Brexit-Cum-Uppance
A beautiful English village nestling in the verdant
countryside of the Kentish coast. Noted
for its fine old 16th century Gove Hall, replete with wood beams,
gargoyles and a collection of early 20th Century beer bottle
openers.
The vicar of Brexit-Cum-Uppance was upset to see Nigel and George fighting
in the street after their all-nighter at the local Travelodge. Earlier in the day, they had drunkenly
staggered up the cliff path, reached the edge of the cliff and shook their
fists and made rude gestures across the channel to the continent beyond.
Constable Cameroon had witnessed their antics and concluded
that a nasty ‘accident’ could befall them if they made a habit of that
behaviour. It was a busy day for the
constable, he twice reprimanded little Boris for veering in and out of the
traffic on his tricycle- first out and then in and out again- not willing to
commit to one way or the other.
The constable was cycling home, and contemplated popping in
to the local coffee shop, the Chocolate Starfish. However, his wife Angela would be waiting
with his dinner, a hearty sausage stew, none the wurst for that, thought
Cameroon, with a little giggle to himself.
