Enough's enough. Today was the final camel that broke the straw's back: former Russian champion shot-putter and failed household maid, Belladonna Zlatogrivov was seen cavorting naked outside the village pub with a stuffed parrot on her shoulder, singing filthy sailors' songs all afternoon at the top of her voice (she even makes Bjork sound vaguely musical). Belladonna had to go, and had to go today.... but how? How was I to get rid of this monstrous fly in the ointment? I put my purple knitted thinking cap on and hatched a cunning plan: knowing Belladonna had a penchant for getting as drunk as a skunk and was also probably half-starved, I laid out a treasure trail of Russian vodka, creme eggs, chocolate eclairs, Wagon Wheels, packets of Tunnock's tea cakes, endless Bounty and Wispa chocolate bars, Twix and Snickers, lining the path all the way from Belladonna's Blowjob Tent on the village green to the spot where I wanted her.
After the trap was set, shockingly, I saw Belladonna on the ground like a pig sniffing after a truffle, as she gulped down Crunchies and creme eggs and glugged vodka like there was no tomorrow; she moved at alarming speed, leaving in her wake empty wrappers and a disarray of finished bottles. The tranquility of that afternoon was broken by pestilential bouts of flatulence and belches as cacophonous as those of an Amazonian bullfrog. With no small amount of glee, I found her some time later, at the end of the treasure trail, fast asleep in the little wicker basket attached to the hot air balloon, stolen that afternoon from a garden centre near Milton Keynes by none other than moi. I lit the burners and tied a brick to the propane release cord, watching excitedly as the balloon inflated and the whole thing lifted into the air.
As the sun began to set over Brill, the hot air balloon rose high into the sky and drifted on the strong wind in the general direction of France. Quite a difficult job painting farewell messages on the both sides of the balloon, but well worth the effect!
Goodbye, Belladonna. Farewell and good luck to all who sail in her.