Chapter 66 In which an entrepreneur makes all the right noises

When the residents of Westphalia-on-Sea awoke on Monday 19th January they could hardly believe their eyes and ears. After so much bad news about the credit crunch, the recession and how their town was one flush away from disappearing around the U-bend it seemed unbelievable that there were no less that three supermen on their way to save them. Firstly, and most importantly, their illustrious and supremely popular mayor was back from his holiday in South Africa with his batteries fully recharged. Secondly, the aforementioned mayor had devoted his fortnightly column to an explanation of how wonderful the new president of the USA would be, and how he would probably save Westphalia-on-Sea. And thirdly, there was news that the messiah himself, Pierre De Saveloy, was not only going to re-open the Unsavoury Arms, but was going to be involved in many other projects as well. Given a whistlestop tour of the area, Mr De Saveloy said: 'Everything is fantastic. The Mayoral Vision is fantastic. The balloon is fantastic. The By-Pass will be fantastic. The parking meters are fantastic. Wreck Walk is fantastic, particularly the blue screens. That derelict building called the Palm Court is fantastic, but that Abbey on the seafront just blew me away. I mean, it needs a little jazzing up, to move it out of that fusty old National Trust mentality and give it more of an Alton Towers feel. I think we could have a theme in one of the rooms, you know, this is where Henry the Sixth murdered half of his eight wives, or something like that. And we could put the Turin Shroud in another room - I've got a couple of those in the garage, I think. Round the whole experience off with a cream tea served by topless Polish waitresses, and I think you've got yourself a fun day out for all the family.' Mr De Saveloy went on to praise the councillors who had passed his planning applications (surely 'who had shown him around? - Ed) 'This team of councillors? Well, words fail me. 'Fantastic' doesn't really begin to hint at the high esteem in which I hold them. They're like private sector whizz kids. They've got the get-up-and-go attitude that you rarely see outside the hedge-fund investment arena. I just can't believe that people of this quality are just councillors. The talent you've got here, it just beggars belief.'
The councillors were equally enamoured with Mr De Saveloy:'He's just got so much money,' said one. 'It's amazing. He must be so brilliant. I mean, when you've got that much money, well, everything you say is true isn't it? He's a man that just goes around doing good, and healing the people that he touches and stuff, and he's chosen to come here, and now he says it will all be wonderful. Well, I'm close to tears. First a black man in the White House, and now this. He said he wanted to visit Fishhole and we said we'd drive him over there, but he insisted on walking. And he just stepped out onto the water and started strolling across the Bay. At first we thought he was standing on a lot of thick seaweed and old tampons matted together, but it wasn't a trick - he really can walk on water.'
Of course, all this excellent news was delivered to the residents of Westphalia-on-Sea by the Westphalia Express, which is a by-word for balanced journalism. They did their research as thoroughly as ever and found out everything the possibly could about Mr De Saveloy. Every tenuous link with the area was found, even the fact that his fifth child had been born at the Westphalia-on-Sea Hospital, but for reasons best known to their reporter, Tony Crows-Feet, he had not found out about all the bad stuff. Perhaps he hadn't gone on 'Timesonline' and typed in 'De Saveloy', or perhaps he had read the words 'has been forced to admit his empire collapsed with debts of more than £700m' and 'shortfall to creditors of £186m' and thought they would rather spoil the general feel-good aspect of the story. Who knows? There were probably sound journalistic reasons for not mentioning it.