BISCUIT FILM AT THE BEECHES

A controversial film about people who become chronically addicted to biscuits is to be shown at The Beeches Cineplex. The screening will form part of a nationwide series of events intended to promote Biscuit Awareness Week.

The message of the hard-hitting film, entitled Bite the Biscuit, is that no-one is safe from the perils of addiction. The one-hour documentary graphically depicts the downward spiral of an addict who loses his job, his home and his family and is finally reduced to prostitution in order to get his daily fix of Hob Nobs.

Rich Tee, director of the Biscuit And Sweet Treat Addicts’ Remedial Diagnosis Service (BASTARDS), said: “This is a brave initiative in the fight against an addiction that many people do not even realise exists.

“With the festive season upon us, a time when people traditionally overindulge, it is even more crucial that we do everything we can to promote awareness of this crippling condition.

“We strongly urge people to go and see this film.”

Biscuit Awareness Week runs from December 3rd to 10th. For more information, log on to www.bastards.org.

The Editor writes:

Do any of our readers have an amusing or heartwarming story about biscuit addiction? The Observer will pay £10 for each one published.

CAR CRUSHED BY TREE IN FESTIVE FIASCO

What a load of baubles! So thought businessman George Chittling after he switched on the lights of the town’s Christmas tree yesterday. For instead of twinkling in the twilight of Froghill Common, the 25-foot spruce fell crashing straight onto his brand-new car.

This year's tree was originally to have been illuminated by Jelli Harriwell, the former Space Girl, whose hit Scream If You Want A New Toaster sold over 40 copies nationwide.

However, due to Council reductions in the town's decorations budget, this proved impossible, so George Chittling, Froghill’s Businessman of The Year for 2002, stepped in to take the ginger star’s place.

“I’m afraid I’m not wearing my patriotic pants today,” he quipped, referring to Jelli’s trademark minidress, “but I'm proud to be a resident of this wonderful town, nonetheless.”

Then, looking out over the small crowd of people huddled together in the drizzle, he announced: “I hereby declare Froghill officially switched on for Christmas!” before pulling down the ceremonial lever.

“I was expecting all the lights to come on,” said nine-year-old Nicholas Bladen, “and for a second, they did. Then they started blinking and there was this loud fizzling noise and a smell of burning.

“Then some of the light bulbs exploded and the whole tree caught on fire. It was really cool, much better than just seeing it light up.”

The crowd watched in awe as the burning tree, bulbs popping like fireworks, swayed for a moment on its plinth. Then it keeled over with a loud creak, crashing onto the roof of Mr Chittling’s Volvo V70, which was parked just underneath.

Preliminary investigations suggest that a combination of damp weather and faulty wiring were responsible for the mishap, though this news will be of little cheer to Mr Chittling.

“The car’s a complete write-off and I’ve only had it since July,” he said, “I mean, I’ve heard of Christmas falling once a year but this is ridiculous!”

HOLY GRAIL ‘A CRUDE AND OBVIOUS FAKE’

The metal bowl donated to a Froghill charity shop three weeks ago is “categorically not the Holy Grail”, according to a spokesman for the British Museum.

The bowl was given to Save the Tapirs by a man who subsequently turned out to have escaped from a secure ward at The Firs. The event gave rise to hopes that the vessel used by Jesus at the Last Supper might miraculously have found its way to Froghill.

Speaking on behalf of the British Museum, Dr. Digby Morpeth told the Observer : “I can confirm that the bowl is categorically not the Holy Grail. Upon its being subjected to carbon-dating, the artefact proved to be somewhat less than 30 years old.

“The inscription ‘World’s Best Saviour’, which appeared on the side of the vessel, was poorly executed, most likely done with the point of a Swiss Army knife. This was easily stripped away by acid etching. Once removed, the legend ‘A Souvenir from Skegness’ could be clearly discerned.

“Likewise the signature ‘Samuel Cohen and Sons, Jerusalem’ on the base which, once erased, revealed the words: ‘Golden Dragon Manufacturing Co., Taiwan’.

“It is with regret that I must inform the townspeople of Froghill that their hoped-for Holy Grail is nothing more than a crude and obvious fake. It is considerably less miraculous than finding a live tadpole in a bottle of low fat milk.”

DROPPING ‘E’ REUNITES MATES AFTER 60 YEARS

Les Boscombe and Joe Waghorn last saw each other on the beaches of Normandy back in 1944 when, pinned down by enemy gunfire, they pledged to remain friends forever.

