Thursday, August 26, 2004
An Attempt
Upon reading the Daily Mail this morning, I noticed that there is an alarming trend towards ownership of chattel slaves which I seem to have missed out upon. It will harm my street cred amongst fellow Daily Mail readers (we acknowledge each other with a special nod, a wink (but not one of those ghey fag winks: we Are Real Men!), and a combing of the comb-over hair across the egg-in-the-nest) if they were to find that I did not have my own slave!
So I have decided to make a trip to a Slave Market, otherwise known as the Milton Keynes Job Centre. However, I fear that the trip will be quite fruitless, as many of the chattels on offer will be of inferior quality, mostly drugged up to the eyeballs, or stoned off their faces with a lethal alcohol/cannabis combination.
As a Self-Respecting Reverend, I am concerned that the Old Dears, who also read the Daily Mail (A Fine And Well Respected Raving Right-Wing News Journal for all my Non-British Chums Out There!) will question my Reverendal Abilities. And this is wholly unnecessary, because they know I am the Finest Reverend they could possibly need, available at All Hours for personal preaching and finest Parsnippery Power. But they would still do it, as their brains are not totally in line with the Way of the Parsnip just yet; they are still open to heathenous Anti-Parsnip thoughts.
I Shall Adjust Them In Time! Until then, I still must get a slave. Damn this Quandary I am In!
So I have decided to make a trip to a Slave Market, otherwise known as the Milton Keynes Job Centre. However, I fear that the trip will be quite fruitless, as many of the chattels on offer will be of inferior quality, mostly drugged up to the eyeballs, or stoned off their faces with a lethal alcohol/cannabis combination.
As a Self-Respecting Reverend, I am concerned that the Old Dears, who also read the Daily Mail (A Fine And Well Respected Raving Right-Wing News Journal for all my Non-British Chums Out There!) will question my Reverendal Abilities. And this is wholly unnecessary, because they know I am the Finest Reverend they could possibly need, available at All Hours for personal preaching and finest Parsnippery Power. But they would still do it, as their brains are not totally in line with the Way of the Parsnip just yet; they are still open to heathenous Anti-Parsnip thoughts.
I Shall Adjust Them In Time! Until then, I still must get a slave. Damn this Quandary I am In!
