Now then. The events are obviously fictional, as is the brewery unless anyone can think of one that brews best bitter for which a suitable name would be "Old Revolting"

Many of the ideas and attitudes that are part of the narrative are current amongst various groups of people but some have been invented for the sake of a good (?) tale. None of them, well not many anyway, are the author's own beliefs or whatever. The story is intended to cause the odd little titter, or perhaps a good belly laugh. Except, of course, if you are, well… not English (i.e. a johnny foreigner – particularly Les Grenouille) or of the female persuasion.

OK. If you imagine a character who could be played by the actor who played Dr Watson to Basil Rathbone's Sherlock Holmes (What was his name?) then you have an idea of the narrator of this tale. You have undoubtedly met the rest of them… The narrator is dictating to his voice actuated computor. He has a tendency to regard this as a living individual, rather like a discrete private secretary, unfortunately it is only as discrete as the operator, who is… well, isn't really.

 

Villiage Tales

by Aurora

 

TALES FROM THE VILLAGE BAR

I 'spose all you johnny foreigners think we British don't talk about sex. 'Tisn't true y'know, well, not all the time like you lot. It's just one of those things put about by people that are jealous of us bein' English. Stereotypin', that's what it is. If you say things loud enough and long enough then people'll believe it. Y'know the Froggies are always sayin' that they have a monopoly on culture. Huh, don't know when they translated Shakespeare from the French! And like Germans have square heads. 'Tisn't true, they're more bullet shaped. And Dutchmen wear clogs. Not true at all. Doesn't stop us calling 'em Cloggies 'though. And the French eat anything from under a flat stone that can't get away – well that is true of course.

So I thought I'd set down a few of our evenin' chats in our village pub 'The Badger' A group of us get in there of a winter evenin' when the central heatin's well wound up and we swap a few yarns. Most of us have travelled a bit and have somethin' interestin' to say. Well, quite a lot happened through the nineties and into the new century, what with the old Queen going and us getting a King. Course that's more as it should be. I'm as fond of the ladies as the next man, but it's barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, what! Better not say that in front of her ladyship mind. In fact don't you say I said that at all. Have half the population on me neck I will.

Anyway, we get stuck into a few beers and then one or other will tell some tale of our past escapades, usually have a bit of sex there somewhere or other, don't y'know. Well, we're all men of the world, and of course comin' from a rather superior breed of men like the English, well, women all over the world just can't get enough of us. It's a fact that they'll always go for the ones to give 'em the best brats – Darwin said it all, just like animals really.

Still, enough of this! I'll get started.

We were settled into our usual corner of the bar and there had been a deal of chit-chat about little in particular, the weather, bit of gossip, well not really gossip of course, because we men don't do that, local affairs would be more accurate, with the accent on affairs if possible, if y'see what I mean. Colonel Sanders – wipe that silly grin off y'face, it's the only thing about him I feel sorry for, had the piss taken something rotten for years. Ha! Should've got himself promoted to Brigadier like his pater. Well, anyway, he was there and old Tim Screeby, the Vicar, and Doctor Ormsby, yes, yes, Bertram Oliver Ormsby, gave that trophy to the school. Yes that's right, the kids always say they've got the BOOT when they win it. Then there was myself… what? Oh yes, I'm Lord Pecan, buggered if I can ever remember which one, still, not the one who murdered his cook. Allegedly. No, no, cook is just fine… or indeed the daft beggar who charged somebody or others sodding guns. Who else? Ah, hmm, oh yes, well a couple of the reg'lars y'know, oh, and Smithy, he's into piles y'know. No no, big steel thingies, nothing to do with his bum. And young Pook. Nice lad, quite often joins us old codgers, intelligent lad, takes an interest, always askin' questions y'know. Mind, that missus of his certainly rustles up some good grub.

Anyway, when Squiffy Sanders says, "How about another pint, young Pecan, and you fellers, what'll you have?" I knew he thought it was his turn to tell us a tale.

If there is one thing I object to about Squiffy, and there are many, it's the fact that after all these years he still calls me 'Young Pecan'. Dammit, the bugger's only ten days older than me, but it was enough to put us a year apart at school, and he's never let me forget it.

