Nyns eus goon heb lagas, na ke heb scovarn

There is no down without an eye, nor hedge without an ear


In Relubbus annual growth is expected to hit a record 21.9% in 2009, the 59th consecutive year of growth in our economy, which is the envy of the world. Mortgage rates in Relubbus are a comfortable 0.15% per annum, on 21 times salary. Savings rates have hit an all time high of 17.5% per annum for instant access accounts.

All of these miraculous achievements were made possible by the nomination by Greater Relubbus Urban Council (GRUC) Chairman Billy Spargo (97) of his childhood friend, Bernie Madoff-Withit (97 and pictured on the left) as Treasury Minister some 60 years ago. Treasury Ministers the world over constantly try to pump Madoff-Withit for the secret of his success. He remains - as ever - tight-lipped.

The English Chancellor (who curiously speaks with a Scottish accent), Alice Dear Darling, has
been seen on bended knee pleading for some insightful guidance so that he can lead the English out of the mess his boss, Gordon the Brun (who also curiously speaks with a Scottish accent) has led them into. It is not only the English economy which is in a total mess – the Americans, sundry Europeans and the Asian tigers have all fallen prey to the illness which besets the English economy.

At this stage, one should note that the Welsh and the Scots (fellow Celts, O dear people of Relubbus!) enjoy an absence of irritants such as tuition fees and hospital parking charges. (Is this perchance Alice and Gordon’s secret gift to the Celtic world?).

However, Alice has discovered that the figures just do not add up. In a secret meeting, in heavy disguise, with Bernie at a Little Chef restaurant in Kent (where Bernie insisted the bill be paid by Alice!) Alice howled over his chips that he “didna' knaw how it’s all gonneh end! Everything we do seems to turn to shite! Can ye no help us owt, Bernie?”

Bernie appeared to keep his cool and confine his comments to appreciative, though not very informative, slurping and chomping of his eggburger-and-chips and coffee.

Once this meal had been consumed, Bernie thanked the English Chancellor for the “ansum bitta grub” and stated how much he looked forward to meeting Alice again at the next G20 meeting. Then, overlooking the fact that Alice lay crumpled in body and spirit, weeping helplessly at his feet, he eased his right leg to release a noisome parcel of noxious gas into the receptive English air, and strode off to the gleaming, purring Ministerial Ford Prefect car, waiting to whisk him off back to Relubbus.

Of course, those of us who have the good fortune to live in the sainted environs of world-famous Relubbus know nothing of this thing called Credit Crunch, but, to help the people of Relubbus appreciate the woes of others, we despatched intrepid Roundup roving reporter, Aggie “Pipey” Penlowarth across the border to England (Pow Saws in Kernewek).

There she sought out and interviewed representatives of certain key groups in order to get the measure of the crisis besetting the English economy.

She spoke first to Linda Titt, the 27 year old spokesperson for the English Collective of Prostitutes, who told her that “fings ain’t never bin so bad, like. Punters ain’t got no money no more, like, innit? Like we got reductions on all lines – sometimes as much as 50% - and no one is interested, innit? We tried advertising in Relubbus, innit, but them Methodist fundamentals was like mental man, innit, innit?"

As the ‘innit’ count grew ever higher, taking Linda’s utterances off into the lofty realms of incomprehensibility, Pipey moved off to interview another key indicator – none other that Bill “Crowbar” Hatchet, the 43-year-old representative of the English Union of Housebreakers and Forced Entry Operatives.

Bill stated that whilst Linda’s girls might be able to lay claim to the title of the oldest profession, his lads would not be too far behind with their claim to similarly ancient honours.

He pointed out that, whilst burglars have their standards, the credit crunch was forcing too many amateurs into the game, who were giving it a bad name. The Union had a number of ‘minimum performance standards’, governing such basic matters as the time taken to gain entry, the correct use of the crowbar, the minimum time to ‘immobilise’ the house-owner without ANY permanent injury to his/her health, adherence to RSPCA-approved treatment of guard dogs, the taking of appropriate breaks during work, etc. All of these high professional performance standards were being simply ignored by moonlighters into the world of professional crime.

A similar doom-laden message was given by Tina Chav, the 23-year-old Public Relations Officer for the Basildon-based Retail Pilferers’ Association. Said Tina “Ya knaw waddimean, innit? We’re like a professional body, like for people wot takes fings wivout payin’, innit? Our members is like everywhere, innit – in Whittards, Woolworths, Adams and everyfink like that, innit? Closin them stores is like takin’ our income away, innit – plus you got all dem amateurs wot is like competin wiv us like, innit”.

