Flipping idly between the scheduling last night we happened upon the British indie film "Hot Fuzz". Wow! It was filmed in our very own city of Wells! How we thrilled to shots of the market square, the paper shop, the co-op!
In this spoof movie Wells is fictionalised as Sandford, run covertly as a rural-fascist enclave of English pastoralism by a hooded coven of murderous local worthies (including the local police chief).
Actually Wells isn't much like that; we do, however, have our quota of unsightly beggars. In the local paper it was revealed that one lives in Weston-super-Mare but regularly travels to our beautiful city as the pickings here are so much better. So much so that he's bought a car with the proceeds to-date which eases his daily commute.
A few weeks ago, we were walking down the High Street when we passed a middle-aged woman playing the recorder execrably for donations; I squeaked less when I was eight years old at primary school. A very posh lady gave her some coins and drawled (it being cold):
"My dear, do you have somewhere to go tonight? You're not homeless, are you?"
In an equally upper-class voice, the beggar assured her that yes, she was perfectly situated for the night's lodging, but thank you so much for asking."
If that's the worst we can do, there is little need to bump them off and leave their mouldering corpses in the sewers beneath the Bishop's Palace.
