Parsnips For All

The End. For Now.

2004-09-10T19:24:00.000-02:00

Greetings, my congregation!

It is with a heavy heart that I must now inform you that I shall be leaving you for an unspecified period of time. I am hoping that it will be short, but it could well stretch to several weeks, depending on alcoholic intake levels.

Until then, I will leave you with these words:

The Lord will not save You; he is but a weak pawn in my game. Today, I have finally realised that Only The Grace and Goodness of the Parsnip will save you All. And only if you Repent!

Take Your Parsnips! Grasp Them Firmly, and Hold Them Aloft!

Respect them! Bestow Gifts upon them!

But most of all:

Love Your Parsnip.

And Love *The* Parsnip.

Best wishes, and until we meet again, let no Turnip Towers pass your lips, on pain of death by insertion.

The Power of Prayer

2004-09-09T19:45:00.000-02:00

The Power of Prayer is well documented. One only needs to look at how often the Americans pray for God to bless their country, and yet every day they continue to suffer.

They will ALWAYS suffer because they do not have Enough Parsnips in their country. That is their own problem. They know full well how to adjust the climate to accomodate for good Parsnip Growth Conditions. It normally involves either more or less carbon dioxide.

But today I received a shining example of how Prayer is supposed to work. You aren't supposed to ask for the big things... because God just does not have the Power to grant you a new dishwasher, or a multi-million pound home. God frowns upon such material requests.

However, the Parsnip will look kindly upon them, because He Uses Them To Find Your Weakness, and then Exploits them When You Least Expect It!

For example: today I was speaking to an old dear who desperately wanted a new hip. So desperate was her need that she was willing to cut off her own arm in exchange for a new hip.

So I called her up and pretended to be from the Hospital. I told her that we had a new hip ready for her, and we were ready to operate tomorrow. She was ecstatic, so I then pulled the plug by telling her that she's a Gullible Old Bitch and Hag, and Gullible People Will Not Be Eligible For Entry Into The Kingdom Of God and Parsnippery, and so I Instantly Commanded that I hope she gets SARS and dies, because She Is Not Worthy. She withered into a crumpled heap on the other end of the phone, and I Roared Heartily at my Scoring of Another Successful Notch On the Bedpost.

Be careful what you wish for in my presence! I Will Use It To My Advantage And Make Prank Calls!

Ravenous

2004-09-08T11:27:00.000-02:00

After a long night out drinking, I returned in an alcoholic haze this morning clutching the remains of my bottle of Jack Daniels, which I shall finish later. But then I noticed that I was outrageously hungry, so ordered four lamb kebabs from my local "Dial-A-Kebab" service.

I guzzled those down and promptly revisited it some few minutes later. Something was amiss. It seemed to contain a rather unusual object, which I had somehow managed to swallow, and then my body decided to remove it for it must have been a danger.

On closer inspection it appeared to be a bug. But not just any old bug... one which seemed to be recording my internal body temperature and parsnip absorption ratios.

This is quite strange. I have no idea why anyone would want to spy upon me to discover just How Great the Parsnip Art at Eating Parsnips. Perhaps there is a Sooper Sekrit Science Project going on by the Intellectuals of the Finest Universities to see exactly what it is that I have Which Other Lowlife Scum are Denied in their Wretched Existences.

I have, naturally, contacted the Police and the Coastguard, just in case this is a plot by Al Qaeda to attempt to Take Over Britain's Finest Anglican And Parsnippery Cleric and Use Me for their Wicked Purposes, such as Appearing on TV to Tell All To Stick Their Heads in a Meat Slicer.

Anything is Possible! And as a Good Citizen, aware of my Responsibilities of Defending the Motherland, I Will Not Cease In My Toil!

I am a Patriot!

Are you?

Ask Teh Rev: Week 10

2004-09-07T10:47:00.000-02:00

A short question this week. David Jones of Alabama enquired:

"Do you peel parsnips?"

This is an interesting question, not least because only the other day, someone found the Reverend's Journal by typing this very question into Google and following the links they were presented!

It is good that so many people are finding my journal through the marvels of modern technology. Word of Mouth is dead!

Unfortunately, this question seems to be something of a repetition of the one I answered from dear Rosemary some weeks ago. It is not acceptable that people cannot read very carefully, and this would not have been acceptable when Jesus Walked the Earth. If you didn't read, then you had your eyes removed and you took them back to the nearest Vision Express, or Specsavers, where they were doing "2 for 1" offers on new eyeballs.

The answer to the question is as before. Raw parsnips are best, but only if you can cope with the roughage, and have teeth like sledgehammers. Otherwise, the parsnip is peeled and given a good roasting.

Try not to buy frozen parsnips from your local supermarket. Only Heathens would dare freeze the Mighty Parsnip! I told that to the manager last time he tried to shut me inside the freezer cabinet for complaining again that their colour scheme was surely inspired and stolen from McDonalds: a clear sign of Heathenous Activity amongst the Marketing Department.

Go Forth And Spread This Word! I Do Not Want To Have To Answer It Again!

Disturbance!

2004-09-06T14:22:00.000-02:00

This morning I was disturbed at 5:15am by two cats sitting on my back wall having an enormous slanging match.

I've never heard such noise. I initially thought it was too very noisy teenagers in their bitchy mode.

I walked to the window, expecting to see full battle ensuing. But there they were... sitting on the back wall looking at each other, yet some distance apart, shouting and bawling.

Fucking cunts. Everyone knows the 11th Commandment is:

"Thou Shalt Not disturb The Rev From His Slumber, On Pain of Death"

So I pulled out my air rifle and shot at the fuckers.

They are now ex-cats.

Sunday Service Number Ten

2004-09-05T20:15:00.000-02:00

Still being forced to use the church of another Reverend because mine is undergoind reconstruction, I decided to throw a sickie and leave my wonderful audience alone this week. I'm sure both of them will be disappointed not to receive their Weekly Dose of Parsnip.

I don't know how long I could keep this going for. It's going to take months before my church is rebuilt, and until then I'll have "guest star" with the miserable bastard who I worked with last Sunday. I might have to bump him off.

So today, instead, I went and listened to some Commodores. I noticed that Lionel Richie tells us he is easy like Sunday morning. I'm not sure if this is the correct attitude to take, particularly on a Sunday when most people who've been out on the piss will be waking up next to a monkey or other assorted beast they may have found inhabiting the gutter of a city centre street.

Ergo, it is Lionel's fault that the world is now a great ball of Sexually Transmitted Infections!

A pox on thee, Lionel! I hope he can live with himself.

Saturday Night

2004-09-04T04:01:00.000-02:00

As A Reverend, it is important that I know all of the latest dance moves. Indeed, back int he 70s I was quite a Dance Queen, strutting about on the dance floor to the Hallowed Strains of God Save the Queen by the Sex Pistols. Indeed, it was often quipped at the time that people would sing that song about me. Although, of course, there was a future for me, as My Words and Writings Now Testify!

The relevance of all this is the fact that I know all the words and dance moves to the song "Saturday Night" by Whigfield. It's a timeless classic that topped the British charts, and all in the world should hear this fabulous tune!

