Monologue – 9 November 2015

This week was sponsored by people flatly refusing to count their blessings. Bert moaned about having to live in the picturesque home of his employer while his own home is done up, Jill was kept awake with the horror of having to sleep in a gigantic room of a stately home with her loving daughter, Joe had a lovely whinge about having to stay in a five star hotel for nothing. Oh the privation!

Eddie is all of a sudden jolly keen on seeing Calendar Girls now he has realized he gets to see Lizzie in the nip. As he’s the only one left in the village who hasn’t, it’s his turn, to be fair. Susan is wibbling on about character development and motivation and we all know the whole point of the whole Calendar Girls thing is that we get to have a good old snigger at Susan getting her knockers out while Neil goes ahhhhemmm a lot and there’s a lot of uncomfortable jokes about exposure when Robert takes the pictures.

Over at Brookers, they were still whinging away about starving to death and not having any clean pants. But we don’t understand how Gran took food out of the cold thing and put it into the hot thing and then we ate it. And we are throwing our pants on the floor but somehow they are not appearing back in our drawer again clean and folded. We don’t understand! Who is doing the magic?   So they all trotted off to the Bull for pizza.

Then wished they hadn’t when Kenton greeted all by announcing his decision to build a towering inferno on the green to cheer everyone up by burning the village down. It was Kenton and Jolene’s cotton anniversary so Jolene got Kenton a pack of tissues and he got her name written on his arse. Classy.

The Farebrethren got completely carried away about a meeting with Adam and the possibility of share farming. It’s like getting the Golden Ticket, said Rex excitedly, sounding like Charlie Bucket. So off they went to the Chocolate Factory to see Adam or Willy Wanker. Rex had created CVs for them that could have won the Mann Booker Prize for Fiction, describing Toby as the greatest cattle expert the world has ever seen and who was indeed himself part bullock. It rapidly transpired that Rex thought that cows were sheep without their coats on, they had no loan and no idea and even a hullo clouds, hullo trees sort of businessmen like Adam could see they had all the business acumen of Ed Grundy.

So he has approached Pip instead, who is now going to become a share farmer in the five minutes she has spare between laying roads, milking cows and writing business plans. No doubt she will be assailed by guilt and Rex and try and wheedle the Farebrethren into this arrangement somehow. Pip is obsessed with the Farebrethren and is suffering acute mentionitis. Hello dad dOh that’s funny I said ‘hello’ to Toby Farebrother last time I saw him. Isn’t that funny dad. Rex Farebrother’s funny too dad. Hello mum I was just saying to dad that the Farebrothers use the word hello too. That village really really needs to get some more people of Pip’s age in it before the poor girl goes completely potty.

Jimmus says that all this whinging Hooty Jill has been doing is because of Joe putting the willies up her. I’m glad to hear he’s still got in him in. Or in Jill, maybe. He’s 94 you know. Anhwya Jimmus says the uncanny events are messages from Jil’s own unhappy subconscious. Her conscious isn’t exactly a bundle of laughs either, to be honest Jim.

Adam and Charlie had a fun evening at the fireworks. Quite what they found so hilarious at at the fireworks I don’t know but every tme there was a crackling and a bang they were doing pantomime laughing ha ha ha ha. Maybe they’ve both gone mad. Charlie whose entire career has been ruined by his cows who made the foolish decision to view putrefying dog pelvis as lunch and Adam. I used to have a husband once you know Charlie…ha ha ha ha. I never see him now and either does his best friend or anyone else and he works constant night shifts in an empty hotel which has a staff of five thousand looking after the Grundies, ha ha ha. I imagine Gay Grables like The Shining in winter. With Eddie and joe tricycling around the empty halls saying play with us, Ian.

In the meantime Susan was chucking Henry on the bonfire which obviously went down like a cup of cold sick with Rob.

However things perked up no end at Brookers after Ruth discovered that Me Mutha was minted. It doesn’t matter about the money, Ruth, it’s your mother that’s important, love, said David, elbowing her out of the way so he could leaf through the BMW catalogue and order a platinum silage clamp. So what ruth realised she really needed wasn’t half a million quid but a woman for whom the day is not complete unless she’s done 14 loads of washing and baked a pie for every meal. So off she went to Lower Loxley to see if Jill would come back – at sodding last! She found Jill sitting on top of a pile of luggage looking hopeful with her elbow resting casually on her writing desk, so Jill will return to Brookers, brush the cobwebs off the washing machine and get some pies on.

And then in a shock surprise that nearly all of us saw coming, The Slitheen, with her customary philanthropy and kindness of spirit, has booted the Grundies out of Keepers in a cloud of turkey feathers. As if she was ever going to be fitting granite worktops and Tuscan floor tiles for Joe to dribble ferret over. So that’s that. It’s our Annus Horribilis, said Joe. And Hazel Woolley is the biggest annus of the lot. The End.