The country seems to have a love affair with scarecrows. Every village seems to have a Scarecrow Competition. The one we are driving through in this Cumbrian village is one of the more professionally organised. There is a Park And Ride scheme. Whatever next?
Recently I've passed a succession of Policemen-like figures hiding behind hedges and lampposts, holding something which is meant to represent a hand held speed camera. One had POLITE written on the back of the hi-vis jacket. No doubt to avoid being sued or jailed for impersonating a policeman.
The irony was that in our local village crime actually seemed to be on the increase as a result of the scarecrows. The man sitting on the bench in his wellies, overalls and Farmer Giles hat was stolen and the church choir and conducter were used like a coconut shy and had their heads unceremoniously removed by flying objects.
The children from Manchester I was driving seemed to like them. Passing psychiatrists too. They had plenty to chew over and speculate over as each competition seemed to get progressively more weird. If this was a public viewing of certain peoples' inner souls and thoughts - then Lord help us.
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