Eccles in New York

I is makin a visit to New York, which is where my bruvver Bosco been hidin recently - de UK aint reely welcomin to poeple wiv his unique tallents. Since my camerra got broken I has had to steel some phottos off de Internet.

I saw dis in de Musuem of Modern Art. It's a man listenin to Paul Inwood's music.

I will try and concentrate on de more spiritaully nuorishin sights dat Bosco and me has seen. New York is of course de place where Cradinal Dollan hangs out, and here is a photto of dis well-nuorished man.

"Joe Biden says he's a pious Cathlic."

Actaully de St Patrick Cathedral is all covered in scaffoldin right now, as de masonry became unsafe when Cradinal Dollan conducted a funeral there and started laughin thunderuosly. But here is a pitcher of what it looks like normally.

St Patrick's Cathedral before de Cradinal luaghed.

I went to de Holy Innocents church, West 37th Street. Bosco aint very good at countin, so we took a hymn book wiv us to help us work out where 37 is rellative to de uvver nubmers. Anyway, at dis church dey had a Tridentin Mass. Lattin Masses is very useful in a city where de local vernacooler aint easy to understand. Dere was a parallel translatoin into New Yorkan, which was all about de Lord bein a cool dud wot kicks ass: dat must be de time when He rode into Jerussalem on Plam Sunday.

For de non-Cathlics dere is plenty of uvver churches. My bruvver Bosco's spiritaul needs is very simple so we went to Times Square and participated in a Calumny Chappel service.

Eccles and Bosco sings "We is saved pussons" in Times Square.

De one disappiontment so far is de Statue of Libberty, which aint as impressive as poeple finks. It's de same probblem wiv de little mermaid in Copenhaggen, dey needs to get a big mermaid.

Statue of Libberty. Dis iddle punched Bosco when he kissed it.

Well, dat's enuogh suovenirs of New York. Wot shall I blogg on next? De world aint been doin much dat's very eddifyin, just now, has it?

Annuvver luvvly paintin from de Musuem. Is dey saved pussons?

The World will end on Friday

A sermon from Pastor Noodle of the Calumny Chapel.

The big question today is: will the World be ending on Friday, 21st December 2012 when the Mayan Calendar comes to an end? At first I was sceptical about this theory, but, when I went into the newsagents and asked the assistant for a 2013 Mayan calendar, she said that they were unavailable, and then I knew that there might be trouble.

My current Mayan calendar (as you can see, we're running out of time).

Although Mayan worshippers are almost certainly not saved people, all the evidence is that the world is coming to an end. Here are some of the amazing signs I have noticed:

• The Pope appears on Twitter as @Pontifex and says Armageddon is next Friday, my dear friends. Don't miss it! LOL.
• David Cameron is definitively named as the Anti-Christ by a group of archbishops, especially trained to look out for Him when He arrives.
• Paul Inwood writes a new Apocalypso chant, It's the Beastie, it's the Beastie, it's the Beast, 6-6-6,for use in Portsmouth whenever Bishop Egan isn't looking.
• Catherine Pepinster converts to Catholicism, smashes her statue of Hans Küng, and swears loyalty to the Pope.

I have brought with me an object that contains much spiritual nourishment, and a certain amount of mystery. It's a pot of "Naise," an oil that some sects use in a ceremony of unction. The jar carries the apocalyptic message that Only the "Best" will be brought out. Make sure that includes you!

Mayan "Naise." Note the significance of "Hell, man!"

Another Mayan relic has been sighted that is worthy of mention. Let me introduce her with some lines from her Christmas poem, Amazing Peace:

We clap hands and welcome the Peace of Christmas.
We beckon this good season to wait a while with us.
We, Baptist and Buddhist, Methodist and Muslim, say come.
Peace.

Yes, it's the great Maya Angelou, the woman with a tin ear for rhythm, a very vague idea of spirituality, but a gift for alliteration.

The Mayan Angelou - a sign that the world is ending.

These are exciting times, brothers, and you are advised to be ready for the End of the World. Remember that money and personal possessions will be of no use to you from Friday. So, in order to improve your chances of being saved, I suggest you leave them with me.

