In a sleepy English village on a frosty winter’s morning, a naked man emerged from the swirl of early morning mist, his manhood shrivelled so that it looked like a dehydrated grape…
Every remote village has their folklore, the tortured ghost of some poor unfortunate beheaded centuries earlier wandering the graveyard late at night, the anguished cries of an innocent woman burned at the stake for practicing witchcraft. It’s what puts them on the map. Brings in the visitors.
Finding their heritage and cultural traditions challenged by the juggernaut of progress, the residents of Blithevale decide they could do with a tall story of their own. So they invent one.
What they come up with just might be the most ludicrous, mind numbingly dumb, ill-conceived hoax in the history of dumb hoaxes and a million miles away from traditional folklore, but it certainly attracts attention.
The question is… will anyone take it seriously?