As any admirer of crime fiction will no doubt be aware, the English Rural landscape is often used as a background for murder mysteries and other such nefarious goings-on in fiction. However, the reality in places like Little Frigging is far more mundane, with the local village policeman, PC Ghonnemadd, rarely called upon to get his truncheon out in the course of his duties. Except, of course, when requested by one of the ladies of the village who feels herself in need of the strong arm of the law to help her overcome her current predicament, perhaps – for example – in order to bring some comfort to her distressed pussy.
However, that is not to say the forces of Law and Order are totally surplus to the requirements of the village. Only last week, for example, it was fortunate that PC Ghonnemadd was present in the snug of The Pervert’s Appendage on the day that Grand Uncle Stagnant lost his legs. Despite searching everywhere for them – even, in a moment of inspiration, in his trousers – he could not find them anywhere.
All that he could recall is that he had divested himself of his trousers in order to help the barmaid change barrels down in the cellar. Being the concerned and helpful villager he is, Grand Uncle Stagnant had took it upon himself to check the quality of the beer in the barrel while the barmaid re-dressed herself, only to find that the barrel must have sprung a leak as it seemingly emptied itself while Grand uncle Stagnant was testing it. On wishing to report this disaster to the pub landlord Grand Uncle Stagnant suddenly discovered that someone had also stolen his legs.
Alerted by his cries for help – interspersed with a few songs about the nocturnal activities of dairymaids – we all, including PC Ghonnemadd rushed to see what was amiss and whether the barmaid needed any assistance with putting her clothes back on.
Once we had all made sure the barmaid was fully-dressed again, it took only a few minutes of investigation for the rapier-like detective skills of PC Ghonnemadd to locate Grand Uncle Stagnant’s legs, still in his long johns, near the vicinity of his body where they usually are. Unfortunately – possibly, theorised PC Ghonnemadd – due to some local gravitational anomaly in the cellar of The Pervert’s Appendage meant that Grand Uncle Stagnant’s legs were not really working as well as they should. However, once Grand Uncle Stagnant had been removed from the area of the gravitational anomaly and had slept off his ordeal in his hayloft with a brace of dairymaids to comfort him, he was soon his old self again and more than eager to venture back down the cellar as soon as the barmaid was willing.
So, once again, thanks to the sterling detective work of PC Ghonnemadd a great tragedy was averted and a greater mystery solved.