I shall be away next Sunday.

Near-death experiences

In view of a near-death experience claimed by Dr Eben Alexander, which is the basis of his new book Proof of Heaven, we asked some of the regular characters appearing on this blog to describe their own near-death experiences.

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Bosco, worshipper at the Calvary Chapel, and saved person.

Hello, could I speak to Jesus, please?

Eccles, you poor sick monkey, I had a rotten experience when I tried to save a convent of nuns, and I was badly beaten up by them. As I lay in hospital, near to death, I found that I was standing outside the Gates of Heaven, explaining to St Peter that all Catholics were idolaters, and should be sent to the Lake of Fire. "I am saved, even more than you are," I told him. "I've come for my throne and my golden crown."

St Peter is shocked by Bosco's blog.

"Ah, Bosco," said St Peter. "I've been reading your blog, and we've got a totally different fate for you..."

---

Damian Thompson, formerly a religious journalist.

Damian is the one alone at the front, whom nobody else will talk to.

The first thing that struck me about St Peter, when I saw him, was that he was putting on weight. In fact, the whole tone of Heaven was very disappointing, and I was totally unimpressed with the angels, who were definitely smirking at me. The music was not Gladys Mills plays Beethoven, as I had been led to expect, nor even something by my friend James MacMillan, but a dirge that sounded like an eternal repetition of "Alleluia Ch-ch."

Angels - what dreadful hair styles they have.

---

Moly, aunt of Eccles and Bosco.

A recent photo of Moly.

Well I don't believe in God or Heaven, but I did have a very strange dream last night when I finally dropped off. I was in Paradise, wearing my new Moly Number 5 cigarette- and gin-scented perfume. But I was surrounded by possums, all jumping up and down, and there wasn't a bottle of gin to be had anywhere. "It's endless torment for you," said a loud voice to me, probably one of those bullying traddy Catholics. Woeful.

Vicious possums. They're out to get me. I know it.

---

Father Arthur, of the Church of St Daryl the Apostate.

I'm a priest in good standing, you know.

Well, I wasn't going to stand any calumny from the man waiting for me at the Gates of Heaven, so I got my attack in first. "May I remind you, 'Saint' Peter, that as recorded in the 26th chapter of the book of St Matthew, and elsewhere, you denied Christ on no less than three occasions? Does that give you the right to comment on the behaviour of other people? I am a priest in good standing, with no time for your traditionalist ways. Haven't you people heard of Vatican II? Now clear off, and let me do your job properly for you."

The Last Judgement. But Fr Arthur will willingly give you a preliminary verdict.

Pussy-footing round Wallsingham

The story so far: Eccles (saved) and Anti Moly (unsaved) has gone to Wallsingham, where my dere bruvver Bosco (very saved) is tryin to save de suols of de piglrims wot turns up.

So it was a great surprise to see Bosco drivin north out of Wallsingham wiv a great truck full of tommato ketchop.

Bosco heads for de seaside

He was headin for a place called Wells-next-de-sea, so we went and fuond our chuaffeur, Dan Hannan, and gave chase. I should mentoin dat Hannan is a great expert on Shakespeare, and he has got nicknames for all of us: he calls Bosco "Caliban," Anti Moly "Hecate," and me "Fool" (dem's cruel words, Dan). Some time I will reveel what nickname he has got for Damain Thopmson, his employer. Any geusses?

Well, we got to Wells, where Bosco was preachin to an audeince of holiday-makers, explainin dat de Rapture is at hand, and dat dey aint saved like him. By some strange miracle, which Bosco aint gonna explain, de sea had gone all red, and Bosco says dat it was turned to blood. Which is a sign, innit, Bosco dere?

De North Sea has turned to blood.

Bosco says we is gonna see more signs dat de last days is at hand. I is wonderin what he means.

Anti Moly didn't like Wells, and instead showed us some snaps of de seaside at luvvly Pottymouth in Austriala, her home town. She is feelin a little homesick.