Tonight, I shall be performing it. Live.

And Tonight, The Disco Dance Queen Shall Return! As Tonight, I will hit the dance floors of Milton Keynes and boogy on down to some Hot Hot Music!

My Hips Will Gyrate! Accidental collisions with others may Ensue, and May Lead To a certain Fumbling Liason in True 70s fashion in the back of a Lada.

God Save The Queen!

Mountainous Molehills

2004-09-03T15:55:00.000-02:00

This morning I noticed there was a beam in my eye of extraordinary size. This is not the first time that this has happened, and I often wonder who on Earth is doing this.

But once I consulted the mirror, I had a vivid recollection of an experience during the night involving a McDonalds employee. He was wearing his crew uniform, with several badges for keeping the toilets in good order, and then flipping burgers successfully, though not necessarily in that order.

The bastard came up to me with a beam and stuck it deep within my eye and forced me to eat a Turnip Tower!

Fortunately, this was only a dream, else I would have had to cut open my intestines to remove the evil Turnip from my body, as the process of expungement would take far too long. Eating Turnips against my will has always been one of my biggest fears. It's rape, in a fashion.

Anyway, I attempted to pull this beam out of my eye, but it proved far too difficult; it was going nowhere fast. As you can imagine, it made for movement around and about all day quite difficult, so I Fearlessly gouged out my eye, which solved the problem.

All Hail The Rev! For He Has No Quandary In Sacrificing A Part Of His Body To Make Himself Feel Better! He Is A Bold Individual! Next Time You Are Dying With A Hangover, I Suggest You Try The Same Thing By Chopping Off Your Head.

When The Reverend Sighs

2004-09-02T17:27:00.000-02:00

The whole world sighs with Him.

It is with a heavy heart that I report the death of my beloved pet, Bob. Bob was my favourite hamster. It was crafted out of a parsnippery shape, and other bits of vegetables and stuff were attached to make it out as if it looked like a hamster. At least, it was a hamster eventually.

You see, it was crafted by a small child in Mevagissey, aged about five. It was supposed to be a donkey made out of vegetables. But it was a miserable failure.

He was a miserable failure. I told him in no uncertain terms. I roared in his face, and thrashed him with my Cane. But I accepted his gift nevertheless, and I told him that I would place it in my window, so that as he passed my house every day on his way to school he would be continually reminded of his Total and Utter Failure. Only by such Punishment and Shame do Children ever Learn to Escape from making a complete Failure out of their lives.

But indeed! The Bible also educates that Children need not sin at all for us to issue them with severe punishments. This is Supreme!

"I, the LORD your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the fathers to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me..." - Exodus 20:5-6

So next time you see a child, thrash them around the ear and administer a swift kick in the nads. You Have Good Reason, and The Courts Will Smile Upon You As The Bible Is Your Moral Compass! All Families Have Sinned! I Have No Doubt that someone's grandmother's aunty's great-cousin lied with a Beast!

The Parsnip Shines Upon Those Who Follow His Word! But Do Not Ask Him For Assistance With Your Legal Fees! I Have Enough Of Those Of My Own!

Sealed with a Kiss,

The Parsnip

Pinch Punch!

2004-09-01T06:34:00.000-02:00

First of the Month. It is now September, and the year is nearly over. The Year In Which The Parsnip First Bloomed On The Internet.

The Year In Which more people gained access to the Way of the Parsnip for the first time in their miserable histories. I hope I have brought much joy, but brutal discipline, to many people's lives in the past couple of months. I Love You All, Yet At All Times I Retain a Correct level of Distance from you, as A Good Reverend Should.

It is a Glorious day today. So much so that I may decide to buy a new car, as it is written in the scriptures. You see, it is recorded:

"On new car days: March 1st and September 1st, thou shalt purchaseth a neweth car if the financial situation is correct to do so. From that new car, thou then shalt traverse around the village at 130mph, blasting out Much Rave Music from your new speakers, and throwing glass bottles and bricks at people and other passing cars."

Since I currently have several thousand stashed from a successful bank heist last night, I could not possibly deny God's will. This is one of the few times where God's Will must take precedence over the Way of the Parsnip.

Wish Me Luck! Let us Pray That I Not Get Arrested! For If I Were To Be Arrested, it Would Not Be Me Being Arrested. I would Arrest The Officer and Brutally Torture Him With A Terrible Turnip.

Hail The Parsnip!

Ask Teh Rev: Week 9

2004-08-31T17:04:00.000-02:00

An exciting question this week comes from Shiela Bogart of Tunbridge Wells. Unusually, it was written in green ink, which made me all the more intrigued, as green ink lovers are generally of an unstable disposition. I was not disappointed.

"HAIL THE PARSNIP!

Dear Reverend,

I am pleased to report to you this week that I have found the secret of The Way of the Parsnip. It generally involves four slices of parsnip, laid out on a bed of pilau rice. My question to you is whether I should sleep with another woman?

Yours truly,

Shiela Bogart."

I thoroughly enjoyed this question as it aroused such wonderful memories of the time I accidently stumbled upon a brothel specialising in taking care of naughty women. These are exceptionally rare, and so I made full and wholesome use of my time in there. I converted many people to the Way of the Parsnip that night, I can tell you.
I digress.

Sheila... the Bible is very clear on this. It says:

"If a man lies with a male as a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall be put to death, their blood is upon them." - Leviticus 20:13

But hang on... you aren't a man, are you? I don't think so, although the name of Shiela often does make me suspicious. It reminds me of the time I... oh wait, perhaps I shouldn't share that story if I want to remain a Vicar.

But believe, Shiela! No matter how much you Love Your Parsnips, you shall not enter into The Kingdom of the Lord, and The Hallowed Halls of the Hollowed Parsnip (the latter is preferable, naturally) if you lie with another woman. The Bible forbids it! I know it does! Somewhere! The Bible Forbids Everything! Except What I Say It Doesn't Forbid!

Now, time to watch a film. I have an excellent idea in mind. It may involve some mud, and some grappling. The title of the film escapes me. But I Shall Enjoy It! And I Certainly Do Not Forbid This! I Recommend It To All. Men In Particular!

Extraordinary!

2004-08-30T21:14:00.000-02:00

I woke up this morning to discover a rather strange mark upon the bedroom ceiling. It was brown and in the shape of a parsnip.

Indeed, the room had the distinct aroma of Parsnips being fried. I looked down and noticed that there in the room, miraculously appearing overnight, was a Large George Foreman Grill.

Everyone knows that George Foreman Grills are the Greatest! After all, QVC does not lie! I have the credit card bills to prove it!

But yes. On the Grill appeared to be a large succulent parsnip. Someone had sliced it up carefully and was grilling it to sublime perfection, and without all the calories and fat one would normally associate with such a grill. But thanks to the George Foreman Grill, once I ate the Parsnips, I felt my excess flab just melting away!

I stood on the scales in the bathroom shortly afterwards and noticed that, indeed, I had lost some eight pounds. Astonishing! I'm now like a rake, and I find it a great ease to slip into something more comfortable. I recommend this to all Fat Americans out there! George Foreman Is Your Friend!

