Chapter 1 In which we learn how Westphalia-on-Sea went into terminal decline.

Westphalia-on-Sea was once the most popular and prosperous seaside town in England. Hordes of visitors from the Midlands, the North and even Scotland would fill its hotels and guest houses every summer. By day the families would crowd onto the beach and gradually sit closer and closer together as the tide came in, not really minding that it was overcast, and ignoring the children when they said they felt little drops of rain. By night the younger revellers would crowd into the town's nightclubs and drink sensible amounts of Bacardi and Coke or Watney's Red Barrel. These were happy times, when locals and holidaymakers would bond with each other outside late-night kebab shops, and the odd dispute over a taxi or a girl was easily settled by throwing someone in the harbour. The only problem the hoteliers and pub landlords had was clearing up the occasional splash of vomit and hiding a large chunk of their profits from the taxman. It seemed as if this idyllic lifestyle would go on forever, but alas, it was not to be.

Progress and prospersity eventually brought cheap flights to those people in the North, and many decided to see whether it was possible to enjoy themselves on a sunny sandy beach abroad. To their suprise, most of them were able to adapt, and they didn't seem to miss the shingle beaches, the smell of seaweed or the occasional drizzle of Westphalia-on-Sea. Soon the only people that came to the town were the old people who weren't up to flying and liked to go everywhere by coach, and the foreign students who came to learn phrases such as 'don't you know what a queue is?' and 'give us your mobile phone or I'll smash your face in'. Everyone agreed that the situation was getting desperate, and that something needed to be done, so some of the good people of Westphalia-on-Sea took it upon themselves to find a suitable scapegoat.

It wasn't long before they settled on the local councillors. It wasn't the councillors' fault that the visitors had stopped coming, but they often argued amongst themselves and claimed an allowance for the time they spent arguing on behalf of the residents of Westphalia-on-Sea, and this seemed like a good enough reason to blame them. A small group of people said that what was needed was a kind of 'super-councillor' to make all the other councillors do the right thing and sort out all the town's problems and not ask for too much money. Luckily the local newspaper (Westphalia Express) agreed with this small group of people, so the plan went ahead. Everyone was filled with optimism - the 'super-councillor' would be called the Mayor, and he would be an independent self-made man with an impressive record in business. Because he would be a kind of super-hero, the people of Westphalia-on-Sea would have to pay him a super-hero's salary, but this would be money well spent, because he would solve all the town's problems, and you can't put a price on that.