[huge_it_slider id=”2″]  I just wanted a quick beer at the Bridge after a busy day and a stupid drive home.

I was in Warwick all day with clients. As the duty solicitor I was got to the local police station at six this morning when the silly sod who tried to urinate into a speed camera and fell off was finally sober enough to be interviewed. He’d been sick all down himself and he was rancid, I don’t know why I do this work I really don’t – I could have been a gardener or a lory driver.

We got him cleaned up and in front of a magistrate, he was bound over to keep the piece and sent home. I had another appearance in court at 11:30 so I stayed in town and tried to do some work in Costa, it’s like a single mothers meeting house these days, I hardly got anything done and as I was leaving a toddler spilled a milkshake down the front of my trousers. I turned up to court looking like the over excited accused in some perverted public toilet case, not like a highly trained and overworked solicitor.

My second “client” of the day pleaded guilty of house breaking. It was the least he could do, he was caught climbing out of a window with pockets full of jewellery and a DVD player under his arm. I argued his punishment down to nine months inside “your honour, he came from a broken home – he broke it ” and with good behaviour he will be out in time to be nicked and  back inside again for Christmas.

By the end of the day I was beat, I mean really wacked, I was sweaty, smelly, had dried mikshake in my crutch and all I wanted was a quick beer before I went home for a bath. With luck the kids would be in bed but I doubt. I do love them but just once in a while I wish they could do as they are told. Never mind Mrs May and “Brexit means Brexit”. How about Mrs Ferrers and Bed means Bed.

When I got to the Bridge in I couldn’t believe my eyes. The whole place had been turned into a tarts bedroom or Cupids firing range. There were couples falling over each other everywhere you looked. I mean for God’s sake – get a room.

I gave up in disgust and went to the Belcher’s Arms instead. At least you can be sure of a miserable landlord and a decent pint there, even if the staff are as ugly as a litter of pugs.

That’s it I’m off to bed, and with a bit of luck the low life of our locality will keep themselves out of trouble for at least the next eight hours. I don’t mind their criminal activity, I’ve made a nice little packet out of it, but if they can confine their arrests to between the hours of nine and five I would be ever so grateful

Matthew Ferrers – Solicitor of this parish