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.

Anti Moly replies

WOEFUL!

I want to make it clear to all of you that I never under any circumstances read Eccles's vicious and cruel blog, which takes trivial incidents from my life and exaggerates them out of all proportion.

For example, in his entry of 8th July 2011, when he first recorded my arrival, he referred to me incorrectly as "Grate-Ant Molly," and claimed that I had been detained at the police station for vagrancy (which my illiterate nephew spells "vaguerancy"). In fact, I had merely gone there to report that someone - probably a fanatical Catholic - had put 25 baby possums in my hotel room; they were running round the room, bouncing up and down on my bed, and they knocked over six bottles from my meagre supply of medicinal gin.

Then again, in the entry of 9th July...

[50 pages deleted here. Sorry, Anti Moly!]

Anyway, having corrected all the errors in Eccles's nasty blog, let me take the opportunity to dispel the most recent rumours, namely, that I deliberately tried to kill my nephew by cooking a poisonous meal for him.

Delicious bush tucker

In Pottymouth, the beautiful Australian city where I normally live (although at present I am an exile in London), we don't have any pathetic pommy squeamishness about food. Spiders, snakes, old socks, hairbrushes... all these constitute "bush tucker," and are delicious when fried in gin. On Sunday I decided to do some cooking, as everyone else in the household had gone to church, and I made a delicious Pottymouth Goulash à la Cardinal Pell - named after an old admirer of mine. Perhaps I added too much anti-freeze - such is life, eh - for when Eccles came back to partake of this culinary delight, he was very ill. However, I ate some myself, so that proves it was harmless.

Eccles has also written some misleading comments about my false teeth.

My new set of false teeth

It is true that I lost my previous set of false teeth, and it is even true that a Catholic priest found them and venerated them as a relic. However, I did not throw the teeth at him - they slipped from my hand when I was gesturing to him to get lost. I'm just putting the record straight here, although those fanatical traddy Catholics are determined to lie about the events.

While I am here, perhaps I can also set the record straight about the events of June 2010, when judy8 (note, no capital letter!) was not banned from Damian Thompson's blog, whatever people say. Far from it: indeed, Damian invited me to write my own Telegraph blog, because he was so impressed by my incisive debating style. It's true that judy8 vanished and I came back under the names of AlfredHaddock (no space) and molybdenite (lower case); however, these were not sockpuppets but...

[Another 50 pages deleted here. Sorry again, Anti Moly!]

Well, that's the short explanation, anyway. I can give more details if anyone wants them.

Let me close with a few comments about England. It really is a woeful place, with a high concentration of pommies, Catholics, males, females, young people, old people and middle-aged people - these are all sections of society that I dislike strongly. The worst freaks of all are to be found on the Telegraph blogs pages, although I make an exception for courteous, saintly, polite and charming Charles Cutley Utley, the celebrity blogger, novelist and lawyer. He has not been seen lately, and it seems that he is greatly changed by his sufferings; however, he has sent me a recent photograph, which I would like to share with you.

"Slightly grumpy" Charles Utley

Well, stands the church clock at ten to three, and are there spiders still for tea? I think so. Such is life, eh.

moly

De relicks of Anti Moly

I aint blogged about my Anti Moly recently, but reggular readers will know dat she was put in a care home after she bit de postman in de leg (a misunderstandin cuased by drinkin too much hair restorrer). It's OK we now has a new postman, and so dey said dat it was time to release Anti Moly.

A team of postmen preparing to deliver a letter to Anti Moly

Anti Moly's time in de care home was a little trubbled, but we aint gonna mentoin that.

Anti Moly's care home after anuvver misunderstandin

De team at Castle Thopmson was very pleased to welcome Anti Moly back, and Will Heaven de Butler invited her to try a new cocktail he had invented, consistin of gin, Delingpol anti-freeze, fresh ferret-blood, and a slice of lemon.

Damain himself is also back home, but dey keeps him in a dark room, only lettin him out once a week to write bloggs about addictoin. We hears loud groans from his room, "Cristina, dey all hates me, you is my only friend," as Muvver Odone de cook brings him his pizza.

"Well, you may be right, Damain," replies Muvver Odone, who aint one to tell lies.

Now we aint yet got to de subject of de blogg, but de story is dat Anti Moly frew her false teef out of de window at a passing Cathlic preist. He had come to interview Damain for De Tabloid, a well-known Cathlic comic full of silly hearsays pretendin to be Cathlic doctrin.

Alas, I aint got a photo of Anti Moly's false teef, but here is an artist's impressoin.

Anti Moly's false teef (artist's impressoin)

We was horrified to see dat de preist, when he recovered consciuosness, cried out "Dis is a gift from de Lord," and took the teef away wiv him. Apparently dem Cathlics like veneratin relics, and de sacred teef of Anti Moly is even now bein taken round de country, so dat poeple can pray to dem.

