In keeping with tradition, she will first be paraded in front of the townspeople, and then ceremonially placed upon the bonfire.
Then (and I am not kidding you, as we take Bonfire Night very seriously around here) villagers will throw flaming torches at her and cheer as she burns.
To prepare for her weekend adventure, Rebekah has chosen to spend today relaxing in the garden, enjoying the fruits of her labour:
– The head itself is empty, but at the last minute it will be filled with roughly one kilo of rancid porridge (which is right now quietly decomposing behind the shed).
– Rebekah’s face, rather than being painted, has been finished with a lovingly-applied layer of her own lies.
– She is dressed, as you may note, in the type of power-suit she favours when badgering vulnerable young women into spouting right-wing propaganda, and her body has been stuffed with the finest copies of News of the World and The Sun that the local bins have to offer.
– Special care has been taken with the stuffing of her (ahem) reproductive area, which has been carefully lined with used sandpaper.
– I decided against shoes or boots at the last minute, and instead chose a pair of striped stockings for her feet. This is exactly what the Wicked Witch of the East was wearing *just* before a house fell on her.
I’ll be watching very carefully to see if her feet curl as she burns on Saturday. Only then will I know if my voodoo is strong.