Pipey, getting the message and tiring once more of the rising ‘innit’ count, decided to leave the sorry sad world of Alice’s wonderland and return to the reassuring sanity of Relubbus.


Kommandant Kolin Klemo (62) of the Kreslu Kernewek Kemmyn, pictured here in typically grim-faced pose, has once more saved the day by uncovering and foiling a devilish plot by the Bonnetti gang to assassinate the leader, Billy Spargo, 94, of the Greater Relubbus Urban District Council (GRUC).

Kommandant Klemo is an enigmatic character. After frequent early brushes with the law as a youngster, no misdemeanor was ever proven. Despite his having once been apprehended half way up a drainpipe outside the girls’ shower room at West Cornwall School for Girls at 9.00 pm one Friday evening, his explanation that he was ‘looking for bats’ was accepted by the presiding magistrate, Aristotle Klemo.

He later applied to join the elite Cornish-speaking unit of the Relubbus police, Kreslu Kernewek Kemmyn, and, in a period of just twenty years, shot to the top of this six man hand-picked squad in the Relubbus police. His exposure of the Bonnetti plot to kill is yet another in a long line of achievements.

The Bonnetti gang turn out to be a group of three cut-throat desperadoes, whose base is a lock-up garage on the Long Rock Industrial Estate. All three are Cornish born and bred but are not related. They have acquired the name ‘Bonnetti’ simply because of their taste in headgear. Their names can be revealed as:

Marcus Pengwidden (23), is a qualified window fitter, who somehow simply fell ‘by the wayside’. Formerly a regular attender at Mount St Methodist Church in Penzance and an enthusiastic member of the Chyandour handbell ringing club, Marcus began his descent into the netherworld of the West Cornish criminal fraternity by picking up cigarette butts on the Prom. This later led to pilfering cigarette packs from the RC Oates Superstore.

This, together with his habit of wearing a ‘man’s bonnet’, brought him to the attention of the second member of the gang:

Tristan ‘Broccoli’ Tregear (32) has worn a bonnet ever since he was a baby. He regards the wearing of a hood as ‘uncool’ and believes that Cornish criminals should develop their own unique sense of identity and dress code.

The fetching red bonnet he wears in this picture was lovingly made for him by his mother, Brenda, a one-legged school dinner lady at Humphry Davy School.

Tristan’s disruptive school career passed seamlessly into a steady stream of aimless small-time petty crime (including nicking broccoli for sale to his relatives) until he came to the attention of the ring-leader of the gang:

Madron ‘Bare Hands’ Trembath (49) of Colinsey Road, Penzance is a reprobate with a long history of criminal acts and a predilection for wearing a black ‘man’s bonnet’.

After a brief and unsuccessful apprenticeship as a ‘junior’ at Sally’s Hairdressing in Parade Street, Penzance, where he lost his job for stealing hair colourants, he coasted into a lifestyle of casual crime, which led to hardcore burglary, GBH and Robbery with Violence.

He took to wearing a bonnet – originally in pink – in his days with Sally, as she felt it would help him ‘blend in’ more easily in the overwhelmingly female world of ladies’ hairdressing. Having got used to the comfort of a bonnet, he decided to continue to wear a manly black colour when he left Sally’s.

Like finds like and it was inevitable that the three bonnet-wearing criminals should, sooner or later, come across one another and work together. Thus it was that, just three years ago, the Bonnetti gang was formed over a cup of coffee in the Wimpy Bar Penzance.

The revered, but somewhat eccentric, GRUC leader Billy Spargo (92) is known to travel from his official residence to the Council chamber each day – naked in all weathers - upon his beloved motorised push bike, which he leaves parked outside his house all night.

Klemo’s men caught the Bonnetti gang staking out Spargo’s home and pounced when they saw chief desperado Trembath tinkering with the brakes. Threatened by the six burly coppers of the Kreslu Kernewek, Trembath and the others gave themselves up without a fight and just the words “Issa fair cop!”

The next day, despite a bracing wind and a cutting sleety rain, Councillor Spargo emerged wearing nothing but his helmet, mounted his bike without a word, and, statesman that he is, proceeded to work as if nothing had happened.