Parsnips For All

I arrived at my church this morning to examine the contents of the safe, in which our collection funds are stored.

I noted that the safe was empty, apart from the several thousand I have stashed from previous horsey winnings.

I was disgusted. Desmond Tutu's Friday Frolick (which is the name of Friday service in my church) seems to have failed miserably in putting bums on pews.

It seems that it is true. My People only wish to have The Parsnip. And if they do not get their Daily Dose of Parsnip, they will not be happy. They will not accept any substitutes. Even a Nobel Peace Prize winner.

So now I must really pull off a screamer at midday today. Only the highest attendance for a church ever will suffice. I need at least a few thousand! I need to buy fresh leaves for keeping my soul pure and full of God's Love! (And Bob Marley's!)

Respect The Parsnip! Who Was Hangover Free This Morning! God Shines Upon Me!

Do Not Trust Desmond Tutu!

Please leave a message after the tone.

Yes, I am going out this evening. I have been invited to an important celebration, and I may not come back in any fit state to Govern The Parish of Milton Keynes.

As such I have left my able Deputy, Desmond Tutu, in charge. He will no doubt look after the masses who come to church on Friday evenings very well. I expect to see several thousand pounds in the collection pot come tomorrow morning. I have a red hot tip on another horse to bet on, and the funds will come in "handy".

I expect to show off my favourite Party Trick, this evening, but I am unable to repeat it on the Internet as there may be children reading and I do not want them to copy it. I have had too much trauma in the past with legal cases, etc. etc.

Best regards!

Your Loving Parsnip

I turned mine into a Parsnip Colada.

Heaven, sliced, diced, pureed and distilled into a glass.

Do not underestimate the Power of the Parsnip to mix up the finest cocktails you will ever witness. And yet, you will never witness them, for you would not be brave enough to Accept the Challenge.

Cower in shame, heathens, for your time as Leader of the Way of the Parsnip will Never Arise.

The Parsnip will Reign Supreme for All Eternity!

Hail the Parsnip!

I have acquired a new toy. It's is a van. But it's not any old van. This one has a sliding window on the side through which I can vend items. It also has a jingly bell which I can peal at any moment, particularly to attract the attention of the local youths, who will come forth with money to sample my wares.

Normally these vans are used to sell ice-cream.

But I will be using mine to purvey The Parsnip onto the Good People (read: Bad People) of Milton Keynes. Thus, it will be a Van of God's Love, and the Love of the Parsnip. Love on Wheels is often an exciting concept, and most people will be very pleased to partake of the Parsnip in such a fashion.

As always! The Reverend Parson Peter Parsnip... i.e. Me... is on top of modern technology, looking for ever more resourceful and inventive ways through which I can Spread the Good News of the Way of the Parsnip.

In order for my project to succeed, I have eliminated all competition in the city to ensure I have a monopoly, and people will come to me and me alone. To do this, I harnessed all the Power of God's Love, in the shape of a sub-machine gun, lined up all those who wished to be blessed, and Sprayed Them with the Good Wishes of the Parsnip. I then bade them farewell as I buried them in my garden under the Patio, Brookside style.

It will take time for the children to adjust, that when they hear the blasts of Greensleeves, it will not be their local Ice-Cream Man, delivering frozen milky goods.

Instead, it will be the Parsnip, saving the Righteous, delivering Love and Goodness to all from as little as 99 pence, and Smiting the Wicked.

I have noticed that I can perform the latter duty especially well when I mow down the HEATHENS and squash them under my van.

Fear the Parsnip! For He Now Has More Power Than Ever!

I have decided that from now on, every Tuesday will be devoted to me answering the best question I receive every week. For people all across the Earth are interested in what the Parsnip has to say, I must not let them down. They are depending on me to supply them with answers, and this is an excellent way to do so.

This week I shall begin with a question I received from a lady who wishes to remain anonymous. She asks:

"I am poor. I live in a rancid bedsit. I have no money. I am forced to prostitute myself to provide for my children. I believe I may have acquired AIDS and gonorrhea. And yet, why do I find the Way of the Parsnip strangely comforting?"

The answer to this one is simple.

For Truly, the Way of the Parsnip represents all that is Pure and Good. If you entrust your faith to the Parsnip, then God's Love and Joy Will Follow, even in the most unpleasant of activities. You may be cleaning out your toilet after your child had blocked it up with toy trains, dolls and toilet roll plus faeces, but you will Care Not! For the Way of the Parsnip will make you feel alive!

You may be lying in a Hospital bed, terminally ill with knob-rot. But It Will Not Matter! It Will be an Irrelevance, for the Way of the Parsnip will have touched you in ways that no Sexually Transmitted Disease from a Soho prostitute for a quick fumble in a darkened room for £50 ever could.

The Way of the Parsnip is forever. Believe in it, and you will be able to do anything!

(My lawyers asked me to add a note of caution: The Way of the Parsnip may not give you wings. Do not attempt to fly off a 10 story building after consuming 20 Whole Parsnips, as you may or may not crash to the ground in a crumpled heap. I tried to stop my lawyers requesting me to add this, as I told them about the time I levitated during one Very Special Sunday Service [the Old Dears were most impressed!] but they wouldn't believe me.