Yet despite their best intentions, Les, 83, of Traubert’s Heath, and Joe, 84, from Carshalton, ended up losing touch as the years went by. And so it might have remained, had it not been for a mutual interest in creamy confections and a careless misprint in a magazine.

Last month, Joe, a widower of fifteen years, decided that he needed to broaden his horizons a little. So he placed a personal ad in the October issue of The Custard Fanciers’ Gazette, which read:

“Octogenarian, into caramel custard, blancmange and other oral delights, seeks similar for beating and whipping. Eggs and cream provided. Jo, Box 113.”

Now it so happened that Les, out of pure curiosity, bought a copy of the same magazine from the sub post office where he collects his pension. “I was browsing through the small ads,” said Les at his home in Boxwood Lane, “when my eye stopped on that one.

“It looked intriguing, so, just out of devilment, I answered it. Because there was no ‘e’ at the end of the name, I thought it was a woman I was writing to. I didn’t sign my name because I’d never done anything like that before and I was a bit embarrassed, to tell the truth.”

Joe promptly wrote back and the two agreed to meet, still thinking that it was to be a tryst between dessert lovers of the opposite sex.

“So there I was, standing under the clock on Waterloo station,” said Les, “with a carnation in my buttonhole, waiting for ‘Jo’ who was supposed to be wearing the same.

“Well, I noticed this bloke wearing a carnation in his buttonhole just like mine, but I never connected him with the ad. I just looked at him and thought ‘poor bugger, he’s been stood up’. And all along, he was probably thinking exactly the same about me!”

After an hour’s fruitless waiting and piqued by curiosity, the two finally struck up a conversation. It was then that they began to realise that some kind of mistake had been made.

So they repaired to a local pub, still unaware that they were in fact old mates from the Normandy landings.

“It was only when we were getting into our second pint that the penny dropped and we realised who each other really was,” chuckled Les. “When it dawned on me that this was Joe Waghorn, and that I hadn’t seen him since D-Day, well, I tell you, you could have knocked me down with an egg custard.”

Now that they’ve been reunited, the two old soldiers have vowed not to lose touch again. And they’ve also promised each other to check the small print in the personals very carefully from now on.

BUY LOCAL OR KISS GOODBYE TO OUR JOBS

Families are being urged to give foreign producers the kiss-off by buying only British mistletoe this Christmas.

That's the seasonal message from the Froghill Chamber of Commerce, who stress that buying British not only saves local farming jobs, it also protects foreign workers.

“Much of the mistletoe which comes into the country at this time of year is produced in Burma,” said a Chamber of Commerce spokesman.

“It may be cheaper, but it has often been grown in appallingly inhumane conditions.

"Many Burmese mistletoe farms are nothing more than sweatshops, employing children as young as four and a half years old, who work 19 hours a day and are paid as little as 50p a year.”

Local farmer Jeb Blunt said: “All my plants are free range and grown according to Mistletoe and Ivy Native Growers’ Environmental Society (MINGES) guidelines. These stipulate that all commercially-produced mistletoe must be hand picked by workers with at least four GCSEs, one of which should be in a science subject, and have a minimum of 21 berries per square centimetre.

“This country produces some of the finest mistletoe in the world,” added Mr Blunt, “so buy British, save our jobs and kiss with confidence this Christmas.”

Did You Know?

*Mistletoe is not actually a plant. It is in fact a variety of seahorse.

*Mistletoe as we know it today was originally cultivated by the Incas and used in sacrificial rites.

*Mistletoe berries are much prized by Pitcairn Islanders, who blend them with regurgitated millet and believe them to have aphrodisiac qualities.

*The first recorded ‘kiss beneath the mistletoe’ took place in a village hall in Monmouthshire in 1861.

*Mistletoe berries have a hallucinogenic effect when mixed with Bacardi Breezer.

‘ISLANDERS’ SERVED WITH EVICTION ORDER

Council bailiffs have been drafted in to evict a group of travelling people living on a traffic island in King Street.

The people have been living on the island, which measures 12 feet by four, for the past three years. Last Monday, however, they were served with an eviction order from Froghill Magistrate’s Court and told they have to leave by the end of this week.

It is understood that should they fail to comply, the 160 or so ‘islanders’ will be scooped up by dump truck and taken to the municipal incinerator in Wildernesse Road, where they will burned.

Rob Crusoe, 41, a spokesman for the islanders, said: “I can’t see what all the fuss is about. We are not causing any harm by living on the island.

“It all boils down to the fact that there are one or two posh shops in King Street and people there think our presence lowers the tone. It’s a shame, because if they had been prepared to talk to us I’m sure we could have sorted something out.

