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The Mayor of Ambridge
by Deadly Ernest
 This week's selection from the Fantasy Archers topic of is a tongue in cheek take on Hardy's famous novel.
The refreshment tent at the Ambridge fair was crowded with farmers: hay trussers trussing hay, corn chandlers chandling corn and thimble-riggers rigging thimbles (not sure about that bit). In the centre of the tent stood an iron stove abutted by a notice which read "Good furmity sold here."
In the midst of the throng stood Neil Henshard-Carter, the pigman. He gave silent nod at the emaciated figure of Helen the furmity-woman, who quietly laced the mixture with rum. After four bowls of the brew and three scantlings of Tom Archer's hallucinogenic sausages it became clear to all that a change had come over Carter. His eyes were brilliant, his demeanour quarrelsome and his face suffused with strong liquor. Suddenly he grabbed the weeping figure of his wife Susan and placed her on display to the assembled listeners.
"What'll ye give me for this work of nature?" he roared, amidst a stunned silence. "I'll sell her to any Jack Wragg or Tom Straw of you who'll give me a fair price. Who'll stand auctioneer?
"Only too happy to oblige, I'm sure, Neil," chortled an elderly man with a limp and a Birmingham accent. "Sounds like fun, eh, Peggay?"
"Right," said Neil. "Well, gentleman, you see what's on offer. She's mature in years, she's not that bad looking, her brother's an arsonist, she only has one criminal conviction and no doubt you'll get used to that voice in a few years' time. What am I bid?"
There was an eerie silence.
"Sounds like fun, eh, Peggay," said the auctioneer again.
"Start the bidding at twenty pounds sterling?" suggested Carter tentatively.
Silence.
"Er - throw in a free DVD player?"
More silence. Helen the furmity-woman fainted from malnutrition.
"Look!" snapped Carter. "Two DVD players, a romantic weekend for one in the Belle Vue Guesthouse Fawcett Magna and a complete set of back-numbers of the Pig-Breeder's Gazette. Them's my last words."
There were mutters of "Not I" from the onlookers.
"Please?" wailed Carter. "Won't any of you take the old bat off my hands?"
Slowly the refreshment tent emptied as the assembled farmers repaired homewards. A distant cry of "Sounds like fun, eh, Peggay" rent the air. Neil and Susan found themselves alone.
Suddenly Susan threw herself into Neil's arms. "Oh, Neil!" she sobbed. "Can't you see that this is fated? We was made for each other, you and I."
Thus it was that Neil Carter's pathetic attempt to sell off Susan came to nothing and they both lived happily ever after. What a pity. It would have been a good idea for a novel.
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