A Stroll Through Little Frigging

You may desire to dance like a terpsichorean structural engineer through the haberdashery section of your department store world, but down here, on the farm there are more pressing matters afoot.

Let me take you by the inner thigh and lead you through the streets of Little Frigging. I will show you things that will make you want to change your underwear into something slightly less utilitarian, even something wild and exotically stimulating.

From the extensive display of marital aids and other stimulating devices in the Post Office window, right through to the orgy garden at The Pervert’s Appendage (our village pub) with its fascinating variety of outdoor orgy apparatus and small mammal restraints, the village is a wonderland for those with a passion for the erotic arts, and even stamp collecting too.

For although, Little Frigging is now quite almost well-known for the quality of its current inter village orgy team, the philately world too is now showing a great deal of interest in our little village. For not only – unusually in this day and age - do we actually have a village post office it does remarkably enough actually still sells stamps. Although, as Miss Entanglements (our postmistress) herself does say, selling stamps is a bit of a niche operation for the modern thrusting go-ahead post office whose main business seems these days to be anything but providing the necessities for effectively utilising the postal service. From tacky greeting cards through the most unfunny ‘humorous’ car stickers to party balloons and various other articles, the modern-day post office seems awash with small plastic items of a tackiness, and low profit-margin, that can scarcely be believed.

Then we have the village green, a wide-open space in the centre of the village where such traditional rural pastimes as open-air orgies and Estate Agent immolations take place during the warmer months. Just beyond that is the infamous Little Frigging in the Wold duck pond, where on the 19th April every year tourists flock from all around the globe to see the annual immersion of Grand Old Uncle Stagnant as he takes his yearly (whether he needs it or not) bath in the duck pond.

Finally, at the other end of the village we have the village hall, no doubt familiar to you all by now, as so many postings here and on the official village Weblog about matters in the village seem to involve this village hall in some way. For without the hall, Little Frigging would not be half the place it is now. The frequent use of the hall for village activities is what binds the denizens of this small rural backwater together*.

So, there we have it: small, quaint even, but to those of us who know it, it is home.

*Literally, in the case of the All-Village Bondage Evenings, every first Thursday of the month.

[For those even slightly interested in the village blog, search for: 'Little Frigging in the Wold' on that interwebnet thing]