Moira Snitteridge, owner of the Glitz-U-Like boutique, said: “My shop window looks directly onto the island. Now I’m as tolerant as the next person, but these travellers are a public nuisance. They litter the street with their broken cars and fridges, they hang their washing out across the road and they let their children run wild and cheek passers-by.

“And they breed like rabbits – believe me, I’ve watched them going at it from between the blinds.

“My business has most definitely suffered in the time they’ve been living there,” she added, “so good riddance to bad rubbish, that’s what I say.”

The Editor writes:

Do any of our readers have unusual, economical or practical tips for dealing with travellers? The Observer will pay £10 for each one published.

HELP OLD PEOPLE BEAT THE WRAP THIS CHRISTMAS

Don't leave old folks in the car unattended.

That's the seasonal message from Froghill Constabulary who say that seating elderly relatives in the car and then leaving the engine to warm up while you return to the house means easy pickings for thieves.

A police spokesman said: "A lot of old folks get stolen at this time of year. Typically, they are snatched from cars while the driver is temporarily occupied elsewhere.

"Once stolen, old people are taken to workshops and quickly stripped of their skins. These are then made into expensive, antique-style Christmas wrapping paper. Well-wrinkled skins are much in demand and can fetch anything up to £2000 each on the black market."

Other ways you can protect your old folks this winter include:

*Ironing them each morning to remove any dermatological creases
*Having them fitted with ID chips
*Sharpening their dentures or impregnating their nails with anthrax
*Dressing them in karate uniforms
*Having wheelchairs fitted with alarm systems
*Wrapping Zimmer frames with razor wire

Anyone with information about crimes involving the elderly should phone the Froghill Constabulary on 0372 47777. All calls will be treated in confidence.

POP STAR OPENS DRAIN

Heartthrob singer Blobbie Williams was welcomed by tens of hysterical fans when he came to inaugurate Froghill High Street’s newly refurbished storm drain yesterday afternoon.

The Edwardian drain, which is protected by the National Trust, has been under wraps for the last year while workmen have been giving it a facelift.

The portly pop star was met at 2pm by Sir Hugh Ffyffes-Banana, chairman of the Historical Edifice and Artefact Development Association and Cultural Heritage Evaluation Society (HEADACHES).

Blobbie was then taken on a tour of the newly-painted drain, starting on the east side before walking clockwise around it. He then went on to cut the ribbon and declare the installation officially open.

Sir Hugh said: "I didn't know what to expect of him, but Blobbie seemed genuinely interested in the painting process and the number of coats it took to completely weatherproof the grating.

"It’s good to see pop stars of Blobbie’s calibre setting an example to our young people in this way.

"He obviously found all the excitement emotionally draining,” quipped Sir Hugh with a smile, “as he could hardly stop himself yawning all the way through the ribbon cutting ceremony!”

DEAR AMY

Something worrying you? Need to tell someone? Then why not write to Amy for advice?

MY SISTER SMELLS

I know this sounds like an old joke, but my sister smells terrible. It all started when she decided to change her diet: she became a strict rodentarian about a year ago. Since then, she has given off a powerful, musty odour which attracts cats like nobody’s business.

She mistakenly believes this is because she’s naturally good with animals, whereas actually it’s due to the fact that she smells like a dead mouse.

My sister now has a house full of cats. At the last count, she had over 200 and more keep coming all the time. I don’t know how to tell her, but I’m allergic to them and come out in a rash every time I visit her. And that’s not to mention the smell. What can I do to broach the subject?

Dominic,
Froghill

Amy writes: I sympathise, believe me. You're aware that telling your sister she stinks like vermin will hurt her. But, in the end, wouldn't not telling be even more hurtful?

You'll need to be tactful about it. One way you might approach things is to take her to a place where there are no cats – the middle of a lake or Battersea Dogs’ Home, for example - and then say something like: ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but I have something rather delicate to tell you. In short, I'm afraid you smell like a decaying rodent.’

Now I can’t predict her reaction. She may be angry, she may cry, she may disbelieve you or she may even punch you. But then again, she just might ask you for your advice.

If she does ask for advice, you can recommend that she change her diet or, if she isn’t willing to do this, that she accompany each meal with a glass of disinfectant. Domestos usually does the trick in cases such as these.

She will also need to get rid of the cats. Being the territorial animals that they are, they won’t go of their own volition. This will leave your sister no option but to burn her house down in order to get rid of them all. Now this may seem drastic, but surely it’s a small price to pay for the sake of her peace of mind?

I know it'll be difficult for both of you. But if you truly care about your sister, you'll be willing to take that risk.

