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I have just witnessed a most disturbing thing. A young lady ran out into the rain, only to run straight back to the man she was with. How romantic I thought, at which point she set about him hitting as hard as she could, with the words "you effing bastard", as if he were responsible for the rain, perhaps. This outside the hotel bar. The tone of the place has gone down terribly in recent times. Mind you, I was embarrassed years ago when Diana, Princess Of Wales visited the place. It has chandeliers purchased in bulk from Woolworth's lighting department, with glass bulbs which emulate melting candle wax, but end up looking like something else entirely. I recently congratulated them on their serving of food in an original fashion (they serve burgers and chips on slate) but said that serving it rubbed into the chairs was perhaps going a little far. I complained about a number of things, including the piped music, which is a nullifying blend of pan pipes and trance. The manager Mr Patel replied that it is chosen because it appeals to the widest audience possible, I replied back saying that on the contrary, it was so bland it was bound to offend absolutely everyone. Having sent this email I realised it is in fact Asian music, oh dear. I said as well that it had probably alleviated the rodent problem by boring all the mice to death. Still, I told him I was looking forward to a session on the sofa he tells me has recently been re covered.

Earlier in the week I visited ****** Park, a place where the most extraordinary things occur. Nobody believes me I suppose when I talk about the people who chant furiously in the woods, in ever intensifying rumination on some matter of esoteric significance. No, it's not a My Bloody Valentine concert. I have seen one kneeling down, I think in front of two others while one of those standing jigged up and and down as though a lightening bolt were passing through him, all three incanting while dressed head to foot in white robes. I hid behind a tree peering out from behind it with alarmed fascination. Then they all drive off in a Ford Sierra. The park, over the years, has been a place where I have seen all sorts. There is a deflated female doll abandoned. It's some of what is written on a fallen tree which opens my eyes. In the hollow of this tree I noticed a magazine with 1960s style lettering on one of the pages, the print style very much resembling the Village Green Machine logo I have been toying with. On closer inspection I found it to contain the most profane (vintage) images, including some of "ladyboys". These are of course men who have grown breasts, or are they women who have developed male genitalia? I really don't know. I have also noticed little square packets with the edges torn off, and an empty blue and white tube of toothpaste. At least that's what I think it was. Police are known to ride on bicycles through these woods. What was that song, about the hunter being captured by the game? ? ? I've heard about these police, some of them don't know when to stop. I also, and I swear this is the truth, saw an enormous pair of women's psychedelic frilly knickers strewn across a bollard, left as if to be rediscovered by their owner. I could think of a number of people to whom this expensive, tasteful item of attire could belong, some of them women. Other surreal sightings have occurred over the years...

A man regularly walked there who always held his hand up, I mean all the time, like a policeman stopping traffic. Then there was the lesbian dog training class, I know you think I'm making this up but I'm not. At least army fitness training takes place there, to add a semblance of normality. This did not, however. prevent a man from skipping in Wellington boots the last time I was there. He had short, bright copper coloured hair and a dog on a lead. Turning away from this rather surrealistic vision I saw a 4 by 4 being driven from the park by a dalmatian dog.

Actually it didn't have it's paws on the wheel but that is the only lie I have told.

Mark Lemon

Village Green Machine

Reading the Village Green Machine blog.