Apparently, de teef is so used to sayin "Woeful," "Sockpoppet," and "Such is life eh" dat dey can now say dese spiritaul phrases even when dey aint in de mouf of my belloved Anti. Dis may be described as a miracule, and maybe my Anti will be saved after all.

Anti Moly is drownin her sorrows in de usual way, and stayin up late to insult poeple on Damain's latest blogg (which, surprisingly, is about addictoin again). We has ordered some new false teef from de Pottymouth Crocodile Centre, where she got de last ones, and dey will soon arrive in de post, if any postman is brave enuogh to delliver em.

Relliquarry containin Anti Moly's false teef, decorated wiv St George and de Dragon

De Voyage of St Eccles, Chapter 2

1. So it came to pass dat Eccles and Anti Moly-ben-Dite went to de Pottymouth trane station, for to catch de Indian Pacific trane to Sidney.

2. And de statoinmaster at Pottymouth hardened his heart and said, "Lo! Dis dame is a well-known trubble-maker and she aint gonna go on any of our tranes unless you puts her in a wooden crate."

3. And Moly she was very wrathful, but she knew dat dere was no real chioce, if she wanted to see her beloved, he dat is called Pell.

4. So Eccles he made a crate out of de finest gopher wood. Lo, it was 4 cubits long, and nearly 2 cubits wide and 2 cubits deep. And in it he placed his beloved ant, together wiv a supply of de finest liqours and a wondrous engine called an iTroll, wot is able to send forth insullts to bloggs on de Internnet.



5. And de Pottymouth stationmaster hardened his heart and said, "Peradventure we shuold also handcuff and gag de old biddy? For she will scream 'woful!' in de nihgt, when de honest man sleepeth."

6. But Eccles he pointed out dat de regullatoins for transportin livestock on de trane said dat dey must not be creul to de animules. So it came to pass dat he buoght himself a Saver ticket (for he was Saved) and he placed his beloved anti in de gaurd's van.

7. And Anti Moly spake forth wiv her iTroll, sayin, "WOFL, WOFL, WOFL. I has got an Easter message for all traddy fanatical Cathlics. Easter is a time for buying chockolate eggs and smashin dem over de heads of sockpoppets. It aint got no uvver purpoise."

8. But de Internett connectoin faileth, and her vioce cryeth out in de wilderness, "WOFL" and no man heareth de Easter message of Anti Moly.



9. Thus dey came to Sidney, a city of great baeuty and cullture, where dey hath an opera house and signeth all de famuous operas, such as "De Barber of Pottymouth," by Micki Rossini, and "Gotterdamian," abuot de Twillight of de Bloggs.

10. So dey released Anti Moly from her wooden box, and she walked in de streets wiv Eccles, her saved nehpew, wot is loved by de Lord and gets Vallentine cards from Him (althuogh some saith dat it was a practical joke played by his creul bruvver Bosco).

11. And dey meets a Momron, who saith "G'day, yuong man. We has a projject to bapptise all de dead poeple wot can't say no. But we also bapptises people wot is old and decreppit, so maybe de old skellington lady wot walks wiv you wuold like to be bapptised?"

12. "Whom hath thou bapptised recently?" asks Eccles.

13. "We has done Gahndi, Buhdda, Mahommed, Atilla de Hun and Pop Pious X. Dey is now all good Momrons," saith de Momron, "but dey doesnt ware de magic undies like we does, of cuorse."




Dat's a pitcher of Gahndi, wot is now a Momron

14. And he spake the name of de magic undies; that is, de Abracada Bra, de Wonderbra and so on.

15.  But Anti Moly saith that she hath no wish to be bapptised, and they moved on in deir quest for de Cradinal known as Pell.



16. So dey came in due course to de Cathlic Cathedral of Sidney, wot is called St Mary's.

17. And dey saw dat de Easter Viggil Mass was gonna be cellebrated by Cradinal Goerge Pell, who got de job of carryin de Easter Candel into de Cathedral. Probabbly he gonna kiss it, as dat's wot Cathlics doth.

18. "We gonna attend dat!" shreiketh Anti Moly in glee, and she began to make her plans.

Here endeth de seckond chapter of de story of Eccles's voyage to Sidney.

---

Concluded here.

De Voyage of St Eccles

1. Dere was a young man whose name was Eccles (wot meaneth "Church" or "Chappel") and he was saved. He also liked savin uvver poeple, and dey came from far and wide to read his luvvly blogg.

2. And dis Eccles was de bruvver of St Bosco, wot hath got his own book of de Bibble, so I aint sayin much about him, except dat his way of savin poeple was to get actors to dress up as preists and do nasty fings so dat he cuold put dere pitchers on his blogg.

