist’s impression below) We at The Moon are not afraid to stand up to this kind of crass stupidity. Gregg Bland should have been castrated at birth. He is not fit to be a parent! Why weren’t Social Services involved earlier? Beards should be made illegal. The Moon is proud to stand shoulder to shoulder with the LI following their declaration of the evilness of beards. In fact recent scientific research by our criminology department has proved beyond any question of doubt that any and all facial hair is evil. Remember you heard it here first.

The Moon has also heard of razor riots breaking out in Manchester as desperate innocent men scrabble to renew their razors while there is still time. The Moon will be offering free razor tokens with every issue from tomorrow. So don’t forget, buy the Moon tomorrow and between us we’ll keep England clean shaven.

If you feel affronted by the Beardo’s callous attitude then sign our on-line petition at www.BeardsAreReallyEvil.com. Besides the petition you’ll find breaking stories about beard related crimes, a rouges gallery of famous Beardies through history and a fun game for all the family “stick a beard on our page 3 lovelies”. Finally, it’s not just beards, a moustache is just as bad, don’t forget Hitler wore a moustache. If you know of a beardie in your neighbourhood then give us his details and we’ll make sure he’s not there for long! Remember The Moon is the caring paper - we care about what you care about and right now that’s beards. Don’t forget your free razor token with every issue tomorrow.

See Editorial comment Page 27 and further articles Pages 15 to 19.

“Elaine, you can’t believe that I said anything like this, can you?” “Of course not, you know I never believe anything the Moon prints, its little better than a porno mag” replied Elaine. “Yes, I know that Elaine” said Gregg “but you know that so many people will believe anything they read in the papers. Anyway isn’t this slander, can’t I sue them or something?” “Listen don’t worry about it Gregg, Al said he’d take care of it so let him sort it out, it’s what he’s paid for anyway.” “Oh, OK then, you’re probably right. Anyway what do I need to do to get some food round here?” “Oh, that’s easy” said Elaine “just dial 7 on the ‘phone and they’ll get you whatever you like, get us a bottle of wine while you’re at it. The food’s really good here and it’s all free so make the most of it. Who knows how long this’ll last!”

The more they watched the DMM news the more divided the world became. Whilst Gregg was still the “flag waver”, the Moon’s piece didn’t get too much coverage, the debate was much more about the rights and wrongs of beards themselves. “The world’s gone mad” thought Gregg as he went to bed. To some he was a hero of individualism to others he was the personification of evil and the LI had declared beards evil.

14 Mary’s funeral

In which Mary gets buried and the Magistrate starts his investigation

Just before 11 on the Thursday morning very nearly the entire population of Upper Snobsbury assembled at the church for Mary’s funeral. It wasn’t necessarily that Mary or her family were universally popular it was because there hadn’t been a good murder in Upper Snobsbury in living memory and nobody wanted to miss out on anything to do with it. The Squire and his family took their seats and the ceremony began. The Vicar was at pains during the sermon to play down any sensationalism surrounding Mary’s death

“I hear much gossip around the village regarding the circumstances of Mary’s death. This is only stirring up problems and is not doing any good for poor Mary’s family. All sorts of people, who ought to know better, are making all sorts of wild accusations. This must stop, d’you hear me, this must stop. Poor Mary’s family must be allowed their grief and are not to be disturbed with all this ill informed gossip.” The Vicar and the Squire had had a quick discussion the evening before and had both agreed to try and put an end to the chatter in the village. “Remember what I say, leave the Magistrate to find out what happened; there must be no more of these baseless accusations. As our lord said – let him who is without stone cast the first stone.”

Finally Mary was buried; the Squire and his family returned to the Manor “A good sermon Vicar” said the Squire as he left the church. Most of the men of the village went to the Ferret and, regardless of the Vicar’s sermon, continued to speculate on the identity of the murderer. Had sweepstakes been invented then the odds in the bar would have been something like the following –

2 to 1 Roderick – “Well he was never going to marry her was he?”

4 to 1 The Squire – “He’s too keen to have it all hushed up.”

5 to 1 The blacksmith – “Yes, he loved his Mary but she was pregnant weren’t she?”

5 to 1 The boot boy up at the Manor – “Didn’t he used to be sweet on young Mary?”

7 to 1 A yokel from Lower Snobsbury – “It’d be typical of them lot!”

10 to 1 The Vicar – “Can’t have this sort of going on in his Parish”

15 to 1 bar these

Shortly after lunch on the Friday the Magistrate arrived at the Manor, where the Squire had agreed he should lodge for the duration of his enquiry. The Magistrate was a ‘pompous old fool’ in the Squire’s opinion but he was a conscientious man and could be trusted to ignore the gossip and base any judgement he made on the facts and the facts alone.

“Well Squire” began the Magistrate once they’d settled in his study “tell me what you know of this sorry affair.” “There not a lot I can tell you really. The girl, Mary, was our scullery maid, been with us for just over a year I’m told. She was last seen on the Sunday evening when she returned from her family, her father’s the blacksmith in the village. On the Monday morning she didn’t arrive for her duties and after a search her body was found in Marsham’s pond. That would have been at about midday I suppose. According to the doctor the marks to her neck suggest that she was murdered, but I don’t put a great deal of faith in that man’s judgement. Again according to the doctor she must have died somewhere between 9 and midnight on the Sunday evening. The girl was buried yesterday and there’s all sorts of ugly gossip in the village about it. I suspect it was just an accident though and I’d like to see this whole thing cleared up as soon as possible” replied the Squire.

“It’ll take as long as it takes” replied the Magistrate. “I’ll go down to the village later to see the blacksmith. I’ll need somewhere here to talk to people, is it alright if I use this room?” “Yes of course, if you need anyone to show you around then I’ll make sure my son, Roderick, is at your service.” “Much obliged” replied the Magistrate.

And so, an hour or so later, Roderick and the Magistrate were outside the blacksmith’s house. “Umm, I’ll not come in with you” said Roderick, unwilling to face the blacksmith at present “I’ll meet you in a room at the Ferret and Fox once you’ve finished.”

“So” began the Magistrate after the normal condolences “what can you tell me about the mystery of young Mary’s death?” “Mystery! There’s no mystery” replied the blacksmith “’twas young master Roderick up at the manor killed ‘er. He’d ‘ad his way with her and rather than do the right thing with her he upped and killed her. You ask anyone round here they’ll tell you. It was the Squire’s boy what killed my Mary and you’re to see he hangs for it.” “You’ll have to let me be the judge of that” replied the Magistrate “I’ll get to the bottom of this and you can rely on me to find out who’s responsible and to make sure they’re punished for it.”

