The residents of Newby, have at last got their wish. The vicar is to be replaced following a recent scandal involving little Billy Murray, winner of the recent Marrow Growing Competition (see related story).
Little Billy, who had bravely wrestled the vicar from the gripping tentacles of Paul the psychic lobster, who'd grabbed the vicar as he was about to bestow a Holy Blessing on him, came forward with an appalling story of molestation by the vicar.
Billy had rescued the vicar and had admonished locals for applauding and laughing when the vicar was grabbed by Paul as he moved too close to the barrel Paul was living in, in Mrs. Millicent Molly Mayhew's back garden.
Kind little Billy then helped the soggy, sobbing vicar back to the vicarage.
When Billy returned to his home, two hours later, puffing and panting and obviously rather distraught, his neighbours were crowded around his front door, anxiously awaiting details of the 'goings on at the vicarage'.
So as not to disappoint, Billy told an extraordinary tale of molestation.
It wasn't exactly what the townsfolk 'expected' to hear, but they said it would do.
Apparently, on arriving at the vicarage the vicar went to take a hot shower, whilst Billy put the kettle on for a cuppa.
Billy became a little anxious when he heard strange moaning sounds coming from the bathroom. Fearing the vicar was in trouble, he shot upstairs and dashed into the unlocked bathroom, only to find the vicar was 'making out with the loofa'.
The vicar was shocked to be caught in the act, but not as shocked as Billy was at discovering the vicar's secret.
Billy bolted out of the vicarage and ran as fast as his little chubby legs would carry him, across the meadow, over the stile, through the narrow cobbled streets, passing the rag and bone man with his horse 'n' cart, not stopping until he was safely home. (Actually, he stopped once to buy a loaf of Hovis).
On hearing this scandalous story, the gathered crowd dispersed only to return moments later armed with brooms, dustbin lids, rakes and hoes. They set off for the vicarage. An angry throbbing mob, pulsating with desires to 'clock the vicar one'.
When they arrived at the vicarage they saw a sight they had been waiting to see for months, the vicar, head drooped in shame, climbing into a taxi with his suitcases and loofa. He was fleeing to the safety of the mainland.
The mob calmed down as they waved him off.....happy that they were soon to get the replacement vicar they had wished and prayed for, for so long.
No-one, in their excitement, seemed to remember the old adage:
"Better the devil you know than the one you don't"