The Church Hall was silent, Major Faircourt sat with his head in his hands whilst the other members of the Parish Council sat fidgeting, all yes men, which is rather a good thing as the result of them thinking for themselves is too hideous to contemplate. Faircourt himself was a vacuous individual but made up for it by shouting a lot, he believed intelligence was proportional to decibel level. Professor Blake Morin, the only Uggabian to attend a big persons' school had been brought before the Council after the conclusions of his theses on the course of the River Waveney had been accepted by the Boundaries Commission of England.

The Nelson's Arm

Basically Uggaby was officially an island, Stirik's Stream to the north of the village was the original course of the River, the Waveney was now seen as encircling the village. The point on which the Parish Council were now debating is what county are they in Suffolk or Norfolk?  Both County Councils had been approached and the issue duly discussed, the results of which lay inside two buff coloured unopened A4 envelopes before the Major. "We shall soon know Gentlemen" he roared, there were woman present but the Major made no distinctions. This was the biggest crisis to hit the village since the arrival of Sitrik and his Danes, bigger than Marta's occupation of Abb's Mill earlier in the year and an event of profound importance.

"Suffolk County Council put us in Norfolk" the Major hollered rattling the windows.

The second envelope revealed it contents "Norfolk says we belong to Suffolk" he bellowed shaking the walls. Blake turned pale as the enormity of it all sank in. The Parish Council was now in effect the only authority in Uggaby.

"We must form a revolutionary committee" Marta Denton said, always the anarchists, the fact that there was no one to revolt against didn't stop her, perhaps she was aware of just how revolting the people of Uggaby are. Old man Polato's answer was to produce half a dozen bottles of remitroot wine.  

A complex chemical compound produced from the unique nitrates found deep in the subsoil of Yager's Marsh furnish the ideal conditions for the growing of remitroot, a commodity which can be used in practically every facet of daily life. Major Faircourt owns the fields and processing plant but due to his intense stupidity has an overmanned inefficient operation which he is running into the ground, the predictable result from a moronic individual who believes he is talented and guileful. Polato grows his own remitroots, which he ferments into a potent wine, feeding it to Faircourt at every opportunity. The last time Faircourt drank the stuff he blacked out for three days and when he came to was driving a refrigerated lorry to Dusseldorf.

The eight elected councillors flushed with their new found importance and swaying with the effects of Polato's wine put forward their vision for the future of Uggaby. Marta saw a utopian state rebuilt from the ground up, from anarchy to meritocracy. Old George Langley wanted to sell the village, share the money amongst the inhabitants and all go to live on the Costa Del Sol. Faircourt more intoxicated than the others suggested a monarchy with him as regent. "Strong leadership" he shouted "you must see the logic in that".

"It's not your logic we are questioning, it's your sanity" Marta replied, draining her glass of remitroot wine.

Pugh marshalled his forces firmly behind the idea of a republic directly opposing Faircourt. He demanded a vote!

The village is divided between the original inhabitants the Owlones, and the descendents of Sitrik the Putrid the Newcomers, the division is reflected in the council chamber. Pugh the boatyard owner with Marta Denton, Cedrick Polato and Emma Mardle represented the Owlones whilst Major Faircourt, George Langley the village policeman, Daniel Grant and Ginger Tom are mouthpieces of the Newcomers. Faircourt being chairman could cast a deciding vote, a device which had won the day on more than one occasion. Pugh however had a secret weapon Emma Mardle councillor, landlady of the Nelson's Arm and femme fatale.                                   

A bleary eyed Faircourt laid the resolution before the Council, a show of hands for those in favour of Pugh's republic. Hush fell, wine glasses were drained as the Parish members fortified themselves for the historic vote. Emma produced a large Cavendish Banana from beneath the trestle table which she peeled and began to devour. The male contingent were transfixed, almost hypnotized as Emma enjoyed the fruit. The show of hands was asked, Pugh raised his, Marta hers and all of the men, bar Faircourt, trancelike followed Emma's hand movement as she raised her arm, she could have successfully demanded their first born such was her mesmeric effect.

The Major once more sat with his head in his hands as the republic was duly elected, not so much a banana-republic but a bananared-republic. The sky turned black, lightning flared and thunder crashed. "It be as black as the hakes" George muttered. The Republic of Uggaby was born.

The constitutional crisis was debated in the House of Commons, questions such as 'What the hell is an Uggaby?' were asked. Major Faircourt's military record was put under the microscope; he had helped win the battle of Wadi Bouse_Tizi simply by being in a Maltese bordello at the time. Remitroot wine was banned from the UK; giving it a cult status thus increasing demand and price ten fold. A detachment of marines sealed the border of Uggaby whilst a warship stood off the East Anglian coast ready to enforce a naval blockade of the new landlocked Republic.

Uggaby responded by deploying a border guard and issuing Uggabian citizenship, any person who believes they have a right to citizenship can log onto http://www.uggaby.co.uk/ and apply for a passport. The site also contains up to the minute news of the republic, its people and way of life. All freedom loving people are urged to log on and pledge their support to the emerging state.                                   

Ginger Tom, the Uggabian Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs issued the following statement:

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

Or better still simply transfer vast sums of money to the Reserve Bank of Uggaby via the bank's commissioners Messers Wannet, Grabett and Leggit"

Marta Denton stared into the slow waters of the Waveney wondering what the future held. It would be an exciting time, dangerous perhaps, but whatever happened it would be vital and stimulating, it would also give her the opportunity to have the Royal and Ancient Uggabian Morris Men deported.