FROGHILL IS AL QAIDA TARGET: COUNCILLOR

Leaked intelligence suggesting that the methane processing plant on Mungo Park Road could become an Al Qaida target has led to fears about local security.

A national newspaper reported last weekend how Froghill police had observed two men of “vaguely Middle Eastern appearance” walking past the plant last September.

The article, in The Snail on Sunday, went on to describe how the men then waited at a nearby bus stop before getting on the number 14 to Swansdike.

They were seen to be holding polystyrene containers in their hands marked all over with the letter ‘M’, which, The Snail alleges, could have been code for the word ‘munitions’.

In response to the article, Councillor Dennis Meddings, recently reinstated after charges of indecent behaviour against him were dropped, called for greater police powers in the light of these revelations.

He said: “The Mungo Park Road plant is an obvious target for extremists. A terrorist attack, if successful, could lead to every single person in Froghill dying horribly beneath an avalanche of excrement. It is imperative that we extend police powers in response.”

The Councillor called for the immediate creation of a heavily-armed special forces unit to patrol the area around the clock.

“The facility should be placed under constant surveillance by helicopter gunships and officers on the ground with bazookas,” said Councillor Meddings, “that way, should they spot any foreigners lurking about, they can take the bastards out on the spot.”

When we put it to him that his attitude was both hysterical and racist, the Councillor accused us of being “namby-pamby liberal lefty poofs” before turning on his heel and walking away.

ST. TAPIR’S FEAST THIS WEEKEND

Come one, come all: Froghill is gearing up for the biggest event in its calendar, to be held on Froghill Common this Saturday (November 25).

Celebrations for St Tapir’s Feast will start at 2pm sharp, when Mayor Peter Rudge, dressed as St Tapir the Mendicant, begins his traditional walk of shame across the Common. Starting from Priory Patch, he will stop every quarter of a mile to be beaten across the shoulders with a boiled turnip by ‘a mayd chaste and virginale’.

Upon reaching the gibbet erected at Dead Man’s Barrow, the mayor will be trussed with strips of leather and then symbolically hung by a party of pestilent townsfolk. The official proclamation of his death will serve as cue for the lighting of the ceremonial fire, upon which all and sundry may roast St Tapir’s Offal (on sale throughout the afternoon, courtesy of Bingley’s the Butchers).

Wassail, served in traditional oaken buckets, will be available in the King’s Arms car park.

At dusk, the St Tapir’s Revelries will commence. This year’s ‘Dance of the Goitres’ will be performed by seven-year-old Kelly Bilgepump of Cheetingham CE Primary School. The perennially popular ‘Ballade of St Tapir in the Underworld’ will be sung and enacted by the St Winifred’s School Choral Society. (All whips and chains generously donated by Hot Weals of Froghill High Street.)

Due to the recent reduction in the Council’s public decorations budget, the annual closing fireworks display, symbolising the Resurrection of St Tapir, will not be held. In its place, a single pig’s bladder will be inflated from a gas cylinder and released into the air.

‘PREGNANT’ QUEEN FOUND HIDING IN FARM BUILDING

Colin Braithwaite, who escaped from a secure ward at The Firs on November 4, has been recaptured. He was discovered by police yesterday afternoon, hiding in a hay loft at Rayling’s Farm, Swansdike.

DS Geoff Bunton, who led the team which recaptured Braithwaite, said: “We received a tip-off from a member of the public to the effect that a man had been seen loitering around one of the farm's outbuildings. We acted immediately.

“Upon entering the loft, we spotted a figure reclining near the back of the building. He was clothed in a long, white robe, stained with what appeared to be some kind of liquid. We had no difficulty in identifying the man as Braithwaite.

“He was wedged half-upright between two hay bales, with his hands clasped beneath his stomach. He was muttering to himself and groaning loudly. There was a half-eaten sandwich and a can of fizzy drink by his head.

“When we asked him if he was in pain, he replied that we should fetch the King's physician, as this time it was certain to be a boy.

"He added: ‘As I am Anne, beloved wife to our sovereign liege Henry, I order you make haste. I’ll see you lose your head if you don’t obey me this instant!’ He then started groaning again.”

Braithwaite offered no further resistance and was returned to his ward in a police car. After a medical examination, he was pronounced fit and healthy and then given a supper of toast and fish paste.

“Colin seems to have suffered no ill effects from his fortnight on the outside,” said Rosemary Johnstone, deputy director of The Firs, “and the birth pains he was complaining of turned out to be a false alarm.

“His waters hadn’t actually burst. He’d just spilt some Tizer down himself, that’s all.”

