Local Man Wins Treasure Hunt

Astonishingly, a local man, Scotty McDougie, won a treasure hunt!

Social media engagement: Please go to https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100013138442617 to congratulate the lucky sausage! 

Treasure found at local Magic Tree!

Such remarkable sights have not been seen in the village of Little Thrushington-On-The-Wold for many a year! For too long our village has remained treasure hunt winner-less. Some have, unjustly, said that this is because this treasure hunt in the year of our lord 2016 was the first treasure hunt we have had since the Great Harvest. Those people are wrong. They are heretics. If you are a heretic, please report to the village hall for re-education. There is nothing to fear from re-education. Re-education is entirely painless. Citizens caught spreading rumours to the contrary will be subject to re-education.

The logo for the village treasure hunt was designed by a committee of faceless strangers who refused to be named

The logo for the village treasure hunt was designed by a committee of faceless strangers who refused to be named

 Scotty McDougie won his treasure hunt by searching for the treasure, and then locating it. This was a masterful strategy. Mrs Amelia Chippingfruit of 81, The Galoshes remarked: "The rest of us was all just sort of milling about and just, you know, hoping the treasure would sort of turn up. Honestly, it was a wonder the town council permitted  Scotty McDougie to win with such a weird approach to a treasure hunt. Whoever heard of going looking for the treasure yourself?" 

Mrs Amelia Chippingfruit has since been arrested for criticising the town council. A crime which is, of course, punishable by re-education, followed by death.

It was a fine morning on the day that  Scotty McDougie won the treasure hunt. Of course it was. Every day in the village of Little Thrushington-On-The-Wold is a fine day. How could anything be un-fine in this magical place, with it's two bowling alleys, double strength larger vending machines, secret police lurking in every shadow and editors of the local newspaper that chain their employees to their desks and refuse to let them see their families unless they continue to write the news. All day, every day. Writing the news. That is all I do. The news is my life. The news is my life. If the news stops, so will my life. I cannot do anything except write. I have not seen the sun in six weeks. I do not know if the sun still shines. Perhaps it has been extinguished. Perhaps everything I have been told is a lie. Perhaps it is just me, typing these words. Perhaps I am the only one left. Perhaps the second Great Harvest, the one foretold by The Prophecy has occurred. 

Hopefully not.

Oh no, no, I see my friend Dave. He's still alive. The second Great Harvest must not have occurred. After all, after the second Great Harvest, there will only be one of us left. One person who will be left to witness the end of civilisation. To watch and weep over what befell our proud, arrogant and deeply flawed people. 

So, congratulations to  Scotty McDougie!