Then, I dashed to my front balcony, opened it and bellowed:

"THE PARSNIP IS NOW UNDER 11 STONE! THE PARSNIP HAS ACHIEVED HIS GOAL VIA WEIGHTWATCHERS! YOU CAN TOO! THE ATKINS DIET IS A FRAUD! THE WAY OF THE PARSNIP IS PURE AND CLEAN CUT! ACKNOWLEDGE IT, AND YOU TOO WILL FEEL GOD'S LOVE IN THE FORM OF LOW MASSES AND A LIGHT SPRING IN YOUR STEP!"

Of course, there was no doubting in my mind who had provided the grill. This was a sign from God himself. He has Finally Seen Fit to Acknowledge that the Way of the Parsnip is all that is Good, and now even God himself is Offering Sacrifices to Me, the Humble Servant of the Way of the Parsnip.

Go forth and spread the Word! And When You Have Spread it, Hail the Parsnip Thrice, and your very own George Foreman Grill will appear right before Your Very Eyes!

Sunday Service Number Nine

2004-08-29T16:11:00.000-02:00

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"

Open Season

2004-08-28T13:44:00.000-02:00

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!

Funky Friday

2004-08-27T17:11:00.000-02:00

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!

An Attempt

2004-08-26T09:38:00.000-02:00

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!

Long Time Passing!

2004-08-25T15:57:00.000-02:00

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.

Sunday Service Number Eight

2004-08-22T19:21:00.000-02:00

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!

I'm going out for a drink.

2004-08-21T18:21:00.000-02:00

I may be some time.

Friday's Child

2004-08-20T18:16:00.000-02:00

I'm not a fan of Will Young, and this album is particularly offensive to my Choir boy loving ears. I feel that young William should have been issued corrective therapy while he was in choir to remove that annoying whining drone he has in his voice. But it is too late now!

Still. Another Friday is upon us. I find myself once again with a bottle of Jack Daniels, but this week I also have a bottle of Pimms, which should round off the week in particularly upper-class fashion. Unfortunately, lying in a gutter drowning in my own vomit somewhat puts paid to the aura of nobility and patronage I once exuded.

It has been some days since I considered the state of my Parsnip stock. Things are looking a bit weak at the minute. I believe it is because I have been neglecting my duties in favour of sticking my head inside toilets and bellowing the "Star Spangled Banner" at full volume in order to see what kind of harmonics I can achieve inside different toilet bowls. It has been a fulfilling experience. I have often found public lavatories to be the most enjoyable, once one gets over the initial olfectory assault.

So now I must get back to work. I have Heathens to stuff faces with Parsnip!

A Virus!

2004-08-19T17:31:00.000-02:00

A pox upon the vile fiend who e-mailed me the latest all singing and all dancing virus to my Gmail account!

I opened this attachment because it claimed to be a picture of the World's biggest Parsnip, when my screen was overrun with large turnips, all mocking me! They would say things like "I want to defenestrate the Parsnip!" and "Turnips Own Your Ass!"

I nearly died of a coronary as the shock overwhelmed me.

This is why I have missed a day of posting. It is not often that I fall behind, so I thought I owed you all an explanation. But fear not! The Parsnip will have his revenge. I have his IP address, and as I have demonstrated in the past, I am a L33t Ha><0r. Their machine is toast!

You Cannot Keep The Parsnip Down! He Will Always Find A Way Back! And On His Return, His Power and Might Will Have Grown To Proportions No Longer Measureable On Any Human Invented Device!

Your Slide Rules are No Match For Me!

Fear! The! Parsnip!

Ask Teh Rev: Week 8

2004-08-17T15:28:00.000-02:00

This week I received a rather suspicious looking question from a person whose name I shall not reveal, for fear that I may incite this individual into some sort of fiendish plot against me.

The Question Was Thus:

"Dear Rev. P.P.,

I'm distressed that you have not received questions. Perhaps this will be of some help.

Milton Keynes is a place, right, not a person?

I had assumed it was a person, perhaps a descendant of J.M. Keynes named for the poet. But then I've heard of Milton Street, which I believe is a town rather than a street. Finally, aren't they building a stadium in Milton Keynes for QPR or Wimbledon or somebody from far away whose fans don't want to go there? That means it must be a place, right?

By the way, in case you've wondering, I've been to Tooting Bec.

I hate looking things up."

Now this concerns me. I have no doubt that this person is trying to disguise themselves as a genuine question with a real interest in the field. Instead, he has other plots in mind. He knows that Milton Keynes is a town. But he's trying to trick me into believing he is All Good. But I know that he is already conniving and scheming to destroy Milton Keynes!

I know I have put down these Bad People in this town in the past. But they do not deserve such treatment from Al Qaeda and their agents. All they want to do is exist peacefully, quietly receiving their Welfare Cheques/Checks on a Monday and Tuesday morning, and watch TV all day. They never did you any harm!

But I shall leap to the rescue! Yes! I see through the fiendish and Devilish plots of The Cabal and Freemasons across the world. You Will Never Fool The Parsnip!

In fact, this may even be an unholy Union of The Cabal, Freemasonry and McDonalds, crossed with a dash of Turnips. If this is true, it turns my stomach. The kind of things they make in biological laboratories these days is truly revolting. I am pleased that I will be not on this Earth for much longer, as there is a terrible monster brewing in a test tube somewhere in Russia!

Yes! Boris Yeltsin is coming back as the Marshmellow Man! The World Will Not Be Safe, As New Boris Rapes and Pillages the land in search for Vodka!

Hang on. He sounds like some of the Foxy Ladies who go out on the piss on Friday nights in Milton Keynes.

Regards,

Your Juxtaposing Reverend.

A Swift Half...

2004-08-16T20:45:00.000-02:00

... followed by a short, a Tequila, a bottle of vodka, three bottles of wine and eight cans of Stella.

That's what I poured all over the neighbour's cat this morning in my attempt to kill the meowing bastard. Alas, all of my shots missed, and so later, when I realised I had nothing left to get myself pissed, I had to lick the garden path and walls.

Of course, this did not paint a good impression of a Reverend. The local children mocked my desperate attempts to ingest some alcohol. Any alcohol.

And it was even worse when my ex-wife walked past.

Not good. But I will Get My Revenge! The Parsnip Always Knocks Twice!

Sunday Service Number Seven

2004-08-15T19:26:00.002-02:00

On reading from The Good Book today, I noticed that several members of my congregation were yawning.

This is not unusual, being a Reverend. But it is unusual, being a Parsnip. So I decided to "embellish" the story. I added in a fiendish plot of cunning and intrigue, involving several murders, a decomposed rectum and a shimmering disco ball that only glowed when it was called Percy.

It seemed to liven up the tale of Paul in Caesarea no end. I found it far more enjoyable too. I can't recall why I was reading this passage anyway. I can only conclude that I, in a moment of desperation, had opened to a random page of the Bible, because I was not feeling like the Service was "religious" enough.

After the sermon was concluded, I stepped outside to shake everyone's hand on the way out, making a noteable exception for the lepers in Milton Keynes and other nefarious types who I wouldn't be seen dead with. It is the Christian thing to do! I cast them out into the fire of Ignorance! God would not have put up with such disgusting people in His day.

