Little Witchingham moved down the valley to escape the poor wretches whose weeping sores and smelly bodies had become a tad too much.
They made off with all the mead, loads of capons, the last remaining nubile virgins (whose petticoats were made of hemp and sackcloth), a couple of lyres and a mouse to establish their new community.
Glenda Funbags established a new Inn and they all got leathered and did a twirly dance around a descendant of Edward Woodward who was ensnared in a huge wicker
bishy barnabee.
They burnt his head off and all lived happily ever after. Years later, John Wilson, fishing legend, moved into the village.
FACT (mostly).
Posted By: malkybarkid, Apr 21, 12:04:33
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