Where was I? Oh, yes, Squiffy's tales. But first I had to face another pint of Blenkinsop & Sanders Old Revolting. Well of course that's not what the brewery call it. Ha! They call it Best Bitter, but if that's the best they can do, well… So why do I drink so much of it? Damned fool question that, what the devil else am I supposed to drink, eh? Anyway, y'can't say too much about it because Squiffy's family have been brewing it for, oh, about two hundred and fifty years, and since they own the place and he's buyin', well…

"Right oh then," says Squiffy when we're all settled again, " I was going to tell you about a funny thing that happened to me at the end of the second French war in '09, well after the end really, we were the army of occupation then, 'til we got a proper government set up - they never did have much of an idea of democracy, mainly had bureaucrats to govern 'em. Well us and the Germans were occupyin'. We had to have a bit of help to put the buggers down, squealed like stuck pigs and fought like women those Froggies. And of course the Jerries were entitled to have their land back too."

There were murmurs of agreement all round, most of us had had experience of it.

"I'm never sure why they call it the second French war," said Smithy, "surely that little fracas when we annexed all the country down to Pyrenees in '06 couldn't be called a war."

"Well, the historians call it that," said the Doc, "so who are we to argue?"

Long sentence that, for the Doc. You could tell it affected him. Usually, if one of his patients had something terminal he'd just say, "you're going to die" and leave it at that.

"Quite so," said Squiffy, "but it wasn't annexation, 'cause the English Crown owned it from way back, and since so many of our people owned property over there, well, we had to go in and support 'em when the peasants started gettin' stroppy, what? Should never have let them have it back after that do in the middle of the last century, when we beat that German chappie."

"Ah yes, you mean Hitler," said young Pook, "I read a lot about that. It was after that war that that silly common market idea was started. It isn't an easy history to read because the daft buggers could never make up their minds what to call it. Common Market, EEC, EC, European Union and all sorts. It could have worked too, if it weren't for the Froggies, seems they thought it was just set up for their benefit. My old man used to say, one market, one currency, and one language – The Kings English, 'cept it was the Queens then.

"You're right, young Pook," exclaimed Smithy, "There was a lot of talk at the end of the century about relinquishing national identity and being together and things. Fed'ralism, that was it. Why I remember when the old British Airways took the Union Flag off the tails of their planes - was it '98 or '99 - and no self respecting Brit would fly with 'em anymore. Of course once they discovered how good the others were they didn't go back either. If there was one thing the Froggies did well it was self promotion, wouldn't have found them doing that sort of thing! Excreta torum cerebrum vincit an' all that."

"Not having the benefit of a classical education, what does that mean?" asked old Tim Screeby

"Ha! Bullshit baffles brains," I said.

"Just so." said the colonel, "Nice to see you fellers appreciate that. Course, the union's as strong as ever now there's no common market for those daft Scotch nationalist johnnies to run to. 'Ceptin' they're not johnnies are they, call themselves jimmies… or jessies or some such, I don't know. Anyway, once they realised the world didn't owe them a livin' and only the English'll give 'em one they soon changed their tune. Huh, they'd not last five minutes if it weren't for us. Still, one has to support those poor buggers who can't help themselves…"

We lapsed into silence for a moment. Squiffy was right of course, it's the Englishman's lot to look after and help those less fortunate than themselves. Has been for centuries. Ho hum…

"Come along now, cheer us up with your tale," said the Vicar, "I, for one, cannot wait to hear it."

"Yes, of course Vicar," said Squiffy, "but I've an empty glass now, so set 'em up while I nip out for a jimmy riddle, and then I'll tell it to you."

Well of course, that was a bit rhetorical, the Vicar certainly wasn't about to buy a round. I mean we don't pay the blighter for him to waste it down the pub do we? So it was quite accepted that one of the others of us would get 'em in. Mind you, I often wonder whether he'd buy one if he did have the money. Always seemed a first out of the taxi, last one to the bar sort o' feller to me. Course I could be wrong…

So young Pook organised the drinks and by that time the Colonel was back.

"Ha!" he exclaims, "We might just as well flush our money down the drain, save us havin' to go through the motions of drinkin', wouldn't it"

Hmm. Well my thoughts on having to drink the stuff are coloured with the idea that the drains and motions might just be where it comes from anyway. And I'm quite sure we're pissing it straight into Squiffy's pocket, if y'see what I mean, after all, he does own the brewery. Mind it also shows that he can be a borin' old fart – the number of times I've heard that phrase in pub lavvies is just too many to count.