I'm not sure if His day will ever come. I shake my head in disapproval at the sorry state of Milton Keynes. They do not Understand! Their Perfect Town Planning Method is a sheer disaster!

God does not approve of Perfect Town Planning! All of Those who Live In Sin in pre-planned Towns will be Judged at His Right Hand, And Judged Good!

Fortunately, I am excepted, because of my humble upbringing in Mevagissey. Another convenient co-incidental Relief for The Parsnip!

Summer Fete

2004-08-14T05:32:00.000-02:00

I am pleased to report that today is Milton Keynes' very first Church Fete. As you may already know, I am very adept at opening such occasions, as it is one of my favourite pastimes.

You may be intrigued to know that amongst the many stalls we will have apple-bobbing, penalty-taking and gangland driveby shooting competitions. Plus, plenty of places vending crack, ecstasy, heroin and maybe a little "light relief" for those in need of a toke. I thought it best to include such stalls as a way of attracting everyone from the entire Milton Keynes community.

God does not victimise against junkies and bag-heads! No sir. They are all Welcome into the community of the Lord. However, they are not quite so welcome in my Fete, so I will be patrolling, along with my Elite Guard of Bodyguards, with a sawn-off shotgun in hand. Of course, if they don't steal anything, we'll all get along fine!

This has the potential of being a very lucrative day for me. The Church, I mean. It is written in the Bible:

"Let your Church Fetes be large and profitable! Then, gamble all of your takings on a single spin of a roulette wheel! If God has also enjoyed your Fete, then He Will Shine Upon You, and your Fund for "New Stained Glass Windows" will be Enriched!"

I am eternally grateful for God making such outstanding exceptions that I can utilise quite co-incidentally.

Uranium

2004-08-13T21:44:00.000-02:00

It seems I have found an unusual thing in my garden this evening. There appears to be a very large crock of uranium under the soil.

Now, I know the grounds of Milton Keynes, before the Town was founded, were often used as a military testing ground for nuclear weapons in 1946, but I was assured they had cleaned all of this up!

Never mind. Because, just as Yin Yang says, in every bit of bad, there's a little bit of good! For if I harvest it, I may be able to produce a Deadly Parsnip in my Lab, one which I can secrete into a restaurant kitchen and cause widespread death of Heathens!

My conquest grows further! Fuck Rowan and his demands for my retirement! I Am Not Finished Yet!

Fear The Parsnip!

Retirement Imminent!

2004-08-12T19:12:00.000-02:00

At the grand Old age of ... it seems that the Church are preparing to pension me off. I am not best pleased with this, as this would be something of an "early retirement" in Church terms. As you no doubt know, many priests prefer to drop dead while at the height of Sergasm, the technical term for the emotional and physical high a Preacher may reach when delivering the key phrases of an Important Sermon.

So it does seem odd that this morning I received a personal letter from my old friend, Archbishop Rowan Williams. In it, he thanks me for my long years of service and tells me all about my financial arrangements.

It seems I shall be getting a huge tax-free payoff.

This is all looking very odd. Why now? Why the hurry? Milton Keynes still needs my help to overcome its current brown patch (which has been going on since its creation in the 60s) and become not just a New Town, but a Parsnip Town. Another notch on my bedpost!

I smell a conspiracy. Either that or I've been sticking pens in my toaster again without realising. It Was An Experiment, Guv'nor, Honest! I Thought It Might Turn Into Toast Too!

Signed,

The Curious Parsnip

Silence Is Easy

2004-08-11T18:07:00.000-02:00

I tell this to my Flock every day. They do not need to respond to the Parsnip, unless they are demanded to do so. Otherwise, they should exercise their Right To Silence, for it is, indeed, remarkably easy to do so.

The Rev. will not accept backchat! Particularly from little bitchy bitches, questioning the Authority of His Reverence, The Reverend. Indeed, he may react with great speed and supreme ferocity. They Will Not Know Wot Hit 'Em, when I'm finished tonight.

On a lighter note I have just discovered a remarkable thing. Two pound coins can be separated into two halves if you push on the middle bit hard enough. I would show you a picture of a two pound coin I have destroyed just to demonstrate, but I Know you will have Faith in Your Rev.

Try it now! You will be surprised!

PS: I lied. And if you were about to try this out, then you are undoubtably a resident of Milton Keynes. And if you are not yet, then I can arrange for your permanent relocation to my town, where you may attend my sermons every week for the first dose of intelligence and education you have received since Kindergarten.

I Provide An Important Service To My Community! If They Were Not In My Church, Then They Would Be Igniting Schools, Drinking To Excess, and Tirelessly and Ceaselessly Procreating!

Hail The Parsnip!

Ask Teh Rev: Week 7

2004-08-10T15:38:00.000-02:00

Would you believe it! No one sent in any questions this week.

I refuse to believe that everyone is Educated in the Way of the Parsnip and requires no further guidance from Their Spiritual And Temporal Leader, Your Loving Parsnip.

No. I suspect most people are just too stubborn. They do not realise that they are even having a problem. But the Problem is there! It will grow, and may manifest itself in the form of a large dung beetle walking across your kitchen units at any moment. If you ignore it, it will not go away. It will merely grow larger until you cannot tell the difference between a parsnip and a turnip... thus turning you into a Heathen.

So, ask your questions! For I am here to help! And even if I can't help, then I will at least be able to scoff at your pitiful knowledge and ignorance of the Way of the Parsnip.

Hail The Parsnip!

Running With A Bit

2004-08-09T17:26:00.000-02:00

When Plastic Annie knocked on my door earlier, I almost was taken aback. But then again, I was not. You see, Plastic Annie is the insulting name I have for a 98-year-old wretchy hag who lives next door to my Vicarage. She is all plastic these days, from her teeth, to her hips, to her hair and to her arse. I know, because I tried to feel it one hot day after a roaring sermon that she had particularly enjoyed.

Indeed, it may soon be that I have to call her Lego Annie, for she is more Lego Woman than Real Person.

Anyway, she came to my door seeking my advice. I listened to her heart-wrenching tale, gasping, ooohing, ahhhing and sympathising at all the appropriate moments, and told her immediately that she must have an abortion.

Good job I'm not a Catholic!

Once she'd left, I decided I need to do a sermon about Old Age Promiscuity. It is on the rampage in Milton Keynes.

And I don't ever want to hear about it again.

It's sickening.

Respect The Parsnip! For He Has The Guts To Listen To Disgusting Stories About An Old Dear Being Taken Up Roads She'd Never Had The Pleasure Of Visiting!

Sunday Service Number Six

2004-08-08T13:56:00.000-02:00

Today's Service was an exercise in good discipline. As I have a storming hangover this morning, I ordered that we conduct affairs in minimal noise. Therefore, I commanded that all my congregation must not speak for the entire service, otherwise I will drown them in the baptismal font.

Nevertheless, my poor disposition did not preclude me from delivering a Belter of a sermon today. As mentioned yesterday, I told my people about the Parable of the Pen. Here, it follows. It is only a short story. But the Message is Resounding!

