Scenes that beggared belief disrupted last month's AGM at the Slaughter House Bridge Club. An attempted coup to unseat the megalomaniac chairman ( and his cronies ) from the committee collapsed in abject failure. A spirited and well meaning body of members had become desperate to rid the club of its corrupt regime, as the first stage of an ethnic cleansing process. They clearly felt the reputation and the future of the club was at stake, because already law enforcement agencies were looking to close it down.
However, despite being hopelessly outnumbered, Bigot's supporters took up the fight. Arguments escalated into violent scuffles. Measures used to restrain the protesters clearly went a step to far. Within minutes of the chairman's war cry, the club house resembled a cow shed with so much shit flying around in all directions. Indeed, all hell broke loose when Bigot proposed a large proportion of the club funds should be spent on a huge bronze statue of himself, to be positioned right outside the club front door entrance.
After the rebel movement had been thoroughly squashed, those involved in the uprising were crudely and forcibly ejected via the back passage and door. Within minutes of last one being dumped outside in the freezing cold, Bigot immediately proposed a motion to have them all permanently expelled from the club. Completely bogus and trumped up charges of sabotage and subversion were made against these dissident dogs. The motion was quickly forced through and passed. For Bigot it was a dream come true : his power base was even stronger and greater than ever. The feces of his ardent supporters were of course a picture of delight.
Instinctively, Bigot felt the expulsion programme could not wait. So ignoring proper procedures and due process he asked the membership to vote there and then on kicking these renegades out of the club. First up was Percy Pantopod who was regarded as their ring-leader. Bigot knew that he was the filthy, low down, whistle-blowing stool pigeon, who had gone to the police with inside information about the club's nefarious activities. However, with so many others to deal with, Bigot was worried about a log jam with regards to the evening's scheduled activities, so it was clearly good sense to deal with them in groups of four. Not surprisingly, the whole process still flitted away 2 hours of his precious drinking time, and although he was tired and pooped, Bigot felt it was vital to push this job through to the bitter end.
Everyone could see that Bigot was in his element......... and, as some would say, on a roll.