De seaside at luvvly Pottymouth

We returned to Wallsingham, and Bosco got himself into truoble. Dis time it wasnt de Cathlics but de Orfodox Church dat was de recipeints of Bosco's missionary activities. Did you know dat de Greek Orfodox church used to be a railway station?

One of de stations of de cross

Bosco decided dat de Wallsingham Calumny Chappel was gonna organize a "Pusey Riot" in de Orfodox Church. I aint reely understood dis, but I looked up on Wikkipedia who Pusey was, and he was an Angliccan. Dey dont worship iddles as much as de Cathlics and Orfodox does, so maybe dey is a bit more saved.

De Calumny Chappel's Pusey Riot.

Well, dis is likely to lead to all sorts of truobles, as churches doesnt like you goin outside de bounds of de litturgy. I remember once Damain Thopmson took us to a Lattin Mass and we had to say "Lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor." I fuoght it meant somefink like "I is washed in de blood of de Labm," but no, it means "Frow holly water over me, Farver." Bosco weren't too pleased at bein soaked, and he struck back.

Lavabis te, Fr Prescott

Anyway, never mind de remminiscences, I fink dis Pusey Riot of Bosco's is goin to have severe reppercussions.

Gohst writers

As I has alreddy mentoined, we is lookin for someone to gohst-write my Anti Moly's memiors. We has now had offers from de gohsts of three poeple wot knew her when she was a little girl. Each one has sent me a specinem of dere work, but I dont fink any of dem is quite what we wanted.



The trouble with aunts, by P.G. Wodehouse

"What a lovely day it is today, Jeeves!" I exclaimed, as my man shimmered into the room bearing a glass of the old Calvados Chapel brandy. "I am feeling particularly saved today, don't you know?"

"I fear that your Aunt Moly is at the door, sir" responded my man Jeeves. "That is why I am taking the liberty of fortifying you for an encounter with her."

"ECCLES!" screamed the aged relative, slamming the door behind her, grabbing my brandy glass, and hurling it through the window. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY WRITING THIS VILE AND SLANDEROUS BLOG OF YOURS WHICH I NEVER READ?"

Recently, to oblige my older brother Bosco, I had written a little blog explaining how the only way to salvation lies in being a personal friend of Jesus, and how Catholics in particular are doomed to the Lake of Fire. I inadvertently mentioned that the chaps in the Drones club are also tipping my dear Aunt Moly for a prime spot in the aforementioned L.o.F., and this is what seems to have riled her.

"But the disciple John says..."

"TELL THE DISCIPLE JOHN FROM ME THAT HE'S A FOOL AND A WOEFUL SOCKPUPPET," replied my aunt, laying me out unconscious with a solidly-bound Calvary Chapel Bible. When I came to my senses, my Aunt had left, and Jeeves was struggling to revive me.



The importance of being harassed, by Oscar Wilde

"So, Mr Pell, it is time you declared your intentions towards my sweet daughter Judith, known in Australian Society as the Rose of Pottymouth. Judy, dear, there is no need to choke the life out of Mr Pell; pray allow him to answer."

"Well, Lady Haddock, I scarcely know your daughter. We have exchanged but a few words since we met."

"There is no need for you to have an exchange of words, Mr Pell. There is only one thing more pointless than talking to Judy, and that is listening to Judy. Investing in a pair of earplugs is your surest route to marital bliss."

"But..."

"Mr Pell. Since I made Judith's father the happiest man in Pottymouth, he has confined himself to producing endless drafts of his magnum opus, his own suicide note. As yet, it is unfinished, despite my every attempt to bring it to a conclusion. Now, you will find that, like her mother, my daughter has enough conversation for two. Should you stay up until 5 a.m. one night, and think of retiring to bed, you will find that she is still chattering away, mingling her insults with her anecdotes in a tapestry of tedium which has brought her so many admirers."

"Mother, every time we meet he jumps into a billabong to get away from me. That's twice he's done it. Such is life, eh? Woeful."

"I fell in, Lady Haddock."

"Mr Pell, to fall into a billabong once may be regarded as a misfortune. To fall in twice looks like carelessness."

