Squonk Infestation

You see, this is what happens when you let a bunch of blokes sing about mythical beasts and furry creatures, just up the road.

Thanks to Husborne Crawley's designation as a Place of Outstanding Thinness, the spiritual wave function has been disturbed. Hermaphroditus, son of gods, lurks around the brook thinking he's in for a quiet day and there's an infestation of squonks in the Orchard.

Young Keith tells me he's always wanted to make the Squonk Pie recipe that his uncle, Ron Connolly, taught him. So he's gone out for a day's hunting, armed with a sack, a stick and a stone.

Mark my words, this will all end in tears.