The Morris Dancers' Union

Cecil was polishing his shoes when the phone rang. It was a call which he had been expecting but dreading. It was only really a matter of time before the Morris Ring became involved. He listened without saying much other than making grunts of acknowledgement. After the brief call he replaced the receiver and sat at his kitchen table, head in hands. There was a knock at the door and a face appeared over the lacy net curtains of the window. He waved at Brian and beckoned him to let himself in. The two faced each other and sighed. "We knew it would come to this," said Cecil once he'd explained the nature of the call. "But so soon?" "They've invited you to Cecil Sharp House? What for?" asked Brian who was a little confused by the news. "I'm guessing that they'll want to appoint a new squire to try and help sort out this mess." Cecil couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. His parents' had named him Cecil in...

"Excuse me, we're looking for greatness. Could you please point me towards greatness?" It was a joke which Derek loved to repeat and did so at every opportunity. "Great Ness?" replied the elderly lady who was walking her Dachshund by the side of the road to whom Derek had directed his question. It took her a while but eventually she said "Keep going down this road, left at the crossroads then just keep going." Derek thanked the lady whilst stifling his laugh, wound up the window of his Morris minor and drove on. Agnes, his passenger, just shook her head. She'd heard the joke numerous times, too many to remember. Great Ness was today's destination. Twelve dancers in all would be attending to carry out their random village appearance. They had never had any trouble there and weren't expecting any today. "Lovely place Great Ness," said Derek for no reason other than to break the silence. "Good hedges." Agnes just hmm...

"Brian!" yelled Cecil as he jumped to action, ensuring that he didn't spill his cider when he banged the glass down on the table. His shoulder length hair trailed behind him as he navigated through the customers and outside, bells jingling, warning people to step aside, scanning the area for the source of the scream. Brian appeared at his side, stick in hand. The two dancers drew a few looks of wonder from the onlookers, one small child dropped her lollipop, tugging on her mother's skirt and pointing at the spectacle before her. The dancers quickly took charge of the scene, settled the locals and were swiftly heading towards the noise which was coming from the beer garden behind the establishment. The scene before them as they rounded the corner was not for the squeamish. The source of the screaming was a dark-haired women who was crouching and feverishly grabbing at her hair. Nobody would go near her. They could see what looked like legs beside her but the ang...