6pm

I had no wish to be seen walking through town with a baby in my arms - people might mistake me for a parent. A single parent at that. Or, worst of all, because I was with Ian Devine, they might think I was an alternative lifestyle parent who had received medical assistant to overcome the serious limitations placed upon them by mother nature. We clambered into Ian Devine's Beetle and he drove us to Bendaton Park, one of the nicest parts of the village, and we sat on a bench looking at the vista before us.

"…and that's the sewerage works" I explained to Little Dennis Junior. "That was founded in 1997 after the canal solidified. We had Bernie Clifton to open it. He was rather witty."

"What's that building" asked little Dennis Junior.

"That's the meat farm. Sixty one stories of tightly packed animals and birds just waiting for the day they become fat enough to kill. It makes me hungry just to look at it."

"I am a patron of the building" said Ian Devine. "There is a plaque on the wall to commemorate my generous donation. They estimate that I consume half of level 43's output and almost all of the western side of floor 9."

"The fumes from both facilities don't mix well do they?" noted little Dennis Junior. I've lived in the village long enough for the smell to become part of the furniture but visitors say Bendaton smells somewhere between death and adolescence.

"And that is the running track which was built to host the 1948 Olympics."

"I didn't know Bendaton had staged The Games" said an impressed little Dennis Junior.

"It was an administrative error. That's why the track only has one lane - they stopped work as soon as someone admitted the form should've said "London". It proves an interesting attraction for visitors."

"I don't wish to cause any offence, father or Uncle Ian Devine, but this has to be the ugliest town I have ever spent time in."

I readied myself to leap to Bendaton's defence.

"I thought you were going to say something, father" said little Dennis Junior.

"I was going to leap to Bendaton's defence."

"What stopped you?"

"I realised it didn't have one."

"Is that man looking at us" asked little Dennis Junior.

"Which man?" I replied, fearful that it might be a constable. He pointed to Bignell who was alternately waving to us and pretending that the hand around his neck was coming from a mysterious second party hiding behind a tree and not simply his own hand filling in for the purpose of humour.

"Oh. That's Bignell. He's a nuisance" I said succinctly.

"I see" replied little Dennis Junior. "Uncle Ian Devine told me all about him while he cleansed my buttocks."

"Ahoy hoy, Dennis Brent and Ian Devine" cried Bignell. He abandoned his strangling pretence and jogged over to join us.

"Hello Bignell" I said reluctantly. Three times in one day…

"Hello Bignell" added Ian Devine.

"Who is this little monkey?" asked Bignell as he peered down at little Dennis Junior.

"Good afternoon, Mr Bignell. My name is Clarence Dennis Simian-Brent the Second, commonly referred to as Little Dennis Junior."

"Pleased to meet you" said Bignell. "I say you chaps" he continued, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial manner, "I couldn't borrow the infant could I? Just for a few minutes. Only there is a rather nice lady over by the duck pond and you know what women are like."

"No" I said.

"Me neither" added Ian Devine.

"I can only judge by my mother's standards but they are not like us" added little Dennis Junior.

"Well, they love a nice baby and your baby is ok I suppose at a stretch. Certainly the best I'm going to get at such short notice. I promise I won’t be long. Just long enough to get her phone number and I could be in there."

"We shall consult and let you know" I said coldly. I wasn’t in the mood to do Bignell a favour after his recent behaviour but little Dennis Junior was gesturing and it either meant he had soiled himself again or he wanted a private word.

"What ails you?" I asked.

"Let the man take me, father. I have a plan. Conceal yourselves in the nearby bushes and watch as I jape the master japer."

"If you insist…" I told him, fearing a double bluff whereby my son betrayed me and sided with my enemy, causing me humiliation and pain. But that was all too Biblical for Bendaton so I let Bignell take my boy away to the duck pond.

We secreted ourselves behind a bush and watched as Bignell cradled little Dennis Junior and approached a rather bookish lady who was starring forlornly out over the duck pond. There weren't any ducks anymore, not since the meat factory leakage back in 1996, but the spot was rather beautiful if you closed your eyes and ignored the smell. We couldn't hear the small talk begun by Bignell as he tried to impress this female but we did hear the cries coming from little Dennis Junior when Bignell pulled back his blanket to show the woman his offspring.

"WAHHHHHH" cried little Dennis junior. The woman slapped Bignell very hard in the face and stormed off. She shouted something about how he was an evil man to have done what he'd done and he walked back to us a broken human being.

"What happened?" asked Ian Devine.

"This happened" said Bignell, thrusting little Dennis Junior back at me and pointing. My boy, smiling now, was covered in what looked like blood. He held up a tomato sauce sachet which he'd obviously lifted from Ian Devine's waistcoat pocket.

"Ah hahahahahaha" I roared. "She thought you'd brutally beaten an infant. That is richly comic."

"Ahahahaha" added Ian Devine. "You've been japed by a one-year old child. Ahahahaha."

"That's not funny" said Bignell. "THAT'S NOT FUNNY" he shouted again. "God you two are so childish."

"There he is" shouted the duck pond woman. She was being followed by a hastily assembled lynch mob. They began to run towards Bignell. He launched himself in the opposite direction and we watched as twenty or thirty stout villagers (some carrying lighted torches even though there was plenty of daylight) chased him out of the park.

"That was marvellous" I said, beaming at my boy.

"It was nothing, father.

We followed the lynch mob in Ian Devine’s Beetle and saw them physically throw him over the Bendaton-Shagford border.

"And don’t come back" shouted the toothless leader of the gang.

"Yeah – we don’t want your sort round here" added a toothless woman.

They threw some mud in Bignell’s face for good measure and tried to set the border on fire so as to symbolically cast him out of the village for good.

We watched Bignell’s humiliation for as long as we could without damaging the Beetle’s suspension with our comical roars.

"I think we should go home" announced Ian Devine.

"Actually" I said, "I’ve got an appointment in a few minutes. Would you mind dropping me off?"

"It would be a pleasure" said Ian Devine and we beamed at each other.

I knocked on Philip Stiffit’s front door. The man himself opened it, grinning widely and holding a glass of something sinful.

"Hey hey – look who it isn’t" he said, not realising that he wasn’t making sense.

"I’m here on business, Philip Stiffit" I told him matter-of-factly.

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever. So how are you? Have you had a good day, Den?"

"…nis Brent" I murmured before answering his question. "Yes" I announced. It was a lie but a lie which would make me a sizable sum of money.