Loyal Readers will know of 'Dave the Chicken'.
Tonight, after putting right the world and sorting out the running order for the phantasmagorical event of St. George's Day in the village hall, we adjourned to the Axe to debate the more pressing issues of the day - the new Chancellor's beer increases and how this will effect the global economy.
It will shock you all to learn that in the village we have had a recent 'near death experience.' Dave the Chicken wasn't feeling too chipper and actually died in front of the telly and was buzzed back into life by paramedics and very anxious family. Now Dave has done his fair share - over thirty years working for 'Er Madge' and her boys - in a Very Responsible Role defending us against the Communist Threat, and thirteen years looking after battery chickens. I will leave it up to you to apportion the years to the more important appropriate roles.
Now I don't know, but if I had been a single parent black disabled lesbian mother, I would have been grateful for Dave's stalwart efforts in rearing my 'two for a fiver' chickens.
Well after a couple of weeks in his new lease of life, Dave is back in his allocated footprints at the bar at the Axe. Quite correctly, there have been no allowances made for his absence in the intervening weeks. None was expected.
The nub of this is that Dave experienced not one blinding flash of light in his recent experience with the Grim Reaper. He did not espy the pearly gates. He did not meet the Archangel Gabriel. There were no heavenly choruses. Not a sniff of a pair of feathery wings.
Tonight, Dave was mostly drinking Greene King IPA with a few Tallisker chasers.
Everything is in it's place. Thankfully, Dave's life goes on