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[David Horton has reneged on his campaign promises
] Owen Newitt
: I vote we kill him. Jim Trott
: No no no no no no no, so do I. Letitia Cropley
: I could poison him if you like. No-one'ld ever know.
: We're going to see those lovely dancers in London. David Horton
: The Royal Ballet? Letitia Cropley
: No, the Chippendales.
: [looking at Letitia's cake
] Oh, lovely. Chocolate? Letitia Cropley
: No. Marmite.
: I rather enjoyed Lady Chatterley. Some very useful tips. David Horton
: I beg your pardon. Letitia Cropley
: Oh, gardening tips; Mellors was a gamekeeper, very good at hedge control. David Horton
: I see. Letitia Cropley
: I thought the sex was jolly good fun, as well.
: [about the flowers
] They're very beautiful. Letitia Cropley
: So are you, my dear. In my youth, I was what you call a corker. May I give you a bit of advice? Ruth
: Of course. Letitia Cropley
: Play the field; snog everybody; sleep with most. I didn't, and I've been regretting it ever since. I do like young Frank, but a bit of a slow mover. Twenty-six years and not even upstairs outsidees.
: [looking at the giant vegetable Jim has grown
] Well, bugger me. Letitia Cropley
: You know, it's time the vicar did something about your bad language.
[looks at the vegetable
] Letitia Cropley
: Ooh, it is a big bugger, though, isn't it?
: The question is whether I bring the snails I've got for my new recipe. Frank Pickle
: What recipe is that? Letitia Cropley
: Bread and Butter Pudding Surprise.
: Item two: Mindless Vandalism. As you probably know, we have an outbreak of graffiti in the village. Letitia Cropley
: Oh, yes, I saw that. I don't think you're a prat, Mr Horton. David Horton
: No-one said I was. Owen Newitt
: Yes, some bugger's scrawled: "Mr Horton's a total prat" on the Scout Hut wall. David Horton
: We also seem to have acquired a village *Puss* Office. You keeping up, Frank? Frank Pickle
: Yeah. Horton's a total prat. David Horton
: Well, let's just keep an eye out for them, shall we? Especially the little *bastard* who's tampered with the sign for the *Tuck* Shop.
] Owen Newitt
: Filthy weather. Jim Trott
: No no no no no no no no I've known worse. Owen Newitt
: Oh yes? When was that, then? Jim Trott
: The Great Storm, when the windmill got blown over. Owen Newitt
: That wasn't the Great Storm; that was a moderately windy night. No, the really great storm was the Great Storm. Jim Trott
: When was that, then? Owen Newitt
: When Dave Batt got decapitated. Jim Trott
: That wasn't the Great Storm. Owen Newitt
: Well, it was pretty damn great. Jim Trott
: No, the greatest storm was the one when Old Harold got blown into the quarry. Owen Newitt
: Ooh, that! The Great Winds. Jim Trott
: The what? Owen Newitt
: The Great Storm there's got to be rain, and in the Great Winds there was just wind. Letitia Cropley
: Nasty night. It reminds me of the Great Storm. Owen Newitt
, Jim Trott
: Shut up!
] Frank Pickle
: It's the most people we've had in the church since that Lady Godiva thing three years ago. Geraldine
: Oh, what was that? Hugo Horton
: We were celebrating the summer solstice, and we thought it would be fun to re-enact Lady Godiva. Geraldine
: [to Alice, who is unbuttoning her
] No, no, no, no, no, that is my dress. Owen Newitt
: A lot of people turned up, but unfortunately it was rather disappointing. Geraldine
: Lady Godiva wearing a body stocking. Frank Pickle
: No! She was absolutely stark naked. Geraldine
: Wow. Letitia Cropley
: Well, I hadn't had time to go to the hair-dresser, so I wasn't looking my best. Geraldine
: I bet you were, you sauce-pot.