De weddin of Tom Chivvers

Tom Chivvers in his weddin graments

Anti Moly and me is still stayin at Castle Thopmson in Notting Hell, but we doesn't see much of our host Damain Thopmson, as he is lockin himself away in his studdy to work on his new book, de definitive boigraphy of Glayds Mills, de concert painist.

Damain is very fond of paino music, especailly de classics. De great Stehpen Huogh was round here recently playin a meldey of his favuoite concert pieces, such as "Where did you get dat hat?" (arranged by Rachnaminov) and "We wish you a merry Christmas," wiv de immortal lines about "We all likes figgy puddings," which was condenmed by Paul Inwood as bein thoelogically too complex for de modern Cathlic chruch.

Stephen Huogh

Anyway, Damain looked up from writin his definitive account of Glayds Mills's weight probblems, to tell us, "By de way, my colleageu Tom Chivvers is gettin married on Satturday." Anti Moly has got a bit of a crush on Tom Chivvers, because he is pollite, charmin and non-Cathlic, and she put down her gin bottle and fainted dellicately.

Damain went onto explain dat de lucky bride was called Pat, but, because Tom is in de forefront of libberal thinkin, and likes to shock de traditoinalists, he wasnt sure whevver it was a man or a woman.

When my dere Anti recovered, she decided dat she would emullate de story of young Lockenvar, wot is a Scots chap who interrupted a wedding to carry off de bride on his horse.

Young Lockenvar on a horse

Since Tom is an athiest, he wasnt gonna get married in a chruch, althuogh dere is chruches in Soho and de Plymuoth diocese dat will do same-sex marriages (we saw a card in a tellephone box, "Kinky Cathlic weddins, all tastes catered for. Ask for Farver Muriel"). Instead, he had hired de Allbert Hall, as dere was gonna be quite a lot of poeple attendin. He was gettin Stephen Hawkin to conduct de weddin, a proniment atheist wot knows all about big bangs; he has also been competin in de Parrylympics.

Anti aint gotta horse, so I suggested dat, bein Austrialan, she could ride to de Allbert Hall on a crocodile, or maybe have a cart pulled by a team of wombats. But in de end she managed to borrow a donkey, and rode off on her heroic missoin.

Old Molyvar on a donkey (note de bridal bouqeut)

Well, I went dere by more traditoinal means, gettin Dan Hannan, Damain's chuaffeur, to drive me to de Allbert Hall. He refussed to obey de "Keep Left" signs dat David Cameron has been puttin up everywhere, so we was nearly late.

As you can see from de pitcher bellow, de weddin was well attended. Is dat Edwina Curry in de photto bellow?

Tom Chivvers Weddin. De geusts is very happy.

Well I has been keepin you on tenterhocks, but now I can reveel de identtity of de blushin bride, Pat. Well, Tom he is wot dey calls a geek or a nerd, and it turns out dat PAT is a laptop computter (PAT is Personal Applied Technology). Dis explanes a certian cryptic remark dat Damain's butler, Will Heaven, made, when he told Muvver Odone de cook, "I saw Tom wiv PAT on his lap again." Tom got de idea from a flim of Walt Sidney, and I fink dis is what de Chivvers fambly will look like in 15 years from now.

Tom Chivvers fambly, 2027

When Anti Moly learnt dat her successfull rivall was a computter, she said "Dat's reely woful," and decided to cancel de elopment. So Tom's weddin went ahead as planned. I aint often sentimenttal on dis blogg, which is normally written to provide spiritaul nuorishment, but I do fink de happy couple is made for each uvver. Readin his blogg, I has sometimes even wondered whevver TOM is de name of a computter, as well. Thinking Opinion Machine, maybe.

On de road to Wallsingham

As I has alreddy explaned, my big bruvver Bosco has gone to Wallsingham, de scared shrine in Norfolk, in de hope of savin a few suols. Anti Moly and me has been in London, stayin wiv Damain Thopmson. It is very hot and so Damain has got some of de Indian Ollympic team to act as punka-wallas.

