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The Skeletons of the Tidy Towns

A Six-Part Ballykillduff Serial

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Episode One — The Rattling Committee

INT. BALLYKILLDUFF GRAVEYARD – NIGHT
The moonlight falls across crooked stones. Suddenly, bones shift. Skulls grin. The Ballykillduff skeletons rise once more.

Chairman Skull O’Shea waves an old jawbone like a gavel.
“ORDER! ORDER! We’ve had enough of Rathvilly winning the Tidy Towns!”

The skeletons cheer — a hollow, rattling sound. They clatter together a plan: sweep the streets, polish the signs, and show the living world that Ballykillduff’s graveyard dead are tidier than any neighbour.

CUT TO BLACK.
CLIFFHANGER: A rival skeleton voice hisses on the wind:
“Not if Rathvilly rises first…”

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Episode Two — The Rathvilly Rattle

EXT. RATHVILLY GRAVEYARD – NIGHT
The ground bursts open. Skeletons pour out, led by the sinister Rattlebones Ryan. Their eyesockets gleam with civic pride and unholy competitiveness.

RATTLEBONES: Ballykillduff think they can tidy better than us? Impossible. We own the Tidy Towns crown!

The Rathvilly skeletons march into town, repainting bridges in lurid colours, planting roses that glow in the dark, and sweeping the roads with such force that three cars spin into ditches.

INT. PUB – NIGHT
Villagers in both towns whisper in awe. “They’ve more spirit than the living tidy towns committee ever had.”

CUT TO BLACK.
CLIFFHANGER: Skeleton banners rise on both sides: “BALLYKILLDUFF FOREVER!” / “RATHVILLY RULES!”

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Episode Three — The Battle of the Brushes

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD BETWEEN THE TWO TOWNS – DAWN
The skeleton armies meet. Armed with brooms, dustpans, and spades, they clash in a cacophony of clattering bones.

• One skeleton uses a mop like a halberd.
• Another throws dusters like ninja stars.
• A Rathvilly ribcage is used as a wheelbarrow.

Villagers hide behind walls as bones fly like hurleys at a county final.

Dalek Pog (wandering by) mutters: “NOTE: UNDEAD RIVALS HAVE BETTER STRATEGY THAN WE DO.”

CUT TO BLACK.
CLIFFHANGER: A skeleton cannon launches a volley of femurs straight toward the Ballykillduff schoolhouse!

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Episode Four — Judgement Day

EXT. BOTH TOWNS – AFTERNOON
The Tidy Towns judges arrive, trembling. Ballykillduff’s skeletons have manicured lawns, polished signs, and flowerbeds spelling out “OBEY THE DEAD.”

Rathvilly’s skeletons host a tea stand — but they drop cups, pour dust instead of sugar, and one skeleton serves a saucer of grave dirt.

The judges faint. The villagers argue. The skeletons cheer and chant louder.

CUT TO BLACK.
CLIFFHANGER: The head judge rises shakily and says, “Neither of you win. This year’s prize goes to… Clonegal.”

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Episode Five — Clonegal Chaos

EXT. CLONEGAL VILLAGE – NIGHT
The skeleton armies converge on Clonegal, furious.

BALLYKILLDUFF SKELETONS: They’ve out-tidied us with living volunteers!
RATHVILLY SKELETONS: This is an outrage!

They unleash chaos:

• Ballykillduff skeletons polish the Clonegal postbox until it disappears.
• Rathvilly skeletons plant so many daffodils that the streets are impassable.
• Together, they build a “skeleton roundabout” that spins uncontrollably.

The Clonegal villagers watch in horror as their perfectly tidy town becomes a surreal nightmare of rattling bones and flying dustpans.

CUT TO BLACK.
CLIFFHANGER: Skull O’Shea and Rattlebones Ryan shake hands, declaring: “If we can’t beat them apart… we’ll conquer them together!”

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Episode Six — The Undead Alliance

EXT. CARLOW COUNTY HALL – DAY
The combined skeleton armies march on Carlow, chanting:
“TIDY TOWNS FOREVER! TIDY TOWNS FOREVER!”

They sweep the streets, polish the courthouse, and replant every flowerbed in the county. Judges, councillors, and priests scatter in terror.

Just when it seems all Carlow will fall to the undead tidy towns movement, Bridget McGillicuddy marches out with her rolling pin.
“Enough of this racket! Go back to your graves, the lot of ye!”

The skeletons quiver. The bell tolls from Ballykillduff church. Slowly, reluctantly, the bones collapse back into neat piles.

EPILOGUE:
The living villagers win the next Tidy Towns by default. But on moonlit nights, the bones still stir, rattling in the soil, whispering in unison:
“…Next year… we’ll win for sure…”

THE END (UNTIL NEXT SUMMER).

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