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Listeners' Fantasies |
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When the Revolution Came ...
by Anglo-Norman
16 June 2004
 Regular contributor Anglo-Norman writes about a woolly revolution on the Fantasy Archers topic of The Archers message board.
Pic: Marieke Huijbers
It began like a normal day. The sun was shining, the tea was brewing, the strawberries were ripening. It quickly went downhill from there. From the treeline, Wool the Sheep narrowed his eyes as he watched David Archer walk across the field.
"There he is" he said. "There's the one who took our children!"
"Look at him!" snarled Mrs Knit. "Wicked man!"
There was a chorus of bleats in assent at Mrs Knit's comments.
"What are we waiting for then?" yelled Wool. "Down with the tyrants! Charge!"
David looked around at the sudden loud bleating. From the trees a great mass of sheep came hurtling towards him, the vast woolly tidal wave washing over the fields.
"What are you doing?" cried David. "No! Stop!" He turned and began to run, lolloping in his heavy mud-encrusted Wellingtons over the uneven turf.
"Help! Ruth! The sheep have gone mad!" He ran towards the farm. If he could get inside ...! Then his foot caught a stone, he staggered and fell.
"No!"
The Flock rolled over him. When it moved on, there was no sign of David, save a single ravaged wellie.
The Flock advanced on the village. They stormed the stables. Alistair made a bid for freedom but was hunted down and cornered in a loose box.
"Stick you hand up my bottom, would you?!" bellowed Mrs Pearl - normally so respectable - as she advanced on the helpless vet, gnashing her teeth. Some of the Flock broke off and overran the Vicarage. Their blood up, they were looking for any excuse to revenge themselves. Two of them chased Amy up the stairs.
"Vegetarian, hey? Not good enough for you, hey?" they roared as they closed in.
More sheep flooded into the grounds of Â鶹ԼÅÄ Farm and chased Adam into the strawberry tunnels, with cries of "You and that Irishman in the lambing sheds, in front of the lambs? Shame! Shame on you!"
Meanwhile Jenny was trapped on the kitchen table, throwing vegetables to placate some ovines who had been enraged by her cardigan.
Others had invaded Ambridge Hall, eating the Shakespeare-themed Garden, encouraging Wolfgang and Constanza to "throw off your chains" and demanding of a terrified Lynda (who, of course, understood not one word of their bleating and thus angered them further by seemingly refusing to answer) what was wrong with good old sheep's wool?
Through Ambridge the Flock flocked, breaking into houses, stealing stamps from the post office, trampling the Tea into the ground. Some got into The Bull, only to be punched and then - as it was later reported - "bahhhed" by the landlord who had an irrational prejudice against sheep.
Meanwhile Wool led a force of élite rams against Grey Gables. Ian was cornered by two cheviots snarling "Mint Sauce? We'll give you Mint Sauce!" As they moved in on him, Jack and Peggy came in.
"Ian, what's going on?" said Jack. "I don't remember employing these people."
"Mr Woolley! Mrs Woolley! Help! The kitchen's been invaded by psycho sheep!"
The Woollys, two of the oldest sheep in the Flock, turned and looked narrowly at the owners of Grey Gables.
"Imposters!" yelled Mr Woolly.
"Get them!" screamed Mrs Woolly, and the pair came roaring at Jack and Peggy ...
Wool the Sheep opened his eyes and blinked in the early morning light. He smiled. A dream. Nothing more. He rose, and walked to a ridge, thinking over what had run through his mind in the night. He stood on the crest, and looked down at Ambridge. It looked peaceful, idyllic.
Yes. Things were better, since the revolution had come, he thought, and reflected that last night had not been so much a dream as ... now what was the word? Ah, yes! A memory.
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