Parsnips For All

As my church was razed to the ground last week, I was forced to attend a joint service at a nearby parish. This was not to my liking, as the Reverend in my next parish is an 80 year old miserable bastard. I don't think he would ever be Fitting to be a Preacher of Parsnippery Ways.

So, I spent most of the service standing behind him making obscene gestures with my hands above the Old Cunt's head. I went down a total storm with the congregation, and at the end they both shook me by the hand and told me that they were very impressed, considering that they'd only stumbled in because they thought it was a Catholic service, and all that entails with the free booze.

Upon my return to my Vicarage I noticed that there was an unusual note nailed to the door. At first I thought the Black Death had returned - anything is possible in Milton Keynes - but then I discovered that it was actually from my new Wife.

It read:

"Dear Rev,

You are a total shit. Your Parsnip is too limp.

Yours ever,

New Wife"

I was Sure it was a Joke, because No One Calls My Parsnip Limp! It is Prime, Powerful and Ready To Go At Any Opportunity. But it didn't seem to be the case, as she still hasn't returned.

So she lasted a day. Damn it...

Oh well. I guess it's back to "Curious Centrefold Curates Weekly"