Thursday, 29 April 2010

The Fellowship of the Wrong - part 1.

“There is an old French proverb that goes ; ‘if life gives you haemorrhoids, deliberately mistake them for grapes and attempt to make wine from them.’ I think what it is trying to convey is that if god gives you a shitty situation, deliberately attempt to make it far more painful and time consuming than he ever could - thus making him look a fool. Shucks, it may as well be the slogan all you little Anti-Christs march under”

Introduction to Max Weber’s “Satan’s Little Helpers”, published 1847, pg iv

We awoke the other day and read our favourite local publication, the downs mail, to discover that something had gone awry with our normally fantastically evil world; god had caused an earthquake on bluebell hill, creating a huge ravine, through which Jesus could march triumphantly into Kent and have all Christians hail the event as the second coming. At which point we’d be out of a job. Fucking immigrants, coming down here (from heaven) taking our jobs. SHIP ‘EM HOME.

However there was a dark blood encrusted lining to this otherwise horribly silver and holy cloud. The reporter for the Kent Messenger, whilst investigating the chasm created by Allah, had been raped and eaten – we presumed it to be the work of demons.

pictured - (you’ll need to click to enlarge) the newspaper story that alerted us, the downs mail continues its usual cavalier attitude to the loss of human life by having the story on page 9, only a few stories away from one about the fact that the snooker club on buckland hill is thinking about turning the back part into a take away. Which is actually pretty interesting/useful, i’d be into that on a drunken walk home, wasn't it a corner shop for like a month or something? Anyway i’m rambling

So we set off, packing only what we needed to meet those far higher up in command to us, and if it did turn out to be the work of some other force, baptise it for Satan as it would clearly prove to be a powerful ally. We would also have to assess the damage done to blue bell hill and file a report with HQ (Hell Quaraffarkkk) on how likely a Second coming now was.

Our only worry was that we are so low down the Satanic chain of command, granted the Big man has asked us some personal favours, but as of yet we don’t know how much we’ve pleased him. Without his support those demons could be very horrible to us, at best they would be uppity, at worst they would rape us then eat us – then throw us up to rape us again – then re-eat us.

We were also down a man, as it was SickNoose's Mums birthday that weekend and he had gone to Calais. We have been assured by text that all major Supermarkets in Calais have now been cursed, as has EuroCity.

Pictured - us just before setting off,we had just gone over our plans in a local cafe. The old woman behind us has heard and is screaming for somebody to stop us. Nobody does.
Bleedingoursouls -1 Old Crone - 0

So the journey began, we went up to the edge of the chasm wrought into the earth by the Lord of the foolish believers. (foolish in that they believe he is their salvation not that he doesn't exist, he does, we've seen him, he's massive)
To mark the fact that this was likely the nearest thing we'd ever come to seeing the grand canyon we took a tourist snap. Sir Tar'lor got so excited he forgot to don his cloak of eternal resentment, a crime for which he was later flogged. He has been known to do this. He only just got away without being flogged when presented to the Infernal Council last tuesday for covering himself in pink tie dye, as you can see from the picture his run in with them hasn't put him off.

He says it's 'summer chic'.

Climbing into the pit of holy vengeance was as hard as it was calamitous and we lost almost all our pack mules on the first slope, the rest got piss scared after see the fate of the first lot and scarpered, taking with them all our water and rations.

Also thats why theres no pack mules in any of the pictures.

However we have the power of satan within the palm of our hands and knew if only we kept the horns thrown for the duration, we would be safe.

Pictured - Bai Narghmbuul rocking that slope like its 1899
(hold up it is) (No it isn't, will smith)

Finally we reached the bottom of the cavernous slit in the chalk based earth of north Kent.
Many had died trying to just get to this point, many had died after getting past this point, and in far far more horrid ways.
Fortunately, we weren't on the same side as those mere mortals, and with the power of the horns we would discover much yet...

To be continued, mother fucker.

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