The Mayor and His Daughter give you a tour of their town
Get your wellies at the ready. The Mayor and His Daughter want to show you their special town…
You live in the City. You wake at dawn to find yourself once again sluggish and despicable. You look out of the window and see nothing but litter and Americans and advertising. The city is vile and modernity is terrible! You remember when all this was dark satanic mills! You shudder. What became of Merrie England?! You reach for your screen and see that the Mayor and His Daughter have made a tour.
And here we abandon second person for a moment. It’s becoming convoluted and we, the Mayor and His Daughter, do literally want you to know what this is. We are a comedy double act from England and this is an item of photojournalism – a series of photographs of places in our town with accompanying text to explain what you’re looking at.
You’ll like that won’t you, City-person. Finally, you can rest your eyes on something not-sordid, something community-driven and spiritually worthwhile.
Strap on your wellington boots and let’s get going! It’s been raining all night and the path is muddy as ass.
In the centre of our town is a monument to Shergar, the racehorse that was kidnapped and held to ransom on Tuesday 8th February 1983, which was a Tuesday. The poor racehorse was never found and was presumed to have been executed. However, many in our town hold out hope that he is alive and well and is possibly working in a mine somewhere – a nice mine, where he is the boss and whips all the mine workers.
The town often gathers here to watch the football net and the puddle duke it out. Some days, the wind has pushed the football net closer to the puddle, the puddle in turn having been engorged by rain, meaning that the puddle is winning. Other times, the sun has evaporated the puddle, meaning the puddle is barely close to the football net at all; it has also dried up the mud around the football net’s legs, causing it to lean away from the puddle. Legend has it that, if the puddle ever crosses the goal line, the puddle will explode and everyone will get puddle-drunk.
The Town Art has been boarded up for a long time. The only relic of its former prominence is a plastic sign, informing viewers that it contains ‘An Adult Theme’, though what this theme was is lost in the mist. The Coin Slot has been removed, presumably to stop The Art being triggered, but you can insert a camera into the hole, revealing a large old-timey bed. Perhaps it contains a dead person, or some sex? Comment your guess below.
We fly the flag proudly in our village. The Kids and Pets are at play, for this is England (though the flag is Britain). Hence, SLOW DOWN!!! and sit on the bench.
That is the flag’s message. Nay, England’s message.
We gather here sometimes and sing about barley. Probably no one in the City knows what barley is! They think it’s a Playstation or a detective or a football. We are glad to live here in [redacted].
It is done.
In case you’re worried about the division of labour, the Mayor dictated some “gifs” to the Daughter, and then she, being good with an iPad, “rendered” the “gifs” into “existence”. Well done Daughter.
Thanks for looking at it. Bless up. We hope we haven’t doxxed ourselves. Xxx
The Mayor and His Daughter’s show, A Genuine Appreciation of Comedy is at The Temple Bar for Brighton Fringe, from May 3-5th. Tickets here. It will also be at the Edinburgh Fringe (Assembly Roxy at 16:10).
