Parsnips For All

I can hear rave music coming from the church. I daren't enter as there is clearly some kind of illegal rave going on, but I can't call the police because if I did so then they'd want to know how they got in there, and I sent them in with my blessing. It would be me in front of Old Herbert, the town magistrate. Sure, I could slip him a few rocks of crack cocaine that I often find after these raves, but he can be a very fickle man at times! I could get done for 10 years, and then what would the Old Dears do without my large services for company?

Oh what a dilemma!