IT seems that dear old sleepy and often forgotten Beggarsdale has been discovered. By the legal eagles. And they are beginning to mine it as a thick seam of pure gold.

Now no-one with any sense would consult a lawyer voluntarily. Not at £130 an hour, that is, and that's just for a small-town country solicitor from Mar'ton, which is all Owd Tom can afford.

Just how much Maggots Moneygrubber's posh Leeds mouthpiece charges heaven only knows. But they have both been forced into their clutches, Tom to save his late wife's memorial, Maggots to keep himself out of clink because of the great Beggarsdale Bat Massacre.

As I have already reported, the Countryside Agency (known as the CA by the professionals) has drawn up a map showing that there is a public footpath running through Tom's front garden, which he cherishes as a memorial to his late wife.

The week before, Maggots had let fly with a 12-bore at the bats which have infested the matrimonial bedroom in the Old Vicarage, killing one of the creatures before his hysterical wife - but not before he had blown gaping holes in two beautiful 18th century sash-windows, glass and frames and all.

Now, Tom has been forced to go to law to protect his wife's memory (his son won't let him take his shotgun to the first rambler who comes up that path).

Maggots, believe it or not, faces a fine of up to £5,000 and/or six months in jail for plastering a poor little pipistrelle on his regency-striped wall paper. And he's lucky at that, cos if he had hit the other two - which escaped through the gaping holes in the aforesaid windows - it could have been an extra five grand apiece.

Once again, the village grass (we have suspicions but no proof who it is) tipped off English Nature, who sent a stern but reasonably sensible man round to explain Maggots' precarious position under the Wildlife and Countryside Act, 1981 (known to the pros as the WCA).

Under the WCA, explained the man, it was illegal to kill a bat or "intentionally or recklessly damage, destroy or obstruct any place that a bat uses for shelter or protection."

The fact that this particular dearly departed bat was using Maggots' bedroom as a shelter (and driving his lady wife to the point of madness) was no excuse, said the man from EN.

What's more, Maggots had obstructed the way into the bats' normal shelter when he had ordered builders to brick up the hole under the eves that lead to the cavernous roof spaces of the Old Vicarage where, says the vicar, bats have bred for years.

If, however, Maggots agreed to unblock that hole and let the bats back, said the man from EN, he might be able to take a more lenient view of possible prosecution.

Maggots, however, being the man he is, told him to go away (in a sentence that actually ended in "off") and picked up the phone to his lawyers. Their clock, no doubt, began ticking straight away...

For Owd Tom, matters were different. His son, Mid Tom, approached the family solicitor in Mar'ton behind Dad's back and was told that there was an appeals procedure against the Countryside Agency's map. But to appear before it would involve certain fees...

So here we are, wondering and waiting, whilst the lawyers study the WCA and run up their bills and the men from EN and the CA draw their handsome salaries. Guess who will have to foot the bill?

o The Curmudgeon is a satirical column based on a fictitious character in a mythical village.