Mind you, I had been smoking a lot of "hash brownies" that morning. Oh, I say!)

If you have a question for The Parsnip, then send Him an e-mail:
peterparsnip@gmail.com

And You May be Featured in This Slot!

When you Receive the Knowledge of the Parsnip, you Receive the Wisdom of 2,000 years of Wise People all rolled into one.

And you Will Feel Happy! And Equally Wise!

As a Vicar I am supposed to consume copious amounts of tea. It is part of my job description, and the line "More tea, Vicar?" has entered the language as a cliche of some sort, yet I know not why, where, when and how.

Unfortunately, when I'm doing my Personal Home Visits to the Sheep of my Flock (and they are sheep, for they all wear the same Burberry clothes), they all ask if I would like a cup of fucking tea.

I often decline the tea but accept the fucking, often enquiring as to what "cup fucking" would go like. Any suggestions as to the answer to this will be greatly appreciated: leave them in the comments.

Yet the tea still arrives, and the fucking is withheld until a later date when the Parsnip can get his Prize. And I have to drink the disgusting cup of piss-water known as "tea" because it would be impolite of me to forsake it. We Vicars are trained to be nice to our Flock, unless they are SINNERS and HEATHENS, in which case we are free to whip them into submission with our trouser belts.

But today, I snapped.

Mrs Daveysmith gave me a cup of tea.

I raised it to my lips.

I crashed to the ground.

The bitch had poisoned my tea! I know what arsenic tastes like, and this was laced with it. I immediately thrust the tea in her face, scalding her for life.

"DO NOT ATTEMPT TO MURDER YOUR VICAR AND LOVING PARSNIP IN COLD BLOOD!" I commanded.

She cowered in the corner and confessed her Wicked Sin. I thrashed the living daylights out of her with my fists, and it made me Feel Good, for the Lord says: "Verily, it is important to correct HEATHENOUS women if they give cheek to a Man of the Cloth!"

As I have observed before, I am merely a conduit for His Word. His Word is All I need, and Once Correction has been Instilled, Love Will Return. Indeed, God's Love is inherent within the Correction.

I left a Parsnip on her mantlepiece so that she would never forget this incident.

Fear The Parsnip!

Today was a test of my resolve. It is never easy beginning again from nothing at all, and this was the case this morning when I met my new congregation for the first time.

Judging by the rough-cut nature of many of the foul beasts in the audience at my First Sunday Service at Milton Keynes, I can see I'm going to have my work cut out for me. My church was not even half-full (half-empty?) and it pained me to see the loss of many Old Dears. Indeed, it would seem that many of the Old Dears have turned to Satanism or some other foul influence, as hardly any of them turned out, which is much different to Mevagissey. The only members of the congregation seemed to be confused Catholics, who thought that attending my services would show to their Local Priest that they are worthy candidates for having their scum-like children Baptised, "Holy Communioned" or confirmed.

People who sponge off the Church like so should be executed forthwith!

But there was no time like the present. I knew that if I made this a dazzling performance, the Good News of the Parsnip would soon spread. I had already greeted the local youths by inviting them onto Gmail, as I promised I would. I believe that my method of coaxing the Youth Vote is much more wholesome and acceptable than the way Catholic Priests have baited, coaxed and tempted their Youths in the past. I do not condone their methods! But the juxtaposition is amusing. Instead of showing the children my genitals, I show the children my gmail.

So I kicked off as usual with my Star Spangled Glittery Guitar Solo entry. This week, I picked something that would stick in the minds of all. I donned a stunning white catsuit, and pranced down the central aisle to the hallowed strains of "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen. I had my Gibson Les Paul lowered down from the rafters near to my lecturn on the altar, just in time for when the solo began!

Oh, and I Knocked Them Dead!

I know they loved me. They cheered and screamed, nay, pleaded! for more. But I could not grant them their wish. Too much of a good thing could have them believing that I am an Airy Fairy Free-Wheeling Easy-Going Muff-Diving Reverend... the type of which one sees on poor soaps such as EastEnders. Instead, I seized the moment with my classic phrase.

"THIS! IS! A! PARSNIP!"

I brought out my Favourite Parsnip from Under my tight catsuit.

"BOW BEFORE IT! AND IT WILL SHOW YOU A GOOD TIME!"

They all did.

I have them wrapped right around my little finger already.

It was good to receive new funds. Despite the poor looking congregation, they all dug deep within their White Lightning and Labrini-stained Kappa shellsuits to fill the "Place Money Here Or God Will Smite Thee" Plate to the brim. I made good use of the hundreds of pounds I received by betting on a horse, funnily enough, called God's Love. I knew it was my day, as the fucking thing romped home 1st at 50/1!

The Parsnip is now rich! Rich rich rich!

And, consequently, I am sure that God is shining down on all those scum who gave so generously to my Betting Fund, who enabled the Parsnip to reach his peak thanks to a tip received from his Friend, Big Dave.

Beware the Parsnip! For His New Found Financial Success Can Bring Pain Upon You, in the Form of 10,000 Red Hot Pokers Placed Heartily Up The Rear!