Suddenly there's the sound of a loud fart, and of course we all look at each other, nobody wantin' to admit to it.

"I do wish you'd stop that, young Pook," says Squiffy.

"Certainly, Colonel," says young Pook, "Er… which way did it go?"

How we laughed. Ha! All the golden oldies are the best. Well, brown oldie would be better for that one, ha ha!

Squiffy wiped his eyes with his hankie and blew his nose.

"Oh dear me," he drew a deep breath, "Now, as I was sayin', back in '09 it was, we'd ended up in a small town. What? No I don't remember exactly what it was called, but we were well south. Everything had quietened down and the Froggies were acceptin' that we were right and generally doin' as they were told. Well y'know what it is, you tell 'em not to go somewhere, and when they do you shoot 'em, and then they don't do it again. Like the old soldier said, you stick it up 'em, and they don't like it up 'em. Course I know what standin' orders said about how to treat them. But up at brigade they've no idea what its like at the sharp end, you have to show 'em whose boss. Natives that is, it always pays to let headquarters think they're in charge. They respect you for it, don't y'know, the natives. And Brigade wouldn't respect you if you'd just liberated a brandy distillery. Well, particularly not then."

"So having got ourselves billeted in this rather pleasant little hotel, we set about makin' ourselves comfy, checkin' the kitchens to make sure there's nothin' disgustin' goin' on, makin' sure the latrines are in workin' order - froggies were never too good at that sort of thing - and things like that. And then we noticed that there's a fair few young fillies, a bit scantily clad sort o' thing, runnin' about the place. Well, my two I.C., a Captain Smith – no relation, I suppose, Smithy? No, thought probably not. Anyway, he hem's and ha's and finally says, 'Do you think this might be the local knocking shop, Colonel?'

"Well, you could have knocked me down with a feather, nothing could have been further from my mind, but I said, 'By jove Captain, I believe you may be right.'"

"So, I called in the lady who owned the place, well I 'spose I should say the Madam, and challenged her with it. She was a bit coy, but we finally got the truth out of her. Well, well, that called for a bit of reorganisation, 'twouldn't do to let the men know, what?"

"And with that we made our dispositions to ensure that if there was any nooky goin' it was officers only, don't y'know. I mean, the NCO chappies kept the men to it, kept 'em clean an' all, but, well you couldn't be certain that they wouldn't pass something nasty on, could you?"

"True enough," said the Doc, "Some of them would put their private parts where I wouldn't put my walking stick."

You could tell he knew what he was talking about, my god I've seen some of the things he gets in the surgery.

"Ha! How right you are Doc," continued Squiffy. "Well, that first night we had an excellent meal, served by a couple of little minxes wearing nothin' but stockin's. A few bottles of the local red and it was early to bed. We were well supplied with little comforts, and very accomodatin' they were too! Next day I had a job getting' my eyes open, having been kept awake 'til late!

"Well, time went on and we were having an excellent time. The sergeants kept the men busy, organised patrols and games and things. Then one evenin', oh I suppose about a month later I was by m'self when the Madam came in. Smith was away visitin' headquarters and the subs were at a dominoes match with the men – good for morale, y'know. By this time she had quite a good command of English, for we wouldn't let them speak that strange lingo of theirs, 'cept at home don't y'know. 'Twouldn't do at all. No point in goin' over there to sort 'em out if y'don't do a proper job of it. She was grinnin' from ear to ear and asked me if I'd like to come and see what had just arrived. She wouldn't say what it was, typical woman even 'though she was a Froggy, had to have a bit of mystery. I followed her out into the annex at the back, up a spiral stone staircase and we came to a heavy wooden door. I could hear some sort of twitterin' goin' on and I had the impression that she was goin' to show me some poultry or some such. She opened the door and we entered a large attic room. And do you know what I saw? Well, I could scarce' believe my eyes. There, loungin' about on cushions and what have you was an amazin' number of young gels. I stopped and counted, well, I had two or three goes and eventually arrived at seventeen. I ask you, seventeen scantily clad nubile wenches. Course the twitterin' had been this lot gigglin' and jabberin away in their own lingo. When we entered the room they immediately fell silent. Not for long 'though, my word no. A short sentence from Madam and they were on their feet and crowdin' around touchin' me."

