I spot ex-village resident Jonny B entering the Village Pub. I creep in behind him, closing the door quietly. The bar is busier than usual. Jonny and the LTLP slide into a booth.
I attract the Chipper Barman's attention with a conspirital wink.
"Busy today," I enquire.
"Oh yes", says the Chipper Barman, "we have a VIP visiting. Anne Widdicombe. You know, from Celebrity Fit Club."
This news shocks me to the very core. I glance at Jonny and see him fidgeting nervously in his seat. On the seat beside him, sits a snooker-cue case, latches already open.
I bolt for the door, dart round the back, crash through the kitchen and fling myself into the Private Lounge. Widders is there, apparently not yet dead, tucking heartily into a rack of ribs. I consider telling her that the Ceasar Salad is a better option for those looking to lose a few pounds, but think better of it. I throw my arm around her and we dash from the Lounge. Outside her limo driver sees my signal, I throw her into the back of the car, and they scream away.
I hurry back into the pub.
Jonny and the LTLP have vanished.
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