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He was the MAYOR.
The fucking MAYOR.
I have to send an agent into this town that I would dare not enter myself.
It has a population of four goats, six donkeys, 20 sheep, an irritable German shepherd with bleeding gums, two incontinent Eastern Orthodox nuns and, APPARENTLY, A MAYOR WHO NICK KNICKERS!
He looks like Frankensteins monster lost child.
...nepotism and all that.
WHATS IT ALL ABOUT?
Funnily enough, the first (or second) thing I thought of when I saw his picture: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_II_of_Spain
When all of your ancestors are 'in some way' descended from a woman known as Joanna The Mad, you know things are going to go horribly wrong...
i'm no expert on family trees, but i'm sure they're called "family trees" and not "family diamonds" for a good reason...
are a powerful political force in lancashire.
I mean, the woman who installed a security camera - rewinds the tape and sees the MAYOR sniffing through her knicker drawer. Outstanding.
"ooh I wonder where my gunts have gone, I swear I had more pairs than this. Ho hum I suppose it's like socks and how they always go missing, one of lifes lovely little mysteries. What time is Corrie on?"
"Right that's the fifth pair of gunts that have gone missing in the last month and these ones were my La Senza annual anal jobbies too. I bet it's the Ian McCaskell spoon looking mekon motherfucking mayor what done it. I'm going to set up a camera to catch him. What time is Corrie on"
and the young PC quaking in his boots when he realised he'd 'ave to arrest the mayor.