“Hah!” exclaimed the blacksmith as the Magistrate was leaving “’twas the Squire’s son plain and simple. If you don’t string ‘im up I will, just see if I don’t!” “Hush now Tom, there’s no call for that kind of talk” said his wife “let the Magistrate do his work. As he said, let ‘im sort it all out. Don’t you go getting all agitated now, let the Magistrate do it.”

Before the Magistrate re-joined Roderick in the Ferret and Fox he called at the Doctor’s and had most of what he already knew confirmed to him by the Doctor. “Yes, it was murder. Without question she’d been forcibly drowned in Marsham’s pond.” “Yes she had been pregnant at the time of her death.” “No he had no idea as to the father.” And “No he had no clue as to the identity of the murderer.”

As Roderick and the Magistrate rode back to the Manor the Magistrate asked Roderick about his relationship with Mary. “Well Sir” replied Roderick “she was a pretty thing young Mary was and we’d umm… we’d err…” “Yes…” prompted the Magistrate. “Umm, well we’d had, err how shall I put this? Umm we’d had a roll in the hay once or twice shall I say” said Roderick blushing red at the mention of it. “A ‘roll in the hay’ you say? The blacksmith tells me she was pregnant and that you were the father. What’ve you to say about that Sir?” “Pregnant Sir? You say she was pregnant? Well that’s news to me Sir. And me the father? No that’s impossible Sir! If Mary was pregnant then it was nothing to do with me Sir, ‘twas probably the boot boy. That or just a young girl’s foolishness Sir, you know what these young girls are like Sir.”

“Yes, yes” replied the Magistrate “well we’ll say no more about it for the while shall we. By the by, where were you between 9 and midnight on the Sunday evening?” “Me Sir? I was with Charles in the library all evening. But… but you surely can’t suspect me of having anything to do with this can you Sir?” “No” replied the Magistrate smoothly “no don’t worry on that score. If you were in the library with Charles then you couldn’t have killed her. Could you?” “Of course not” replied Roderick “Of course I didn’t kill her!”

“So what’s this magistrate like then Roderick?” asked Charles before dinner that evening. “Oh, he’s alright I suppose. He doesn’t say much though. He wanted to know where I was on the Sunday evening, sounded like he suspects me of killing the damned girl! Told him I was with you all night in here.” “Ah yes” said Charles “but that’s not strictly true now is it? Don’t you remember I went out for a walk with Constance at around 9:30?” “Yes, yes” replied Roderick “but there’s no need to bother him with that. Let’s just stick to what we agreed; we were both here together all night. Alright? It’ll only muddle things unless we stick to that.” “Alright then Roderick, that’s the way it was then” said Charles, inwardly enjoying his friend’s problem. It was always an advantage to have something over the man who was soon to become your brother-in-law. Not that Charles, even for a moment, suspected Roderick of the girl’s murder. No, certainly not!

If the murder had happened in Blandsbury then the media would be camped out in the town centre whipping up a storm about it. There’d be a mountain of supermarket flowers surrounding the pond and we’d hear constant interviews where everyone agreed what a “lovely girl” Mary had been. Social Services would be blamed for not having intervened sooner and a representative of Test Valley Police would announce that “our inquiries are proceeding”. CrimeStare (www.WeMakeASensationOutOfCrime.com) would have staged a re-enactment and lunatics from around the country would be calling in with absurd claims as to the identity of the killer. Things happened differently in Upper Snobsbury!

15 Beards come to a head

In which the LI gets serious

“Ladies, ladies. Order please. Ladies” said the chair of the provisional wing of the Ladies Institute “ladies we must have order. We are a democratic association. Tabitha has the floor and must be allowed to be heard.” “Not if she’s going to carry on with all this freedom to wear beards nonsense she’s not” heckled someone from the rear. “My husband, umm I’m sorry my partner, used to have a beard and he was a good and kindly man.” “No such thing” called someone from the audience. “Ladies please” called the chair. “Yes, my partner used to have a beard and I’m not ashamed to stand up and say so” continued Tabitha. “He was a good and decent man without an evil bone in his body.” “Point of order chair” called a plump woman in the front row “It was agreed at our last meeting that beards are inherently evil. She can’t be allowed to say that her partner had a beard and was a good man. It makes a complete mockery of our press release!” “Sustained” said the chair “Tabitha, you’ll have to withdraw that last remark or I’ll have to ask you to stand down.”

“Very well” said Tabitha “I withdraw my last statement, but I have to ask, are we sure that beards are evil, couldn’t it be that misguided evil men grow beards as a disguise, couldn’t it be that good and honest men grow beards because beards are attractive?” But her speech was roared down from the floor. “This is heresy!” “She can’t be allowed to say this.” “I’ll not have my children listen to such rubbish.” “She’s no right to stay in the LI!” “Ladies, ladies. Order please” bellowed the chair “I agree that this cannot go on. I’m sorry Tabitha but you’ve overstepped the mark here and I’ll have to ask you to leave. We cannot allow such traitorous talk here. Either you leave quietly or we’ll have you thrown out. I’ll have to ask you to surrender your membership card and official LI handbag. I’m sorry Tabitha but you leave me no choice.” In tears, Tabitha left the hall. “The shame of it. What will the neighbours say? How can I carry on?” thought Tabitha as she handed over her official LI handbag and membership card. If you weren’t in the LI then you were a nobody and to have been expelled! This was worse than being a man. There was nothing else for it she’d have to move abroad.

“Right ladies” continued the chair “now that we have that cleared up may I introduce our next speaker. Ladies I give you Alex Hack from the Moon.” To tumultuous applause Alex took the podium. “Ladies, good afternoon and let me tell you what a pleasure it is for me to be able to address the provisional wing of the Ladies Institute again. Ever since I started this campaign at the Moon, I have been gratified to receive your support in our action against the evil that is beards.” “We thought you were supporting our campaign?” called someone from the rear. “Well whichever” continued Alex “We are all united in trying to free our country of this filth. Of this depravity! Of this evil!”

A chant of “Beards must Go, Beards must Go” started in the hall. “Ladies, Ladies, please let me finish” shouted Alex over the noise and as the noise lessened she continued. “Ladies we all know of the evil that beards do, the evils that moustaches do and your efforts against this evil. We at the Moon cannot officially sanction your actions in Scotland but here, amongst like minded ladies, I can tell you that they deserved to die and if the rest of the country had your backbone then we’d live in a happier more peaceful place!”

