Countless cider-crazed old fogies yesterday wreaked havoc on a sleepy Oxfordshire village. After a 12-hour Viagra-fuelled orgy, shocked locals are reeling from the effect of this oldies-style day out.

Carloads of balding revellers descended on Aldworth for some kind of pagan festival billed as a cricket match. That wasn’t what most had in mind.

Vicar

Village vicar Dominic Flute wept as he told how his wife Dora had suffered an apoplectic fit. “We were cutting the hedge when we heard this incredible scream. ‘How was thaaaaat?’ It was incredibly loud and went on for ages. In my day, gentlemen made such enquiries with discretion – and certainly within the bounds of the bedroom.”

In another incident, a hippy in his 40s was seen leading a sun-crazed llama to a secluded rendezvous behind a sightscreen. “They weren’t wearing boots so what they did there for ten minutes is beyond my imagination,” said pensioner Bob Howell.

CS gas

At one stage, a squadron of state-of-the-art Tiger Moths was scrambled from RAF Benson to quell the riot with CS gas. “They loved it”, said Wing Commander Bob Lumbolt. “We completed two successful attacks on the field but the bastards just breathed the stuff in and got worse.”

A Home Office spokesman confirmed that the wrinkly invasion was almost certainly London-based and probably organised via the internet. “We think they’re based in West London. The problem is, we can’t locate their website because they seem to have hidden themselves on some kind of far-east address. They also use code-names to identify each other so any prosecution will become a legal nightmare.”

Sex

Facing off Conservative charges that New Labour had lost its grip on oldie vandalism, Charles Clarke immediately announced the formation of a think tank, two focus groups, a public enquiry, a Government White Paper and a complete Cabinet rethink – “to address this abhorrent new threat to society from the older generation.”

None of this will help Czech sizzlers Martine, Pav and Eva, three innocent 19-year-olds trying to earn a few honest pounds serving ale at the Bell (see pix p 19-27). “Dey were deesgusing,” said gorgeous brunette Eva. “One – e call himself Penthouse – e order one crab roll after another and e make me walk over the soft grass to bring these to him and I feel him peeling the clothes off my mystery body every time I come back. But he never ask me to marry him.”

Drugs

Martine fumed for other reasons which are now the subject of a police inquiry. “As the night wore on two wrinklys cornered me in a dark corner of the pub garden. One asked: ‘What do you think of Bolivians?’ I must tell you now, girls from Prague never discuss their preferences in the wax department with strangers. I fled. I was horrified.”

Vile stories like this are being shared in the aisles of hundreds of congregational church as locals come to terms with their nightmare. Meanwhile police are following up allegations that two fat poofs from Cornwall were involved in the internet plot. Early reports indicate that another gang, linked to West London, descended on a respectable pub in Goring claiming they were up for a Tellytubby convention. In further incidents involving a 100pmh chase, traffic police failed to intercept a Volvo and a Fiat, witnessed making their escape from the scene of the crimes.

See colour special on pages 3,4,5,6 and 7 for more pictures of Eva, Martine and Pav.

Rock‘n’roll

Jazz bands are anathema to Xero and the lifeblood of Curly. Great barbecues and hot sunny days are the stuff of the Pilgrims.

We batted first and other than Penthouse and Kommander might not have bothered.

They replied and were reduced to 40-odd for six by the old fogies. Then they won.

Nobody cared and a great time was had by all.

Grazin’ with Daisy – or Daisy’s Teas

A roll in the garden from a blonde Rhinemaiden –

A second follows. Stomachs must be fed.

The tea’s off, though the glass is always laden,

Then half a cow between two bits of bread.