A small village in Sussex has been blighted by an invasion of Amazonian Piranha fish.
The pond that dominates the centre of the village has seen a decline in its wildlife over the past six months with reports of duck and swan suddenly disappearing under the murky water.
Despite efforts to catch the ravenous Pisces they remain elusive and continue to breed.
Mr Moffat who has lived in the village since childhood witnessed a savage attack last week.
"Oye is bottin me wangle wiv a scong awen this yart pops its melog out of warnt! elp oye! crims an afore I grogs a fangle! Course, the wangle gawn an me scong reaps a partnen".
After his harrowing face to face encounter with the beasts Mr Moffatt has not fished again.
Retired Cavalry officer, Colonel Bernie Barnstead tried to rid the pond of the nightmare.
"Put on me Jodhpurs, pulled on the boots, got the batman to fit the Sam Brown, and orf we went down to the pond. Started giving it a go with the sidearm, no bludy good see, water was dark, had the same problem in Burma, couldn't see the buggers! Got Jenkins to break out the grenades, pulled the pin, fell over and blew me ruddy legs orf! One nil to the fish…..Jenkins? I pushed the useless bugger in the pond, never was very good with poached eggs on toast.
After searching for many hours we found Mr and Mrs Plimsole sitting beside the pond throwing bits of bread on the water. Their set up included a small table, radio, calor gas cooker, large tent, television and a butchers table strewn with chopped meat.
I approached tentatively and asked them why two pensioners would want to camp on the edge of a truly dangerous and deadly pond when so many people had left the village in fear of their lives and gone east in favour of a quieter and more sedate life.
"Me an her ave been ere for forty yers mate" replied Mr Plimsole. "An you fink we are goin ter be driven art by a bunch of fukin Argie big toothed fish? Dream on china! I aint leavin ere till every one of them bastards is dead an Maude can do her washin"
I asked why they would have a butchers table covered in bits of rancid meat.
"Cos he puts a bit on the end of a pole then he plugs it in to the mains from the pub. When the fish is hungry, it bites on the meat and gets an electric shock killing it dead, then he chops it up and puts it inside the meat so they is eatin their own family as it were" Explained Maude.
"Two undred I ave killed an I rekon they are darn to their last few hundred, when I am finished the bastards will rue the day they started to fukin breed in a small bit of blighty".
My Producer asked why they had a tent and why there was a military metal detector.
"Cos when I ave killed every one of these fukin over grown sardines I can go in the water wiv me metal detector an find the house keys I gave to our cleaner before the bitch went an fell in the fukin pond walkin our Great Dane Horace" replied Mr Plimsole.
"So your dog was eaten by these beasts?" I enquired.
"No" replied Maude "He's runnin round the village with the Colonels legs in his moosh".
As a responsible radio station we have not revealed the location of Rottingdean Village.