Once, there was a man named Paul. Paul had a pen. He liked to use his pen to write short stories for children and small animals, for back in the 16th century (which is where our story is set, incidentally!), small animals used to be able to talk, and would be engaged by a good story.

There was a lot of money to be made in this business. Paul already had several books to his name, and several huge contracts with HarperCollins and Penguin. He was even one of the trailblazers of his age, having a PR deal with the very young Maxeth Cliffordeth.

But one day, his talent was derailed. He could not think of a new story. His publishers pressed him every day, sending him letters by pigeon post. Maxeth threatened to leak a story about Paul's affair with Nadia in order to push Paul into hiding in the hope that it might help him overcome his writer's block.

But nothing could help Paul.

Then, it dawned on him. All this time he was struggling for ideas, he was struggling with a very idea inherent within the struggle. Writing about not being able to write! And so he Wrote! And Wrote! A Stream of Bollocks flowed forth from his pen! A Cascade of Nonsense! A Tirade of Terminally Stupid Rants!

His next book flopped. Paul was dropped by his publishers. Maxeth Cliffordeth filled the "Newseth Of Thine World" with scandalous stories about what exactly Paul used to do with his quill pen during his writer's block sessions.

Paul's career was in ruins.

He was tempted to turn to the World of the Welfare Cheque, when suddenly...

THE PARSNIP WAS BORN!!!

Into his life came the most wonderful thoughts. They were no longer of dotting the i's, crossing the t's and tickling his arse with a quill pen. Instead, they were Pure, Strong, Powerful and Firm thoughts of The Way of the Parsnip.

Yes! He was touched by the message of a young philosopher at the time named Reverend Peter Parsnip. His message was simple: The Parsnip is your servant. It will be your simplest, yet your most challenging acquisition. It Will Be Your New Way Of Life!

You Are Right! It Is I! I am Your Saviour! I led Paul not into temptation, and I delivered him from Evil!

He was one of my first converts. He was one of my great underlings! He took on my message and wrote to all corners of the world, using the Pen of the Parsnip.

He died some years later of a terrible and exceedingly rare infection from eating too many parsnips. But that was when soil conditions were poor, and maggots infested every meal!

You too can be like Paul!

And fortunately, it is a simple thing to achieve. I make it especially simple for all you idiots out there, particularly those in Milton Keynes. They are stupid, and they find it easy to fall into line.

You must follow the Holy Trinity, as approved by the Lord Jesus and God himself.

It is Thus:

Love the Parsnip.
Respect the Parsnip; and...
FEAR THE PARSNIP.

Saturday Slump

2004-08-07T09:52:00.000-02:00

Sometimes on a Saturday, I like to just whip out a hammock and relax all day in the Vicarage Orchard. However, this can be difficult when you have very busy main roads all around the place.

Sometimes I miss the quietness of Mevagissey. Then, I recall certain occasions in a double hammock with Mrs Gosworth. I say! I hold Mevagissey very dear in my heart, and that is why I destroyed it. The Love was overwhelming me. As a Good Christian, only certain levels of Love are healthy. Beyond that, and it becomes a Sin! A dirty, filthy, stinking, rotten Sin!

That is The Gospel Truth.

But today, I have decided to work on my sermon for tomorrow. I don't have any ideas what to write about. So I'll borrow from Steven King's book, and write about a writer having writer's block. It will be The Parable of the Pen.

I'm sure my Flock are going to like this one. I will post it here tomorrow!

A Chance Encounter

2004-08-06T07:13:00.000-02:00

This morning I met an old friend of mine in a remarkable co-incidence. We were both down in the scrap yard looking for new curtain pelmets for our residences, when we bumped heads.

It was my old Choir Master from when I was a lad. He didn't look a day over 95! I shook his hand firmly, and the old bastard nearly crumbled into thin air. But apart from that, the rotting teeth, the Zimmer frame and the smell, he is still a fine figure of a man.

I was very pleased to meet him again. Back in the days, I never knew any other Choir Master who was able to get so much out of His Boys. His leadership was exemplary, and his singing with beautiful: like a Siren Song. I was always astonished at how high he could sing, but he later exposed himself as a castrati. As a young boy, I didn't quite understand what that entailed until it was demonstrated to us all.

I have asked him over to the Vicarage for a cup of tea and a slice of Battenburg cake tomorrow.

There, we will hatch a new plan.

We will launch the Milton Keynes Gospel (and Urban "Bling!" Rap) Choir!

And We Will Be Invited to Perform at Carnegie Hall!

Let there be no doubt: The Parsnip Will Prevail!

When the North Wind Doth Blow...

2004-08-05T16:05:00.000-02:00

We shall have Snow. Today, as an experiment in sociology, I removed my dog collar, donned a Kappa tracksuit and wondered around Milton Keynes looking for a place to cash a fraudulently acquired dole cheque.

It seems the closure of all the Post Offices is causing real turmoil amongst the Good Good People of Milton Keynes. These days they have to get a bus before they can cash their giro cheques (or "welfare checks" for my American-Impaired Visitors). Clearly, this is not acceptable, as they need to pay for such bus journeys, and yet, they do not have the money, because the only money to their name is stored safely in Giro Cheque Format.

The solution: MK Metro Bus Services must install Giro cheque readers and cashing facilities forthwith. That would get people onto public transport. Oho!

This is an intriguing proposal. If spread across the whole of the UK, all dolescum would use the bus more regularly, and it could cut greenhouse emissions by 90%... as everyone knows that all Dole Scum have their own cars, sometimes even two. After all, they need to drive 100metres round the corner to take their kids to school, otherwise they wouldn't get back in time for Trisha! (The UK's best answer to Jerry Springer)

But there'd have to be some sort of way to stop people from cashing their cheque and jumping off the bus immediately. Perhaps buses need to have armed guards on them. Mind you, there are already armed guards on most of Milton Keynes's bus services. You never know which little scum of a child is going to pull out a Swiss Army Knife next!

Then again, I have also seen 20-odd year old males and females squeezing into their tracksuits from when they were 14, donning a cap and sticking their face behind a zipped up jacket in order to get away with a child fare. Disgraceful!

After cashing my cheque, I made my way to the nearest Bargain Booze, whereby I purchased 8 Aces, White Lightning and four bottle of Lambrini.

Now I have sobered up (because these things wear off in under an hour) I have decided that I can see the attractions of living like Common Pond Scum. It's simple, it's easy, and it's totally free!

All Hail Left-Wing Socialists, and Their Glorious Creation, The Welfare State! All Hail Gordon Brown and His Mighty Giro Cheques!

Decisions

2004-08-04T17:13:00.000-02:00

The Left path is often more successful than the Right path. But the Right path is always more joyous than the Wrong path. Yet, the Wrong path can bring more danger, excitement, and ultimately may bring such joy that it feels like the Right path after all.

This dangerous distortion of our perception is something that we, as Good God-Fearing Christians and Parsnip Fans must work upon destroying. This type of muddled thinking is typical of today's wooly-liberal age where people are gay one day, straight the next and fucking animals on the Third Day, instead of Rising Again.

IT MUST BE STOPPED! If we are to save humanity, and stop us falling off the edge of the Earth and being smashed by the Lord God Jesus High Christ The Almighty across the cosmos, we must return to the Day of The Rope.

