Autumnal Indulgence Day

Here in Husborne Crawley, whatever we lack in actual theology we make up for in self-indulgent thinking. I'm particularly thinking of our Acts of Reassurance - a bit like a Confession, but instead of being assured of forgiveness we're informed it wasn't particularly bad in the first place, and there's no such place as Hell, and if there is it's probably merely comfortably warm.

So on this first Autumnal Indulgence Day, we are going to peer out of the window at the rain. I'll be switching the strings of white lights on fairly early because the weather's so dismal. And there will be chestnuts roasting on the open fire, crumpets and hot tea.

Now I know you're all worried, thinking what about all those ditches we were going to clear. And when I says "we" I do indeed mean "you".  But don't worry. A man called Mr Ian Duncan Smith called round on Friday, and he promises he's going to send some people round from Bletchley later on to do all that for us. And the good news is that, as he says they're all workshy skivers, we don't even have to pay for them! I think this is a fantastic scheme, and I'm wondering whether he's got any more with the basic skills to punch out doilies or do the accounts. I'm starting to worry about Burton's ability to hide the profits.

Since we are in the season of Blingtide please note that liturgical dress is green hi-viz. This does not apply to Mr Duncan Smith's Task Force, for whom I've arranged some nice white outfits with black arrows. He does keep telling me they're not prisoners, merely scroungers, but I'm still struggling to understand the difference. I tell you, if these people from Bletchley are any good I'll even be able to send those Polish people who have been ploughing the Big Field back home.