Its that time of year again. Come rain or shine village fetes and fairs, or whatever you want to fucking call them always go ahead. Judgements are made and friendships are won and lost. Length and girth are never more highly scrutinised, as many an embarrassed home grown cucumber will tell you.
My village keeps to this standard of raised eyebrow’s, wide cucumbers and village life intrinsically. But this year we had a problem; it wasn’t just the weather we were battling but our neighbours too.
The neighbouring village arranged their fete for the same damn weekend as ours! This could only mean one thing: battle stations – obviously.
A new vicar had come into that village and had decided to go head to head with us, threatening to do it bigger and better than we could; truly throwing down the gauntlet.
She, (yes I know - She) promised longer and wider cucumbers, sweeter jam, Olympic heroes, more accurate fortune-tellers, jugglers, monster trucks and the fucking Levellers!
How could we compete? Even their face painters had fine art degrees!
So we took the lead on a retaliation mission on behalf of our village. We had two ideas for an initial strike: The first would be to ransack their whole village, capture the fete organisers, dip them in treacle, fuck them in the arse and set fire to their houses.
The second, to infiltrate proceedings and sabotage their events leading to embarrassments for them and therefore sending their punters to us.
So which one do you think we went for?
Clearly the second one. If we went all in to start they may be able to counter our blows, as I’d also heard on the grapevine that there was going to be an appearance from the Kazakhstan Olympic wrestling team, Which indicated to me they were planning for a possible hostile retaliation from us.
So the stage was set: I assumed the rank of officer in charge, fittingly titled Field Martial. Then there was Air Martial Knuckles The Magpie second in command to me. Frank The Peacock adopted more of a pathfinder role and fittingly was in charge of reconnaissance, as we needed a specialist who could keep a low profile and get information back to us quickly.
Preparation for the two events began early on the Friday and I instructed all of our village community to concentrate solely on making the best fairy cakes in the history of fetes!
Frank The Peacock set off to the neighbouring village on a recon. Hours went by and he didn’t return. I had to make a decision and quickly. Our lack of information on their preparations meant that we would have to attempt a night strike and possibly a last minute morning intervention too, but Frank finally came back at dusk…..
He looked quite dishevelled. He was wearing a leotard, and had his face painted in the style of ‘The Ultimate Warrior’, off of pro wrestling in the 90’s. He had clearly won a blow up hammer and was totally pinned on candy floss. It would appear as though our neighbours were having a fucking dress rehearsal.
Frank your cup cake scores high!
This infuriated me. Fetes were all about impromptu fun, this methodical minister at the helm clearly wants things to go like clockwork.
Frank said that the Kazakh wrestling team taught him how to a ‘gorilla press drop' followed by a ‘running splash’. Back on the farm we hadn’t made one cupcake yet, an epic fail was on the cards.
Frank after dress rehearsal
So I gathered the whole team in the farm yard to discuss our retaliation. For some weird reason I felt the urge to look up to the sky. Parachuting in with a large package that could only resemble an air to ground missile system and wearing Aviator sunglasses was Knuckles The Magpie.
As he landed he shrugged off his parachute with the swagger of a military service man preparing for a cameo on a Ross Kemp documentary. He through down the rockets and commanded us to attention!
“I am in charge of this shit now. It has gone beyond practical jokes and espionage. We are going to bomb the motherfuckers off the map”.
He had totally broken ranks. What a cunt! This isn’t the first time he’s busted in and taken over either! He bypassed the rest of us in the farm yard and called in an ants nest as ground support. Then he fucked off towards the other village, with the ants marching behind him.
All I had to do was stay here remain calm, and make cupcakes.
Top Gun Kes NEVER lets the side down: Fantastic work!
Nice creative approach Ermantrude!!
Handsome James' cup cakes: Clearly slicker than your average ;-)
I had to motivate the entire village community and the rest of my farm yard friends to make the best damned cup cakes ever! - and on a Friday night too!
meanwhile, as Knuckles approached the other village he dive bombed the fete sight with all his smart bomb system had to offer. With precision accuracy marquees and stalls exploded one by one. The fall out was sadistically stylish, with Kazakh wrestlers running in every direction, monster trucks burning into oblivion and flaming levellers scattering the bomb site, tamborines smashed to pieces and their entire back catalogue (excluding live albums and best of's going up in smoke).
So, rather that using A Weapon Called The Word, Knuckles stole a missile system from the fucking Royal Air Force and blew up their fete engulfing everyone in flames including the Levellers. The smart bomb system worked immaculately Levelling The Land with devastating efficiency. Although their fair was diverse, grandiose and encapsulated the rural Zeitgeist, it couldnt withstand the latest military hardware Her Majesties Armed Forces had to offer.
Knuckles believed it had to be destroyed and before customers got there too, as he did not want to be killing people, rescuing bleeding children and then giving them Mouth To Mouth out of guilt. Rather than landing, hunting down this new vicar; saying Hello Pig why are you doing this unnecessary competition? He sent the ants into her cake infested vicarage to destroy what had been made. God knows how he knew they would be there. They did this in fine fashion however, although some did not report back, as we think they had been converted or killed.
Dave The Piercer's effort: Nuff said.
This was a fair strategy, but my nose is particularly out of joint. Knuckles comes from a land where everyone is Pagan enough to second guess where female vicars hide their cakes. He has seriously disempowered me. I got the villagers and my farm yard friends making seriously nice cupcakes that went down a storm on the day but its him that’s remembered as a hero and not me. If he had his way it would be me Sending Letters From The Underground as I would be worthless enough to be fucking busking for a living, way down the fucking pecking order. Our bond is now broken. I will struggle to differentiate Truth and Lies from him form now on.
Comms will be down during further bombing raids on other unsuspecting, competing villages. There will Static On The Airwaves as he takes off into the night leading with his own ego. This won't be the first time another community tries to take us on and as we fight back he will take over. Don’t expect me to take it lying down, buy a four pack of Special Brew and sit under a tree sobbing like a bitch.
Well Knuckles, the feud is on my friend, you cunt!
I need to save face.
The John Deere Dealer won the day: standard.
Next week > Green Blade Rising: Get more, get milk!
And then took second with a mint varient: skills.
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