A punka-walla helpin Damain Thopmson to keep his cool

Originally he had been employin some of his usual staff - Will Heaven de butler, Dan Hannan de chuaffeur, and Goeffrey Lean de gardener - but dey wasn't very good at punk, and dese Indians is much fitter.

Damain himself has been watchin a lot of de Ollympics. He likes de beach valleyball, as he says de girls is all very thin and has good hairstyles, which is very important (read his blogg and you will see dat he hates people wot is fat or has bad hair, like Archbishop Tarteater and Bradley Wiggon).

Not likely to be criticised in a Damain Thopmson blogg

Anti Moly is findin life very woeful. She was hopin dat her old admirer, Cradinal Pell, would come to London for de Ollympics, but he decided to stay in Sidney to judge de Aussie Bishops' Tinnie-chuggin Competitoin (whatever dat is). And althuogh de Aussie government has promised to return de bones of her grandad Ned Kelly to her, dey still has not arrived.

So when I proposed a trip to Wallsingham to help bruvver Bosco wiv his evangellising of de unsaved Cathlics (he said "bring a chain saw," but didnt explane why), she jumped at de chance. Indeed, she even proposed dat we take along Tilde Swindon de famuous actress, wot is very good at evangellising, as you can see from my photto.

You'll come to Wallsingham, Tilde, wiv me?

But de luvvly Tilde wasnt avialable. Damain Thopmson said he didnt want to come wiv us, but he offered us de services of Hannan, de chuaffeur, de one wiv a part-time job in Brussels. De Brussels chaps is on summer hollidays from April until November, so he is quite free at de moment.

So Anti Moly, Hannan and me set off for Wallsingham, but Hannan was led astray by de Satan-Nav, and we landed up in a village nearby.

Why does dis remind me of Damain Thopmson's bloggs?

Well, we is stayin de night in Great Snoring, and Anti Moly is sleepin very sweetly if rather loudly, as a result of de gin dat she bruoght in her hippo flask.

A hippo flask. Contains enough gin for a whole evening's drinking

Tomorrow we is to be reunited wiv dere bruvver Bosco.

De relicks of Anti Moly

I aint blogged about my Anti Moly recently, but reggular readers will know dat she was put in a care home after she bit de postman in de leg (a misunderstandin cuased by drinkin too much hair restorrer). It's OK we now has a new postman, and so dey said dat it was time to release Anti Moly.

A team of postmen preparing to deliver a letter to Anti Moly

Anti Moly's time in de care home was a little trubbled, but we aint gonna mentoin that.

Anti Moly's care home after anuvver misunderstandin

De team at Castle Thopmson was very pleased to welcome Anti Moly back, and Will Heaven de Butler invited her to try a new cocktail he had invented, consistin of gin, Delingpol anti-freeze, fresh ferret-blood, and a slice of lemon.

Damain himself is also back home, but dey keeps him in a dark room, only lettin him out once a week to write bloggs about addictoin. We hears loud groans from his room, "Cristina, dey all hates me, you is my only friend," as Muvver Odone de cook brings him his pizza.

"Well, you may be right, Damain," replies Muvver Odone, who aint one to tell lies.

Now we aint yet got to de subject of de blogg, but de story is dat Anti Moly frew her false teef out of de window at a passing Cathlic preist. He had come to interview Damain for De Tabloid, a well-known Cathlic comic full of silly hearsays pretendin to be Cathlic doctrin.

Alas, I aint got a photo of Anti Moly's false teef, but here is an artist's impressoin.

Anti Moly's false teef (artist's impressoin)

We was horrified to see dat de preist, when he recovered consciuosness, cried out "Dis is a gift from de Lord," and took the teef away wiv him. Apparently dem Cathlics like veneratin relics, and de sacred teef of Anti Moly is even now bein taken round de country, so dat poeple can pray to dem.

Apparently, de teef is so used to sayin "Woeful," "Sockpoppet," and "Such is life eh" dat dey can now say dese spiritaul phrases even when dey aint in de mouf of my belloved Anti. Dis may be described as a miracule, and maybe my Anti will be saved after all.

