‘Reginald’ – Straw-Stuffed Independent Takes 63% of Vote on Anti-Pigeon, Anti-Party Ticket
LITTLE PIDDLECOMBE, DEVON – In what is being described as the most shocking upset in Devon politics for years, a scarecrow erected outside Piddlecombe Village Hall has been elected to the parish council.
“Reginald” – a burlap-headed figure dressed in a moth-eaten tweed waistcoat and one broken welly – stood as an Independent after being “accidentally included on the ballot due to a typo” (a handwritten ‘R. Stuffed’ was misinterpreted by a sleep-deprived returning officer).
But the real story is why the villagers voted for him.
“I’d Rather Have the Straw Man”
With advance polls showing low turnout and deep apathy, the election had offered voters a familiar choice:
Conservative candidate: Nigel Throckmorton-Pugh, a part-time resident from London who “cares deeply about the countryside” (but couldn’t identify a mangelwurzel and once asked if badgers could be “rebranded”).
Labour candidate: Brenda Mulch, a well-meaning retired social worker who proposed a “night bus to Exeter” for a village with three people over 75 and no streetlights.
Liberal Democrat candidate: Timothy “Tim” Flange, in his Jesus creepers and spandex, who campaigned on “listening to residents” and then immediately proposed a cycle lane through a bog.
One local farmer, Jim Pascoe (74, not one for drama), summed up the mood:
Nigel thinks ‘countryside access’ means his Range Rover. Brenda wants a diversity audit on the sheep. Tim changes his mind depending on which way the wind’s blowing – and in Devon, that’s every fifteen minutes. I’d rather have the straw man. At least he doesn’t pretend.”
Reginald’s Manifesto
Remarkably, Reginald was the only candidate to produce a clear, printed manifesto. It was found pinned to his own chest, written in felt-tip on the back of a seed catalogue:
“Fewer crows. Many fewer crows.”
“No to the bypass. Yes to the byre.”
“Potholes filled with crushed Tory leaflets and Labour promises – structurally sound and deeply satisfying.”
“Planning permission for second homes? No. Planning permission for second slices of cake at the fete? Yes.”
“I will not raise council tax. I do not have pockets. This is not negotiable.”
“Chris Packham is a c**t”
A handwritten postscript added: “If you vote for Nigel, Brenda, or Tim, you are voting for a man who calls it ‘the lav,’ a woman who says ‘recalibrate’ unironically, and a human weathervane. Vote for me. I have never once mentioned ‘synergy.’”
First Council Meeting
Reginald attended his inaugural parish council meeting last Tuesday. He was propped in the corner near the radiator, facing the wall (a positioning error swiftly corrected by the clerk).
He did not speak. He did not raise a point of order. He did not check his phone. He was not self-serving.
He also did not:
Propose a feasibility study into a “rural hub.”
Ask for a second round of minutes to be recirculated.
Claim mileage expenses for a journey he didn’t take.
The chair, Councillor Mrs. Daphne Bottle (76, tweed armour), admitted:
It was the most efficient meeting in seventeen years. We finished early. I went home and watched Antiques Roadshow without once shouting at the television. Reginald is a credit to this council.”
What Now?
Under electoral law, a scarecrow cannot be removed unless he resigns, dies, or is proven to be “not a natural person.” Reginald has done none of these things.
He has, however, already submitted a planning objection to a proposed holiday let development. The objection was written on a damp napkin and consisted of a single word: “Nay.”
Legal experts say it may hold up.
When asked for comment, the Conservative candidate – Nigel Throckmorton-Pugh – was said to be “considering a judicial review” from his second home in Chelsea.
Labour’s Brenda Mulch issued a statement calling the result “an unhealthy post-truth phenomenon” and suggested Reginald undergo “unconscious bias training regarding pigeons as he’s clearly a racist.”
The Liberal Democrat candidate, Timothy Flange, said he was “respecting the result” while also “exploring a coalition with the turnip crop.”
Village Reaction
At The Salty Badger (the village’s only pub, which also serves as the post office, polling station, and occasional mortuary), reaction was characteristically understated.
Landlord Mervyn Criddle (62, sceptical of everything):
Best bleedin’ councillor we’ve ever had. He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t want a new laptop. He doesn’t spend three hours discussing the colour of the village sign. And when the pigeons see him, they **** off sharpish. What more do you want?”
Parishioner Dorothy Clamp (81, known for her short temper and longer memory) added:
I’ve voted Tory, Labour, Lib Dem, Green, and once for a man who promised to reopen the railway line. None of them filled a single pothole. Reginald hasn’t filled one either – but he also hasn’t lied to me. That’s progress.”
April Fool’s Disclaimer
Alas, the above article was a work of rural fiction published on April 1st. No scarecrows were elected to any Devon parish council. However, several real councillors have since admitted they felt “personally attacked” by the accuracy of the satire. The potholes, sadly, remain unfilled.
