Pride And
Presents
by Hazel
Girolamo
December 23rd 1889 Little Withering
on Wye, England
Christmas festivities at the local village church
took on a less than festive air yesterday when
Father Christmas, after stumbling over a
suspected deliberately placed foot, believed to
belong to a local urchin, who having already been
on the receiving end of a quick thump behind the
ear, can only expect a lump
of coal in his threadbare stocking this year,
made Father Christmas lose his grip on his
bulging sack. It made a most unusual noise as it
landed and out tumbled, not the gaily wrapped
presents that the extremely excited impatiently
awaiting children were expecting, but a man's
body, all trussed up, "Quite like a
Christmas turkey" as Father Reed was later
overheard saying. The mystery of the man's
identity was quickly dispelled when Miss
Gwendolyn Murray-Mountbank uttered a
piercing shriek that it was her Herbert before
fainting into Father Reeds arms.
Dr.FitzHerbert Lyons-Byron-Symon-Jones
recently seen out walking with said Miss Murray-Mountbank amid
rumours their betrothal was to be announced at
Gwendolyn's 21st birthday celebrations to be held
at Mountebank Manor next month. It was expected
to be among the social highlights of the new year
with rumblings of royalty being among the invited
guests by Miss Murray-Marchbanks mother,
Dowager Duchess Majolica Mainwaring-Murray-Mountbank,
who refused to confirm or deny.
As Father Reed later admitted when pressed by the
local newspaper reporter who had reluctantly but
dutifully resigned himself into attending the
nativity festivities, and on his supposed
weekend off, now found himself with an exclusive
news scoop that he fervently hoped
would lead to a promotion over that
Nosy Neville No Nose as he privately referred to
his rival at the paper just because Neville was
the bosses daughters current boyfriend's cousin
but after much persistent harassment of Father
Reed, that good man finally confessed that he had
last seen Herbert a few days previously over a
purely private personal matter that he had no
intention whatsoever of divulging to a
pushy upstart of a cub reporter or to the readers
of his so called illustrious well distributed
salacious rag, for which he and his parishioners
took very little Withering interest in, at which
point the reporter slash photographer took a
final snap of the buxom Miss Murray-Mountbank being
fanned back to consciousness by Father Reeds
cassock.
Miss Gwendolyn declined to comment, however a
calling card was discretely pressed into the
reporters creased front shirt pocket as she
pushed past him to a waiting carriage. The police
are baffled and while they say are following
several avenues of inquiry. Anybody who can shine
a light upon the perplexing problem of the
purloined presents, are cordially invited to
contact Scotland Yard who hope to have it all
wrapped up by new year!
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