RETURN OF MISSING LETTERS SPELLS AN END TO INNUENDO MISERY

For Malcolm Seekup, owner of hosiery outlet Tights-U-Like in Froghill’s Bancroft Street, the last fortnight holds nothing but bad mammaries. For after vandals stole the letters ‘g’ and ‘h’ from his shop sign, he and his staff had to endure a steady stream of lewd remarks from customers.

“It’s hardly been an uplifting experience,” said Mr Seekup, “though, Heaven knows, over the last two weeks, we’ve needed all the support we can get.”

But now that the missing letters have been recovered by police and returned to their rightful places, Mr Seekup and his staff have a chance to get it all off their chests.

“We need to rationalise our experience of the last two weeks and make a clean breast of things,” said Mr Seekup. “And we need to resist the temptation to seek revenge or indulge in petty games of tit for tat.”

“Let's face it, things could have been worse. After all, we could have had our knockers pinched,” he added, referring to the two items of antique hardware which grace the shop’s front entrance.

COUPLE TO GO ON THE RUN AFTER LAXATIVE MISHAP

The parents of a four-year-old who needed life-saving treatment after eating three bars of laxative chocolate have been handed an unusual punishment.

Digby Smythe, 29, and Rosalie Glasnost, 27, of Old Mill Road, Swansdike, both pleaded guilty to child neglect in a hearing at Froghill Magistrates Court yesterday.

The court heard how their son Harbin had to be rushed to hospital on May 7th this year after accidentally eating the industrial-strength purgative which he’d found in a drawer at the family home.

Handing down his verdict, Judge Neville Siliphant told the couple that on this occasion, he believed the punishment should be made to fit the crime.

He said: “The effect on your child of consuming three bars of laxative chocolate was for him to suffer aggravated diarrhoea which lasted for a week. We can only imagine how traumatic this must have been for him. We therefore sentence you to suffer in kind.”

The Judge’s ruling was that the couple should be taken to the methane processing plant on Mungo Park Road. Once there, they should be divested of their lower garments before having their bottoms securely fastened onto the inlet ports of the main ingester unit.

“In keeping with the suffering experienced by your son,” he continued, “you shall be constrained to stay in this position for a period of one week. During that time you will consume nothing but laxative chocolate.

“That way, you will not only have the time to reflect upon your negligence, you will also be afforded the opportunity to put something back into the community.”

WRESTLERS JOINED IN HOLY HEADLOCK

Two sumo wrestling enthusiasts who fell in love during an exhibition match at the Albert Hall back in 1991 finally tied the topknot at the weekend.

Arc welder Sally Manthorpe, 36, and jelly mould designer Benfield Warpe, 35, entered into married life with a resounding thud on Saturday during a ceremony outside St Mark’s, Froghill.

The couple, who both come from Traubert’s Heath, were married in front of 90 guests in a ring specially constructed for them in the church car park.

The bride looked resplendent in a white loin cloth and matching veil, the groom wore a purple mawashi and grey silk topper. After the couple had ritually purified the ring with handfuls of salt, the ceremony was conducted by the Reverend Adrian Small.

At the words “joined in holy matrimony”, the two met in a resounding head-on tackle and then sweated and grunted for 90 seconds before Mr Warpe gained the advantage and ejected Ms Manthorpe with an overarm throw.

Speaking after the ceremony, the Rev. Small laughed and said: “It certainly was the most unusual marriage ceremony I’ve ever conducted. I mean, I’ve heard of a wedding ring but this is ridiculous!”

The couple will honeymoon at a dōjō outside Tokyo.

FIFTY-FOOT VIRGIN ANGERS NEIGHBOURS

A Withering resident has spoken out sharply against the “reactionary bastards” who objected to a statue erected on his premises.

At the end of last month, Michael Dormer, 47, of Bessels Close, had a 50ft figure of Richard Branson put up in his back garden. Since then he has received a steady stream of complaints from neighbours who feel that his erection is in questionable taste.

The statue, entitled ‘Virgin in the Garden’, is made of pink Indian sandstone and depicts a smiling Mr Branson holding a Boeing 747 in one hand and a copy of Tubular Bells in the other. The effigy is standing legs akimbo, with an inter-city train passing between its thighs.

"As a businessman, I naturally admire Richard Branson’s flair and enterprise,’ said Mr Dormer, “he epitomises the kind of entrepreneurial spirit which made this country great. This is why I chose to honour him in this way.

“Now I'm not the sort of person to criticise my neighbours or peer at them though net curtains," he added. "I believe in live and let live and regard other people’s homes as theirs to live in as they see fit."

