The Story of Nigel's Ferry

As the sun set on Summer Pet Farm, Noah comforted his sheep before making his way into the dining room. His large loving family sat patiently waiting at the dinner table with his wife Rosemary setting the table. "Daddy!", yelled Matilda before throwing herself into her father's arms. "I'm getting too old for this", grimaced Noah as he shoved his daughter to the floor. He sat down at the head of the table and gesticulated for the family to hold hands before blessing the dinner with a prayer, "Thank you for the food you've bestowed on our table and not on the lap of Bruce the Beggar and his spiteful lookin' dog."

The family looked at each other before breaking the awkward silence with a harmonious,

"Amen".

Rosemary handed Noah the large knife to carve the juicy leg of lamb before him. Noah and his family worked very hard every day to maintain their vast splendid farm. The family business had been running efficiently for forty-three years.

Their laughter and joy could be heard from outside.

Their nearest neighbour Nigel stood sullenly smoking whilst staring at the farm. Every night, Nigel would lower the same Saint George's flag from his porch with the same tear running down the same cheek. He slammed the door of his Mini Cooper and drove off down the street. His wife Marine pulled the curtain back before shaking her head.

She knew where he was going.

Nigel was in his sanctuary. He stood in front of the English Channel from the serene White Cliffs of Dover. "Get 'em out!", he yelled whilst waving his fist in the air. His false teeth projected out of his mouth and crushed into smithereens by the boulders beneath him. He took one more swig from his can of Special Brew before hurling it at an onlooking peregrine falcon. Born and raised in a country house near Tunbridge Wells, the sedate British country life was all Nigel knew. He had become increasingly concerned by the influx of migrant workers on Noah's farm ever since the family moved in across the street in the mid-1980s.

He revved his engine before storming back to his house. As he pulled into his front porch, Nigel rolled down his window to see Noah feeding stray cats. "Dear God", muttered Nigel.

"You rang?", replied the Lord.

Nigel looked at the car radio light up before his eyes.

"Who's this?"

"This is God... on 94.9 KLTY radio. Stay tuned for more after a word from our sponsors"

"Crikey!" replied Nigel as he switched off the radio. He opened up the glove compartment and shoved a new pair of false teeth into his mouth.

He opened the door to his car and made the familiar defeated trudge towards the front door. Marine had left the door open as she had been anticipating his arrival. He removed the tank cover of the toilet and reached for another Special Brew. Marine and Nigel had promised each other if one gave up smoking cannabis the other would have to give up beer. He opened the can slowly, whilst mimicking an overexaggerated sneeze, and tucked himself next to Marine who was fast asleep.

Nigel tossed and turned in his bed all night. He was restless about his neighbour's use of migrant workers on the farm. The rooster crowed so loud a shiver ran down Nigel's spine. He slipped out of the bed and lit up a cigarette outside the house. Nigel looked up at the constellation of stars in awe at God's creation, "Winston!" he yelped. A silhouette of Winston Churchill's figure could be seen pointing at Noah's farm. Nigel crossed the street in amazement. The rooster waddled towards him. The crowing became obscenely loud as Nigel approached the farm.

"Nigel?"

Nigel stared at the rooster in astonishment.

"Nigel, this is God", continued the rooster.