Anti Moly is drownin her sorrows in de usual way, and stayin up late to insult poeple on Damain's latest blogg (which, surprisingly, is about addictoin again). We has ordered some new false teef from de Pottymouth Crocodile Centre, where she got de last ones, and dey will soon arrive in de post, if any postman is brave enuogh to delliver em.

Relliquarry containin Anti Moly's false teef, decorated wiv St George and de Dragon

Damain is taken into care

I has not been bloggin much recently, and I entrusted de spiritaul nuorishment of my readers to some geust bloggers. Dis is cos after my Anti Moly was put into a care home, I was free, so I decidded to take a holliday. In fact I went to Sevile in Spain, cos my hair was gettin long and I had heard dat dey has good barbers in Sevile.

De hairdresser of Sevile

In de end de haircut wasn't great, but I buoght a new wig as a present for Damain Thopmson, and a jumbo-sized bottle of hair-restorrer for my dear Anti Moly, who is always so thirsty.

I also got appraoched by a woman called Carman wot works in a cigarete factory, but bein a saved pusson I resisted her charms and came back to London.

When I got back to Castle Thopmson de butler, Will Heaven, had shockin news for me. "Dr Thopmson is not at home," he said. "He has been taken into care."

Heaven explained to me dat Damain had been taken to St Cristina's Home for de Dangerously Addicted. After his luvvly book was published, he decided to devote all his time to pluggin it, and was unabble to stop goin on abuot it.

Suovenirs of DE FIX

All Damain's recent activities have been tailored towards making people aware of DE FIX, and he has filled his home wiv suovenirs rellated to DE FIX.

More suovenirs of DE FIX

Luckily Hannan de chuaffeur was avialable (sometimes he is away wiv his part-time job in Brusells, which involves makin speeches to empty rooms), and he drove me to St Cristina's.

Poor sick Damain

"Eccles," said Damain to me, "you is a loyal follower of my blogg. I was finkin dis weekend of writin a Saturday colunm about De Fix, Joanne Hairy, addictoin to medicine, De Fix, De Ordinariate, recent books by Tellegrahp bloggers, De Fix, and addictoin to cupcakes. Do you fink dat's a good idea? Maybe I could add somefink about addictoin to computters too. Dat way I cuold secretly plugg De Fix and noboddy wuold notice."

Well, dat seemed OK to me, but I was very worried by Damain's terrible addictoins. Some schoolgirls had bruoght him a get well soon present, you see.

Cupcakes for Damain

We will have to see what we can do to "fix" our dear Damain.

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I must remember to blogg about my Anti Moly some time. She got into bad truoble for nude sunbathin, so she is still in custardy.

Anti Moly sunbathin

I has blotted out de rude bits, cos we saved pussons doesnt put pronography on our bloggs. But it reely is a woeful situatoin.

Four out of ten old ladies drink hair-restorer

A geust blogg from Damain Thopmson
 

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Up to 40% of old ladies drink hair-restorer, according to recent research undertaken by the University of Adelaide. My own informal observations bear this out, as Patient M, a ridiculously old lady who is also currently my guest in Castle Thompson - as is her great-nephew, a charming man called Eccles - has turned out to be a consumer of many unusual products.

My butler, Will Heaven, reports that Anti Moly, as Eccles calls her, began by drinking my supplies of gin and whisky, but, when he started to lock these up, she turned to other substances.

Did I mention that I have written a book on addiction, called The Fix? Do buy a copy. I am hoping that Eccles will agree to serialize excerpts on his lovely blog. Anyway, in my book I treat all sorts of addictions and obsessions: for example, there is a biologist in South America who is addicted to stories of clerical child abuse, having a whole laboratory wall decorated with stories from the Puffington Post and the New Yawn Times. Another strange addiction I write about is cinnabons, a sticky cake much loved by Yorkshire bishops.

Returning to Patient M, once she had run out of conventional alcoholic drinks, she drank a bottle of my Geoffrey Lean hair-restorer; then she went to the garage and drank my supply of Delinpol anti-freeze (much to the annoyance of Hannan my chauffeur). Finally, getting desperate, she drank a bottle of her own Possumgon, a product she uses to protect the roof of her Australian home from enthusiastic marsupials.

