The Curmudgeon

And no wonder. For the first item on the agenda was a letter from a firm of posh Leeds lawyers and its purpose was received in stunned silence. It was, simply, to silence the church clock.

The letter, from Messrs Squeezem, Scarem and Crushem, said that it had received a complaint from un-named clients saying that their peace and quiet was being shattered in the night-time hours by the striking of the aforesaid clock.

So would the church authorities please fit a mechanism to silence our majestic time piece between the hours of 9pm and 9am.

According to Mrs C, the Vicar, Rev Rupert, normally the most affable of men, read out the offending letter with his face set in rage and his hands shaking so much that his knuckles turned snow white.

The hubbub that followed was so loud and angry that it actually drowned out the sound of the said clock striking eight.

And the question on everyone's lips was: who on earth could have launched such a campaign?

It had to be a villager, for the clock is admittedly somewhat on the loud side - its stertorous tones rattle the windows in the surrounding cottages and send the rooks in the Big House beeches screaming and swearing half a mile away.

'It's got to be someone local but the clock has been striking like that since 1919,' said Ben the Bucket's sister Beatrice, who is clerk to the council. 'So why has this arisen now?'

The clock was installed in the tower at St John's in memory of the two Hyphen-Hyphen boys who gave their lives for King and Country within six months of each other, on the Somme and at Ypres, in the War to End All Wars.

'I smell the hand of Maggots Money-Grubber in this,' snarled Owd Tom, naming the man who last year bought the Old Vicarage which stands next to the church and, therefore, is in direct line of fire.

'No time for speculation and possibly false accusations now,' said the Vicar, in an unusually cross tone. 'The question is: what do we do?

'It is, in fact, possible to buy one of these silencing mechanisms but they cost several hundred pounds and church funds barely run to that.

'But, when I checked with the Diocesan office, they pointed out that to become involved in a law suit over this matter could possibly be much more expensive.

'We have a quandary, ladies and gentleman. What shall we do?'

'Adjourn t'matter for a coupla weeks,' growled Tom. 'Let's make some more enquiries and see if we can can sort it out on t'ground. We may be able to bring some local pressure to bear.'

The Rev Rupe looked a little apprehensive at the suggestion, for he knows full well that Owd Tom has somewhat unorthodox ways of sorting things out, but the meeting voted in favour of a delay.

So the hunt is on for the Beggarsdale Clock Killer. Could be interesting, this.

* The Curmudgeon is a satirical column based on a fictitious character in a mythical village.

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