Festival of Ferrets and All Things Yorkshire

Yeah, so yesterday's Ferret Service was challenging, thought-provoking. I wouldn't go so far as inspirational.

This was Hnaef's response to the Prime Minister's alleged rudeness to Yorkshire people. And also in memory of Brian Close, who has left us for a better country even than the one between the Humber and the Tees. Hnaef thought it would be good to celebrate all the great things for which that great county is known. So the service started with tripe, which everyone avoided. Mottershaw preached a sermon on "God's Home County", so more tripe. We sang "While Shepherds Watched" to "On Ilkley Moor". And then we released the ferrets. They had been trained to do a ferrety formation dance to the tune of "Floral Dance" by the Brighouse and Rastrick. Although Young Keith wasn't quite convinced that 24 hours' notice was enough.

Needless to say, a dozen ferrets in a well-attended Moot House had quite an effect. That is, everyone took one look at those intelligent eyes, and fled. The ferrets decided the Moot House wasn't ideal ferret habitat, and legged it out into the fields to look for rabbits.

By the time we all came back, the whippets had also got off their leads and wrecked the place. They ate all the rhubarb crumble that was intended - along with pints of Mild - to finish off the service. And it was hours later before we discovered the effect rhubarb crumble has on a whippet's digestion.

So the Community smells of bleach. The Buckinghamshire Ferret Fanciers are still out in Big Meadow, trying to retrieve their little vicious furry friends. The whippets have all been returned, and we've hung our cloth caps up.

Next time Cameron offends somebody, I hope it's the Italians. Then we can just eat pasta.