Her drinking is irregular, but when she decides to have a "binge" or "meltdown," she is often seen on the internet, posting insults on blogs (including my own). For some reasons she particularly hates Catholics, especially serious ones.

Patient M seems to be immune to poison, according to her nephew Eccles. The old photograph below shows M and her friend informing a visitor that they had added some arsenic to his drink, "To give it some bite."

Well, it's difficult to know what to do in such cases, but if enough people buy my book The Fix, I will be able to do some more in-depth research (Tenerife looks like a promising place to start).

Electoin night party

Our host Damain Thopmson held an electoin night party to which he invited all his best freinds like Joanne Hairy and Vanilla Redgrave, wot he writes about in his luvvly blogg. Of course, de staff at Castle Thopmson excelled demselves in makin de preparatoins.

Luckily, Will Heaven de butler fuond dat Damain had been hoardin hair-restorrer in his garrage in case of a shortage, so my Anti Moly's grate thirst was taken care of (in fact, as she has reportted on Damain's blogg for all her many admirin readers, she was stung by a bee in a most embarassin place, and was feelin a little woeful). Here is my Anti, unable to sit down, but revivin herself wiv a glass of Damain's hair-restorrer.

Muvver Odone de cook had prepared some exottic Itallian delickacies wot you cant git in Enggland, such as macaronni and pizza. Old Lean de gardener had got Damain's grounds nice and tidy; in fact he aint very good wiv growin plants: since he installed crabon doixide filters in the greenhuoses in order to save de plannet, all de plants is wiltin away. And I aint sure dat de plannet is saved, niether. We also had Hannan de chuaffeur on dutty to ferry de guests home when dey had drunk too much - dis man's gotta part time job in Brussels as well, but he says it is badly paid and he has to take on extra jobs to make ends meet.

De guests of honour was of course Borris and Ken, who is grate pals of Damain's. Here we see Ken wiv an uniddentified freind, weepin his eyes out cos I told him dat he aint saved.

De church was well-represented, and Vincent Nicholas and Rowan Willaims came along for a snifter. Vincent Nicholas was full of fun - here you see him sneekily doin de rabit ears trick where you puts your hands behind someone's head so dat dey looks like dey got rabit ears, and so aint saved. Unfortunately he aint very good at it yet.

I said to de costume holly man, don't try doin dat trick to de Pop, buster, or you aint never gonna git dat red hat. Remember de sad storry of Barrack Obamma, who was rude to de Queen and is now personna non gratta (dat's traddy langwidge for "in de dog huose").

Actaully de Queen was at Damain's party too, and she was anggry cos she had just read dat Obamma liked eatin dogs. Dis might explane why after his last visit Winston de corgi was nowhere to be fuond - so perhaps Obamma had been literally in de dog huose. Dis is what we calls a diplomattic incident.

Well dis blogg is gettin a bit long, but it was an all-night party and a lot happened. Dere was one more geust I should mentoin, a charmin preist called Farver Pau, wot is a libberal Cathlic. He said "You looks like a handsome young lad, has you ever been to Exxeter?" I fink dat my spiritaul juorney is gonna take me to some interrestin places.

A Lattin Mass

Anti Moly and me we is still stayin wiv Damain Thopmson, who is a really luvvly man. But on Satturday mornin I woke up in my bed in Castle Thopmson to find a pink horse's head in it, which I is fiarly sure wasn't dere de night before.

I summoned Will Heaven de butler, who shimmered in wiv a tray contianing a glass of milk for me and a hair-restorrer and gin cocktail for Anti Moly, what sleeps in de next room. "I sees dat Sir has been contacted by de Gay Maffia," explaned Mr Heaven. "Dey is very poppular in de Cathlic churhc nowaddays, especailly in de Plymouth diocese. No duobt dey is invitin you to go to de Church of de Assumption and St Gregory in Soho for a gay Mass. Dis may be an offer you can't refuse. Play your cards rihgt and Vincent Nichols will give you de kiss of peace."

