"Eccles, you is right," he said. "Go ye forth into the waste lands of the world, where the word of God is never heard, and bring em spiritaul nuorishment."
A place for prayer and relfection.
"Not Croydon again!" I remonstarted. "Even Jesus didn't spend forty days locked in a shed wiv a deacon."
"Nope," said +Thingummy, "I have something even worse for you. Do the words 'custard', 'hair salon' and 'Gladys Mills' suggest somefink to you?"
"You want me to visit Damain Thopmson's blogg?" I gasped. "You know, Croydon isn't so bad, reely. Even deacons in sheds is almost human."
A nightmarish vision, caused by playing the "2048" game too long.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, I registered on Diqsus as "ecclesiis" (for it is Eccles, I is), and went along to the holy smoking wastelands.
That was the title of Thopmson's blost, in which the author gave an in-depth analsyis of the spiritaul state of our Prime Minister, concluding with the mysterious comment: "Personally I don’t care if Dave is a Chinese frog-worshipper..." (I spose he means Chinese-frog worshipper,as it don't seem very likely that Dave is reely Chinese).
David Cameron communicates with his deity.
As usual, Damain didn't have enough material to last him to the end of the piece, so he includded some stuff about Charles Hawtrey, Monty Python, and Vaughan Willaims clibming up his wall.
So I rolled up my trouser legs - sorry, I meant sleeves, I was thinking of ACTA for a moment - and took a look at the comments section. It seemed to be populated mostly by the resident troll, one "Phil", posting anti-Cathlic sentiments under half a dozen different usernames. There was one or two other trolls around, mostly based in South America, so clearly there was a crying need for the contributoins of a saved pusson.
The new avatar of Ecclesiis.
I challenged a few of the nastier comments of "Phil", offered a cup of tea to anuvver pusson who was gettin a bit incoherent, and basically shone the light of my widsom on the poor desolate blogg, wot had seen better days.
In less than one hour, all my posts had been deleted, and I had been banned.
Well, we knew that the muddlerators on the blogg were creul unsaved pussons, and that even the bloggs editor had no control over em. But this was quick work. Apparently, Phil is a pusson wiv a mark on his head like Cain, wot says he is under specail protectoin.
So I has given up on the wilderness of Damain, and has decided to convert pagans instead. Phew, at least it's nearly the end of Lent.
A pagan dances round a stone circle.