The village of the corn.


Long time no words.

I’ve had a lot on recently, alot to deal with, a head that feels like it might burst at any second and moods swings that would make a menopausal woman think she was having a fucking holiday.


Back to it.

I want to tell you about a village we used to live in.

Think Royston Vasey, and you are close, but not close enough.

A village so dodgy, so inter – related you would wish it was from a cheap 1950s horror B film.

We used to rent a little old miners cottage at the bottom of the village.

It was in a row of about 6 or 7 cottages.

We rented one of the end cottages.

Next door, there were two larger, houses, joined.

Now the house next door to us was a family of, well, knuckle draggers is the only polite way to phrase it.

Mother , husband, 2 sons and the mother’s daughter from her first marriage.

There was about a 8-10 year age gap between the original and the second hand kids, so to speak.

There was also an older son, from the mother’s first marriage as well…..but he lived away and the sun literally shine out of his arse, even though he was the biggest creatinous fuck up you’ve ever seen. Think a proper mommy’s boy…even when in his 20s.

The husband, was from a middle sized family who all still lived in the village.

The two larger houses next to us, housed not only his parents, but next door, the house they were joined to, their oldest son, his wife, and I think 1, or maybe 2 of there grown up sons.

So from half way through our row, you had our neighbours, who I have to mention were our landlord and landlady (it was his house, we just think she married him for what little money he had), us, which was the end terrace. Then you had dad/grandad, then the oldest son/oldest brother.

So we were in the biggest inbred sandwich you could imagine.

And that’s just where we lived.

The village, like every other Cornish village was the image of perfection, to all who lived there.

It was infact vile.

It was always cloudy, grey, and fucking wet.

Everything seemed damp.

If you weren’t from that village originally, or had a massive connection to it, or was someone’s relative, cousin, half family member or goat fucker, you stood out like a sore thumb!

Now, you also had a very tough, and I mean rough, estate at the bottom of the village.

It was surrounded by houses, mostly owned by people who thought they were better than everyone else, as they owned there own homes. Only problem was, they had one of the roughest, vile and horrible estates backing onto there houses!


Lots, and I mean lots went on in that village.

But they turned the other cheek when it suited them.

For instance…

At someone’s 30th birthday party, one of the village childminders (there are two, one is respectful and lovely, the other one, this is about them)…..and her husband were in the kitchen of the village hall, while the party was going on, snorting lines of cocaine off of the kitchen sink, while other people and their kids were getting soft drinks and wandering around. Her husband ended up getting into a fight about 30 minutes later and dividing the entire village for about 6 months…..

But it was never mentioned.

Then you have the local inbred family, they have 3 kids.

There one son, totally unhinged, took it upon himself one time to go around to a suspected peadophiles, who he thought had been touching up his teenage sister, break into his house, threaten him with a knife and shotgun and then graffiti the front of his house….all the while having no proof…..but they thought he was an amazing hero!

His teeth looked like a collapsed game of Jenga!

The list is endless.

Lots of the younger generations in the village rode off of there parents, even grandparents good names.

There was a lot of, do you know who I am?, do you know who my dad is? My family are such and such.

Family trees like sticks….!

You had one lady, and I use the term loosely, who was known to have had sex on the football halls floor, on its grand reopening night, infront of the entire village….as she was drunk, and thought nothing of it!

Again….perfectly alright.

I over heard the same woman one night, outside our house, by the local bus stop, demanding more coke for her money. She only had £50 and wasn’t doing that again, to get more for her cash….20 mins later she was collected by a BMW and driven off at high speed!

As I’ve said, the list is endless!

The worst was a local man, who decided that whilst beating the shit out of his wife, he would threaten her some more.

She called the police.

When they arrived, he told them he had weapons and wasn’t afraid to use them.
All shit broke loose.

The village was sectioned off. We had armed response police all the way from Plymouth brought in.

The local schools were on lock down.

Nothing was allowed into, or out of the village. Everyone was told to stay indoors.

Armed police swarmed the area for over 5 hours. Think a scene from Diehard, or any action hostage film.

All afternoon.

It went on and on and on. The police tried to talk to him, but he told them he had an armed crossbow and would use it if they entered his house.

It ended after nearly 6 hours.

They stormed his house.

They went to taser him, but had been told due to ill health he had a pacemaker fitted, so couldn’t stun him.

They ended up storming his house, over powering him, throwing him down his stairs, and hog tying him up, so they could carry him ot of his house, into an awaiting riot van.

As soon as he was arrested, they all vanished as quick as they had arrived.

He spent the night in the cells, then was released without any further action the following morning.

It took about 5 days before they had all forgotten about what had happened. Then it was all forgotten.

The only few things that I never really understood about that village, was it was full of the biggest fuck ups I’d ever encountered, it was rife with marijuana and full of cocaine, dodgy tobacco and illegal booze, yet it never got raided by the police or authorities….as in no one.

In the entire village.

But they turned on anyone who did anything wrong in there eyes.

In most people’s eyes it would be wrong, but in that village….nope!

Drink driving was everywhere, drugs, selling and buying, illegal this, illegal that, dogging, swinging, beatings, mild prostitution and general shit behaviour.

I got told once, about a very close family, whose grandad used to keep a donkey in his spare room, to help, how can we say, fuck it…when granny wasn’t putting out.

He thought there was nothing wrong with it!

When the Rspca came to follow up on a repot of animal noise, they obviously found the animal and took it away….

But the village rallied around the old man as he was heartbroken….what the actual fuck!

The programme Shameless could have been based on this village.

But when they turned…..jesus…they turned.

Saying that, one person got raided once, and most people knew for a fact he got a tip off by the local officer.

The guy was buying illegal tobacco and wine. And I means heaps of the stuff.

He was selling it out of his car, and even in one of the two village pubs (the busy one, as the other pub was run by the biggest pair of miserable wankers you’ve ever met, but thats a different story), where his wife worked!

They morning he got raided, there wasn’t a trace of alcohol or tobacco anywhere near him or his house and lock up. The pub was cleaner than clean.

The following day he was in the pub celebrating not getting caught, and was telling people not to ask for tobacco or wine for a few days!!!

But that’s just village life.

Or maybe just that village.

We eventually moved out.

We realised after moving what a total shit hole, what a total nightmare, that village had been to live in.

So not all villages are picture postcard types.

That one was far from it.

It was an advert for why you SHOULD marry outside of your family tree, and no matter what your parents say, it is NOT ok to marry your cousin!

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