“I just wish the reactionary bastards would show me the same courtesy and stop their bloody whining.”

BREEDING HOPES DASHED AS SPARK TURNS STUDMUFFIN INTO FIREBALL

Staff at the Turnbull Memorial Chinchilla Farm in Cheetingham may be forced to put a lucrative breeding project on hold following the accidental combustion of a prize male.

Studmuffin, a rare two-year-old sapphire in prime breeding condition, was completely gutted in the freak accident which occurred last Friday morning.

Staff member Jennie Frampton said everyone on the farm was mourning the death of the animal and that the consequent loss of revenue would be considerable.

She said: "We’re still not entirely sure what happened. But, from what we can piece together, it appears that Studmuffin escaped from his pen some time after being given his morning treat of a cupful of sugar.

"We traced pawprints from his pen to the shed where we keep our gardening equipment. It seems that Studmuffin found his way inside and then nibbled into a large bag of weedkiller which was stacked against the back wall.”

The details of what happened next are supplied by Joe Gardener, the farm’s odd job man.

“I was just outside the shed having a fag,” said Mr Gardener, “when I saw this little fellow come around the corner. He didn’t look too clever, I must say. He was sort of tottering on his paws, so I bent down to have a look at him.

“He was burping a lot and I noticed that there was this powdery stuff round his mouth. I was just reaching out to wipe it off when suddenly flames started gushing out of him and he went whizzing backwards. He took off like a rocket, must have gone a hundred yards before he touched the ground.

“By the time I caught up with him, he were all burnt out – nothing more than a smouldering pile of ashes.”

Ms Frampton thinks that the weedkiller and sugar must have combined inside the animal to form a highly combustible mixture. All it then took was a stray spark from Mr Gardener’s cigarette for the chinchilla to ignite.

“We’ve never had a disaster like this since Dorothy Turnbull set up the farm back in 1976,” said Ms Frampton.

“Top London restaurants will pay anything up to £50 each for pedigree animals and Studmuffin was just at the beginning of his breeding career. His loss will be keenly felt.”

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?

A mental patient who escaped from The Firs last weekend is still at large and may be hiding in the Froghill area.

Colin Braithwaite, who disappeared from a secure ward on November 4th, is described as delusional but not dangerous.

DS Geoff Bunton, who is heading the operation to recapture Braithwaite said: “The public need not be alarmed, as Braithwaite has no history of violence.

“He is prone to delusions of grandeur and likes to impersonate great or famous historical figures. His favourite alter egos are Boadicea, Jesus Christ, Elton Ben and Dolly the Sheep."

Anyone who feels that they might have had an encounter with these or any other famous figures should phone the Froghill Constabulary on 0372 47777. All calls will be treated in confidence.

COUNCIL SAYS ‘NO’ TO HI-TECH TOILET

Froghill Council has turned down a proposal to convert a Grade II listed warehouse in the High Street into a hi-tech public convenience.

The facility, which was to have been housed in a glass-fronted, six-storey building and featured carpeted cubicles, cable TV and 24-hour buffet service, was denied planning permission on the grounds that it would not have harmonised with existing town centre architecture.

Reg Handy, Chief Planning Officer for developers Site-U-Like said: “We're stunned by the Council's decision. We really were confident that they would give us the go-ahead.

"But then that's the way of the world, isn't it?" Mr Handy added. "Just when you expect to be flush with success, you find that your plans have gone down the toilet. I guess in the end you've just got to go with the flow.”

HOLY GRAIL FOUND IN FROGHILL

It’s been mythologised. It’s been painted. It’s been filmed. It’s been written about. It’s been sought after for more than two thousand years.

And now it’s been found.

That most elusive of artefacts, the Holy Grail, has finally turned up – in a Froghill charity shop.

It happened last Monday morning, when a shop assistant at Save The Tapirs in St Alfege Street took possession of a dusty wooden box from a decidedly odd-looking customer.

Janine Scott, 23, who has worked at the shop for only three weeks, said: "I was the first one in that morning, and I was just having a cup of tea when this man came in.

"It’s a bit unusual to have customers so early in the morning, but then he wasn’t a usual-looking bloke. He had very long hair and a straggly, wispy beard. He was wearing a one piece white robe and sort of spiky tiara thing on his head. What struck me as peculiar is that one side of his robe was stained with blood.

"He said good morning in a beautiful voice – very soft and gentle, it was - and then he handed me this box. He told me that its contents would probably bring in a lot of money, but that I should be careful who I sold it to. I noticed as he gave it to me that his hands were all bloody as well.

