The Beauty Contest

1

Whenever I see a green sports car I have an overwhelming desire to smash its windscreen. It's all because of Molly Shipton who won the village beauty contest last year.2

The beauty contest is one of the milestones of the year along with Easter, Harvest Festival and Christmas. Nether Flogging is the largest of the three villages that make up The Floggings, the other two are, of course, Middle Flogging and Upper Flogging, and they join us for the contest so that there is a sufficient supply of fair maidens, so to say, to catch the judges' eyes. The judges, or at least one of them, caused my problem.3

Molly Shipton was just sixteen and blossoming into a voluptuous piece of skirt, as my old dad used to say. He would have said more but mam would growl in her throat and he would bow his head over his crossword and keep quiet. I can vouch for Molly's voluptuousness but I can't say more than that for a reason you will discover. But,... the judges......4

The vicar came originally from a theatrical background, and had a wide circle of friends and acquaintances, and if he didn't know someone he knew some one who did. He was a bit of a thespian he used to say, I'm methodist meself, when I can be bothered like. Anyway, each year one or two judges would be drafted in by him. They would arrive on the Friday night and take rooms at The Old Dun Cow ready for the Beauty Festival the next day. There was plenty going on on THE day as one of the smaller funfairs would take up residence on the village green a fact that always gave grief to the Parish Council but they never changed anything. Of course the funfair was there for a week and, as I understand it, gave the local village girls a lot of pleasure. 5

There was a roundabout, the dodgems and one of those caterpillars that went dark when a kind of tarpaulin roof came over the benches. That was when you grabbed what you could as you rolled up-and-down-and-round-and-around out of sight of the gawping audience.6

But the judges...well, as I said, one judge, Charles Saint John Ives, but you had to say Sinjin apparently even though his given name was Charley Briggs and he came from Wapping was a flamboyant type. He had flowing blonde hair and a paisley cravat tucked into a canary yellow shirt. That should have tipped me off but I was rising nineteen and naive was my middle name.7

Friday night saw The Old Dun Cow overflowing and spilling out onto the green with no one bothering about the mix of children and adults all enjoying the summer air and a few beers. Not the children, of course, but you know what I mean. Molly had grabbed me for the caterpillar yet she was all coy and maidenly under the revolving roof so it made me wonder what we were doing there. We staggered off it, all that rolling up and down was no good for the balance, and I found my unfinished cider from an outside table. When I looked round Molly had vanished. I caught sight of a yellow shirt and yellow hair - peroxide I later decided - and Molly's dark curls bobbing along beside Sinjin Ives. They were climbing into his snazzy green sports car with its roof down. Off up Nunnery Lane they vanished in a cloud of dust and a roar of open exhausts.8

I was bloody furious, I almost poured my cider over poor old Harry Wilkes and he never harmed anyone, 'Hey up, Sam,' he said, 'Summat got you rattled?' He giggled a bit like he always did and then said with a burst of wisdom, 'Be young Molly, I bets you.'9

I mooched about the edges of the fair until I saw Molly bustling back down Nunnery Lane with her hips a-bouncing, and her chest a-thrashing inside her pristine white blouse. I noticed the top buttons seemed to be undone. I grabs her and gave her a smackin' kiss despite the spectators and said, 'Given that lummox the heave-ho then?' She had the grace to blush a bit and gave me a friendly smack on the bottom. 'Come on, you,' she said 'I only went for the ride.' I let that pass - least said, soonest mended, as my old granny used to say.10

So we went back to the fair and I won her a teddy off the shooting stall - well, I had to, didn't I, I goes out shooting every weekend since I were ten or so, but the stallholder didn't know that, did he? He gives me a queer look when I gets three shots off before he can say, 'Here's your darts, sir,' and the pink teddy bear is Molly's. 11

Yellow shirt turns up outside the pub later and gives me a kind of smile, 'Nice girl, that one,' he says. I sniff but he ignores my complaint and goes on, 'As you're alone, allow me to buy you a drink.' I'm not daft and one thing that I never do is turn down a drink. So, we got chatting and the next thing I know we are talking cars and he gets all excited about the sports car and tells me about its spoked wheels, its leather seats and steering wheel and how British Racing Green was one hell of a colour, and his exhausts and carburettors are all handmade. Meat and drink to me all this was, so, when he asks would I like a spin in her I leaps at it. 'Is the Pope a catholic?' I says. I don't notice his little smirk, not to remark on at the time, see?12

And off we set down Nunnery Lane, all speed and excitement it was. Just near the convent there was this copse and a side lane. He turned down it. I'd just got used to the speed and the wind in my hair so I asks him what's up.13

'What's up?' I asks. I soon found out. He slipped his hand on my knee, gave it a bit of a squeeze and slid on up my thigh. 14

He says, 'Can't you guess, ducky? Handsome guy like you must have had offers before?'15

I was bloody furious for a second time that day and gave his hand a hard slap. 'Ooh!' he croons, 'That's nice. More, more, for daddy.' That was when I punched him. But, he loved it. I was absolutely gob smacked and screamed at him but couldn't get the proper words out, I was short of breath and out of words, 'You, arsehole!' 16

He just laughed, 'Ooh, I am, aren't I. You see, I like both kinds, AC/DC, you know?' I didn't know but guessed.17

The broken branch just lay handy so I put it through his windscreen and marched off.18

He vanished overnight, or early morning, so someone else had to help judge the contest and Molly won.19

Strange, though. Just after that she went into the nunnery. It's been a funny old year.20