Ceremonial Calamity
The chosen few began to arrive, fighting for seats in the massive assembly hall. Phil ‘scattered’ Rice into the chambers, six in all. The Sceptred Shelley smashed down his stave, like the Mighty Thor securing the head of a 10lb sledge, then squeaked, proceedings have commenced. The workmen, councillors all, entered with their spouses in tow and took to the Black and Decker. A man in chains was paraded before doubtful onlooking eyes, then stripped bare naked.
Another victim too, was chosen for sacrifice and torture of the chain. They demanded he make his last wishes before his accusers. The villain, freshly shaven, began to sing in panic, all the Dylan numbers he could remember, in a vain attempt to delay the inevitable. The crowd roared with sadistic pleasure at his folly. The Hob Goblin of the West, rushed in like a fool to his rescue, but to no avail. Then the final nail was driven home by the remaining disciples.
Killanes, whispered, Sandersons, mumbled, their misery not to be shared by the audience, now deafened by the theatrics of the sound system’s, mock crashing waves and hissing hydra. More Rice was cast into the auditorium to silence the electronic horror. Now the remaining unused tools were cast aside, their treasured boxes, smashed with glee, and the baying crowd invited to partake in celebration, with tasty bites-n-booze.
The deed was done and The New Man had been hammered and chiselled in the image of a Mayor all Mighty, legendary ruler for, his town, my town, God have mercy upon us all, cried out an Archer in the crowd. Our Man of Shocks a.k.a. Cox, called on that heathen to Neill before, or confirm if all that had now been chalked, was true by the Rites of Spring. It’s Blowing in the Wind, came his reply.
Yet another Glorious Production by Malmesbury Town Council, was now recorded for all prosperity, by the Tenacious Tina, and the House came tumbling down.
Guff Guthrie (1912–1931)
Mayor Arthur & The Old Table
Twas the night of ceremony, when old councillors battle it out in robes amidst wigs and maces. The venue, Malmesbury’s premier hall of importance, The Wotsit Room.
I crept from pillar to post through the town so as not to be seen heading for the Town Hall. Phew made it, then spotted at the last moment by Chickweed Doody. I held back from the magic sliding glass doors and walked towards Chickweed, who was just stepping out of her Carriage, a Vauxhall Astra. I stood and stared in her direction as she tap danced past, she tried her best not to speak but couldn’t hold back a mention of the weather.
Inside Toad Hall, I spied through into the Wesleyan Room, many banqueting tables for a great feast ready. I swung into the Wotsit Room and spun both eye balls in opposite directions at the wondrous choice of seats. I took an empty one, that was all of them, it appeared that no members of the public could be bovvered to make the effort.
Kim Power popped up and pointed out to her son that I was her Personal Photo Shopper, he took a pace forward and shook my hand just as Killane appeared, Councillor Killane pretended not to see what he didn’t want to see, it was yet another Kettlety Moment.
Oliver Killane mentioned something about keeping up to speed via David Forward Dot Com. I took the middle seat at the back of the hall so as I could see the whole show, well there were some councillors at the other end of the room.
The very honoured guests of the night who were possibly several members of the Athelstan Players dressed up as Old Mayors, sat to the left of the Chair and to the right, sat the family members of our councillors.
A man in tights and bearing a gilded club entered the Hall and we all stood. That’s, The Town Team Two, The Deputy Clerk, The Joint Power Killane Film Company, and the not so Undercover Jackdaw Reporter, David Forward.
Proceedings kicked off with a vote, two separately proposed Mayors, of course they wouldn’t be able to fit onto one seat, so they had to choose just the one. The Vics recommended Gundry as Centre Forward but The Five a Side Team preferred their choice, a Powerful Player indeed, in fact so awesome, Chickweed had to read out the player’s credentials.
There was a brief pause in ceremony, whilst all donned their in-flight eye shades, Chickweed spoke, no one heard except a member of the film crew at the rear of the hall. So the Town Clerk decided it was time to switch on the Big Guns, he fiddled about with a loud speaker and brought it into action with a few pops and bangs.
Chickweed grabbed the microphone and took up her Beyonce stance, unfortunately she appeared to still have water in her ears from an earlier cloud burst the day before, so as she continually shook her head from side to side, without the microphone following, it all sounded like a child playing with the volume control on a transistor radio, every third word bouncing around the room like marbles in a jar.
After the complete Wikipedia entry for Councillor Kim Power had been trawled over by Chickweed, councillors were asked to call out their preferred choice, it was as if there had been a Rap Battle going on, Gundry Gundry Gundry Gundry – Power, Gundry Gundry Gundry Gundry – Power. At this point it was decided that Gundry was The New Power.
Several councillors began to play at Clark Kent without a Phone Box, twirling across the floor like dust devils, they finished off with musical chairs and the great Chickweed Dub Step returned her microphone to the Old Table. The new Mayor, Arthur of Malmesbury, decided this was great fun and called for a second dance.
Athelstan of Malmesbury put forward his only daughter Julie, who called on Wayne The Wild One to hit the floor. All councillors hands shot up John Travolta style, whilst the Five a Side Team were busy chewing over their brand new offer from the Calne Chaplain to be their new Manager.
The Shape of the High Street quickly arose, caressed the microphone and with greater speed still, sat down again, almost launching the Kettlepot across the park and into the fans at the Oxford Street End.
Now, Wayne The Wild One stepped up to the mark and after a very long pause, someone nudged Arthur into action and he belatedly hung the Gurning Noose around The Wild One’s neck. That was it, we had a new team in place for the next season. Arthur gave a quick pre-season heads up, and then called for the out going Dug Out Mistress, to say a few chosen words, these were taken verbatim from the last Season.
The stadium was now almost in darkness at the playing end, no one could find the light switch, and at last – silenced was the howling banshee of the Wotsit extractor fan in full over-speed from the storm outside. The imaginary public were invited to join all in the Wesleyan Banqueting Hall for Diet-Pepsi and Hedgehog Flavoured Crisps. Sadly the losing Five a Side team headed straight for the showers.
Lawrence Loomer (1803–1851)