“As I took the box from him, some dust rose from it and he sneezed, so I said ‘bless you’. He looked at me and said ‘No, bless you’ and gave me an absolutely beautiful smile.

“Then he turned and walked out of the shop. Just like that. What with all the blood on him, I was worried that he’d been in an accident or something, so I went after him. But when I got to the door and looked out, there was no sign of him. He’d just vanished.”

When she opened the box, Janine found an old, discoloured, metal bowl inside. Guessing that she’d been given an antique of some kind, she contacted Crispin Havelock of the Froghill Institute for Socio-Historical Evaluation and Study (FISHES) and asked him to examine it.

Said Dr Havelock: “The bowl was quite clearly very old indeed, possibly as old as two millennia. On its base were engraved the words ‘Samuel Cohen and Sons, Jerusalem’ and on its side, the legend ‘World’s Best Saviour’ topped by some sort of halo motif.

“I’ve sent the bowl to the British Museum for examination. Until they've looked it over and given us their verdict, the only thing we can do is hold our breath and wait.”

OVERSEXED, OVERWEIGHT AND OVER HERE

This one’s for the laydeez! Thadeus P. Fruitloop, universally hailed as the Potbellied Pig of Love, is to take in Froghill as part of his forthcoming UK tour. The heavyweight soul sensation, whose hits include I Just Called To Say I'm Horny, Love Me (love my doggy style) and Baby, You Know You Make Me Want To Grunt, has been making women go gooey for the best part of four decades.

Thadeus has been admired by - among others – Pamela Anderson, Donald Rumsfeld and Yo Yo Ma. His lyrically explicit album Well-hung, Drawn and Quartered, which was banned on Christmas Island and caused riots in Bhutan, sold millions worldwide.

He was the first celebrity to earn a million dollars for a commercial when he promoted self-igniting panty shields on American network TV. His acting credits include playing the bus in the original version of The Italian Job and voicing Chuff, the sex-obsessed janitor in cult cartoon series South Fork. And, as another first, Thadeus is the only entertainer of any kind to have had a gynaecological unit named after him.

However, the disco boom of the early eighties saw his fortunes decline, and Thadeus suffered as his popularity waned and his records flopped. He developed a crippling addiction to cocaine and jelly babies and his weight rose to a gargantuan 67 stones. At one point he even had to sell his beloved platinum-plated Cadillac and buy a forklift truck instead.

But the release of his 1994 comeback album Hey, Baby, I’ve Come On My Back saw Thadeus resume his rightful place at the very top of the buttered soul tree.

Now Froghill fans have a chance to see the man in person when he plays the Assembly Rooms later this month.

• Thadeus P. Fruitloop, Froghill Assembly Rooms, Friday, November 24, tickets £2.25 to £8,500. Call 0372 45555.

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Dear Sir,

Last year, I was given a baby Angora rabbit as a present by my son. As I am a pensioner who lives alone, I was overjoyed to have this new companion in my life.

I named her Flopsy, kept her indoors out of the weather and fed her only the choicest food. In fact, loving and caring for Flopsy took up most of my meagre weekly pension.

But it was worth it, just to see her hop across the carpet to greet me when I came back from the shops.

I foolishly thought that I was the only one in Flopsy’s heart. But then, about two months ago, I discovered that she'd found a newer, better friend - a toy Tellytubby that I gave her for her birthday!

Suddenly, it was as if she could no longer see me. She didn't come if I called her and there was no look of gratitude in her eyes when I treated her to bunny nibbles. That squeaky rubber toy had become the one and only love of her life.

I was devastated – it was worse than if she’d never been given to me in the first place.

But even though I felt so hurt, I still couldn't find it in my heart to hate her, so I made sure to take the chill off the water before I submerged her in it.

Still, in the end, Flopsy repaid me for at least some of heartbreak. She stretched to three very good meals and, after it had dried, her coat made a very cosy pair of bedsocks.

Yours sincerely,

Ada Flurry (Mrs)

Cheetingham

The Editor replies:

Do any other readers have heartbreaking stories involving a cherished family pet? The Observer will pay £10 for each one published.

OPERA TROUPE TRIUMPHS OVER ERECT NIPPLES AND ELEPHANTS

The Swansdike Non-professional Operatic Troupe (SNOT) will be presenting their own unique rendition of Verdi's Egyptian extravaganza Aïda next weekend at St Mark’s Hall.

The production represents four months of hard work and perseverance by the cast and their long-suffering director, Barry Toane.

“We have had one or two logistical problems, I must admit,” Mr Toane confided to the Observer last week.

