The annual church picnic is usually an odd affair. We all know there are going to be sermons and that Reverend Davies will preach about the virtues of sobriety, temperance and moderation. Picnic goers are divided into several camps. There are the people who wholeheartedly agree with him, and who will willingly eat dry biscuits as they do so. Then there are the midgrounders, typified by Mrs Beaten – people who have brought along indulgences like scones, and jam-like substances but who nonetheless are willing to listen quietly, then sing enthusiastically. Furthermore, they sing enthusiastically at the points when Reverend Davies wishes them to sing and make their best attempts at the tunes he had in mind.
Then there’s everyone else. The ones who will try and spike the soothing tea with mushrooms. The ones who are mostly there in the hopes that Reverend Davies accidentally summons Satan out of the ocean. Again. Church picnics have a knack for attracting drama and chaos, so if you have the stomach for the sermons they can be rather entertaining as a spectator sport.
Tish Toglet has been the antagonist in chief for the counter-picnic for some years now. Rumour has it she is the one who managed to get Mrs Beaten so drunk last year that she did an entirely unseemly dance and flashed her bloomers before passing out. As for how she woke up covered in jam is of course anyone’s guess. The ultimate goal for those who go along only to disrupt the picnic, is to get Reverend Davies to do something funny. If he’s capable of laughter, no one has ever heard him do it, but he is certainly equal to causing great amusement.
The year a fish somehow got into his trousers was rather memorable on that score. Then there was the year we all had letters on our picnic blankets and spelled out something rude that only he could see when he stood up to do his sermon. This year a few of us are planning to take along phallic objects and sit with them in our laps and see if that throws him at all.
So if you’re coming to the picnic, think carefully about who to sit with. Do you want to be next to Herb Chevin and his offensively arid biscuits? Do you want to be close enough to Mrs Beaten to enjoy the full power of her singing? Or are you going to come and sit with Tish’s little party? Maybe stick some horns on your hat if you do.
The Hopeless Vendetta 