"But, Lady Haddock, I was hoping to train as a priest, with a view to becoming a bishop and eventually a cardinal."

"A PRIEST, Mr Pell? You would throw away the love of a gentle sweet maiden in order to follow the cult of a sky fairy? Are you no better than a Bronze Age goat herd, sir? I scarcely think that you are a fit person to wed my precious daughter Judith."



The case of the secular journalist, by Arthur Conan Doyle

"This case presents interesting features, Eccles!" said my friend Sherlock Holmes, as he perused the Telegraph website. "I have been consulted about the problem of a Catholic journalist, formerly known for his wittily acidic commentary on religious matters. This latter-day Swift has now given up all pretence at serious debate, and is dumbing down and writing banalities to please the masses."

"Could he be looking for a job on the Daily Mail?" I wondered. "All he needs to do is to start writing about celebrities and their baby bumps, and they will take him like a shot. That's what happened to Simon Heffer."

Holmes nodded gloomily to me, and injected himself with a 7% solution of Mother Odone's Elixir (guaranteed to help you escape from reality). Then he picked up his trusty Stradivarius didgeridoo, and boomed out a few bars of Elton John's haunting song "Candle in the wind."

"It's my own arrangement," said my friend, unnecessarily, as our neighbours started hammering desperately on the wall.

At that moment the door opened, and a wizened old lady entered, clutching a gin bottle and tunelessly singing "Roll me over in the clover, Roll me over, Lay me down, and do it again." She then cackled evilly and said "We've won! We've managed to kill Damian Thompson's interest in religion! Now the masses are forced to read Ruth Gledhill."

"These are deep waters, Eccles," said Sherlock Holmes. "This poor sad creature is not just the simple witch that she seems to be; rather, she is a professional blog-troll from Australia, although formerly employed as a cleaner in a molybdenite-processing factory. Look at her shoes, and you will see what I mean. Did I ever mention that I have written a small monograph classifying 2048 types of mineral dust?"

"Amazing, Holmes. Can this be the solution to the Thompson mystery which has baffled readers all round the world?" I asked.

"In part, Eccles," replied my friend. "But I would draw your attention to the curious incident of Vincent Nichols, when the Catholic church was under attack."

"But Vincent Nichols did nothing!" I said.

"That was the curious incident," explained Sherlock Holmes.

Bird watchin

My Anti Moly, who is a keen reader of dis blogg, said to me, "Eccles, dear, why doesnt you tell your faithfull public about me bein a keen birdwatcher, wot can tell a koot from a cookaburrer even when I has been drinkin? I fink it will stop dem from mockin me all de time. I is a twitcher, you know."
"I has notticed," I repplied. "Maybe you should lay off de gin a bit, Anti?"

She hit me wiv a fryin pan at dat point, I fink she been watchin too many Tom and Jerry cartons. So I went off to look at some old phottos dat Anti Moly has kept.



Dat's a photto of my dere Ant as a young girl in de 1930s (she's de one on de right), starin at a bird and sayin confiddently, "Um, dat's a rare speceis of albbatross, but dem traddy Cathlics likes to prettend dat it aint." Dat's in de days before Goggle and Wikkipedia, so she cuoldn't be omnicsient, like she is now. But even in dem days she had a wide knowlegde of our fevvered freinds.

Here is anuvver photto of my Anti as a young girl, watchin a bird. She says it may be a very big duck.



De bird watchin habit she got explanes de followin photto, which she has by de side of her bed for senttimental reasons.



She tells me dat it is Cradinal Pell, as a yuong man, trying to win Moly's affectoin by gettin her a Norwegain Blue parrott as a birfday present. I fink de parrott must have died.

I asked my Anti Moly wot was her favuorite bird, and she said, "Dey all tastes nice if you cooks em properly. When I was yuong my Mom used to give us stewed doddos, but den dey became extinct so we had to stop eatin em." She did confess a waekness for vulltures, cos dey picks over de remanes of corpses. Dat's a bit like what Anti Moly does when she comes to Damain Thopmson's blog and she replies to debates when everryone else went home six months ago.