“But ladies” continued Alex “we cannot rest on our handbags; we have to be diligent in our root and branch eradication of beards everywhere. Until our great nation is 100% beard free we at the LI must defend our country. Our scientists at the Moon are working on a simple injection to permanently inhibit facial hair growth but until this has been fully tested and the side effects resolved we in the LI must keep vigilant.”

“Ladies we must shave them at the airports, we must shave them at the ferry ports. We must stand proud, free and beardless. We must fight this evil to our last. Beards are evil and we must bear our handbags against this. The majority must not suffer because of the few. Beards must Go, Beards must Go” and as the audience took up the chant Alex whispered to the chair “Will they go for it now?” “If they won’t now then they never will, I’ve rarely seen such anger. Go for it. Ask them now!”

“Ladies, Ladies let me speak” “shouted Alex over the din. “Ladies we all know how this started. We all know who started it. Yes ladies, you’re right ladies. It was the Beardo. It was the Beardo who flaunted his beard in the face of all common decency. It was the Beardo who outraged all right thinking people. Ladies, the Beardo must die!” A group of Moon employees now started up a new chant “Kill the Beardo, Kill the Beardo” and soon the whole hall had taken up the refrain.

“Yes ladies, we must kill the Beardo” resumed Alex “and today we are calling for a volunteer group of handbagers to execute the originator of this evil. Ladies it won’t be easy, it won’t be simple. Not all will return from this mission ladies, but we, the proud members of the LI, we must put an end to this personification of evil. Ladies we need volunteers, Ladies are you with me? Ladies can we fight together under a united front to erase this evil? Ladies are you with me?”

The hall erupted into chants of “Kill the Beardo” and “We’re with you” as volunteers by the dozen thrust their handbags forward towards the chair.

After the meeting the chair, Alex and a group of six hand picked handbagers (two of whom had already seen action in Scotland) met to discuss their tactics. Alex, using the Moon’s resources, had located Gregg in suite 372 at the Mulberry Bush hotel. All they had to do now was nullify YodaTel’s security guards (“trained beardist gorillas” as they were described) get into the suite and handbag the Beardo to death. “It’s not going to be easy, it may not be pretty” said the chair “some of you might not make it back, but we have to do this. Our wimpy government aren’t going to do anything so it’s up to us. Are we all agreed?” There was unanimous agreement; they’d bag the Beardo or they’d die trying.

16 The Magistrate begins to smell a rat

In which the magistrate asks some difficult questions

Over the weekend the Magistrate, as all sensible men should, refused to even think about the murder but enjoyed the comforts that the Manor had to offer. The Squire and Runwell showed the Magistrate around the estate. “Damned fine cattle you’ve there Squire.” “Yes, we’re quite proud of them aren’t we Runwell?” Runwell, who doubted if the Squire actually appreciated what a cow was, agreed “Yes, we’ve put a lot of effort into our breeding strategy and the results are really beginning to show.” “You’ve your own bull then?” “Oh definitely Sir” replied Runwell “We wouldn’t go anywhere else!”

Charles and Roderick were away for the day hunting on a neighbour’s estate and were not expected back until dinner.

The girls practised at their music making, Constance at the piano with Amelia and Verity singing. “Charming girls” commented their mother “You’ve very nearly got it to perfection, but Amelia dear, are you sure that high C was right? It just sounded a little odd to my ears.” “You’re right Mama” said Verity “She always gets that piece wrong!” “Well I must try harder tonight if we are to play this for the gentlemen after dinner” said Amelia. “Yes you really must Amelia” said Constance “I want everything to be just right tonight.” “Any particular reason for that tonight Constance?” asked her mother. “No, no reason” replied Constance who, in her heart of hearts was hoping that Charles would ‘pop the question’ tonight.

“We’ll be just the family for dinner tonight, if that’s alright with you Magistrate?” said the Squire “Yes, of course” replied the Magistrate “make no special fuss on my behalf I beseech you.” “I know you want to forget about the murder this weekend Sir” said Runwell “but as we’re here I’ll just point out that this is where the girl’s body was found.” “So this is Marsham’s pond is it?” replied the Magistrate “Pretty isolated spot, I don’t suppose that there’d be many people around here on a Sunday night?” “No Sir” replied Runwell “There’d be no call for anyone to be here on a Sunday night, but it did have a reputation with some as a lover’s trysting place.” “Really?” questioned the Squire “I’ve never heard of that.” “Well Squire” continued Runwell “as the Magistrate pointed out, it’s a remote sort of spot and a young couple aren’t likely to be disturbed shall we say.” “Hmmph” snorted the Squire.

When the family were re-united at Dinner there was little conversation until after the ladies had withdrawn. “Well Magistrate” said Charles “have you solved our little crime yet?” “Hardly my dear boy, hardly” replied the Magistrate “I’ve many more people I need to talk to before I can uncover the truth.” “But you’re confident that you will get to the bottom of it?” asked the Squire “Oh yes” replied the Magistrate “I’m sure we’ll have our murderer before the week’s out, don’t you worry on that score Squire.” “But you must have your suspicions Sir?” persisted Charles “Can’t you share them with us?” “Certainly not Sir!” replied the Magistrate “any thoughts I might have will remain mine until I’m sure the matter is solved.” The Magistrate was clearly annoyed to be so pressed and the Squire suggested that they ought to join the ladies “I hear the girls had been practicing some new music for us and are keen for us to enjoy it.”

The rest of the evening passed as had been arranged. The girls performed their music to perfection, apart from Amelia’s high C (again), Charles and Constance were inseparable, but no ‘question was popped’ and the Magistrate kept his thoughts to himself.

As they returned from church the following morning the Magistrate asked the Squire if he could “monopolise the study on Monday as there were several people from the Manor he needed to talk to.” “Of course” replied the Squire “just call for the butler if there’s anything you need.”

And so on Monday morning the Magistrate began his inquiries in earnest. First he spoke with the butler who didn’t really tell the Magistrate anything that he didn’t know already. “No, he’d not seen Mary at all since supper on Sunday” “Yes, Charles and Roderick had been in the library at 9, but he couldn’t say one way or the other whether or not they’d left it at a later stage.” “Yes he’d heard the gossip about Roderick and Mary but he paid no heed to the kitchen tittle-tattle.” “Yes, he’d heard some talk of the boot boy and Mary, but again paid no heed to gossip.”