"I asked her what she had said to them and she said that she had told them that I was the all conquerin' super hero who would relieve them of their maidenheads. I was aghast. What had been going on. This was France, some of these girls were as old as fourteen. Surely there was some mistake. Well, she explained that at the start of hostilities all the men from the mountain village where these girls came from had decided that since it wouldn't take long they would all go to fight the dreadful Brits. But unfortunately the bus carrying them to enlist had plunged off the mountain road and they had all perished. It was a tale to bring a tear to your eye, and well told, so at the time I believed her. Course the girls kept up their twitterin' and gigglin' all the time 'cause they didn't speak a word of the master tongue. Still, we'd soon teach them."

"I felt obliged to keep up the side as an Englishman so I set to with a will and by the time Smith got back the next morning I'd given the whole lot of 'em, all seventeen, a jolly good rogering. Smith had, unfortunately some bad news. We were to move on to another town that very day. Seems we were regarded as being very good at subduing the blighters and were to be given a tougher assignment."

"I bet you had a sore todger the next day Colonel," said young Pook.

"Yes, indeed I did," said Squiffy, "But not half as sore as it was a few days later when I went to the M.O. Seems one of those girls hadn't been on the level and I'd caught a dose. I suppose she'd done the old trick with the elastic band. Still, there you are."

"Didn't you ever go back, Colonel?" asked Old Tim Screeby.

"Well, 'smatter o' fact I did," replied Squiffy. "Having had a bit of a painful time with the MO, 'twas a woman actually, and rather lackin' in the jolly old sympathy and milk o' human kindness department. 'Spose it would have bin better if I hadn't told her the whole tale. Not like me to boast about acts of heroism. Well, I was of a mind to tell the Madam that she'd been duped by whoever it was had told her they were all maids. But it wasn't 'til a few months later, after I'd got a second pip added to my crown… what? Oh, full colonel, I was only a lieutenant colonel when the war started.

"When I got there, I realised that somethin' was very different. The British Administration was now based in the town hall, the Mary or some such they called it, and the Hotel was empty, looked like there'd been one hell of a scrap.

"I went into the bar in the town square to see if I could make some sense out of it, because the subaltern in the Mary had looked at me a bit strange when I'd asked him what had happened. Well, I fell to talking to the Monsewer behind the bar. He recognised me, some of 'em do learn to tell us apart y'know, damned if I ever could do it with them 'though. It transpired that the company that succeeded us in the town had a ravin' lunatic for an OC. It was a company of some Scotch regiment and he was absolutely fanatical about his kirk."

"I can see that that might cause a bit of a problem," mused the Vicar.

"Too damned right it did, Vicar," continued Squiffy. "You can do all sorts of things with the natives. You can try to change their religion, they're all Roman whatsits y'know, the Frogs. You can make 'em speak a different language and things like that. But you can't go interferin' with the peoples customs and especially their pleasures. Well, this chappie did and there was hell to pay. There was an uprising. A pitched battle at the hotel, had to send for reinforcements, might have got away with it if he hadn't, and I don't know how many injuries. This barman says to me that he wished I stayed there lookin' after 'em. Nicest thing one of 'em ever said to me!"

We all sat quietly for a minute or two.

"My, what a tale," said the Vicar, "Well, I never did."

"Don't suppose you ever would Vicar," said Doc, "But tell me Squiffy, you said you believed the Madams tale at the time, did something happen later to change your mind?"

"By Jove yes," said Squiffy, "'twasn't long after that that Brigade heard of somethin' odd up in one of the mountain villages, and we were sent off to investigate. But let's have another round and I'll tell you. Damned if you'll believe it though."

So we all got pints of the disgustin' brown meths, and Squiffy was off again.

"Took us a couple of days to get there, awful terrain and we had to be damned careful because there were still a few rebels up there. Resistance they called 'em. Didn't put up much resistance mind. Like as not loose off a few rounds at you and then disappear. Well we had to sort out a couple of ambushes on our way, y'know you wait until you've spotted their fire and then you let 'em have a few rounds of HE and blow the buggers to bits. Soon get the message. We were climbing all the time and the track was really none to good when we came to a ridge, and there standing in the middle of a sweeping valley was a big lump of rock, with a village perched on it. Smith checked it on the map and sure enough that was where we were s'pposed to be goin'.

