Parsnips For All

I've been having a little Open Day at my Vicarage today. I've had a revolving door policy, as one member of my congregation comes in, I dismiss another one from my house, usually in floods of tears as I condemn them to Hell for their sins. But they all come back for more. They love it!

There's also an element of excitement involved as the day draws to a close. For it has been fortold... the person still in my Vicarage at the end of the day must remain there forever: that is the Risk of the Revolving Door Policy! If they are a woman, they shall become my New Wife, and I will chain them to the kitchen sink. If they are a man, I'll kick them in the genitals and they shall be my new Chattel Slave.

Since most of the people here today are women, then I should have myself a nice new wife at the end of the day. Obviously, I try to do my condemnation a little faster when an ugly bint comes into the room to seek My Advice, as I wouldn't want to end up married to another disgraceful excuse for a woman; I already had one of those in my last Wife.

So Crack Out The Champagne!

All Hail The Rev, For He Will Get Laid Tonight Without Having To Pay For It!

After another day spent exorcising the demons in my computer, I feel totally exhausted. This is currently very difficult for me, as it's leaving me very little time to sample the delights of more Parsnips.

But there is bad news at the moment. All the rain has destroyed much of this year's parsnip yield! I fear it's going to be a very difficult winter for me. Either that or I'll have to import a special crop from a certain foreign country, well known for excellent cuts of "root vegetables". But this could be very very expensive.

In the meantime, I shall pull out a piece of balsa wood and study the fine contortions. Lately I have been receiving signals from God that there is something particularly unusual about this piece of wood that I recovered from a Milton Keynes building site. I believe it has a rather strange presence about it, and there is...

OH!!! MERCIFUL HEAVENS!!1

JESUS LIVES!!!

I see his face on this balsa wood!

Talk to Me, Jesus! Talk To Me!

The Reverend is First Again. Fuck the Turin Shroud! I Have The Milton Keynes Parsnip Balsa Board!

Oh hang on. It's just a moth. That is odd, because I had just been feeling strange thoughts of Parsnips emanating from the wood. I took this as a sign that The Parsnip God was amongst us. This is the best Phase of God. For God + Parsnips is Unbeatable! Not even McDonalds could stop us!

Hail The Parsnip!

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!

How odd. I have been offline for a couple of days while I ramped up my computer with Brand Spanking New Bits, but it was longer than I anticipated. After all, it caused me to miss Ask Teh Rev yesterday, which is exceedingly unusual, and I apologise to you all who were looking forward to Tuesday with great anticipation, only to have your hopes dashed by my failure to run a timely upgrade!

Today, I found an extraordinarily useful feature in the bottom of my Vicarage. There is a rather large pipe, buried deep underneath a small pond that was built in the early 80s. I found this pipe purely by chance, while I was digging up a small grave for a sparrow I had accidently pounded with my shovel while attempting to imitate an Olympic event. I won't explain where the shovel is involved in swimming, however.

Anyway, this pipe appears to be very fat, and I followed it for several miles, where it led to a rather large underground bunker.

Then, I was shocked!

Inside the bunker appeared to be secret plans to overthrow the Russian Government! This is disgusting. And they were signed personally by Tony Blair.

My main concern is that I didn't find secret papers plotting to overthrow the Way of the Parsnip. This means, of course, that I haven't caused enough trouble of late. I want to be on MI5 Subversive Lists!

Later, I smashed open the pipe and found it contained crack cocaine! There's definitely something suspicious going on. I just hope my septum holds out for as long as it requires for me to solve this mystery.

Today's service went rather unusually. In fact, it was so unusual that I ended up running out of the service, away from the flames.

You see... I was whipping up the Old Dears into a frenzy about the latest increase in bus fares in the region, when suddenly one of them stood up and said:

"Let's make a stand now!"

So they did. One of them pulled out a tin peaches and poured it on a pew. Another adjusted their comb-over so it was no longer combed-over. And other produced a large portion of petrol and burnt down the church.

So I'm a bit gutted. As is the church. A couple of ChavScum died in the incident, but that's no great loss to the world. Might even make Milton Keynes a better place.

But my big problem is that I'll now have to conduct all future services in a nearby church as a joint operation with another Reverend. I fear that he may not be so keen on my Pay For Your Sins Collection Plate. Or the "place your bets on which chavscum is going to rush out to vomit White Lightning into the church toilet" betting scam I run.

The other annoyance was that I was just about to slice the Parsnip and share it around. As you may know, I once considered what a Parsnip Mass would be like. Today I was going to test it out to see how well it went down, but it seems that the Old Dears decided to go down and party instead.

Rhetoric is a Powerful Tool! I shall have to be more Careful in Future!