“… and I do hereby declare that Peregrine Watt is duly elected as Member of Parliament for the Ludborough constituency”.

The announcement, when it came, was met with a stunned silence. In such a safe seat for the Labour party the unthinkable had just happened and the enormity of this fact was taking a while to sink in. Peregrine was a dislikeable fellow at the best of times; bigoted, loud and unspeakably rude. His views on immigration, religion and “Johnny Foreigner” were so extreme none of the major parties would even consider his candidacy, let alone allow him to represent them. It had been a source of local amusement when even the English Defence League had pronounced him “too gobby and uncontrollable” when he approached them for backing. Yet, here he was strutting his massive frame along the front of the stage, arms raised in triumph; their new Independent representative in the mother of parliaments.

His acceptance speech dripped scorn and derision on his fellow candidates, their views and their parties. Accepting fully that the heavy rain and voter apathy had given his followers the majority vote that had led to this momentous result, he snatched the microphone from the Deputy Returning Officer.

“What about the weather eh? Perfect! I’d like to thank the morally minded people of Ludborough for their lack of support today. Your lack of confidence in the major parties today has bloodied their noses and delivered a massive result for good old English common sense”.

He swung an arm towards the uncomfortable line of beaten candidates standing behind him.

“Not one of this shower had the gumption to stand up for their own beliefs and so you, the electorate, chose not to vote for them.” He sneered.

“I, on the other hand, will stand by my beliefs, and my manifesto, on your behalf!”

The mayor blanched, and uttered a muffled exclamation of “Oh dear God, no…”.

His funding bid for a social and community centre from the Black Christian Fellowship had just taken a turn for the worse.

Peregrine swung around to face the mayor and pointed a threatening finger at him.

“… and you Mr. Mayor can just shut your fat face. You sit in the Council Hall making your goody two-shoes plans to integrate all the coloureds into our society. They’ve taken our jobs and livelihoods away for far too long. Decent hard working English men and women deserve better,” Peregrine continued.

“Corner shops, once the pillar of our communities, are now run by Johnny Foreigner! You can’t even find a decent English restaurant now…”

“What complete and utter rot!”, the Bishop had had enough. He climbed the stairs at the side of the stage and strode forward to face up to Peregrine.

“Ahhh Bishop, I wondered when you would stick your nose in!”

Peregrine pushed his profusely sweating face into that of the Bishop.

“So full of religious bull you are matey! You and your God don’t seem to have been much help to the unemployed around here do you? Where is He when He’s needed eh?”

For over a hundred years the old theatre lights had played their part; illuminating Comedy, Tragedy and everything in between. They had highlighted election counts, announcements, and all manner of private and public parties. When the bolt gave way, the rig swung down with unerring accuracy. Missing the Bishop by bare millimetres, it hit Peregrine squarely on the side of his head, killing him instantly.

Outside, the sun broke through the clouds and a shaft of sunlight lanced across the room.

“Nice shot!”, whispered the Bishop.