Of course when I asked Bosco wot his favuorite bird was, he explaned dat to be saved you has to worhsip cemment doves like we does at de Calumny Chappell.



Dat's my dere bruvver Bosco wiv what he says is a real dove. But Anti Moly, de expert orthinologist, is sure dat it's a barn owl, so I dunno what to fink. Has Bosco and me been kissin cemment owls by mistake? If so, can we still be saved?

Rehearsin a play

Well we is all gettin very excitted about the Calumny Chappel Nattivity Play. But my big bruvver Bosco, who is cast as de back half of Mary's donkkey, is in a grate panick.
"Woss my lines?" he asked me. "I is a grate artiste, and I is saved, so I gotta give my message to de world." We explanes dat de rear ends of donkkeys aint normaly grate conversatoinalists, but Bosco has read de Bibble, and has heard about Balham's Ass in de Book of Nubmers, wot used to shout "Sockpoppet!" at him.



So Bosco feels dat as a grate acter he has got de right to express himself. "You aint saved, Mary you stuppid dame," he wants to say in a donkkey voice. "You is a grate sinner. Hee-haw! Hee-haw!" We is still workin on dis role. We doesnt want Mary to fall off de donkkey when Bosco starts brayin at her.

Meanwhile, we has fuond a missin fraggment of de Gopsel of St Luke, where he brings in a comick charactter for lihgt releif. Strangley, we fuond dis text on de printer in Anti Moly's bedroom.



1. And dere was abiddin in Nazzareth an old lady called Haddach wot said she was de Anti of de Verger Mary.
2. And lo! Haddach spent de nihgt in a vigill, wherein she screamed and shouted insullts at de passers-by.
3. Yeah, and she spake sayin "Traddy Sockpoppets! Verilly de sittuatoin is woeful! Such is life!"

Dere is uvver bits in de Bibble wot mentoins Haddach, for exammple when Jessus turns de water into wine at Canna, she is dere complanin dat He didnt make gin.



Dis could be Anti Moly's chance for starrdom. Now dat we has insertted dis fraggment into de Calumny Chappel Bibble (which is loose-leaff, so dat we can allso remove bits we doesnt like), we is ready to includ her in de Nattivity Play.

Farver Arfur (also known as Napolleon) is de third herro of dis blogg, even thuogh he is a Cathlic and not saved. He has assked to take part in our holly cosstume dramma, and we fink de part of King Horrid is taylor-made for him. When de wise men comes in and says "Ullo! We is wise men! We has got a B.A. in camel-ridin," he tells dem dat dey is evill rotten sinners for prettendin to be wiser than him.



Arfur is lookin forward to his big sceene, where King Horrid gets to massaccre de innocennts, especailly as he explanes dat dey wasnt innocennt at all, but was guilty of committin lotsa sins listed in de Catacoms of de Churhc, such as bein Traddie Babbies and committin de sin of Subbtraction.



Dis is one of dem evil babbies, dat Farver Horrid is gonna be massacring, and I am sure he desserves it.

Dey has found a part for me too, I is gonna be an angle of de Lord. Not de one wot says "Ullo, Mary, does you want to guess why I has bruoght you a pile of babby clothes?" but annuver one wot sings about Gloria in Exchelseas, dats Lattin, cos dem angles wos foriegners and cuoldnt speak propper English like us. It's all very excittin bein a grate acter.

De escapped loony

Well, we ain't had much luck selling Bosco's suol so far. We got some professionnal auctoineers to value it, but dey said dat it was so dirty and corrupt dat noboddy wuold want it. So we is keepin it on de market in case a surprise bidder turns up wot aint too fussy.

Bosco has been honoured by de Calumny Chappel for his stirling evangellical work, dey is gonna put his imagge on de wall, to go wiv de cement doves.



Some poeple say dat dis is a gravven image, but it's OK provided you doesnt kiss it, and dere aint much chance of dat. It sure is a good likeness of my handdsome bruvver Bosco.

