In Hertfordshire, my county of origin, there is avillage called Nasty. On the edge of the village there used to be a notice about the Women’s Institute, but it wasn’t the Nasty Women’s Institute, as it was combined with a neighbouring village and had taken the name of that village. In Essex the village of Ugley used to have an Ugley Women’s Institute but it changed its name. This poem is a fantasy rather in the manner of a Miss Marple parody about the Nasty Women’s Institute.
The Nasty Women’s Institute
Meets in the Church Hall vestibule,
Discusses who to garrotte or shoot,
Collects for violins for school,
Embroiders rumours, cushions too,
Poisons the constable with tea,
Arranges flowers, makes curates stew
And drops the Bishop in the sea.
The works of God are wondrous strange;
The Nasty women are strange as well.
They spread the mildew and the mange
And pull the bellrope on the bell.