The WOTPP's Tale !

"Ah.. Vicar.. I see Scungeon right behind me right on time for his marital councilling appointment."

She turned to Scungeon and asked, "How have things been since our last appointment? No more cold baths and then lying there 'all still-like' for the wife? Relationship improved then?"

Scungeon figidited and avoided the Vicar of Dibley's gaze.

He turned to his own parish's (the parish of Nostrulflake by Mewkus on the Widdle) vicar and handing him the still slightly damp URL, whispered, "Ere.. foun' this in th'new grave. Dunno wha i'is."

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http://forums.windrivers.com/images/.../2010/07/1.jpg

It is my pure and virtuous heart that
gives me the strength of ten!

"I must tell you old Scungeon, that the Bishops' emissary came by today and delivered a missive of GREAT IMPORT! The Bishop has declared that this Parish shall henceforth be called the 'Middle of the Widdle', no longer the 'Nostrulflake by Mewkus on the Widdle'."

"She has decided that, based on our geographical positioning on this tiny island in mid-stream, that it would be appropriate to clarify our position, and not the least to shorten the name."

"Now, as to this soggy URL, I have espied the likes of it once before on an ancient papyrus made from the skin of some strange marsupial (letter in the pouch, don't you know)."

"So, be off about your digging, and you shall receive your reward this half-week once the river dredging is done and we find anything useful."

The Vicar of Dibley watched the wretched Scungeon shuffle out the door, his muddy bootprints following his departure.

She then approached the Vicar of Middle of the Widdle, and said...........

"What shall we do now?"

The vicar of Middle of the Widdle smiled and held up the mysterious object that Scungeon had given him, saying, "You wanna come upstairs and see my URL?"

The vicar of D cooed demurely, "Ooh... it's a big one, 602 posts, 28,244 hits! Is that a crosier in your cassock or are you just ....." And then looking down, first left and then right, she continued, "This is Aelred of Hexham and this is Wulfstan of Worcester. Why don't you come up and see me between the feast days sometime?"

She put her hand out and caressed the URL softly. Suddenly there was a puff of smoke and scent of brimstone, and slowly out of the smoke a floating image appeared.

http://i30.tinypic.com/293xf13.gif

The two vicars, frozen in shock, could do nothing but stare as the image transformed before their very eyes.

View My TinyFx (And don't take the name here the wrong way. Ain't nothin tiny bout my URL, eh!)
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http://forums.windrivers.com/images/.../2010/07/1.jpg

It is my pure and virtuous heart that
gives me the strength of ten!

Poking his frazzled head through the doorway, the scowling Scungeon muttered 'Died from greed diya say now me foin skelton. Well, if'n ya knows what's best for yer bones, ye'd best skip back to yer hole and coff'n afore the Vicar heyar slaps soma that thar holiest water on yer.'

The Vica of Middle of the Widdle, having been roused from his stunned state by the apparent piractical tone of old Scungeon's monologue, dipped his fingers into the Holy Water bowl (slightly miry from his earlier use) and raised his hand.

The skeletal apparition, seeing this, said..........

scathingly, "Why that bowl you've dipped your hand in is some Protestant/Calvinist font. Maybe Geneva. Can't you see I’m RC? If you want to exorcise me, it's going to have to be Times New Roman."

The skeleton spun round twice wither shins and then muttered some mysterious incantation, "Non pote non sapere qui se stultum intellegit."

And with that the URL, still in the Vicar of Middle of the Widdle's left hand, began to rattle and shake. There was smoke and bright shafts of light that pierced the walls of the rectory. And then suddenly both the Skeleton and URL were gone. The two vicars stood catatonic.

Scungeon, whose normal mental state was several steps to the left of reality, took it all in stride. He knew that every time the Vicar of D showed up he would be sent off to dredge the Widdle, so he started off towards the river bank shaking his head and mumbling, "Blooody Casanova his self could swim blooody length and breadth o' Widdle now, in his blooody birthday best, now mind you, and never have his privates touch blooody bottom."

As he was leaving the Kirk yard, he heard a sound like a cat being run over by a steam roller. "Blooody strange," he thought, "Ain't bin no Scots round here since the purges o' t'fourteenth century." He also failed notice the blue vacuum appliance that scurried behind a particularly ugly Victorian mausoleum.

It wasn't long before he reached a fork in the road. Right lead down to the Widdle. Left lead off to The Tripe and Trotters, the local public house.

"F' the blooody dredgin! We bin down ta bed rock for years now!" he muttered, and with that he turned left.

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http://forums.windrivers.com/images/.../2010/07/1.jpg

It is my pure and virtuous heart that
gives me the strength of ten!

/newspeak/

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Tekboy

/newspeak/

---

Thanks. But I personally prefer \oldspeak\. And besides, Huxley's vision probably has more relevance to the sorry state of our world than does Orwell's.

/Soma/

:wave:

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http://forums.windrivers.com/images/.../2010/07/1.jpg

It is my pure and virtuous heart that
gives me the strength of ten!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tekboy

If only you knew what's inside of me now,
You wouldn't want to know me, somehow.

---

Interesting phrase.... there are friends and friends.

Recently someone described me as their 'Anam Cara' .. which is a beautiful thing to be for anyone .... lovely description here .... http://www.ckls.org/~sthomas/poems/Anamcara.html

It is not just a state for now, but for ever, for ever...and ever ... indissoluble a bit like this thread ....

So, the Vicar of Diberly's side kick Alice Tinker broke into a rant about I can't believe it's not butter.

The funniest scene from The Vicar of Diberly.

---->http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0MsbvGmLaU4

Now Alice Tinker shows up and the plot thickens like pea soup.........

...which is rather strange, as the whole planet has just been served with mushroom soup ...

Aaah mushrooms... people treat us like mushrooms.... left in the dark and fed b/s and now it is time to badger....

....the cook to give us more than pea soup, mushroom soup and mushrooms....

Yet, in the darkest recesses of the place between the waking and dreaming worlds, a sinister, sinuous cephalopod skulked sneakily past the Guardians of the Eternal Flambeaux and Serpentine Sentries with the Scintillating Eyes. The time would never be better, nor worse, for the Dark Squid of the Aporkalypse to herald the coming of the mushroom soup, a sign long foretold by the Vexing Visionaries with Velvety Valves.

The Portent of the Portabella! :flames:

(Arise, Resurrected Thread! Lift up your hoary head and walk amongst the living again!)

As if on cue, an anecdotal reference from the past appeared, and it said;

"Scungeon, whose normal mental state was several steps to the left of reality, took it all in stride. He knew that every time the Vicar of D showed up he would be sent off to dredge the Widdle, so he started off towards the river bank shaking his head and mumbling, "Blooody Casanova his self could swim blooody length and breadth o' Widdle now, in his blooody birthday best, now mind you, and never have his privates touch blooody bottom."

As he was leaving the Kirk yard, he heard a sound like a cat being run over by a steam roller. "Blooody strange," he thought, "Ain't bin no Scots round here since the purges o' t'fourteenth century." He also failed notice the blue vacuum appliance that scurried behind a particularly ugly Victorian mausoleum.

It wasn't long before he reached a fork in the road. Right lead down to the Widdle. Left lead off to The Tripe and Trotters, the local public house.

"F' the blooody dredgin! We bin down ta bed rock for years now!" he muttered, and with that he turned left."


BUT, what should surely befall the sludgy-eyed Scungeon, but a writhing of tentacular movement that both terrified and tantalized him at once.

His chops glistened with the mind-taste of calamari-au-shroom, that delectable treat found only on the planet called.......