---

De uvver news of my bruvver is dat we is gonna have a Calumny Chappel Nattivity Play, which is somefink to do with Chritsmas. Bosco has got de starrin roll as de back end of Mary's donkkey, becuase of his luvvly blogg. My bruvver wanted to play de part of Mary, as he finks dat she is a very improtant pusson, so he went along to de audditoins, but didnt get de job.



Bosco offerred to put on a blue dress, but dey said a man wiv a clown face wasnt gonna look much like Mary, whereas he alreddy looked like de back end of a donkkey.

Anti Moly feels very left out. Even dough she aint relligiuos she does take a grate interrest in dese matters, and allways wants to stick her ore in. Howevver, de Gopsell of Luke dont mentoin an old lady wot kept cryin out "Woefull," "Sockpoppet," and "Wheres de gin?" so we is a bit stuck. Bosco said we cuold write in a part for Haddach, de comic Anti of Mary, to get a few laughs, since we in de Calumny Chappel adds bits to de Bibble and deletes bits when we feels like it. But Pastor Al Shehperd refused to allow it.

---

An odd fing wot happened todday was dat I got a phone call from de local Loony Bin sayin "We has lost a loony, has you seen im? He gotta dellusion dat he is a preist, and calls himself Farver Arfur. Or sometimes he finks he is Napolleon."

Well we knows a Farver Arfur, but he claims to be a real preist. He showed me a badge dat he was givven by de Pop, who kissed him on de cheeks and said he was a good and fateful savant (it seems dat Farver Arfur repplied "I wish I cuold say de same abuot you, but you is a traddy Pop and orta be ashammed of yousself for writin all dem horrid fings in Lattin"). Dat surely proves dat Arfur is a real preist.



"I is also a grate freind of my Bishopp," explaned Farver Arfur, "cos I keeps phonin him up and tellin him dat he has offended against de Catacoms of de Churhc, specificaly Articles 2477, 3142, 6666, 2718281828, and 1111122222 to 1111177777 inclussive."
"Does you see him in de Cathedrall?" asked Bosco. "I spose he's got a Babble-onion fish hat, cos he aint saved like me."
"Yup, and he has got a specail place for me, dat I sits on when I goes to the Cathedrall."
"Gosh, you has got your own throan, den?"
"Nope, de Bishopp calls it de nuaghty step, and he says I gotta sit dere until I learns to behhave in a more Chritsian fashoin. Dat's a wicked act on his part, we experts calls it de sin of Diffraction."

So it is definittely a mysterry whevver Farver Arfur and de escapped loony is one and de same. Here is a recent pitcher of our freind rellaxin in his spare set of clothes dat he wears when he aint bein a cosstume hollyman.



He is plannin to go to Moscow some time, I fink. It aint bad except in de winter.

How to blogg like Damain

Bosco and me we is very keen on Damain Thopmson's blogg, and especailly I likes de one he does on Friday nihgt, when he chooses a randdom sellectoin of topics like David Cammeron, Doctor Who and Richard Charters, and weaves dem into a coherrent narrattive. So I fuoght I'd do de same this time.

SADO-VACANTISSM

Bosco and me we has heard dat se Chair of St Peter is vacant, and dat de last real Pop was Pius XII. Here he is, rellaxin in de gruonds of de Vattican.



Dat news has sure come as a grate surrprise to Pop Bennedict. "Well, bless my sole," he said. "I seems to be an Antipop. I better ressign at once and let someone else take over. I wonder if I is allowed to keep de red shoes?"

Bosco is waitin in de wings for de white smoke from Rom, but he have got a specail Pop shirt in scarlet dat he can wear. So if dey phons him from Rom and says, "You is de new Pop, buster, has you got a shirt to wear?" he aint gonna be fuond wantin like de foolish vergers in de Bibble.



DEMMON LOVERS

In de Calumny Chappel Bosco and me we is often given spiritaul exxercises to occupy ourselves in de service. Dis is really to stop Bosco from shoutin, "You aint saved buster," at vissitors, and allows de uvver folk to get on wiv singin de hynms about how wearin golden crowns is gonna be cool.

