Cheshire Swingers Club

 

Cheshire Swingers Club

 Meanwhile, our pleasant little hamlet has been invaded by strange folk again. Outsiders. Our rural idyll has succumbed to the influx of the Caravan Club staying at the Village Hall. There must be some 30 or 40 vans crammed onto the car park and the adjacent field. Why? Why? Why? Why? Well, I guess we should be grateful for small mercies. While they’re clogging the car park of our little Village Hall, they are not causing chaos on our roads!

Caravans at the Village Hall are quite a common occurrence. They come from near and, well actually, near. Such far-flung places as Warrington, Stoke or maybe even North Wales. OK Wales may be a different country or, indeed, a parallel universe, but, it’s still only an hour away.

They come on a Friday afternoon and they are gone by Sunday lunchtime. But the weirdest thing (other than the basic question of why anyone would want to camp on a car park in the middle of nowhere, with no pub, restaurant or places to visit) is that you never see the people. You would expect to see them round the village, walking, or cycling. You would expect to see them on the footpaths or bridal ways. Nothing. Never. They just stay indoors. They stay in their caravans behind steamy windows. Or they stay in the village hall, behind steamy windows. It is a bit suspicious this steamy window thing.

We can only assume that the whole caravan thing is a front. We suspect that it is one great swingers’ club. Some of the suspensions on these rickety old caravans must have the workout of a lifetime. Some of the suspensions on the rickety old caravaners too. I can’t imagine it is very comfortable on a foam-padded mattress over a fold-down table. Maybe Calor Gas is an aphrodisiac? That, or tinned new potatoes, marrowfat peas and Smash.  Presumably the Village Hall is used for orgies or the selection process. Maybe this is where they throw their car keys into the mythical pot. Keys for Skodas, Volvos and VW vans mostly. Just imagine it. Swinging scallies from Stoke, Crewe and Wrexham. All of that cheap polyester rubbing together in a confined space, with gas bottles. One hell of a safety risk. The static electricity generated could run a small city. Maybe this could be the answer to global warming.

 

Fortunately most of the caravaners seem to be beyond breeding age. Thank goodness for that. Just imagine what could crawl out of that genetic soup. It doesn’t bear thinking about. And this in Cheshire too………

 

If not swingers then we must assume Satanic ritual at the very least. Or sheep shaggers….. 

 

When I do get my bike out of the garage I will be sure to cycle very quickly past the Village Hall when the caravans are in situ. 

 

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