The Magistrate the spoke with the remainder of the household staff but learnt little more. The boot boy went very red whenever Mary’s name was mentioned, the cook was an endless source of gossip but knew very little, the under-maid was reluctant to say anything at all and the chambermaid knew nothing at all about anything!

Charles was them summoned to the study. “So Charles, you were with Roderick in the library on the Sunday evening?” began the Magistrate “That’s correct Sir we were together from about 9 until well after midnight Sir” “And you didn’t leave the library at all during that time?” “Well momentarily Sir, but only momentarily, I might have taken a stroll in the garden with Constance; I don’t exactly recall Sir.” “Very well then let’s move on” continued the Magistrate “Tell me what you know of any sort of relationship between Mary and Roderick. Was there a relationship?” “Well Sir, that’s difficult to answer Sir” replied Charles “Mary was a pretty little thing and she’d certainly set her cap at Roderick, but you’ll have to ask Roderick Sir if there was any sort of relationship…” “Very well then, I think that’ll do for today” replied the Magistrate “unless there’s anything else you believe could help me get to the bottom of this?” “No Sir, just that I’ve heard what people are saying and I’m sure Roderick had nothing to do with it Sir.”

Roderick was the next to be called. “So Roderick, let’s not beat about the bush. Mary was pregnant and you were the father. Is that correct?” Faced with such a blunt statement Roderick felt he had no other way to turn “Yes Sir, at least Mary had told me that she was pregnant and that I was the father, Sir.” “Very well then and how did you react to news?” “Well Sir, I couldn’t marry her Sir, that was out of the question Sir. I was short of money at the time Sir and I couldn’t pay her off. So I discussed it with my father and he said that he’d sort it out Sir. That was a relief to me Sir I can tell you Sir.” “Very well then” continued the Magistrate “let’s look at the Sunday night. You were in the library with Charles from before 9 until after midnight. Is that correct?” “Yes Sir, absolutely correct Sir.” “And neither of you left the library during that period?” “No Sir, not at all Sir.” “You’re sure about that Sir?” questioned the Magistrate “Absolutely Sir. Neither of us left the library at all Sir.” “Very well then, you’ll have heard what they say in the village. That you had got the girl pregnant and had then killed her to get her out of the way. What’ve you to say to that Sir?” “Well, I’d taken advantage of her Sir, I can’t deny that but it wasn’t as though she was unwilling Sir. But I didn’t kill her Sir; on my word I didn’t kill her. As I told you, I had told my father and he had said that he’d sort it out for me so why would I kill her Sir?” and with that Roderick left the Magistrate to his thoughts.

After dinner that night the Magistrate had confirmation from the Squire that Roderick had, indeed, confessed all to his father and that the Squire had said that he would “sort it all out for him”

“On the face of it Roderick has to be the guilty one. He lied to me about knowing she was pregnant. He said that he and Charles were together in the library all the time but Charles said he went for a walk in the garden with Constance and I’ve seen those two together, that wouldn’t have been just a ‘momentary’ walk. Two young lovers are much more likely to spend an hour or so on a moonlit evening than just a few moments. Roderick could easily have done it. But if, as he says, he’d told his father then why would he kill her? That’s the nub of it now �� why would Roderick have killed her?” and pondering these thoughts the Magistrate retired for the night.

17 At the Mulberry Bush Hotel

In which the Ladies Institute go into action.

“Bag leader to Beardo team report position and status” crackled over Alex’s earphone “repeat Bag leader to Beardo team, report position and status.”

“Bag 1 to bag leader. In basement, all calls from suites 372 and 373 are under our control.”

“Bag 2 to bag leader. In place in kitchen awaiting orders.”

“Bag 3 to bag leader. Bag 3 and Bag 4 in place in suite 371.”

“Bag 5 to bag leader. Bag 5 and Bag 6 in place in suite 374.”

“Excellent ladies, well done. Bag 1 we need all details of any food ordered for either suite.”

“Understood bag leader. Over and out.”

Alex and the Chair of the LI, bag leader, were in Suite 370 but would take no part in the action. Both of them had too high a public profile to get involved in the actual bagging, but both of them wanted to be close to the action when it happened. They hadn’t been able to penetrate either suite 372 or 373, “God those YodaTel guys are good!” So the plan was to get at the Beardo through his food.

“I could grow to like this lifestyle” said Elaine “we have everything we need here; it’s a shame it’s not going to last forever really.” “What do you mean” said Gregg “we can’t stay locked up in a hotel suite for the rest of our lives. Anyway I’ve a death threat hanging over me, you can’t be happy about that?” News of the death threat had been all over the DMM news that morning. Supposedly it was an anonymous threat but it was plain to see that the Ladies Institute had to be behind it. “You’ll have to leave you know, once all this is over Elaine. You can’t stay a member of the LI if they’re threatening to have me killed!” said Gregg. “Of course Gregg” replied Elaine “but do you know how isolated I’d be in Blandsbury if I do leave the LI?” she thought to herself “The LI is my life.”

Like Elaine, the children thought that life in the Mulberry Bush was pretty much perfect. Three tellies, whatever they wanted to eat whenever they wanted it, and best of all – no school. They kept in touch with their friends via HeadMagTM and whiled away the time by killing anything that moved in ‘HUB ViceVillage’TM. Everyone seemed happy except Gregg. Here he was stuck in a hotel suite with a death threat hanging over him. The ‘anonymous’ threat had said that unless he appeared on DMM clean shaven he would be publicly shaved and then beheaded but the gorillas next door were having none of it; “Our orders are 1) You don’t leave the suite and 2) No razors”. YodaTel were loving all the publicity they were getting from this - apparently they’d copy-written Gregg’s name and whenever he was mentioned it was as ‘Gregg Bland – key member of YodaTel. We help the world to talk’. For a while Gregg had thought that maybe YodaTel themselves had issued the death threat, to keep the story rolling, but everyone agreed that it had the LI’s fingerprints all over it.

In the wider world beards had become, it seemed, the only topic of interest. Scotland and Wales had, under their devolved powers, made all facial hair illegal and subject to up to five years in prison. England on the other hand was still sitting on the fence. The Government was still standing by its ‘freedom to wear beards’ policy but the opposition had come close to winning two votes of no confidence because of it. The emeritus professor of beardology at CamFord (sponsored by the LI) had been on DMM earlier in the morning explaining that it wasn’t the man who grew the beard that was evil; the evilness was actually caused by the beard itself. “A good man could grow a beard and would immediately become evil” and he had all sorts of scientific evidence to support this (“complete tosh” thought Gregg, who certainly didn’t think that he was evil!). But the professor had tied the Government’s ‘facial hair spokesperson’ up in knots completely (“pathetic – I’ll never vote for that shower again” thought Gregg.)