"We'd all heard strange tales of what went on up in the mountains but y'know how it is, y'take it all with a good pinch of salt. All sorts of demons and magic and whatever, but really it was all down to the superstitious natives exaggeratin' things. But that said, as we got closer to the rock it did seem a bit creepy. No one bein' about I s'pose didn't help, but you felt you were being watched, though that'd only be natural, if there were someone in the village, they'd be watchin', wouldn't they?

"I decided we'd bivvy for the night a few hundred yards –metres they call 'em – from the rock, and reccy round the thing before it got dark, so's we could decide on a plan of action for the morning.

"So after we selected a spot to stop and got the lads sorted, Smith and I with a sergeant and driver went off to have a look see. It was pretty rough but we could see that there was an access road of sorts up one side, bit exposed, but if an advance party went up with cover from the armoured vehicles, just in case, then it ought to be ok. And that's what we decided to do.

"In the mornin' one of the sergeants came up to me and told me that a couple of the men had gone missing. Apparently he'd quizzed their mates, and with some reluctance naturally, no one wants to tell tales, they said that the pair of them had thought they'd seen some women up there, and had decided they were going to go up see what they could get. Skinned alive, I've little doubt. Damned fools. Complicated matters, but I had to say it made no difference to our plan."

"What if the men had been tied down in the road, or something like that?" asked young Pook.

"Well, that would have been a problem and no mistake," Squiffy continued, "but as it was we got into the village square with no problems at all. No one there to welcome us, so we fanned out and started searching. Didn't take long before the men started coming back with one or two and sometimes a small group of ladies, all, shall we say, matronly, but mainly good lookin' and I could hear one or two comments from the men about many a good tune played on an old fiddle and that sort of thing. A while later the sergeant said to me that two of the men hadn't returned and he'd sent out another group to find them. A couple more minutes and they were all back, plus a couple of young fillies. The corporal in charge saluted and rather stiffly explained that the two missing men had been found rogering the gels and what should he do with them.

" 'Put 'em on a charge,' I snapped, 'and I deal with them when we get back.' And with that I asked if anyone had found the two silly buggers who had disappeared the night before. No one had found any trace. And then one of the gels spoke up.

" 'It's us Sir,' she said,

" 'Eh? What's that?' I spun round, quite startled.

"The froggy women we had um… captured were all twitterin' and gigglin' and generally makin' a lot of noise.

" 'Keep those damned women quiet, sergeant,' I said, 'I can't think to get to the bottom of this with all this noise. Now then,' I turned to the gels, 'what is all this nonsense, what are your names?'

"Well, I wasn't expecting them to understand a word I was saying, but…

" 'Private Jones and Private West, Sir.' They said. And proceeded to give me their numbers, home addresses and one or two other things.

"You could have knocked me down with a feather. What had these girls done to the two lads who had come up here last night, and how had they got all this information?

" 'We'll use that old gendarmerie building over there, sergeant,' I said. 'Then we'll interrogate the blighters and see if we can't get some sense out of 'em'

"After about half an hour all we had were two very frightened and wetly snivelling gels, and a daft tale about climbing up the rock, and getting in through a window, after which they collapsed and only came to shortly before we arrived. They had found some dresses, since their uniforms were not there, found the door out of their chamber, and had then met up with two of our lads, the two who were now on a charge, and couldn't help themselves. They just had to have them. Horny as little nanny goats. And there is only one thing hornier than that, and that is a British squaddie.

"Lieutenant Smith came in.

" 'There's one of the ladies would like to talk to you Sir.'

" 'OK,' I said wearily, 'and if the others are not going to cause a problem let them go back to their houses after a thorough search. Oh, and see if you can bivvy the men with them, it should be quite safe, and a bit of a rest with some home cookin' should set 'em up for the journey home. I can't believe this daft tale that these two wenches are telling me. Huh, magic be damned.'

"Smith showed the woman in and left

"She was quite elderly but still very upright and well dressed in black. I indicated the chair and she sat down. She turned to the two girls, who were with the sergeant, still snivelling and muttered something. They shut up immediately.