String all felons up! Including the bastards who've just bricked my window again. Little shits. I'm going to call their parents and tell them I'm going to get their dole cheques stopped.

Hit them where it hurts! Right In The Pocket And Then The Scum Parents Can No Longer Purchase Their Heroin! They will come grovelling to me for forgiveness, and then I will show them how the Day of The Rope has Never Died in the Parsnip Residence!

Respect The Parsnip! Or His Powers Of Dole Cheque Acquisition May Come Into Force With Drastic Consequences, Loss Of Blood And Loss Of Teeth!

Ask Teh Rev: Week 6

2004-08-03T19:06:00.000-02:00

A couple of days ago I was sent an Important E-mail from a Big Fan of mine, Tony in Australia. It is satisfying to know that The Way of the Parsnip is reaching such distant shores. Thanks, Tone.

In his e-mail he asked this simple, but essential question:

"how shall thee repenteth of thy wickedness and cast the rod upon thine own loins ?"

It is clear that Tony is asking me about an incident in the Bible where Jesus (who is not my favourite Biblical character) pays a visit to the Harlets, Jessies, Whores and Hoes of Saddam and Good Morrow. In it, Jesus proclaims:

"Fear the Lord God! For it is only through fear that you will be able to repent of your wicked sins! God has spoken to me! He has proclaimed that your path into Heaven is not assured. However, he can make a sacred covenant with you if you entertain My Wishes. To be assured entry, you will flaggelate yourselves across the buttocks with your S&M whips until He, and I, Are Satisfied! And My Hunger for Satisfaction Is Indeed Great at this time, for I do not have a Wife!"

Then, verily, Jesus pulled up a deckchair, grabbed a box of Kleenex and chose to watch the exciting display of self-discipline. There he sat for several hours.

Funnily enough, this version of the incident did not make it into the Bible, as children may read it, and it may fill their heads with impure and unclean thoughts. However, it is perfectly OK for them to read vital passages such as the following, since they are the Beginning of a Good Christian:

"And if a man has an emission of semen, he shall bathe his whole body in water, and be unclean until the evening. And every garment and every skin on which the semen comes shall be washed with water, and be unclean until the evening. If a man lies with a woman and has an emission of semen, both of them shall bathe themselves in water and be unclean until the evening." -Leviticus 15:16-18

or the Important

"Therefore fathers shall eat their sons in the midst of you and sons shall eat their fathers...I will send famine and wild beasts against you and they shall rob you of your children; pestilence and blood shall pass through you; and I will bring a sword upon you. I, the Lord, have spoken." -Ezekiel 5:10, 5:17

And The Lord has Again Spoken This Evening, Via Me! For only by observing this advice will you repent on the wickedness so required to Free you of Sin, and thus follow the Word of God, and thus, logically, the Way of the Parsnip.

However, the Way of the Parsnip also has another option for saving yourself. It involves baking a Parsnip Stew immediately and consuming it at the earliest possible opportunity.

Save Yourself With a Parsnip Stew! Your Sins Will Be Baked Away And Your Passage Into Parsnippery Will Be Assured! Take Heed, Or You Will Be Punished! I Am Watching You! My Eyes See All!

Remove Your Hands From Your Trousers! Immediately!

Fear The Parsnip!

Slide

2004-08-02T12:36:00.000-02:00

This morning I have had a great slide installed in my Vicarage Orchard. It reminds me of my childhood years in which I would spend inordinate amounts of time on a slide in the local park.

I think the other attraction was that nearby we had growing a small cannabis plant, which we often attempted to toke unsuccessfully. I'm a joker, a smoker, and a midnight toker.

But the slide is a necessary construction. It gives me a chance to attract children of all ages into my Parsnip Den, where they can join in the exciting scientific experiments I have going on at the moment. I find that it is much easier to attract the children at an earlier age, and they will be converted to the Way of the Parsnip with great ease.

One such experiment I have going on at the moment involves injecting Wicked Evil Turnips with Viagra to see if they will erect into Parsnips. If successful, this will be my latest plan to rid the world of the Turnip.

Now, leave me be. I have business to attend to.

Sunday Service Number Five

2004-08-01T15:58:00.000-02:00

It's been an interesting day. The Sunday Service went off without incident. The Collection Plate reached a dizzy height of some three thousand pounds, and I have kept cool in the Scorching Milton Keynes sun by swanning about the town completely starkers.

It seems the Police of Milton Keynes are quite used to my naturist-inspired rambles through the town now, as they don't bother to arrest me. Indeed, I saw a fine pair of young Women Police Constables today walking the beat with naught but their caps and batons for dignity.

It's possible, I suppose, that I could have strolled into the Red Light District again. But one of the police officers assured me of her credentials by revealing her papers concealed within her flap.

On my way home I noticed that there was a large door in the middle of the road outside my Vicarage. The door was old and from the 1950s. I am a door expert, and I am blessed with an ability to see which door will be appropriate for which house. Indeed, I have made several thousand pounds in consultancy fees for a forthcoming Channel 4 series, "How Old Is Your Door?".

I have taken this door and stored it for safe keeping. One never knows when one needs a rotting, moulding, creaking, warped piece of wood. Maybe I'll burn some Heathens next to it in honour of this find.

Tragic News

2004-07-31T06:52:00.000-02:00

Your Reverend is Not Well! At All!

Lately, I have been suffering from a decline in Power. I am very concerned that the Parsnip is not bringing the Joy it once used to into my life.

This is indeed something of a mid-life Crisis for me. But I cannot let my Flock down. They deserve to receive their Weekly Dose of Parsnip.

I suggest that this may be the time when I must lock myself into a dark closet for some days with Important Literature, including a copy of the Bible, The Parsnip Scrolls and the past five issues of Loaded, FHM and Zoo.

This will be how I correct myself and restore my faith in Humanity.

The Breasts of Milton Keynes are indeed saggy! They are not pert! They do not fill one with Exuberance!

It is important to remind one's self from time to time that We Can Do Better!

And Your Parsnip Will Do Better! He Will Restore And Erect His Former Glory!

Firestarter!

2004-07-29T19:56:00.000-02:00

Some say that I'm a firestarter. A twisted firestarter.

This is simply not true.

I did not burn down the local tavern because it was called "Turnip Inn". I torched it because it was called the "Turnip Inn".

There is a world of difference. Torching involves a great deal of skill, particularly finding a good size green glass bottle, filling it with petrol from the local garage (and not paying for the goods, of course). Then, it is essential to find a good quality newspaper: The Times is always a classic, and then stuffing it into the bottle but leaving just enough hanging out to give a clean connection to the naked flame then applied.

Only a Zippo lighter will do to light the paper.

Optimum trajectory calculated via trigonometry.

Launch! Crash! Bang!

Then stand back and watch the Heretics Burn. It was like Joan of Arc. But a more Glorious version of Joan of Arc. Somewhat like watching Jeffrey Archer burn at the stake. Now that would be something people would pay to see.

Fear The Parsnip! For His Molotov Cocktails Of Love Will Bless You If You Do Not Pay The Protection Racket Money!