There were rumours of bearded communities in Cornwall but these were treated with suspicion and the LI was quick to play them down. The Moon ran an “exclusive” stating that if there were bearded communities anywhere then they were “sick and evil” and called on all right minded citizens to send any hard evidence to the Moon’s website www.BeAGoodCitizenAndSquealOnABeard.com.

Every company trying to sell anything to do with shaving was having a field day. “Cure evil with our 37 blade super shaver!” “Get a spare SuperBlade; you don’t want to get caught out!” “She won’t be able to resist you with McMonster aftershave” and so on. It seemed to Gregg that every advert on DMM was for some kind of shaving product. YodaTel had tried a marketing campaign along the lines of “Don’t follow the crowd – switch to YodaTel” with video clips of Gregg’s bearded chin but the Advertising Standards Authority had banned it before the watershed as being “unsuitable for children” and as YodaTel’s only hope of regaining the market leader position was by selling their ‘phones to preschool infants they soon dropped it.

“Come on kids it’s tea time” shouted Elaine “What do we all fancy?” Getting no response from anyone she dialled 7 and ordered the usual “McMonster happy meal for five and make sure one’s a veggie.” “Right you are Mrs Bland; it’ll be up in 10 minutes.”

“Bag 1 to Bag leader, they’ve ordered McMonster happy meals and the YodaTel guys want steaks.” “Bag leader to Beardo team, Bag leader to Beardo team; they’ve ordered food, it looks like this is it. Remember Ladies we’re doing this for the good of the country. Remember what you’ve been training for, keep alert and good luck! Over and out.” And the carefully rehearsed plan swung into action.

18 More questions from the Magistrate

In which things become clearer and Charles shares a plan with Roderick.

“Good morning” said the Magistrate to the Squire as he entered the dining room for breakfast on the Monday morning. “Morning” replied the Squire “how goes the investigation?” “Satisfactorily, I think I can say. Yes, satisfactorily. It’ll not be long now until its all clear to me.” “Anything you’d like to share with me?” asked the Squire. “No, no I don’t think so, not at this stage. There are just a couple of points that disturb me but I hope to get to the bottom of these today or tomorrow.” And with that the Magistrate ordered his breakfast. “I’ll be in the village this morning Squire and then this afternoon I’ll need to talk to some members of the household. I can make use of your study again?” “Yes, of course” replied the Squire.

At 10 the Magistrate was seated with the blacksmith’s wife. “What was young Mary wearing when she visited you on the Sunday after church?” “Her normal Sunday dress Sir. Her grey dress as usual for a Sunday Sir” she replied. “And what was she wearing when she was found?” continued the Magistrate. “Well it’s strange you should ask me that Sir” she replied “she was in her best green dress, one Miss Constance had given her just a month or two back.” “And you say that was her best dress? Why do you think she would have changed from her grey dress into her best dress?” “I wouldn’t like to say Sir.” She replied “It struck me as odd when they brought her body back. As you say Sir, why should she be wearing her best green dress?” “Well, never mind now, perhaps that’s something we’ll never know. What time was it when Mary left you on the Sunday evening?” “Oh, that’d be at about six Sir. That was normally when she’d set off back to the Manor Sir and there was nothing odd about that last Sunday” she replied. “And you noticed nothing out of the ordinary with your daughter that Sunday?” “No Sir, nothing at all Sir.” “Very well then” replied the Magistrate as he rose to leave. “But you will find out ‘im that did it Sir won’t you Sir?” “I’m sure I will” and with that the Magistrate left her.

The Magistrate now settled in the Squire’s study had asked to see the cook again. “Well cook, you know the goings on at the Manor as well as any. Tell me what you know of Mary’s movements on the Sunday evening.” “Well Sir, she returned from the village at about half past six, had her supper with the rest of the staff and then she went up to her room Sir.” “And no one saw her after that?” “No Sir, not that I know of Sir. The next I knew of her was when she didn’t appear in the morning for her duties Sir and then they found her poor body in the pond Sir. Is they right when they say she was murdered Sir?” “It definitely looks that way cook, it definitely looks that way. Anyway that’ll do for now thank you cook. Perhaps you could ask master Roderick to join me?”

After a quarter of an hour Roderick entered the study and took a seat opposite the Magistrate. “What’s all this about Sir? Surely you don’t believe that I had anything to do with this do you?” “Well Roderick” answered the Magistrate “if you’d tell me the truth then maybe we’d all know who was responsible for the girls death, but if you persist in these lies then we’ll never get to the bottom of it.” “Lies Sir!” blustered Roderick “Are you doubting my word Sir?” “Yes Roderick, I am doubting your word. When we first spoke you told me that you didn’t know the girl was pregnant, later you told me that you had confessed to your father not only that you knew that she was pregnant but also that you were the father. Further you tell me that you and Charles were alone in the library all of the Sunday night but Charles tells me that he took a stroll in the garden with Constance. What have you to say to that Sir?”

“Damn Charles for a fool” thought Roderick “why couldn’t he stick to the story as we’d agreed?” “Well Sir” he replied aloud “I don’t recall Charles leaving the library that evening, but if he says he did then I suppose we must accept that he did Sir.” “I’ll ask you to cast your mind back to that evening Roderick. I ask you again; did Charles leave the library at any time between 9 and midnight.” “Well Sir, let me think Sir” replied Roderick “Ah yes it comes back to me now Sir, Charles did indeed step out with Constance for a short while.” “Thank you Roderick. I’m glad to see your memory becomes clearer. Did your sister come into the library or did they meet in the garden?” “In the garden Sir, as I recall Charles had said that they’d arranged to meet earlier and that no one was to know about it.” “And for how long did they remain in the garden?” “Oh no time at all Sir, perhaps twenty or thirty minutes, no more than that Sir I’m sure.” “And did you leave the library whilst they were in the garden?” “No Sir, definitely not Sir, as I’ve already told you, I was in the library all evening.” “Well Roderick, I suppose I’ll have to take your word for that, won’t I? One final question for you, you say that no one was to know about Charles and Constance meeting in the garden that night. Why was that, why should no one know of their meeting?” “Well Sir, I know that they are keen on each other, I suspect that they thought that my parents would not approve of them meeting alone.” “Very well, thank you Roderick. Let me just say that a little more honesty in the future would see you well.” “And seeing less of you in the future would do me better” thought Roderick as he left the study.

