Is this fete ?

The Valentines night extravaganza in The Bull went rather well and on the whole it was a fairly respectable and pleasant affair. Well, I say respectable, which it was up until the point the Bishop came in to bless all the St.Valentines couples, stayed for a couple of whiskey's, stayed for a couple more and ended up lifting the skirts of all the women who walked past him with his crosier. For those of you unfamiliar with a crosier, it is the long stick, a bit like a shepherds crook which is ideally suited for lifting skirts, twanging knicker elastic and at one point undoing a bra strap (A real talent I can assure you) He was eventually driven home by the verger but not before the Bishop had told him to go and give his wife "one up the vestry" which delighted many of the patrons in the pub and I think that church attendance may well increase on Sunday.

I had been looking for my pipe for a week or two now but couldn't find it anywhere. Yesterday I was taking a stroll with the dogs and bumped into Kipper, the gardener. In one hand he had a bag of what I assume was more aphid powder and in the other he had my pipe. I thanked him and asked him where he had found it but he wasn't really sure but I suspect he must have had a little try on it as it was still warm, bless him. He seemed very agitated and wouldn't keep still and kept shifting from foot to foot and fidgeting. I asked if anything was the matter but he said he was fine, in fact he repeated it several times and then walked off to his shed. Well, he actually jogged, then sprinted and then jogged again.
I think the poor fellow has been overdoing it and might need some time off to rest. His nose was all red as were his eyes.
Poor chap.

I received an email the other day from the village fete committee asking me if I would judge a class in this years village fete. They didn't elaborate as to which class I would judge but it will more than likely be the bloody marrow growing class or 'Best lawn mower in show'. I never get to judge the 18-30's beauty competition or 'Most Yummy Mummy' class. It's always our local MP, the crooked bastard, or the Bishop who ends up getting those. Still, it's a long way off yet and I might be able to have a word with someone. Come to think of it, I wonder if the Bishop would see that I got the Yummy Mummy class if I happened to mention about a certain set of photos ? I don't like to use blackmail to get what I want, well, actually I don't care but it's the principle of it all. Why should he get all the fun while I'm stood looking at odd shaped vegetables, most of who seem to be on the Parish Council.
Last years yummy mummy winner got sloshed on the bottle of champagne she won and ended up being led round the grand ring by a local dairy farmer who had spent all afternoon in the beer tent.
Her shirt popped open at one point and she came second in the Young Cow in Milk class.
She even got a rosette.