The Viva Lewes office was hot. Hotter than a Scotch Bonnet at Lewes Chilli Fayre. I took off my trilby and threw my trenchcoat over a chair. Sunlight squeezed through the Venetian blinds like a misdirected delivery truck driving down St Martin's Lane. My editor rolled up her sleeves and bit the end off a cigar. "The theme for September's magazine is Law and Order", she snarled. "You'd best make this one good. You don't want to end up like him." She gestured with her cigar towards a Norman Baker-shaped mound in the recently resurfaced part of Station Road. "And don't think you can get away with writing your column as some kind of Film Noir parody."
As if. Look, I’ve checked Ringmer’s police statistics and, whilst we’re not entirely innocent, the number of offences barely reaches double figures each month. That’s not much to talk about. It seems the youngsters are all busy stealing cars in the virtual world of Grand Theft Auto, not nicking hubcaps from their neighbours. So, in order to boost our local stats, I’d like to propose five new conversational crimes that town-dwellers need to avoid when they visit us.
1. Anyone in a group of people who sees a sign that reads 'Warning, electric fence' must not attempt to persuade another member of that group to touch the wire, no matter how great the potential for slapstick comedy. The penalty for transgression requires the perpetrator to stand in a puddle and touch the fence.
2. No one is allowed to complain about poor mobile phone coverage or to describe their location as 'the middle of nowhere'. That seems a bit like visiting a health spa and moaning about the lack of cream cakes.
3. Making comparisons with The Archers is forbidden, unless the discussion involves any technical innovation featured on the show. Any mention of high-tech animal husbandry is the equivalent of a get-out-of-jail card.
4. Under no circumstances is anyone permitted to lean over a five-bar gate whilst chewing a piece of grass and say "arrr", particularly not in an accent approximating a West Country pirate.
5. Referring to Ringmer as a 'large village' should be avoided. A large village is a town.
I walked back into the Viva Lewes office. I hadn’t started this thing, but it was up to me to finish it. The pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. I sat at my typewriter and wrote my five rules. Time crawled by like the Harveys dray going uphill. Eventually I gave the finished document to my editor. She put down her whisky and looked up from her desk. “Hey, Clyde”, she said. “You forgot one thing. Rule number six: don't try to talk in the style of a fictional 1940s detective. Too many clichés there. You might have gotten away with it if hadn’t been for that pesky kitsch.”
First published in Viva Lewes magazine issue 108 September 2015