Once Roderick had left the study the Magistrate sat deep in thought. “If Roderick had, say, thirty minutes alone in the library could he get up to Marsham’s pond, kill the girl and get back without being seen by anyone?” he mused “And yet I still have the question of why he would have killed her. The girl had changed into her best dress and must have slipped out of the house without anyone seeing her. She must have arranged to meet someone up by the pond, someone she wanted to impress otherwise why change her dress?” With such thoughts going through his mind the Magistrate walked up to Marsham’s pond. From the house to the pond took him no more than ten minutes and he was not a fit twenty one year old. “So Roderick had plenty of time to kill her, but why would he kill her, that’s what I have to understand. Even if she was trying to blackmail Roderick into marriage, Roderick had told his father. As far as Roderick was concerned he was in the clear he had no reason to kill her. But then again, why did he lie to me?”

“Charles you fool, why did you tell him that you’d left me alone in the library that night? I thought we’d agreed to skip over that?” Roderick demanded of Charles in his room before dinner. “Yes, sorry about that old chap” replied Charles “but the old fool was pushing me. It’s not as though you’ve anything to hide is it?” “No, of course not” replied Roderick “it’s just that it makes me look like a damned fool! He won’t trust a word I say to him now. I’m certain he think I killed her.” “Well you didn’t did you” said Charles “listen let’s not fall out over this. I need you on my side if I’m going to talk to your father about Constance tonight. How do you think he’ll react?” “What, you’re going to ask him if you can marry her?” asked Roderick. “Well yes” answered Charles “at least that’s the plan. Like I said, how d’you think he’ll react?” “Well, he likes you well enough and if you’re serious about the army that’ll count in your favour, depends how much money you’ve got I suppose” replied Roderick “but I’m sure mother would rather you were asking for Amelia’s hand.” With this they both laughed and went down to dinner.

19 Handbags at dawn

In which things get a little messy.

“Bag 2 to Bag leader, all food on its way. They should all be unconscious within 30 minutes of eating it.” “Bag leader to Bag 2, good work Bag 2. leave it 10 minutes and then get well clear of here, over and out.” “Bag leader to Bag 1. The food’s on its way. Bag 1 try calling the YodaTel guys’ suite in around 40 minutes and let me know what response you get.” And so the LI plan was underway. The food had been doped and was on its way all they had to do now was wait for it to take effect.

Sure enough there was no reply to the ‘phone call to the YodaTel security team and the bag team all met in suite 373. After securing the “gorillas” they found the key to suite 372, donned masks and prepared to do their “duty”. It should be no problem for the four remaining bag team members to secure the Bland family and then decapitate Beardo. Bag 4 checked and re-checked the camera (all was to be plastered all over DMM news once the dirty deed was done.) They all checked their masks (No one was meant to be identifiable on the press release) and made their way into suite 372. They had earlier called suite 372 to ensure that all the Blands were unconscious so entered the suite with little or no caution.

Elaine, Sharon and Dwayne were dead to the world in front of the idiot box; Gregg was slumped over a desk with his head on a copy of the Moon and empty food containers were littered about the room. Two of the team secured Elaine, Sharon and Dwayne, one set up the camera for the coup de grace and one went in search of Gavin.

Unfortunately, for the bag team, Gavin hadn’t eaten and was doing what all 15 year old boys always do while watching Curvy Cath (as featured on yesterday’s Moon Page 3) being penetrated by some faceless hulk on www.ItReallyWontMakeYouGoBlind.com. Not being overjoyed about being interrupted Gavin knocked Bag 3 senseless with a baseball bat he just happened to have handy. [15 year old boys are curious creatures but without him this sorry tale was going down the tube so just accept the fact that 15 year old boys ALWAYS have a baseball bat to hand – OK?]

Having found a masked and unknown person in his bedroom Gavin 1) zipped himself up, 2) wondered what the hell was going on and 3) decided to investigate further. Finding three more masked strangers in the living room Gavin quickly dispatched them with his trusty baseball bat (a bit of a hero is our Gav, maybe all his time on HUB ViceVillageTM hadn’t been wasted.) and set about trying to resuscitate his family. He was really enjoying slapping Sharon around the face when he heard a moan from Gregg. “Dad, wake up! What’s been going on? Who is this lot and what’s with the camera and the axe?” Gregg, who hadn’t eaten that much, regained full consciousness, surveyed the scene and figured out what must have happened. “Don’t touch anything Gavin; I’ll get the security guys.”

Within minutes the security team, somewhat groggily, took charge. As if from nowhere a voice could be heard “Bag Leader to Bag 4 – report progress. Repeat report progress.” The only female member of the security team, being slightly smarter than your average bodyguard, quickly found the ‘phone and replied “Bag 4 to Bag Leader – Mission accomplished, repeat mission accomplished” “Great news – well done. Make sure the video is OK, clean up and get out of there. Rendezvous at HQ in one hour.”

“So we have an hour on them – let’s see what we can do to sort this out.” Grinned the security team leader. Within minutes Al from New York was on the ‘phone, damage control was under way and the LI were in for a bit of a shock.

20 The Magistrate passes down his verdict

Not what the Squire had wanted

Now, in those days, there were no juries, no prosecutor and no defence. Just the Magistrate and the Magistrate was assumed to be all seeing, all knowing and most importantly right. If the Magistrate said that black was white then black indeed was white and there could be no arguing about it. If the Magistrate said that the boot boy was guilty (which he didn’t) then then the boot boy was indeed guilty and would suffer whatever punishment the Magistrate deemed necessary.

Consequently the Magistrate called for a public meeting (after all Justice must be seen to be done as well as done) to be held in the public bar of the Fox and Ferret for the following morning at 10 o’clock such that he could hand down his verdict. By 9:30 the bar was heaving with all of Upper Snobsbury and most of Lower Snobsbury being in attendance. There hadn’t been this much excitement since I don’t know when! Space has been reserved at the front for the Squire and his family, the Vicar and the blacksmith and his family.