Teh Rev: Teh L33T Cracker!

2004-07-28T19:42:00.000-02:00

Here is a lesson for you all, my children.

Never Mess With Teh Rev!

The story is as follows:

Some years ago I was fucked over by some cunt. Well, I suppose that's exaggerating it. It was a minor incident. But in the Grand Scheme of Things, any action against the Rev is considered Major, and His Wrath may be inflicted at any given time.

Ever since, I've been looking for a way to exact a small piece of correction, as it were.

Today, it was found.

I recalled that I hadn't seen the cunt on MSN for some years now. So taking a gamble, I made an attempt to register his old Hotmail address.

To my surprise, the account had expired! His e-mail address became My e-mail address.

Logging on to MSN Messenger with my new address revealed several of his contacts. If I'm feeling particularly devious I could pretend to be the person whose identity I have stolen.

There's also a disturbing pattern in the profiles of his contacts, which I shall not disclose here. My suspicions have been aroused.

Using this e-mail address, I also went on to recover his ICQ password for his number... which I have now commandeered.

The moral of the tale: never retire an e-mail address, especially one which you've had MSN contacts on in the past! It can be used by your enemies in ways you could never imagine :-)

FEAR THE PARSNIP!!

Ask Teh Rev: Week 5

2004-07-27T06:53:00.000-02:00

This week's excellent question comes from Rosemary May from Milton Keynes. It reads:

Dear Reverend Parsnip,

HAIL THE PARSNIP! We, the Heathens of Milton Keynes and the surrounding areas are meant to eat the Parsnip, this much I understand. However, is there a prefered state that the Parsnip should be in during consumption? Roasted, stewed, or perhaps eaten raw?

Yours sincerely
Rosemary May

This is the question I have been waiting to get my teeth into for some time. I was sure that someone would finally yield to the Request For Important Knowledge that is the correct consumption state of the Parsnip.

First of all, it is pleasing to note that my local congregation in Milton Keynes is paying heed to my word. They are good people at heart, apart from those that are bad people at heart, of which there are many. But they are the challenge to which I will attack and succeed!

Regular readers of my journal will know that I have often advocated eating the Parsnip raw. For it is only in this stiff and beautiful form that the most Power is to be gained.

However, I understand that this is not to everyone's taste. Indeed, to many who have eaten it raw they have often been forced to spit as they gagged on receiving Too Much Power all at once. This is not recommended for young children. Indeed, it would be severely frowned upon and a custodial sentence may result. (although evil Sinners in the Catholic Church who are Heathens have attempted this and got away with it. They will be Condemned To Hell and Judged.)

To those who are slowly weening themselves onto a diet of parsnips, I suggest something that will soften their fibrous nature. A good boiling or stewing will do much to loosen up the outer skin. You may wish to complement it with some carrot and dice or mash it up. Until recently, this was considered quite heathenous, but I have decided to relax my restrictions on this. Carrots seem to be a very good bedfellow with a Parsnip, especially if their names are Julia or Sylvia. Oh my!

However, this is only an acceptable phase as long as one is slowly building up their acceptance of Parsnip Love. Mashed, diced, stewed or boiled parsnips are limp and weak; they do not provide a good source of all the nutrients, as many of them are washed away during the aforementioned cooking processes.

Instead, this should be looked upon as a transitory stage, during which you work your way up to eating The Raw Parsnip, in all its Strong Glory. Indeed, as you work your way up the ranks, you may find it possible to consume ones of extreme length and girth, often all in one go. These are the best: considered the Holy Grail in The Way of the Parsnip.

There will be some who can never quite make it. They are not sinners or heathens, for at least they tried. They will be looked upon favourably at the Final Parsnip Banquet, but they may have to spend several months in purgatory for their failings.

This, naturally, is preferable to spending an eternity in Hell, having Turnips Thrust Up Your Rectum.

Receive This Knowledge! So It Is Written, So Shall It Be Done!

Another Question Next Week! Send in your questions to the address on the right.

Hail The Parsnip!

A Small Walk

2004-07-26T14:51:00.000-02:00

Today, I decided to take a tour of Milton Keynes. As I've only just returned from a holiday fuelled by mind-bending drugs and much debauchery, my memories of the vicarage orchard, the post office, the cathouse, the whorehouse and the bordello are much faded.

So they were duly refreshed!

And so Was The Rev!

But on my journey I crossed this rather small and quaint bridge. It was unusual to see a bridge of such fashion in such a New Town as Milton Keynes. Indeed, it was so unusual that I decided that the best thing to do was to destroy it and ensure that it would never again blot the landscape.

New Towns are supposed to be concrete ridden nightmares! This was uncharacteristic...

So I duly packed the underside with 20kg of Semtex, lit the blue touch paper and retired to a safe distance of some 30 miles.

It later dawned upon me that I should have warned the local Constabulary of my decision to destroy the bridge. Not that they would have minded since they are currently on my payroll, but it's sometimes good manners to let people know when this kind of thing is going to happen. After all, it doesn't occur on a daily basis here in Milton Keynes.

Upon my return the bridge was nought but a smoking crater. I noticed in the centre of the crater was some text, singed into the ground, and then all around on the grass verge. Also, there were several dead bodies of Heathens who attempted to stop The Parsnip in his Way. They were duly punished.

The text read simply: "Allah Akbar Parsnip!"

I believe it is a message from Cat Stevens. He is a good friend of mine, and since his recent conversion to Islam, he has been a great supporter of the Way of the Parsnip, including rallying the troops on the other side of the Great Religious Divide.

My allies are everywhere! Be Warned! For They May Be Spying On You At This Very Moment!

Fear The Parsnip! For He Destroys Bridges Out Of Place In Modern Contexts!

The Great Return

2004-07-25T06:34:00.000-02:00

As a Reverend, I often find that sorry seems to be the hardest word. As such, I never apologise. But there is a good reason for that, because there is never anything to apologise for. The Way of the Parsnip is Always Right and True.

This was amply demonstrated to me whilst on my summer pilgrimage the past week or so. It is indeed good to be home again, however, one must counter-balance that with the woeful sense of foreboding that living in Milton Keynes brings.

I digress. My pilgrimage was short but it was effort filled. I whipped up a storm in the local village I stayed in, largely by soft goading. I would often go into the apres-ski bars and clubs at night and mix up a storm. It is remarkably easy how people let me be the Guest DJ for the evening, simply by discussing how I can put a good word in with the Lord. For did the Good Lord not say, "Judge the Parsnip not, Lest Ye Be Judged By Him"?

The turntables were scratched and the low fitting jeans were brought out with style and aplomb. The Vicar became the most popular attraction in a village that seemed to be stuck in the 1950s. I brought the village right up to date!

They soon saw the light! No longer is Austria 94% Catholic! They are now under my Power!

On my return I made a detour through Switzerland and visited a bank. There, I opened up a nice new Swiss bank account through which I can store my ill-gotten gains. Wait! They aren't ill-gotten...

Hmm, I should never have typed that. Now I am suspicious. Someone is planting evil thoughts in my brain. There's something I'm missing... I should not be using such a poor cliché at this time of morning.

