Don't really know what made me write this just now except everyone says "I wouldn't want to go there" when Midsommer murder is on. The concept made me smile a bit.
Where not to go on holiday.
INT. DAY.
FRED, LEN AND MAUDE SIT ROUND A TABLE IN THE TOURIST OFFICE OF THE PRETTY VILLAGE OF MIDSOMMER. MAUDE IS TAKING NOTES OF THEIR MEETING. THE WEATHER IS HOT AND THE WINDOW IS WIDE OPEN.
FRED. We really need to get people visiting Midsommer.
LEN. Well, there’s no shortage of visitors to this village it’s just that they’re usually policemen. That Nettles, chap, seems nice, though.
MAUDE. No, I know, it really doesn’t send out the message that we want, does it, the place alive with cops the whole time?
LEN. Well, we are the murder capital of the world, you know. I only saw on the internet the other day that there are more murders per capita in Midsommer than there are Columbia’s most dangerous town with the biggest heads of drug barons and gangland wars and that kind of thing.
MAUDE. But everyone’s so nice round here. It’s such a picturesque village. A picture postcard, chocolate box place.
FRED. I’ve seen plenty of boxes round here but none of them had chocolates in.
MAUDE. Ok, let’s get back to business. (she holds up an old tourist pamphlet for Midsommer) Let’s take a look at this old one and see what’s wrong with it to help us design the new one.
THEY PLACE THE OLD PAMPHLET ON THE TABLE BETWEEN THEM AND STUDY IT.
MAUDE. We’ve got the historical church in it. The stream and the ancient stone wall, which is a loving setting.
LEN. Yes, I do agree, but look, see, that’d put people off, I’m sure, that pair of leg poking out from behind the wall. And when you look, there’s a body in the river.
FRED. Oh, yes (points) and there’s one hanging from the tree in the churchyard and that blackened one on the overhead power lines.
MAUDE. I knew those power lines would spoil the view.
FRED. Quite. I complained when they erected them but …
MAUDE. What about getting a picture of Mr. Whitely’s Sweet shop? That’s very pretty 16th century, I believe?
FRED. Can’t do that as he was found impailed on the door, last night. Straight through the heart. Made a frightful mess of the front. We couldn’t possibly use it.
THERE IS A WHOOSHING SOUND OF AN ARROW AND LEN SLUMPS ONTO THE TABLE. HE IS DEAD AND HAS AN ARROW IN HIS BACK FIRED THROUGH THE OPEN WINDOW.
MAUDE. There’s only the 3 of us left, now, on the Midsommer Tourist committee.
FRED. Oh well, can’t be helped.
THE DOOR OPENS AND IN WALKS AN OLD LADY. SHE HAS A CUP OF TEA IN EACH HAND. SHE PLACES THEM ON THE TABLE.
MAUDE. Oh, thank you Catherine, dear. But the meetings nearly over and, as you can see, we’ve been forced to accept dear Len’s resignation from the committee. It’s just us three, now.
OLD LADY. No, you enjoy you tea, dears, and I shall be back in a while.
THE OLD LADY TURNS AND HAS BAG OF ARROWS ACROSS HER BACK. SHE GIVES A LOUD CACKLE AND EXITS. 
Ha, ha, well, see, that's the thing. 