“What with the skimpy costumes and the erratic heating system at St Mark's, we had regular outbreaks of erect nipples and convulsive shivering during rehearsals. This resulted in some particularly vibrato singing and, in one case, advanced hypothermia.

“Luckily, thanks to a generous donation of out-of-date stock by MacDonald’s Pharm, cast members are now rubbing themselves from head to foot in Deep Heat before going onstage.

“Also, as I'm sure you know, the highlight of the show involves having a live elephant make its entrance on stage.

“Now, clearly, we couldn’t afford a real animal, but our tenor, Miss Bentley, who’s a jolly good sport, agreed to dress up in a latex elephant suit and get down on all fours. Given that she weighs 23 stones, she’s certainly well suited to the role and does look very convincing when she’s in costume.

“Unfortunately, though, she’s a bit shortsighted and can’t see at all well through the narrow eyeslits in the headpiece.

“I can’t think how many times we’ve had to replace the pyramids after she’s blundered into them and once she actually stampeded out the fire exit and into the road outside. It was only tripping over her own trunk that prevented her from being hit by the number 14 to Swansdike, which veered off the road and ploughed through a wall.

"The driver is still receiving treatment for shock and we won't know whether or not he intends to sue until he regains the power of speech."

Mr Toane assured us however that everything will ‘be alright on the night’ and that the troupe's performance of Aïda will be like nothing Froghill has ever seen before.

"Our performance of Aïda will be like nothing Froghill has ever seen before," he said.

The shows will be held at 8pm this Friday (November 10) and Saturday (November 11), with doors open at 7.30. Tickets are £35 in advance and £40 on the door.

Contact Barry Toane on 446 2521.

HOUSEHOLDERS FLEE LUNCHTIME CROC SHOCK

Residents in Froghill were evacuated from their homes and roads were closed after a man-eating crocodile was seen emerging from a manhole early on Monday afternoon.

The lunchtime drama saw householders from the Burnt House Lane area hastily leaving their homes as police helicopters circled overhead and a crack team of marksmen moved in.

Ginny Blessed, whose garden gives onto to the manhole, said: "The first I knew was when a policeman rang on my doorbell and advised me to leave my house. So I grabbed my purse and followed him without thinking. The street was full of people, all being shepherded away from the danger area.

“It was only when the officer had escorted me through the cordon at the end of the road that I realised I’d forgotten the baby and had to go back to fetch him.”

The problem of crocodile infestation was reported in these pages back in August. At that time, reports of reptile abductions were dismissed by a Froghill Council spokesman as “hysterical tosh.”

This latest drama began at 12.30pm when a member of the public alerted police to the fact that a large greenish snout was protruding from a manhole in Burnt House Lane. The manhole was one that had been earmarked as part of the Council’s controversial drain maintenance scheme. It had been left open by workmen who were lunching at the nearby Nosh-U-Like café.

Police closed the road at 12.42pm, evacuating local residents to a place of safety. Then a four-man team from Froghill Constabulary’s élite Reptile Observation, Tracking, Trailing, Eradication and Removal Squad (ROTTERS) moved in.

Squad director Brian Gecko said: “As we approached the hole, we could clearly see the creature’s head. It was massive. The animal was snarling and had what appeared to be a partially decayed human leg in its mouth.

‘Let me tell you, when they’re like that you don’t take any chances. Our only option was to use the decoy technique.

“This involves an officer with a fishing rod slowly moving into the animal’s field of vision. Suspended from the hook at the end of his rod is the life-size dummy of a gazelle, impregnated with the scent of rotting meat.

By jerking the rod up and down, the officer can make the dummy appear to move. This holds the animal’s attention and gives a second officer time to get into position. By approaching the croc on its blind side, he can get to within a couple of feet of its head.

“When the croc makes its lunge for the dummy, the second officer pops a primed hand grenade into its open jaws. This requires nerves of steel and split-second timing - the remaining two team members provide cover with automatic weapons, just in case.”

To a round of applause from residents, the crocodile detonated at 1.15pm, scattering body parts over a wide area. Several onlookers who had unwisely ventured inside the police cordon were covered with flying debris and had to be taken to Froghill General for descaling.

Commenting later to the Observer, Hector Mouthwash, president of the Crocodile Liaison, Obstruction and Detection Society (CLODS) and self-styled authority on reptiles, said: “Once again we find the spirit of apathy at large. Time and again we’ve complained to Froghill Council about these reptiles in our sewers and nothing ever gets done.

“The Council needs to find a solution to this crocodile problem. And what's more, they need to make it snappy.”