So it began, in a sombre office on a Tuesday afternoon. As an argument faded out to my left, I felt a tap on my shoulder; "I need to talk. She's gone too far.".
I explained that it was 6pm, and that ultimately, I was going to be in the office for another hour as I had somewhere to be later on. However, I was asked to go out for a drink so he could release the burden of his mind; for he was a heathen. A recent traveller from a land far away (India).
I had conversed with the heathen many times before, I considered him a friend. We laid in the gardens of Jubilee, on the south bank of the River Thames, and discussed his precarious position and work and the actions he should take to avoid coworkers from elavating themselves and impending his own free will. As the clock struck seven bells however, I informed him that my duty was required elsewhere. For I was required to partake in a congregation elsewhere.
"But football? Why on earth would I want to go there? You want to go? You don't want another pint?" for the heathen growled. I lay down an ultimatum; "I want to go there, it is a place of enlightenment and the one true place to show support for the Reds of South East London". After explaining about the Reds of South East London, and the mere charge of 15 gold coins for entry in to the Eastern viewing area, the heathen gave in.
Whilst making our journey we were confronted with many sights and torments, not least the abuse from the Sinful Spanners as they chanted their hateful lyrics; but we were not dissuaded from making our pilgrimage. The heathen was still not convinced; "Why am I doing this? For I don't like football. You owe me.". We spoke to other pilgrims as we crossed beside the dark outpost, The Antigallican, and made our way towards our Territory.
As we glimpsed the hallowed turf I could see the look on thy heathen's face; "Wow, that's impressive.. it's not even full though!". Soon the conversation led on to more materialistic matters; "Who are we supporting again? What are they called?". Such ignorance, but I did my duty and explained. "Who is your favourite disciple? Incredible Infamous Igor or Beautiful Buyens?". (I, of course, explained that Jacko the Leader held a place close to my heart.)
I looked on shocked as thy heathen exclaimed "But thy Orange man went down too easily? The man of judgement still met out a punishment against the Reds! How be it?"; I knew he was being converted. Shortly there after, I saw the look of joy on thy heathens face, "That shot was surely a thing of beauty! He hit it before thy defenders had a chance to react. For the Reds have turned thy onslaught around!". Not so long after that the heathen cried out again "If only the Tenacious Tucudean had angled that shot so slightly away, surely thy Reds would have found themselves in an unbeatable situation!".
We took communion on thy 15 minute break, served by the beautiful smile in Thy Brewery Tap behind the Eastern Territories, sipping thy Golden Ale and rejoicing with a Balti Pie and Chips. "The Reds of South East London are being dominated, but they are still winning the good fight. Whilst they are defensively capable, one must fear for the orange onslaught!" cried the heathen. "Supporting the Reds is never an easy cause brethren, but one must perservere! We have had many a hard fight, and we will have many to come. By trusting Infamous Igor and the Beast of Bikey we will surely be rewarded. Other disciples such as the Magical Moussa and the untried Bulot are yet to be unleashed.". The heathen pondered for a moment, before sipping his ale and returning to his seat.
During the second sermon we were silenced, for Thy Reds of South East London fell on their swords, and the Disciple number 6 for thy Orange Men fired back - beating the otherwise ever strong defence. "There's still time for thy Reds to strike back! I want to see another goal, and I want it to be our goal... ours.". The irony of his use of the English language was not lost on the heathen; "I'm one of you. Another disciple pushed in front of me on thy route to replenishing my appetite at thy Chip counter.. but he was one of us, so I let it go. We are here for thy common reason.".
As thy man of judgement blew his final two whistles the heathen looked at me with an expression of disappointment, despite this, he still pondered; "When does thou church meet again? When is thy next gathering? For I wish to follow on, even though I am not so young.". He was no longer a heathen; despite the expression of disappointment he still had a burning desire to return - for he had been Charltonised.
This is the gospel as per LuckyReds.
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Comments
I was actually stunned that, as a neutral, he even celebrated the goal and seemed genuinely frustrated when Wolves levelled it to 1-1.
Missionary... no?
You are indeed that man & will surely find your reward in the "other place" when your time on earth is done.
The Charlton Museum.