The School Fete

This year is the 50th anniversary of the day Cameron Green's Primary school first opened its doors. The school's PTA was tasked with organising an event to celebrate the occasion. They decided to merge the celebrations with the annual school fete because they couldn't be arsed to have a separate day. None of the other parents appreciated their efforts anyway. There was always someone moaning and whining about something. None of the lazy buggers would offer to lend a hand In any case, they would have to just suck it up and get on with it. Mr Spanner would be happy at least. It still gave him the chance to show off. He loved the sound of his own voice. Mr Spanner is a rotund 40-year-old man. Most of the parents and children thought he was much older, at least 50.

On the day of the fete/celebration, the sun was already blistering hot at 9 am. The forecast predicted torrential rain and thunder at 6 pm, but hopefully, everyone would have buggered off home by then. The temperature was forecast to reach a sweltering 30 by midday. There was talk of cancelling, as Mr. Spanner was worried about people getting heatstroke and falling over, but he couldn't do so, as it would rob him of the opportunity to strut around and show off like an overweight peacock. Alison thought they had done a good job. It wasn't their head on the chopping block if someone passed out and sued the school. There would be a St. John's Ambulance attending. Nothing to worry about, seriously.

It was close to the opening of the fete. There was already a queue of impatient parents waiting at the gate. Alison was on the stall taking payments for wristbands that allowed children to access an array of colourful bouncy castles. She was hoping there wasn't another vomiting incident like last year. A child had eaten way too much candy floss and projectile puked all over the bouncy slide. It took ages to clean up, and the smell lingered for the rest of the day. Alison could see some of the parents she had ''affectionately'' given nicknames. At the front of the queue was Little Miss Tightrope walker, busy picking her thong out of her butt cheeks. She could usually be seen awkwardly mincing along like she was precariously balanced 50 feet up above a circus ring. Behind her, gathered together, was 'The Coven'. These were the 'popular' mums who always congregated together, gossiped, and cackled, leaving most people out of their group. With them were their ''dick swinging'' other halves. The typical alpha male, banging their chests and generally being loud and showing off. She looked at her watch; it was only 5 minutes to show time. She took a quick glance around, ensuring everything was in its place and ready to go.

In the corner of the school field was a small stage. A local thrash band, Shred Zeppelin, was tuning up their instruments so they could entertain the crowds of people. The band members were former pupils of Cameron Green Primary School. After their set, they had some acts that the current children were eager to showcase. There was a cheerleading squad and a school choir. After that, they would be having a go at Cameron Green's Got Talent, which would be judged by none other than Mr Spanner himself.

There were some good stalls amongst the usual crap of things like the tombola which had bottles of assorted rubbish that the parents of the sprogs had kindly donated. They probably sourced these items from the dark corners of their cupboards, old bottles of vinegar, like wine, that they hastily pulled out for this occasion. There were a few simple games for the kids, such as Hook a Duck. There was also a BBQ and a tiny bar for some of the more harassed mums and dads. Alison could use a large glass of wine herself, but she was on PTA duty, and it probably wouldn't be appropriate. At the end of the BBQ was a small section where they had opened a cake competition. All the cakes looked delicious, if not a bit sweaty in the heat. At the very end of the display of cakes was a rather unusual entry. Someone had made a large, wonky cake. The cake itself was bright green. The icing was a lurid pink colour. The cake was three tiers tall and precariously leaning to one side, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. On top, the maker had written in sprawling, uneven icing, "Perfect Housewife cake." Alison had a little giggle when she saw it; someone has a good sense of humour, she thought to herself.

An hour into the fete, everyone was wandering round listlessly, the heat dragging people down. The band was caterwauling its way through "Stairway to Heaven" for the seventh time. The screeching guitar and droning singing were getting a bit much. The only person who came close to being cool and relaxed was Mr. Spanner. HE had had a small gazebo erected especially for events like the fete. He had a massive fan plugged in. He was the only one allowed anywhere near this structure due to 'health and safety' concerns. Alison had heard people muttering and throwing him filthy looks from time to time.

He waved at the band to stop playing and called for attention. Mr Spanner's thank-you speech was mostly him blowing smoke up his own backside. When he finished worshipping himself, he declared it time for the best cake competition and asked the crowd to make their way over to the cake stand. The judge, obviously, was Mr Spanner. He waddled over and smiled sickeningly at everyone gathered around.

Mr Spanner makes scores on the appearance of the cakes. he raises an eyebrow at the perfect housewife but continues with his judging. He begins to taste the preferred cakes. Everyone can hear his juicy mouth grinding. It was just like listening to a combine harvester in a sewage factory.

He gets to the end of the row, and the only one left is the perfect housewife cake. Mr Spanner says about leaving the best one till last and has a slight chuckle to himself. HE tastes a bite. Coughs. He laughs and coughs again. Must have gone down the wrong hole, he says. He coughs yet again and pulls on the collar of his shirt. He has gone a bit red in the face and asked for a glass of water. Suddenly, he grasps his throat and falls to the ground! He is wheezing, and people are panicking, trying to get him to drink the water. There is silence as he gradually stops choking and moving. A white foam appears at his lips. There is a collective gasp of shock from the gathered crowd. Someone has poisoned Mr Spanner with the perfect housewife cake! It is then that the heavens open and dump rain on everyone at the fete.