Shortly after 10 the Magistrate entered the room and called for silence. He might as well have called for the sun to stop shining or the grass to grow taller for all the success he had. Whilst everyone wanted to know what he had to say everybody wanted to put their tuppence in first. “The Squire’s boy did it, we all know it.” “It was the boot boy” “Nah ‘twas the blacksmith – he couldn’t stand the shame” and some unchristian soul called out “It was the Vicar what done it.”

The Magistrate, getting quite annoyed at this, shouted “If I don’t have silence I’ll have you all thrown out.” Quite who was going to do the throwing out remains a mystery but it had the desired effect and a semblance of quiet settled over the room.

“As you know, or I assume you know, Mary, the scullery maid up at the Squire’s and the blacksmith’s daughter was found dead at Marsham’s pond on Monday at approximately midday. From the evidence provided to me by the doctor she had been murdered some time during the previous evening. Further the doctor informed me that she was some months pregnant.” Oohs and Ah’s were heard about the room.

“I have spoken to all interested parties [he hadn’t actually – but more of this later] and understand that Mary returned to the Manor at approximately 6:30 on Sunday evening, went up to her room and changed into her best dress and was seen no more until found dead the following day. No one was witness to her leaving the Manor or knew of her destination. I find her having changed into her best dress interesting as it implies that she was to meet someone she wanted to impress.”

“It can only be assumed that Mary had an assignation with someone, a sweetheart, the parent of her unborn child perhaps, at Marsham’s pond, a spot renowned for its isolation and privacy. Some kind of altercation must have ensued resulting in poor Mary’s death.”

“From the markings on her neck the doctor informs me that she was strangled and, as Mary was no weakling, in all probability by a man.”

“Get on with it you old buffer – we know all of this just tell us it was the young master so we can get on with the ‘anging” muttered the blacksmith much to his wife’s embarrassment.

“It has been my task, this past week, to put a name to this man, to identify who it was that Mary had agreed to meet and who it was that killed her. Many of you, I know, have formed your own suspicions and believe that you know the identity of the guilty person. But for me suspicions are not enough I have to know the identity of the killer beyond all reasonable doubt. I have to be able to face myself and my maker knowing that the correct person is here identified. If I cannot be positive that I am right then Mary’s murderer must remain unknown.”

“Never – we know who did it and just need your say-so so as we can ‘ang the bugger.” shouted Mary’s father.

“Silence” repeated the Magistrate “Unless you were witness to the act you cannot know who did it, you can guess, you can suspect but you cannot know.”

“Having said this it is now my duty to tell you all who it was that I believe committed this foul crime and what punishment I see fit. Consequently I say that Roderick, son of the Squire, is guilty of the murder of poor Mary and that he should now stand to hear his punishment.”

Unfortunately, rather than standing and taking his medicine like a man, Roderick had collapsed to the floor in tears clutching his father’s knees pleading his innocence. The rest of the room was in uproar. “Hang ‘im” “Hanging’s too good for ‘im” “Put ‘im in the stocks for a week and then ‘ang ‘im” “Nah, castrate ‘im and then ‘ang ‘im”

“Silence, Silence” bellowed the Magistrate but he was fighting a battle he had already lost nobody really cared what he had to say – they had their man and they knew he’d have to hang. And that that man was the Squire’s one and only son made it all the better! Ale flowed like water, everyone wanted to buy the blacksmith a drink and it soon became obvious that a) the Magistrate could say no more today and b) no work would get done in the village until tomorrow. The Squire and his family, the Magistrate and the Vicar quietly left the Ferret and retired to the Manor to ‘talk things over’.

21 YodaTel hit the headlines

In which Gavin becomes a superstar

Al from New York and the entire YodaTel PR team swung into action. The food was tested and evidence of the dope was found. The remaining bag team members were identified as provisional LI members, the entire scene was videoed, all calls were traced, the hotel CCTV tapes were examined, Alex Hack and ‘Bag Leader’ were hunted criminals and the whole story was splashed across the world’s media.

“Teenager foils beardist death squad.

Exclusive to all media (except the soon to be disgraced Moon)

We at <insert your brand name here> can exclusively reveal the story of Gavin Bland’s heroic efforts to foil the LI death squad’s attempt on Gregg Bland’s (Key executive in YodaTel’s worldwide team) life. The Bland family were under 24 hour protection in a suite at the Mulberry Bush hotel in Blandsbury following death threats to Gregg Bland relating to his heroic stance on facial hair. Gregg has long maintained that “It’s my beard and I’ll shave if I want to – but not because of this ignorant beardism.” This individualism is exactly why Gregg has always been a key part of YodaTel’s worldwide executive team.

“So Gavin tell us exactly what happened.”

“Well” replied 15 year old Gavin “I was, um, doing my homework in my bedroom when a masked stranger came in so I clobbered her with my baseball bat. The YodaTel security team had told us that no one had access to our suite apart from us and the security guys; anyone else was a danger to us so she had to be sorted. I went to find my Dad in the living room and saw three further masked strangers so they needed to be taken care of. I woke Dad and then we got the security guys in to sort it out. That’s it really.”

With typical modesty good looking Gavin is clearly under-playing this. With no thought to his own safety Gavin singlehandedly took out a team of four trained killers. Our investigations reveal that the provisional LI and a Moon reporter (Alex Hack) were behind this attack. Both the Bland family and the security team’s food had been drugged and it was only young Gavin’s attention to his schoolwork that had prevented him from eating. The LI team had planned to decapitate Gregg Bland and then publish video evidence of this in support of their depraved anti beard campaign. It was only plucky Gavin’s actions that save his father’s life.

It is our belief that

· Gavin Bland should be given international hero status.

· Greg Bland (and any others) should be allowed, nay encouraged, to sport a beard without let or hindrance and indeed with pride.

· The LI should become a proscribed organisation.

· The Moon should cease to function as any kind of serious news outlet (as if it ever was!)

If you agree then sign our petition (www.GavsAHero.com) but if you don’t then get back into the closet you warped little pea-brained idiot.”

And so it was. Overnight Gavin became an international megastar. Sharon, whilst reluctantly accepting that he had saved the day, could not figure out where the “good looking” bit had come from and came close to vomiting at the thought of his photo being plastered all over her school friend’s bedroom walls. Gregg got promoted and kept his beard. Pretty much every post pubescent man sprouted a beard and shares in the razor companies collapsed. The LI went underground and the Moon went broke [“Total eclipse of the Moon” ran several headlines]. Such is the power of the media.

22 Back at the Manor

What to do about Roderick

In Blandsbury Roderick would have been imprisoned immediately but in Upper Snobsbury they didn’t have a prison, they didn’t even have a policeman, so Roderick, under the Magistrate’s watchful eye, went back to the Manor with his family.