" 'Thankyou for seeing me colonel,' she said, in perfect if heavily accented English. 'I should prefer to speak with you alone.'

"I told the sergeant to take the girls through to the cells and lock them up for the moment and then go and help Smith.

"After the sergeant had left the old lady introduced herself as the leader of the village, there being no men. There had been men, in fact there had only been boys born in the village for the past generation, though for what reason she could not, or perhaps would not, say. This had caused problems because none of the girls from the other valleys wanted to come and live here, it was a hard life and they would rather go to live in the cities. Before he had died, the old priest who had looked after them had told her that many centuries before the village had been occupied by a strange religious sect. They had worshipped some old gods and because their religion had been led by women they had a magical crypt somewhere in the village where, when men entered, they changed into young girls so that their priesthood had continuity in some way. He was quite sure this existed because he had discovered old records, in strange script that he had deciphered, and these contained references to the crypt. There were some oblique references in some of the old church records too. So the ladies of the village secretly searched, measured, surveyed and eventually came up with the one location where it could possibly be. In the adjacent cellar to this location there was a large old wardrobe, and very close examination revealed that the back opened and gave access to the secret room. One of the women volunteered to enter. When she emerged nothing had happened. So they got one of the young men down there and asked him to take a look. When he entered he fainted, and as the women rush forward the door swung closed and seemed to jam. A couple of hours later and it swung open again to reveal a nubile young girl. Not just nubile, but with a glint in her eye that showed she was up for it and no mistake. They locked her in one of the cells of the gendarmerie and had a 'council of war'

"It was decided that they would send all the other men into the room, and when they were all changed they would put them in the village bus and take them to a town to find husbands to bring back to the village. Since all the girls were amazingly attractive this should not prove a problem. Except…

"At this point there was a knock on the door and Smith burst in.

" 'Come quickly, Sir,' he yelled and dashed back out.

"I sprinted out into the square, and when I stopped I could hear a loud grinding sound.

" 'What the devil…' But before I could say anything else an elderly charabanc entered the square.

"Several of my men had guns at the ready.

" 'Hold your fire,' I yelled.

"The open charabanc appeared to hold only young women. Seventeen of them. Plus the driver. And I recognised her, it was the Madam from all those months before. And all the girls were obviously pregnant. From all those months before.

" 'It ees the colonel Zanderes,' shouted the Madam, 'and I 'ave brought you your girls colonel, evr'y one of zem with your babies.'

He paused…

"Damned embarrassing, eh what? Squiffy," said the Doc.

"Almost the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me Doc," replied Squiffy. "The most embarrassing thing happened a few weeks later. We had to get doctors in to deal with the situation and one of them turned out to be the one who treated me for my dose of clap. The Madam had got whichever girl it was sorted before they came back, so there was no problem there. But that doctor swore she'd never let me forget."

"So what happened in the end," I asked.

"Glad you asked that Pecan," said Squiffy. "We were there another couple of months and then we were sent home. By that time all the girls had delivered healthy babies, but unfortunately the only woman in the village who wasn't pregnant or nursing was the old matriarch. I'd said those women were matronly but they weren't past it, and my lads being what they were… anyway, after we were demobbed I understand most, if not all, of them went back. Jones and West were officially lost in action, which wasn't too difficult to cook up, and since they'd been knocked up by the other two I made 'em get married."

"But what about that room?" asked the vicar, "The Devil at work there without a doubt."

"I had the cellar blocked up and covered so that you wouldn't know it was there," said Squiffy. "And swore everyone who knew anything to secrecy, told 'em that they had signed the official secrets act when they joined and they'd better keep quiet."

"And the doctor?" asked Pook.

"Ah, well, yes…"

"Isn't your missus a doctor Squiffy?" I asked.

"That she is Pecan, that she is… Well, time for home. I 'spose you'll be off to give cook a good seein' too now then young Pecan."

Well, of all the infernal cheek. Just fancy accusin' a feller of something like that. And in front of all the other chaps too. I say, that's just too much. I was flabbergasted. My mouth must've hung open for, ooh I just don't know how long… ages. How the hell did he know about me an' cook anyway?

  

  

  

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