Local man Martin Shuttlecock, in an uncharacteristic fit of adventurousness, travelled to the posher suburbs of London, somewhere near, or even in Kent, apparently for a family double-Christening.
The ceremony itself passed off without major incident, other than one of the little ones doing Tarzan impressions on the altar rail, and then getting involved in a great deal of splashing about at the font.
Rumours that the presiding proddy vicar was gay were unconfirmed, although the vicar was reported as being 'a bit refined.'
All seemed to be going well, as the party decamped to the grandparents' house to enjoy a champagne toast to the damp kiddies, one of whom took full advantage of the Toy Story bouncy castle in the back garden, while the other wasn't having any of it, despite all attempts to coax him into it.
As the caterers arrived with trays full of goodies such as vol au vents, kebabs, salmon goujons, roast beef and Yorkshire puddings, smoked ham and stuff, Shuttlecock's son in law served the chaps present, with cold beers.
As the sun was beating down with an unprecedented intensity, which was unusual for a British July day, Shuttlecock gratefully accepted the offer of a cold one, which was served to him in a barrel type beer glass, similar to the ones favoured by the late and much lamented Jack Duckworth in the Rovers Return on Coronation Street.
All appeared to be going well, until the younger of the newly Christened duo approached Shuttlecock with a cocktail sausage.
"I wondered what he was going to do with the sausage," Shuttlecock later recalled. "He looked a bit shifty at the time, come to think of it. But I had no idea of the horror that was to follow."
As Shuttlecock looked on in stunned disbelief, the little chap dunked his sausage in Shuttlecock's pint. And then sucked the lager out of it! Paralysed with shock and awe, a stunned Shuttlecock could only gawp like the moron he is, as the little chap repeatedly dunked the cocktail sausage in the beer. Occasionally immersing his whole hand in the amber nectar.
Shuttlecock later recalled that the youngster had dunked the sausage in the lager approximately seventy six times, before applying the coup de grace.
The charmingly cheeky little chappy then attempted to sink the sausage in the lager, repeatedly pushing it towards the bottom of the beer glass as the plucky sausage insisted on fighting its way to the surface, presumably to get some air.
Eventually, the young lad lost interest in sinking the sausage in the beer, and went off to play on a slide. (He was the one who didn't want to know about the bouncy castle at any price.)
When asked by the boys' father if he wanted a replacement drink on account of sausage related lager abuse, Shuttlecock hesitated.
It should be explained that under normal circumstances, Shuttlecock will drink beer which has been polluted in the vilest manner imaginable, and indeed, he can't recall ever turning his nose up at a pint, no matter how sullied. But for some reason, he accepted his kind host's offer of a replacement, and suggested that he dispose of the befouled lager under the apple tree.
"I've never turned my nose up at a pint before," a tearful Shuttlecock told reporters. "But I had this picture in my mind's eye of this poor little cocktail sausage bobbing up and down in me pint, and I couldn't face it."
Fortunately Shuttlecock's son in law saved the day, and a few unpolluted pints were enjoyed, before Shuttlecock and long suffering wife, Anne eventually took their leave, thanking their hosts for a pleasant day, and heading back to the south coast.
"I thought he'd go mad when I saw that sausage bobbing up and down in his pint," Anne explained. "He really is a daft bastard."
More as we get it.
*NOTE:- Only Shuttlecock's pint of lager was hurt in the real life events which constitute this story. And it was only the one. The others were okay. Nobody else's beer was affected by sausage abuse.