The Barclay brothers may feel that they have troubles on the Island of Sark, but they are as nothing compared to the state that the island village of Homesea has got itself into.
The tourist trade has collapsed, Beaver's Casino is bust, and all the offshore companies that located on Homesea, as a tax haven, have withdrawn their funds.
It seems that due to the invasion of the pirates the United Nations have declared Homesea to be an unstable state.
I decided the time had come to confront Beaver Hateman.
A meeting was arranged at the Town Hall to discuss the future of the village.
Before discussions could even begin, Beaver and I began arguing.
"You fat dictator!," cried Beaver "We all know what you want - a return to feudalism where lord high and mighty elephant bosses everyone around and rakes in the money!"
"You're a right one to talk!" I declared "Trying to buy off the villagers with no rent or taxes - whilst you fleece them in your casino, destroying the sleepy charm of the village with your modernist ideas!"
"Hypocrite!" retorted Beaver "What about you with your giant big tower, with the heliport on top, and driving all over the place in your steaming great traction engine!"
"So what's your next big plan to build a socialist utopia for you and your gang?" I spluttered.
"There ain't no need to ask sarky questions!" blustered Beaver.
"Well, we shall see what the people want, when the villagers are all here we shall..." I began, before being interrupted by the Old Monkey.
"Ahem, excuse me, Sir, but they are." he said
"Are what?" I said impatiently.
"They are all here." he murmured.
Beaver and I looked around the hall.
There were a small number of pirates (those that had decided that a life of crime was no longer for them), the old ladies of Church Square, and a few of the real Homesears, descendants of the families who had lived there since the village had been the haunt of fierce seamen and wild marsh-dwellers.
"Is this it? is this all that remains of Homesea's population?" I murmured.
"Afraid so, Sir" said the Old Monkey.
"We're supposed to build a glorious people's republic with this shower?" sobbed Beaver.
"Fraid so, Boss" said Hitmouse.
"You'll have to speak up, young men," said an old lady in the front row "I'm afraid we are a little hard of hearing."
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