Damain, howevver, had uvver plans, and on Sunday we trailed into de London Horrortree. I had planned to wear a togga, as dey say dat when in Rome you gotta do what de Romans do, but Damain said it wasnt usaully done. He hisself wasnt wearing a togga, just his superman costume. In de week he is mild-mannered Damain Thopmson, but at weekends he is like a blood-crazed ferret.

Anti Moly disgraced herself almost immediately. "Why has dat woeful priest got his back to us?" she screeched. "Aint dat typical traddy Cathlic rudeness?" Damain explaned in hushed tones dat traddy preists doesnt like to look at de congreggatoin, especailly when Anti Moly is among dem, as it makes dem feel ill.

De preist was wearing a beretta, which he took off to make annuoncements, e.g. "Will you keep dat old bat quiet please, Dr Thopmson?"

After a while, I got fed up, cos I didn't understand wot was goin on, so when de preist puased for breath, I stood up and sang "I am de Lord of de Dance, said He," which is a famuous hynm about Jessus dancin wot we sings in de Calumny Chappel. Anti Moly had been drinkin Damain's hair-restorrer since 8 a.m. and she jioned in de Dance wiv me.

But apparently in de Lattin litturgy, dis is not what dey does, so I got one or two funny looks from de traddies. Sometimes deys sings de Gregorrian chant, "Ego Dominus saltationis sum, dixit," but dat's all.

After de Mass we went back to Castle Thopmson, where Muvver Odone, de cook, was doin us raviolli for lunch. She alternates between passta and piza, she aint got much imaginatoin. After all dat dancin, Anti Moly said she was so hungry she could eat a horse, and so I left her chewin her way frew de pink one I was givven.

De Napoloen of Notting Hell

Dat rarver clever tittle is a tribbute to our dear freind Damain Thopmson, who is puttin us up in his humble aboad now dat we has arrived in London.

Dis is a pitcher of Castle Thopmson, which is a large huose in Notting Hell, where Damain lives wiv just a few servants to look after him.

Our flight from Austriala was a bit probblematical. Half way, de pilate said dat dere was a horrible noise commin from de engines of de Beoing 747, and so he told us, "Don't panic folks, we is gonna make an emurgency landin in Dubbai. But if you knows any good prayers, den let's be havvin dem if you wants to be saved." Well of course, I is saved alreddy, but I did sing a few Calumny Chappel songs, like "Come, Thou holy Parachute." But when we landed it turned out dat Anti Moly had fallen asleep in de tiolet, and it was her snorrin dat was causin de niose and vibbratoin.

We got to Heathroar eventaully, and made our way to Notting Hell, which is a posh part of London. We was admitted into Castle Thopmson by de butler, who is called Will Heaven, it seems dat his parents was very infleunced by de poster above.

Anti Moly was a bit jet-logged wiv gin, so Heaven showed us to our rooms. I has got de Paddy Pio suite, and my dear anti has de Nanny Ogg suite, I aint heard of dat saint before, but she does seem to resemble my dere Anti a little. Dem Cathlics like kissin saints, but I fink even Damain would draw de line at dat one.

Talking of Damain, we heard some loud crashes at aruond 4 a.m. and a male-vice chior singin "Four and twenty vergers came down from Inverness." I later fuond out dat it's called a Rugby song, I spose dat Damain goes to Mass in Rugby sometimes, it's a place in de Midlands dat we may visit.

Now, Damain was very pleased to see me,  but he said he had got a blogg to write just now. Anti Moly was still in de Nanny Ogg room snorrin away her jet-logg, but Damain who is a true professoinal managed to keep typin away, even wiv de cielin vibratin above his head.

Eventaully Anti came down lookin for booze. Damain had to go to de bathroom, and when he came back he said "What's happened to my bottle of Geoffrey Lean Patent Hair-Restorrer?" Apparently, Anti Moly had drunk it, finkin it was gin. So now Damain dont seem to be very pleased wiv us, but perhaps he will soon be charmed by our kind and gentle natures.

Damain is havvin a party soon, and I is lookin forward to meetin all his freinds like Joanne Hairy and Giles Frazor. Anti Moly is lookin forward to meetin Damain's stock of drink.