Illustration by EUGENE CUBILLO

A long time ago, in my little village in England on the other side of the world, I was able to prove another of my golden rules.

We had a problem with Colonel Forbes, who had retired from bossing his regiment and decided he would boss our village. He had been elected to the parish council (not a very popular post – ten votes is often enough), and was making life hell for the rest of us.  Some friends met in the pub to hold a council of war on how to get rid of him.

Inspired by two pints of best bitter beer, I had the great idea of asking the Colonel  to be the chief judge at the annual village show. My immigrant friend Erich said: “How will that help, won’t it make him more popular?” I replied. “You foreigners don’t understand. If there are thirty competitors in the event, twenty-nine will hate the judge at the end of it.”

Colonel Forbes proved that with a vengeance. By the end of the show he had alienated  the young mothers in the baby show,  the busy housewives in the cake - baking competition,  the kids in the pet show and the dedicated gardeners whose annual highlights were the flower show and the fruit and vegetable show.  To make things worse, he couldn’t resist making rude remarks – he probably thought he was saying them silently but his whispers carried far. He was even heard calling Mrs. Bartlett’s baby “fat,” Mrs. Roach’s lemon sponge cake “dry” and Mr. Padgett’s carrots “limp.”

At the next election for the Parish Council election, there was a record high turnout, as people queued to vote against the Colonel.

Isn’t it an odd world that we live in?