3. Now Eccles goeth on a juorney to a far cuontry called Austriala, wot is full of boomerangs, and didgeridoos, and uvver savvage creechers. Dis was in order to look after an old lady called Judy, she dat dey calleth Moly-ben-Dite, wot was his Grate-Ant.

4. Some sayeth dat dis Judy, or Moly, hath also a grandson in Brisbane, wot was imprisoned for showin his nether regions to de Queen Eli-Zabeth when she visiteth from de North. But Moly doth deny dat it was any rellatoin, even dough dey hath very simmilar manners.

5. "Anti Moly," sayeth Eccles. "Where thou goest I is gonna go too, cos dey will lock you up if I doesnt." And dey took provisoins for de juorney, dat dey hungereth not, niether doth dey die of thirst, wot is somefink dat truobleth Moly terribly.



6. And they came upon a town called Pottymouth, which being translated meaneth "The mouth of de Rivver Potty." And dey settled in Anti Moly's luvvly home in Stickybeak Street.

7. Now Anti Moly was grately truobled by insonmia, and sleepeth not. And she crieth out in de nihgt: "Woeful! Yeah, verily, it is woeful!"

8. For she imagineth dat dere is rabits under her bed and possums jumpin up and down on de roof. But some sayeth dat it is de strong drink what is a mocker.

9. And one of de nieghbours in Stickybeak Street waxeth angry, and he sayeth unto Eccles, "We cannot abide dis Ant of yours, for she waketh us in de nihgt wiv her cries."

10. Dis maketh Moly sore wrathful too, which aint hard to do, and she grabbeth de shirt off dis nieghbours back. Den she looketh at de labbel, and sayeth, "Dat proveth it, you is a member of de Traddy Cathlic Clique wot is tormentin me."



11. And Moly she venteth her spleen by writin messages on de blogg of a man called Damain, wot was formerly a grate sage, known as de blood-crazed ferret.

12. Latterly, dis Damain aint very good at profuond spiritaul matters, as his only engagement wiv relligoin was to discuss de quallificatoins of de learned Doctor Charters, and de foolish prattle of de not quite so learned Nick Banes.

13. But Moly she continueth her vendetta against de Church, and she imagineth dat dere is sockpoppets writin, so dat she can attack dem even when dey aint dere. For it is written in de book of Joell, "Your old ladies will see visoins and dreem dreems, at least if dey dont sober up and get some propper spectacules."

14. But the time cometh when Moly sayeth unto Eccles, "Arise up, Eccles, you nubmskull. For I is called to go to Sidney to see a Holly Man, he that is called Pell. For when I was yuong, he adored me, yeah he sayeth unto me, as it is written in de Song of Sollomon:

15. Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them."

16. "Dat aint rihgt, Anti," sayeth Eccles, "cos thy teeth is in de glass of water by de side of de bed."

[Pitcher of Anti Moly's teeth removed cos it mihgt offend sensitive poeple.]

17. "Never mind dat," snappeth Anti Moly. "We is off to rejoin my beloved."

18. "Shall I saddle de ass, Anti Moly?" asketh Eccles.

19. "Nay, Eccles, thou moron," sayeth his Ant. "We is gonna take de Indian Pacific trane."



Here endeth de fust chapter of de story of Eccles's voyage to Sidney.

---

Continued here.

We goes to Austriala

We got a letter from de Austrialan govermnent, sayin dat Anti Moly is allowed to go back dere wivvout bein locked up, providded dat a responsibble person come wiv her to keep an eye on her. Dat's grate news, as Anti wants to go lookin for Cradinal Pell, wot used to be sweet on her before he became a cosstume holly man.

Bosco is still sittin on a pole medditatin about how he is de only saved pusson in Callifornia, so Anti have persauded me to go wiv her. De call of love is strong, and Cradinal Pell gonna have a nice surprise.

Anti Moly's eyes filled with nostallgic tears, as she showed me a postcard of her home town, where we is goin.



We has had to buy 3 seats on de aeroplain, as Anti wants to take her iddle of St Cuttley wiv her. She says dat she prefers talkin to de iddle and not me, as de iddle don't answer back (dem's creul words, Anti). But I doesn't know how she is gonna survive a long flihgt wivvout interrnet access, she will miss all de excitin debaits on Damain's blogg.

Dere was also de probblem of what to do wiv de 4 crockodiles dat Anti buoght recently as part of her campaing to be poppular. When Didgeridoo Airlines told us dat crockodiles wasnt allowed in de aeroplain wiv her, we went round to de local Cathlic convent and dropped em all down de chimney of de Muvver Superoir. Here is one of dem peerin out frew a window of de convent, sayin to itself in crockodile, "My, dat was a most deliciuos nun! Wot's for puddin?"



