Village vigilantes.

A spate of vandalism hit our village recently. You can’t piss crooked hereabouts without it being known, and everyone knew the perp - a late teens cocky git of a lad. We told the police. Nothing. Inform the council, they said. Get him an ASBO. He wants an ASBO (anti social behaviour order), you dicks. It’s a badge of pride.

So we started a rumour (it wasn’t difficult). If perp carried on like this one night a few men would jump him, bag him, tie him and lob him in a truck. After being driven around in the dark for a while, a few bumps, a few sharp bends, he’d be dumped outside the village, somewhere wet, distant and unnervingly dark, a goodly walk home on a road where a lift would be unlikely.

The vandalism has strangely ceased. Thanks for nothing, Police.

I was all for the Roman method, hurling him in the river tied up in a sack with a rooster, a dog and a cat, but John at the garage said the RSPCA might object.