Church Militant...

Scrub any positive remarks made [see previous] regarding the moral probity and personal courage of loyal law enforcement officers - just had Colonel X round wanting to arrest H for 'electoral fraud'!

You may recall that his ejection from the post of Treasurer following the recent Parish Council elections was sweetened by giving him the emeritus title of 'Constable-at-Arms'. This office is a throwback (as so much around here is) to late medieval days when the village needed someone - in the days long before Peelers - to act as official representative of the legal establishment. A position only less than social death when it became purely nominal, as you can imagine.

The powers vested in the office have long and reasonably lain dormant, though never - and this is the rub - formally deleted. Thus in a purely technical and utterly narrow-minded sense Colonel X has retained the authority to 'arrest and detain such villainous personages as he should see fit'.

The last time anyone tried to use this power was shortly after the War, when the then President of the Cricket Club sought to detain his reserve wicket-keeper who was about to move from the village to take work in Norwich on the eve of a singularly important match against a neighbouring and highly-fancied team. A worthy cause no doubt, but not one that cut the mustard with Mrs. Reserve Wicket-Keeper who threatened to streak naked across the pitch at some important juncture of the match unless her Charlie were allowed his liberty.

Mrs. Reserve Wicket-Keeper possessing not one of the less weighty figures in general or bosom in particular, the President had had no choice to give in to such blackmail. It was, apparently, all too obvious in his face that the words 'laughing' and 'stock' were stirring through his imagination in considering the possible consequences. Charlie duly departed to Norwich and the team lost by five wickets.

From that day to this there has been no more talk of detention from any office holder until this, aforementioned, fell moment. Naturally one's first reaction had been to assume that the Colonel had been at the sauce or been scolded by Mrs. Colonel for some domestic failing on his part (being at the sauce being one such) - both known to be frequent events in the X household, and cause each of a certain high irascibility.

No though it seemed. The Colonel was sober, unchastised and deadly in earnest. It had, he said, come to his attention that Mildred and H had had some telephone discussion on the very day of the election, in contravention of the electoral rules. (Trust the man to have a copy of these rules about his person to show me the exact paragraph listing forbidden practices on election day: 'Para. 19.7 - Candidates must not engage in private discussions that might have a bearing on the outcome of the voting.')

As for 'coming to his attention' there was no drawing the man on how he came to know that such an alleged dereliction had occurred. (The Mr. in the Mr. and Mrs. J combo does have a post within telecommunications and if I find that he has been involved in illicit wire-tapping of the rectory he'll not be long for this life I can tell you!) Prima facie evidence, according to the Colonel - who miraculously happened to have a copy of the governance of Constable-At-Arms in his other pocket! - was all that was needed for an arrest to be made, at his total discretion.

Now clearly the act behind which lay the intention was not going to occur. For one, H happened to be out at Ladies Darts, there being therefore no corpus for the Colonel to habeat. For seconds, over my dead body would any man be allowed to carry off my wife against her will - with her will would be another matter entirely, though one is not anticipating a late-night call from Brad Pitt.

Both these points were made with steely determination of debunking the whole madcap notion. Sufficient to quell the Colonel? Sadly not, the man has utterly 'lost the plot', as E would say, having been deprived of his Treasuryship. (One does wonder in review whether Mrs. Colonel had a hand in igniting this fever.)

A falling out between the clerical and the army cloth is not a happy state of affairs. Both have forces and powers at their disposal to make the life of each a misery. And indeed major rows in the village always end in tears for parties inevitably - and sometimes all too readily - caught up in the cross-fire.

An eirenic approach would perhaps have been for the best. But under the meek exterior of the clerical black lurks a heart as militant as any comparably skulking under best-issue khaki.

It is with no great personal pride or pleasure that I have to recount my chosen method of seeking to deter the man from his quest was far from turning the other cheek as taught, but rather fighting fire with fire.

"Oh," I said. "So you are intending to arrest my wife using your authority as Constable-At-Arms are you?" He replying firmly in the affirmative, I then weighed in with the killer blow.

"Well in that case my good fellow, I have to remind you that the post of Rector of this Parish has held in perpetuity from 1683 the diocesan responsibility of Friend of the Inquisition. It is, therefore, vested in myself as humble incumbent the right not only to arrest you for any heresy I care to name, but also thence to have you burned at the stake on the village green the following morning, there being no appeal against either my judgement or my sentence. Do I make myself clear?"

Not sure whether in military parlance this would count as a flanking manoeuvre or a frontal assault, but leaving aside the matter of strategic nomenclature you could say I hit the target in one. Colonel X, being the great traditionalist that he is would not dream of disputing a lawful power. Clearly not aspiring to star in any Joan of Arc remake he beat what he reasonably described to me as 'a tactical retreat' and left for the night.

This though clearly is not the end of the matter. The rancour within the breast went with him and I have no doubt that some later re-assault will result in due course.

Am tempted to phone H on her mobile telephone to give her advance warning of the threat. Dare not though lest it put her off her game. Ladies Darts being even more competitive than village cricket, I'll not be thanked for my bravery in seeing off the mad Colonel X if my telling her of it were to make her miss a crucial double in the deciding leg.

A certain extra anxiety also troubles me as I write and wait for H's return. I made apposite mention of the Colonel being a staunch traditionalist, as indeed he is. What though I am relying on for the meanwhile is that he is not the historian too. Entirely between ourselves, you must understand, my tale of being 'Friend of the Inquisition' with witch-burning powers was just that. Pure invention from start to finish. Have occasionally wondered if it might be a useful title to carry mind you. And wouldn't it be handy just now?

Oh dear!