Our spiritaul reading is very varried. Dere was a great story about St Thommas de Tank, who duobted de truth of de resurectoin and was turned into a train. Den we quite likes de blessed Winnie de Pau from de land of milk and honney. Bosco also gets spiritaul comfort from de tale of Allice in Wonderland wot got attacked by a bunny rabit. Here is anuvver story we read recently, which was about our Anti Moly's shcool days in Pottymouth.



But dis week by mistake dey gave us a peom to read, what was called Xannadu. Dis have got some hard words in it and we didnt reely understand what it was about. Dere was somefink about a stately pleasure-dom, which suonds a bit like Farver Arfur's churhc, where he does his cosstume holly-man stand-in stuff, tellin poeple dat dey is all sinners wot can never be forgivven.



Allso dere was a bit in de peom about a woman wailin for her demmon lover.

When I got home I greeted my Anti Moly wiv a luvvin kiss. Well actaully I blew de kiss from de uvver side of de room, as I doesnt normally want to get too close, dem brokken noses takes a long time to heal.

"Is you wailin for your demmon lover, Anti Moly?" I asked.
Anti burst into tears, and said "Oh Goerge, Goerge, why did you leave me and become a Cradinal?"
"Cheer up, Anti," I said. "We just heard dat de Pop is an Antipop, so dat probbably Cardinals is Anticradinals, and de poor man will be commin back to you soon."

We now has a lotta poeple waitin by de telephon. Bosco wants his call from de Vattican to say he is de new Pop, and Anti Moly wants her Anticradinal to telephon and say he is commin to lay his heart at her grate big feet.

TEN NINE FIVE GOOD FINGS ABUOT ANTI MOLY

Some people finks dat my Anti Moly needs rehabillitatin, as if you reads dis blogg carelessly you may get de impression dat she is a bad-temperred old woman wot spends all nihgt on de Internnet insultin poeple. So I has taken it uppon myself to find 5 nice fings to say about her. It was gonna be 9, like de 9 Commandments we has in de Callumny Chappel Bibble (Bosco says de one abuot bearin false wetnurses was a mipsrint), but I ran out of ideas.

1. Anti Moly knows more Austrialan sware words dan anyone else I has met.
2. Aldough she aint saved, and she dont like de words "good" and "evil", she aint never murrdered anyone. How many poeple can say dat, Bosco?
3. Anti can drink a whole bottle of gin wivvout any change in her behavvior.
4. She got enuogh stammina to stay up until 5 a.m. bloggin every nihgt.
5. Anti's dog Cerberrus loves her very much, but she aint reely a dog pusson. We asked de vet to recommend a cat for her, and he said dat a pole cat was de anwser in her case. Dese are pussy cats from Polland, and dey will give Anti lots of luv.



Lord Tebit, what is annuvver Tellegrahp blogger, has got one, wot was givven him by Micheal Foot. So Anti is in distingiushed companny.

Well dere we are. I hope dis proves dat Farver Arfur aint got a monolopy on bein charittable.

Farver Arfur at churhc

Our friend Farver Arfur dont live ruond here pernamently, so he dont have a churhc of his own. Todday he was standin in for Fr X. Pell de Mons at our local Cathlic churhc, cos Fr Pell was away bein treeted for nervuous exhaustoin. Dis may be becos Bosco tried to set his prebsyterry on fire as an eccumanic gessture.

We was gonna go along to see what Fr Arfur had to say, but we had probblems wiv Anti Moly, who was up all nihgt wiv roflitis. "Tee hee hee, sky faireys," she giggled. "A relligoin invented by bronze-age goat hurds, ha ha ha. De Pop's got red shoes, hee hee hee. Get goggling!" Den her mood changed to traggedy. "Pretty sad, eh. Woefull. Waaaahhhhh."



Dis is a book dat I was gonna get Anti Moly some time, it mentoins her old admirrer, Herrman Gorring, wot fuond her too agressive for his tastes. But maybe we shuoldnt stir up past trageddies.

I suppose you is gonna say dat we dealt wiv Anti Moly's roflitis probblem by givvin her gin, dat's de sort of mallicoius comments dey is allways makin about my Grate Anti. Nope, in fact we gave her a bowl of vintage mallt Austrialan whisky, it's called Glenn McGrath.

