whiplash

Ah, village life! Think Mapp and Lucia, with Mr Pooter popping in from time to time from the Big Smoke (or should that now be The Big Shelter Just Outside The Emergency Exit?).

Forget Ambridge, where Rooth & Daaaaveed still haven't recovered from the notion of Set-Aside and Hellin's blue cheese is still stinking in some far-off outbuilding, but welcome to this corner of Sussex, where the long-running feuds, gossip and intrigue could populate several series of a riveting Sunday night drama on ITV (mmmmmm ....).

We have blossoming octogenarian romance, property development scandals, power struggles and gavel misappropriation (the W.I. will never be the same again). Even Interpol turned up once (they were very polite and refused a cup of tea). We also had a cheese importing business; I believe it was parmesan.

The parish council is busy and active. I must remember to contribute some of my more off-the-wall ideas for traffic calming, including fly-tippers being encouraged to leave their sofas, outmoded TVs and cookers to stop 4x4 drivers from pretending they are auditioning for "French Connection" or "Speed". On a similar note, we have a wide and varied selection of litter to keep any keen recyclers busy for about 5 years.

The church does its bit to keep us all entertained, notably through plans to bolt a kitchen and lavatory on to the 14th century building. We are implored to Move With The Times. I'm not sure if the churchwardens intend to cook up a storm in there, but clearly having to dash from the church to the public loo means missing some of the salient points of the sermons. Visitor information, presumably including directions to The Facilities, is provided in French, Dutch, German and Spanish, oh, and in Sussex Dialect.

But, ha, I digress. The Hot Topic of the moment is the village quiz. Having been sequestered in the village club for many years, recent huffing and puffing has led to a consideration of other venues. The rapier-like wit and modest drinking habits of (most of) the regular quiz teams is no match for the sharpened points of steel with feathers attached flung in the general direction of a round sisal board by groups of seasoned imbibers. In other words, the darts team have edged us out a bit. Well, to be fair, we have been offered another room for the quiz, but it's rather like the Brotherhood of Man playing the Hollywood Bowl. So tonight, dear readers, we are off to a local hostelry to try their quiz night. We are promised free entry, a cash prize and, the deal-clincher, sausage and chips. Now, our team doesn't have the greatest history when it comes to pub quizzes, i.e. we win a fair bit and so become instantly unpopular, so this could be a one-off. We shall see.