Dcver whose link is on the right has posted a cocktail recipe that seems designed only to be drunk at weekends. Err, it's the weekend, so HURRAH! It's cocktail time again!
He also mentions that after drinking this witches brew one has to be careful not to run down any Irish nuns, yet surely this is a reason for drinking the stuff in the first place. Previous readers of this blog will know I'm no great respecter of the Catholic Church and it's clergy but I will not have it said I'm prejudiced, oh no. With drink such as this inside me I'm prepared to run down nuns from any Order. Lucky for me then that only half a mile away there is in fact a nunnery, so I won't have too far to go.
On a related matter this past few weeks I've been suffering from stigmata. Sort of unexplained marks on my body and no memory of how they might have got there. What set me worrying was the one on my thigh that was a dead giveaway for the Turin Shroud. Suddenly they started to appear everywhere. On my right shoulder last Wednesday morning I woke up to a Last Supper, and similar to Ray Bradbury's 'The Illustrated Man' (but not quite because this time there was sound as well) I could watch and hear the action.
Jesus says, 'Why is there no one sitting opposite?"
Peter who's completely pissed puts arm around Jesus and slurs in reply, "I fucking love you, you're my best mate. Do you hear that everyone, my best mate. Fucking top bloke..." He then slides under the table. I was in a hurry for work so put my shirt on only to hear Paul say, "Fuck, bloody meter's gone, anyone got any change? Judas?" When I returned home it had miraculously disappeared. Then emerged a lump on my shin the same shape as that small rock in the North Sea upon which a naked St Columbus used to sit out his winters. At least I presume it was St Columbus, he certainly had a very tiny penis though that could have been a trick of the light. I thought the stigmata a worry until the first Rorschach materialised. Okay, I admit to a little paunch but who doesn't? However it was unnerving to discover Rorschachs unfolding as I stood up. A particularly disturbed blot interpreted as 'Thou shalt not lay with any family pet' was shaped like one of the Blessed Saints lying on a warm hearth being attended to by a monkey with a cane. Honest, it would not wash off. I'm aware that Rorschachs are a means by which the Id might be exposed for examination and I'd almost made an appointment to see the Dr when a stigmata of Doubting Thomas reassured me that they weren't mine but instead those of a newly enthroned Cardinal who has started to farm out his guilt. The Catholic hierarchy are such bastards.
Right then, I'm orf to get drunk.
7 comments:
You got all those stigmata BEFORE getting drunk? Funny. And weird at the same time. My case used to be more common, I would get a few bruises after getting drunk. In fact after passing out would be a better description. Nowadays I drink a lot less and the ailment never afflicted me again.
I think this is the most surreal post I've ever read. Bravo! That Catholic upbringing can't have been all bad, it's certainly encouraged a colourful imagination.
D,
What's a person to say? You wake up, you have marks, there can only be an irrational explanation, especially if money has not changed hands.
A,
The Catholic upbringing was bad, what I'm doing to compensate is make a silk purse out of a sows ear. The people who taught me were by and large bastards, and violent with it. My high school life was lived in fear, I dreaded every day, seriously. Teachers used to hit me and I was a good boy, I was absolutely terrified of them and they still hit me. Imagine what it was like for anyone who wasn't completely craven(as I was)? To be honest I hated these people and still do. Bastards! I suppose a thing I learned from the experience was an ultra sensitive nose for hypocrisy. Mind you I learned that in spite of them, not because of them, may they all burn in the pit of hell.
Bollocks, I'm all in a tizz now. I shall go and lie down in a dark room before it's time for tea.
I'm so sorry Dan - being facetious. (though you do have a great imagination). It beggars belief that people like that were left in charge of children, and that it was condoned, and that it happened to so many for so long. Bastards indeed.
Annie,
Yeah, the catholic church and it's hierarchy have a lot to answer for. The terrible things they did to children in Ireland has only become evident in the last few years. Currently there's a sex scandal at Ampleforth School (the Catholic Eton) in North Yorkshire that emerged only at the end of last year.
Don't worry about being facsit, feacistis, fa, cheeky, it's all grist to the Flynn mill.
My math teacher caused stigmata on my hands when he used to hit me every Monday for not doing well in math.
He wasn't Catholic, he probably had no religion in him, doesn't matter if he did or not...cruelty comes in all shape, colour, size.
No, no, no! If money hasn't changed hands it means someone else bought you a few drinks! :)
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