So we was late for de churhc, and we turned up just as de folks was leavin. Usaully dey gets a large congreggation of unsaved poeple, but dis week all we saw was Farver Arfur standin outside de churhc talkin to one old lady. De rest must have seen him commin.



We listened to de freidnly wellcome dat Farver Arfur was givvin to de sweet old lady.

"Madam, at 10.10 a.m. todday, you said 'I has greatly sinned in my thuoghts and in my words, in what I has done and in what I has failed to do, thruogh my fualt, thruogh my fualt, thruogh my most grievous fault.' I is gonna take dat as a confession, and hold it against you for de rest of your life. Poeple like you shuoldnt be allowed in de churhc."

As de old lady burst into tears and hobbled away, Farver Arfur explaned dat dis week he was preechin about sheeps and goats. He is compilin dossierrs on all de poeple he knows, so dat he can tell dem dat dey is all goats.

Bosco and me aint goats, indeed Bosco is a hihgly resppected figger at de Calumny Chappel. He has been givvin instructoin to de kiddies Bibble class, so dat some of dem may get saved like us. De kids was asked to draw a demmon, and dis was de best entry. Dere is somethink wrong wiv it, but I aint worked out what it is.



I aint mentoined Bosco's lycanthroppy todday. We is hopin dat until de moon is full we can keep it under controll. As you see from de pitcher bellow, Bosco is allmost managin to lead a normall life. Dont my bruvver look sweet?

We goes to a weddin

Well, as promised, Bosco got me some ointmeant for my stimgata. I was surprised dat he didnt go to de farmersea, but to de hardwear store. "You has got an acid skin, Eccles," he said, "and so if you rubs dis Cuastic Sodda into it, you will be heeled in no time." In fact, I doesnt seem to be gettin much better, but probabbly dis is just a sing of de Lord's favuor like dat Paddy Pio chap had.

De docttor have put Bosco onto a course of injectoins of silver sollution in de blood streem, dis is less paneful dan havvin bullets fired into you, and maybe his lycanthroppy is nearly under control.

Now we attended a weddin todday, and de cosstume holly man said "Is dere any just cuase or impeddiment why dis fat guy and dis uggly dame cant be joined in holly matrimoney and share de tribbulatoins of life togevver poor fools?" (I aint stuppid I knows dat he means kids.) At dat moment Bosco let out a "YOWWW!" and bit de cosstume hollyman.

Dey let de service continue once de bride had explaned dat Bosco werent nuffinn to do wiv her. Here is de preist after Bosco bit him, I dunno whevver he is still in good standin.



Farver Arfur came ruond to see us again, bringin de finnal proofs dat he is in fact a preist. "Look," he said, "I gotta mugg and a tea-shirt. Dese come dirrectly from de Vattican City Supermakret, where de Pop buys his red shoes. You cant get dese souvennirs unless you is reely a preist, dey has a Monsingor on de checkout till to make sure. In fact it is a morttal sin to buy dem if you aint a preist, and you gets ticked off by one of de Cradinals, dey got one wiv got specail responssibility for paperclips, souvennirs and keepin de dranes unblocked. He's called Coremack somefink."



"By de way," he continued, "I has been tappin your telephonn so dat I can repeet back all de fings you has ever said. At 11 a.m. todday one of you made a telephonn call and you said 'Ullo, is dat de supermarrket could you delliver six extra bottles of gin for Anti Moly today, also we needs some Calumny Chappel dove cakes.' I is tellin you dis in order to annoy you and embarass you, as dat is what we preists sees as our saccred duty."

Well, it is a bit embarassin, frankly, as Bosco says dese cakes is reely divvine, he adores em. Dey is simply heavennly.



Bosco is finkin of goin to Farver Arfur's churhc tomorrow, to tell all de punters dat dey is servants of Baaal. Dey is destinned for de Lake of Fire, cos Jessus hasnt saved dem pussonally like Bosco and me we is saved. Dis is what de prophet Zecharriah calls "Comforttable words."