“I had nothing to do with this” blubbered Roderick “believe me father I didn’t kill the stupid girl.” “But you Sir, have consistently lied to me.” interrupted the Magistrate “You had the motive, she was carrying your child, the means, you certainly have the strength, and you had the opportunity, whilst Charles and Constance left you alone in the Library. Because of this and the fact that no one else had any reason to kill her I can only conclude that you indeed did kill her. I have neither seen nor heard anything to alter my view.”

“Hmmm” muttered the Squire “So what happens now?” “Well” replied his wife “I for one am hungry so suggest that we eat – you won’t do anything ‘silly’ now will you Roderick? You must remember our position and take your punishment like a man.” This may seem a smidge callous but in those days life, even the life of a Squire’s son, was cheap and nothing should ever get in the way of the smooth running of the Squire’s household. And so it was agreed, there was to be no further conversation about it until after lunch.

As they sat around the table eating their luncheon there was little conversation about anything really each being wrapped up in their own thoughts. What these thoughts were is anyone’s guess and so here is my guess –

The Squire – The boy’s a fool, a damned fool.

The Squire’s wife – Stupid boy, how am I supposed to manage this?

The Magistrate – He’ll have to hang.

Roderick – Oh sh*t! Oh sh*t! Oh sh*t!

Charles – I suppose now’s not the best time to ask the old man about Constance.

Amelia – I’ll get that top C right one day, I know I will.

Constance – Why did he say ‘whilst Charles and Constance left you alone in the Library’

Verity – I wonder if purple will be the new blue.

The Vicar – This’ll make a good sermon.

Runwell – I really don’t like Amelia but I suppose I might marry her.

After lunching the Squire, the Magistrate and the Vicar (who wasn’t invited but just couldn’t resist) retired to the Squire’s study to review the events and decide what was to happen next.

“He’ll have to hang.” declared the Magistrate. “Is here no other option?” pleaded the Squire, hoping against hope. “Can’t see what – you saw the reaction in the village. They’re out for blood and if they don’t get it then there’ll be all hell to pay.” “Well you know the good book ‘an eye for an eye’ etc.” said the Vicar. “Hmm, I suppose so” said the Squire “Can’t say I’m overly happy about it though. He is my only boy you know” [As if this had escaped anyone’s attention!]

While they sat and thought and the port made several circuits of the table there was a knock at the door. “Who is it?” shouted the Squire “Can’t you see we’re busy?” “I’m sorry to interrupt you Sir.” said Constance “But I have a question for the Magistrate.” “Well out with it girl what’s so important that you have to disturb us?”

“Well Sir” said Constance looking at the Magistrate “Why did you say ‘whilst Charles and Constance left you alone in the Library’?” “Hmm, what’s this you’re on about?” “You said that Roderick had the opportunity to kill Mary ‘whilst Charles and Constance left him alone in the Library’. I just wondered what made you say that Sir.”

“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about my dear – it’s just that while you and Charles were making eyes at each other in the garden (pardon me Squire) Roderick had the time and the opportunity to meet with Mary at Marsham’s pond and do away with her.” replied the Magistrate. “You mean on the Sunday evening Sir?” questioned Constance “Well, when else would he mean?” exclaimed the Squire.

“Well Sir, that’s the thing Sir, I wasn’t in the garden with Charles on Sunday evening. I was practising with the girls at the piano.” “Well maybe so and maybe not but this is by-the-by now it makes no difference.” said the Magistrate somewhat uncomfortably [See, I told you he hadn’t ‘spoken to all the interested parties’ – believe me now?] “What’s this” asked the Squire “If Charles wasn’t in the garden with Constance, then where was he and what was he up to?” Finally a way out of this mess had occurred to the Squire – never the brightest star in the firmament our Squire.

“Well I suppose we’d better have the boy in and see what he has to say for himself.” the Magistrate suggested. So Charles was summoned to the study and the question put to him. “You told me that you were in the garden with Constance on Sunday evening, but now Constance tells us that she wasn’t with you. So where were you and what were you up to Huh? Answer me that if you will Sir.”

And so and at last the sad and sorry truth came out. Charles had been, how shall I put it, ‘dilly dallying’ with Mary since his arrival at the Manor. Whilst making up to Constance he had been getting down to it with Mary. Roderick had then told him of Mary’s pregnancy and if this was true and it became known that Charles was the father then all Charles’s plans for Constance would come tumbling down. Roderick, somewhat smugly, had believed Mary when she told him that he was the father. Mary had always fancied her chances with Roderick and if he was made to believe that he was the father then he’d have to marry her, he’d just have to!

But Charles wasn’t taken in so easily – he’d arranged to meet Mary at the pond on the Sunday evening to have it out with her. “No Sir, it can’t be master Roderick’s baby Sir - he never quite managed to do it right like you did Sir.” she’d told Charles “But if he thinks he’s the father then he’ll have to marry me Sir won’t he Sir? Don’t matter whose baby it is Sir so long as I get to marry ‘im Sir.”

But Charles already knew that there was no way that Roderick was going to marry the stupid wench and that once she knew this she’d start pointing the baby at him and that would ruin every between him and Constance. There was nothing else for it but to do away with her and let Roderick carry the can.

23 The end of our tale

To tie up the loose ends

And so Roderick was found innocent of everything (including the ways of women), Charles was found guilty and duly hanged (with much celebration throughout both Upper and Lower Snobsbury) and life returned to its normal slow and predictable ways.

In the fullness of time Roderick married a suitable young lady from a neighbouring county, the Squire died in his bed and Roderick inherited the Squiredom. Constance and Verity made suitable marriages but Amelia died unwed.

Squire Roderick Bland and his wife had many children and one of their many descendants was to be behind the bulldozing of Upper and Lower Snobsbury and the creation of Blandsbury as we know it today. The Bland of the bulldozing was our Gregg’s great-grandfather but our Gregg never of knew this as family history is sooo yesterday.

Gregg and Elaine’s lives returned to normality, Gavin proved to be a one hit wonder and, much to Sharon’s relief, returned be being just a spotty and annoying little schoolboy.

Beards are neither in nor out of fashion; some men have one and some men don’t (Gregg still has his) - they carry no social stigma. The Ladies Institute is no more and Alex Hack has never been traced although there are those that say she took up teaching and continues to preach her bile regarding facial hair…

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