This is me, Eccles

This is me, Eccles
This is me, Eccles
Showing posts with label Mulier Fortis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mulier Fortis. Show all posts

Sunday, 9 February 2020

Time to cough up your Eccles pence

Well, if Fr Z can put this worthy cause on his blog, then maybe I can too.

The story so far: Mac McLernon, a.k.a. Mulier Fortis, a.k.a. saved traddy blogger of Margate, a.k.a. Crazy Cat Woman, is about to get her car repossessed by the Pound of Flesh Finance Company. Since she is disabled, this would make life very difficult for her.

Fr Ted car

Not actually Mac's car.

So, rather than give your Peter's Pence to that man in Rome who will misspend it on making pornographic films about Elton John (actually, it would be difficult to make a film about Mr Dwight that was suitable for family entertainment...) or supporting very dodgy left-wing political causes; etc., give it to Mac!

(BREAKING: Pope's tax return published:
1) Things that are Caesar's: rendered.
2) Things that are not Caesar's: squandered.)

Cardinal Furretti

The late Cardinal Furretti.

Anyway, if you can give, go HERE. At the time of writing she needs another £1,200 or so, but of course massive donations are also welcome:

£1,000,000 buys you an evening out with her crazy cat.

£10,000,000 buys you an evening out with Cardinal Burke, Fr James Martin SJ, or Austen Ivereigh (you choose)*.
*Possibly.

£100,000,000 sponsors another (saved) cat for Mac, which will be named after you.

Give generously. Yes, I mean it.


ADDENDUM: the "save Mac's car" target has been reached and we are now on to the "make Mac an extremely rich woman" fund. Well, not really.

ugly child

... and a certain poor widow offered her mite.

Saturday, 8 June 2013

Eccles befriends two bloggers

I done two good deeds today. De fust one was when I got a call from my freind Sister Fortis, wot lives in Blogfen wiv 23 cats and a few hungry mantillas.

holy cat

De cat Bergoglio.

Sister Fortis is takin part in de forty hours of adoratoin at Blogfen, where you aint allowed to eat or drink, although you is allowed to write bloggs. She asked me if I could look after her cats while she was adorin.

cat lady

Sister Fortis, sans mantillas, but wiv some of de cats.

De cats is all named after famuos Cathlics. She got Monsinger Newton, wot used to be an Anteater, but converted to bein a Cat. Dere is also Nichols, a very naughty cat wot never does what he is told. Among de lady cats dere is Pepinster, wot hisses a lot, and scratches de uvver cats - dey gives her tablets to keep her calm. One of de most interestin cats is Zuhlsdorf, wot is known for "kitty kill" - he brings in dead voles and sparrows, also de milkman and a passin liberal priest.

kitty kill

Kitty kill.

Well, I is gonna have a hard time lookin after de cats, but luckily my Anti Moly (who has gone back to Austriala) left some gin behind, and dey seems to be much quieter after I mixed it wiv dere CATFOD meat.

Update: de neighbors is complainin about yowlin noises all de night keepin em awake. I fink it is de cat Inwood, wot aint got any idea of mellody and just wont shut up.


De uvver good deed I has been doin in to cheer up my freidn Damain Thopmson, wot has been gettin a bit depressed lately. He has put a washin machine in de music room of Thopmson Towers, so dat he can play Bach while watchin his undies goin round and round (we knows he is a holly man, as he says he sees mystic visions - dis must be wot dey calls a Deus ex machina).

To cheer up my friend Damain I went on de web and ordered a bespoke set of boxer shorts dat he can wear when he goes to Mass.

boxer shorts

Put dese is de machine, and you will see visions of holly men.

In fact Damain weren't at all amused, and so I tried out Plan B - invitin round to tea de well-known Stephen Fry wot suffers from uncontrollable bonhomie. Dis means dat he becomes very borin and makes pathetic jokes about Cathlic priests and child abuse. Damain aint reely very fond of Mr Fry, especially when de bonhomie is out of control, and so de party was not a success.

The five moods of J. Stephen Fry.