And so verily it did come to pass that Saint Christopher of the Powellites, the chosen one of the one true Lord (Curbs) was tending his flock of sheep on Blackheath and he did feeleth mighty aggrieved. Tears did runneth down his cheeks and onto his designer suit of many colours at the thought of so few victories for his tired and crippled disciples.
Only a mighty rainstorm had prevented them being put to the sword by the dickless Donnies and only a single brave victory against a pack of wild foxes from the shores of Siam had given the oppressed people of the red Valley any hope.
Verily Saint Christopher did look up the heavens and proclaim;
“Oh Lord, I have rescued the proud people of the Red Valley from the perils of the barren land of slavery and hoof-ball but how will we ever reach the promised land of milk and Sky money?”.
And a holy voice did replyeth from a nearby bush which was set aflame by some yobs standing nearby.
“Do not be afraid Saint Christopher” said the voice of the one true Lord (Curbs) “but for God’s sake stop your midfield parting like the Red Sea and try to getteth the mighty Saint Yann of the Land of Frogs to ease up on the camembert”.
The flames leapt in to the south London sky as a dog cocked its leg on the bush as the holy Voice of the Valley continued.
“We have all been cheated by the devious ways of wicked King Slater of the Money lenders” said the Voice, “but heareth his words of wise counsel with care”.
And so Saint Christopher was mighty afraid but did girdle his loins and did then marcheth with his disciples to the wicked King Slater who sat laughing like a loon in his temple of the Floyd Road applying more gel to his greying hair. For there were no bags of gold left now in the King’s dusty chambers but just a few empty Tesco carrier bags. Even his promised glory of the Kingdom of Cock had proved to be just a wet dream in the night.
“I should be King of the Crystal Palace,” proclaimed the wicked King, “with gold, frankincense and parachute payments- not exiled in this shabby old temple in Floyd Road which doesn’t even have planning permission for affordable housing.” And as the King did speaketh these foul words, Saint Christopher did see the trusted preacher Saint Mathew the Wrighteous being dragged out of the temple by his ankles by the King’s evil red guard.
For it was said by the holy Voice of the Valley that many loyal followers and pharisees in the Holy Temple of the Red Valley had been murdered or exiled by the mad Prince Jimenez. It was rumoured in the market place that the Prince wandered around the wilderness of local golf courses in a soiled loin cloth cursing and wrestling in the mud with his hated cousin, the evil Wise man of Yobbo, who had truly done him over, big time.
“But what should I do my King for the people of the red valley are crying out for victory and are gnashing their teeth in the Floyd Road” pleaded said Christopher.
“You must trust in the Church” said the wicked King with a supercilious grin, “for I cannot keep putting in a million sacks of gold every month”.
And then Saint Christopher did feel the heat of the Lords’ burning bush in his loins and heard the words of the Voice of the Valley as he raised his arms to the skies and addressed the crowd gathering outside the temple.
“We must keep faith in the Church for it is written in the holy tablets written by the ancient scribe Saint Keith of Peacock (Valley Superstore £19-99) that when the wicked King betrayeth the people of the red valley and the Prince of Jimenez wears a soiled loin cloth and fights with the evil Wise man of Yobbo, only the Church will save us.. Have faith in the Church!”
“We have faith in the Church “roared the crowd.
“What the Church that runs around like a headless chicken?” asked one confused old crone.
“We really are buggered then,” added the gormless old fool but he was swiftly ledeth away to his death by stoning on Shooters Hill, under orders from the mad Prince.
And this is the word of the one true Lord (Curbs)
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Comments
Quality.
You are verily a genius !
Saint Mathew the Wrighteous being dragged out of the temple by his ankles by the King’s evil red guard.
Love it, Grumps. Keep 'em coming!
The people in exile verily speak in a different tongue from those who must dwell in the Red Valley...