At de airport securitty, Anti Moly had grate probblems, as dey wuoldn't let her take six bottles of gin onto de aeroplain as hand lugage, and she screemed at dem when dey made her go frew a specail x-ray. Here is de luvvly x-ray photto dey took of my dere Anti gettin cross. She is sayin "Woeful", perhaps I orta add a speech bubble.



So here we is waitin to board de plain for Austriala, where excittin adventures beckons. I was askin Anti if she was gonna introdduce me to her Austrialan freinds, and she said "I aint got any freinds, I hates dem all! But I has got some ennemies who aint too bad, I suppose."

Anyways, I hopes dere is a Calumny Chappel in Pottymouth, cos I is a saved pusson,and bessides, I is gonna need to stock up on cemment doves.

Cradinal Pel

De world is not kind to my Anti Moly, indeed many poeple calls her a senille old bat. Howevver dey wuold understand her better if dey knew more about de grate unrequitted luv affair of her life.

When Anti Moly was a yuong girl of 43 in Austriala, she fell in luv wiv a chap called Goerge Pel, who was a devuot Cathlic (he was about 20 years old I fink). Dey used to go for many a romantic walk beside de billaboing, which is an Austrialan pond - at least she used to chase after him, and he wuold dive into de billaboing to escape her attentoins. Dere was croccodiles in dem billaboings, but dat didnt stop him, he was so anxiuos for a swim.



Here is a sweet photto of Anti Moly as a yuong girl, de rose of Pottymouth dey used to call her. How cuold dat brute Goerge Pel resist her charms, you is surely askin yousself.



Well, de romance was domed, like Romoe and Juleit, or Bony and Clyd. Goerge Pel ran away to train as a Cathlic preist, and ever since then, Anti Moly has had a fannatical hattred of Cathlics. Well, Cathlics aint saved so we hates dem too.

I aint got a photto of Goerg Pel when he was a yuong lad, but here is a photto of him wearin a fish hat. Bosco says fish hats is cool, and he is gonna get one to wear in de bath.



Curiously it seems dat Goerge Pel (who is now a Cradinal) might be a cousin of Father X. Pel de Mons, de man what used to try and give Bosco and me Cathlic instruxion and is now in a home for nervvous wrecks.

Here is a recent photto of Fr Xavier, you may notice dat he have been infleunced slightly by de custtoms of de Calumny Chappel, but he still got his costume holly man dog collar on.



Well, we finks dat Anti left Austriala to forget her unrequitted luv, its a very sad storry, innit?

Anti reads a book

Now dat Bosco has escapped from de Cathlic dugneon, he hates dem unsaved pests more dan evver. Howevver at present he is spendin most of his time goin ruond de huose kissin de stattues and sayin fings like "I has missed you darlin St Peter", so dat it is Anti Moly wot gets in de lyme lihgt todday.

First, I took a photto of de touchin scene where Bosco returned to his luvvin Anti and bowed down before her. He reely worhsips his Anti Moly.



My Anti Moly is a grate admirrer of de Pop's red shoes what he wears, and she says of him, "Dis yuong man he has some traddy ideas about murder (against), theft (against) and baring flase witness (against), but he sure is a leader of fashion." So she have buoght herself lots of red shoes, dey used to call her de Immedla Macros of Pottymouth, when she was in Austriala, cos she got so many of dem. She was grately admired by Cradinal Pel, she says, but Cradinals aint sposed to chase girls, even uggly ones, so dat nuffink came of it. Dat makes her reely sad sometimes.



Anuvver fing dat is excittin her is dat her grate herro, de piuos polite charmin (etc.) St Cuttley have written a book, called "Thopmson Takes Charge", and we fink he is gonna come here to sing coppies in de shopps. Dis Cuttley he is a little old-fahsioned, and de book aint produced wiv modern technogoly, but she is enjoyin it very much and reeds out passages to us at brekfast.



Perhapps I will reed de book myself later, and find out what it is all about. I fink it's set in a shcool wiv some nuaghty boys called Dellingpol and Hanann, dese names seem strangley familliar.

We is goin out tonihgt as a fambly to see a classic play about de ruogh life of a molydbenite minor in de Austrialan outback, strugglin to bring in de preciuos ore.

On de poster it says my Anti Moly is directin it. Dis means dat she screems "Sockpoppet" at de actors when she finds out dey aint reely de poeple dey is dressed up as, she never got de hang of dramma.

Also, if you looks carefully, you can see de word "idiot" on de poster, dat's a special refference to my dere bruvver Bosco, who comes in half way thruogh to say "You aint saved," it's good dat a play has a spiritaul message like dat.