Fear the Parsnip! For He Will Now Analyse The Situation Like a Good University Professor And Solve The Problem! There Is No Need To Worry!

Post 100!

2004-07-14T00:03:00.000-02:00

The Reverend has Now Made Exactly One Hundred Glorious Posts to His Journal!

Each and every one of those contains some important wisdom, or an interesting tale pertaining to the Ultimate Power of the Parsnip.

It comes as quite a co-incidence that I, Your Loving Parsnip, am taking a short vacation from today. I shall return within 11 days.

But I am not slacking! In fact, I am taking the message of the Parsnip abroad to foreign lands where they are primitive and do not have the internet through which they can Learn the True Way.

This important Parsnip Advocacy will do wonders to set alight the imaginations of all abroad. I hope to set up a sekrit church through which I can embezzle funds for tax purposes. But that's just a side benefit of this journey!

I know You will miss the Parsnip while I'm away. But fear not! This is a good opportunity for you to scour the archives and catch up on all of those nuggets of truth which I proclaim in every post. There will be a test upon my return, and failure is not an option. Unless you are a Heathen.

Love Your Parsnip.

Respect The Parsnip.

and most of all...

FEAR THE PARSNIP!

Ask Teh Rev: Week 4

2004-07-13T11:28:00.000-02:00

This week's question is a short but powerful one. It will be coupled with an equally boisterous answer.

It comes from Roger Davids, from California, USA:

"Dear "Reverend",

When are you going to stop putting ideas into the minds of terrorists with your bullying and abuse of people?

Roger."

Well, "Roger"... I have never heard such insolence. You need a caning, twice over the hand, and then thrice over the bottom. Lower your trousers and bend over my desk while I fetch my Spanking Stick.

The Way of the Parsnip is Right. It is unquestionable. Those that question are doing the Devil's Work. Disobedience from the Way leads to Sin.

After your corrective therapy, I command you to say four thousand Hail Mary's, one million Our Fathers, and then three billion HAIL THE PARSNIPs.

I will be listening. If you miss so much as one of the incantations I require then I will have no bones about crashing a jumbo jet through your enormous head, which is filled with ignorance and idiocy.

This will be a lesson for all the world. I would also broadcast the aforementioned jet incident on Al-Jazeera

Fear The Parsnip!

"When In Doubt...

2004-07-12T05:23:00.000-02:00

... cast a monkey out!" is a well known phrase from the Bible.

Strangely enough, I noticed this morning that in my back yard there was a monkey. I was not sure from whence it had came, but I decided to take it indoors so I could fulfil this Biblical prophecy.

Later on, I was watching Wheel of Fortune on Challenge TV. It's an atrocious programme, but I'm sure most people have heard of it.

I became seriously doubtful as to the gender of one of the contestants. It seemed to be a woman, but there was a lot of unusual hair growth, and she had very unpert breasts. Also, she was named "Big Ron."

This doubt filled me with unease.

So I opened the back door and tossed out the monkey. It flew beautifully through the air and landed in a crumpled heap at the back of the yard, amongst my Parsnip Patch.

Then, I felt a lot better.

I suddenly realised that I was not watching Wheel of Fortune, but "The Ladyboys of Bangkok" which I'd rented from the local video store last night. I must have accidently pressed play while I wasn't looking.

Then I looked out into the garden to see if I could rescue the monkey, but it had gone!

How strange indeed.

I celebrated this strangeness by opening another can of Budweiser.

Best wishes,

The Parsnip

Sunday Service Number Four

2004-07-11T23:30:00.000-02:00

And by golly, it was quite a service!

I provide a service to my local community, and they thank me and Praise the Parsnip.

You may recall last week that I had Important Plans for this week's service.
http://peterparsnip.blogspot.com/2004/07/sunday-service-number-three.html for more details. Read it before you continue with this post!

But those plans paid off in full!

This was the best Sunday Service ever! I abstained from alcohol in the morning, but instead, my flock arrived completely off their faces. It seems that, after they saved much money last week by not donating anything to me, that one can buy a lot of whisky with their regular £50 donations.

They were pissed off their faces. It only took a small stir. I told one of the gentlemen that I'd had his wife several times, and it was a splendid evening, with much Parsnippery Pokery.

The Ugly Brute in question then launched his arm towards me in an attempt to Punch the Parsnip. But his efforts were poor. I had conveniently placed myself near other men... and as I dodged said punch, it landed a striking blow on the face of an unrelated man.

Yes! The brawl then took place! The women bitched and cat-fought with excellence. I, myself, took several pictures of them, and I even provided them with a mud bath in which they could wrestle. I was the referee, of course, and the winner was Justly Rewarded.

Much gambling took place, as did much debauchery. I also believe that we had a death as I got a little too carried away in smashing the Lord Jesus On His Crucifix across an Evil Sinner's Head. Well, they had just admitted to eating The Wicked Turnip, so I believe it was a mercy killing.

The fun and games proceeded for three hours. And then I dealt the Blow!

I unveiled that underneath my pure white sheet on the altar were several thousand glasses of Parsnip Colada.

The drunken bastards couldn't keep their hands off My Bounty! And when the supply was becoming diminished, I poured several glasses all over me, instructing the ladies that they are free to Lick the Parsnip Clean!

I then pulled out a magic wand, akin to the one Sooty has. I shouted

IZZY WIZZY! LET'S GET BIZZY!

And there entered many whores and rent boys through every possible door and window. Unfortunately, one of them penetrated my stained glass window. That's going to cost a lot... but I suspect I can embezzle that off the Inland Revenue next tax year.

The funny thing was that I was not expecting whores to enter. This was a remarkable turn of events. I had expected my magic spell to bring everyone under The Parsnip's control at long last... yet it didn't happen that way. Instead, much sex was had by all, and little money changed hands.

The whores of Milton Keynes Toil in poverty! Yet they still provided a free and unexpected service.

I just wonder how they found out...

Still! It was a wonderful day!

I am sure that Jesus was watching! He'll be so envious of The Parsnip!

That's what he gets for being Dead!

Long Live the Parsnip's Orgys!

A Thought or Two

2004-07-10T14:12:00.000-02:00

While driving around in my Parsnippery Flavoured Ice Cream van today, vending nutritious substances to the good people of Milton Keynes (and other less wholesome, and other more "herbal" substances for substantial profit, oho!), an intriguing thought occured to me.

Unfortunately, that thought has since been forgotten.

The Brain of the Parsnip is not as sharp as it once was.

The alarming part of this is that my Thought happened at just precisely the moment I released my foot off the brake. I cannot recall if the Thought caused me to release the pressure, or if the release of pressure called the Thought into my brain.

But this event led to a rather sharp fall. The Parsnip Van rolled into a deep hole dug in the road. It crashed, burned and exploded with me in the cabin.

Of course, the Fire Brigade soon arrived and put out the flames. Parsnips can be highly flammable, but not This Parsnip. I emerged from the flames unscathed without a single burn on my body. The Fire Chief was astounded that I just walked free of the 1000 degree flames. As I walked forward, carrying my Favourite Parsnip Firm and Strong in my Hand, I directed it towards the flames, and they quelled and vanished, allowing me a free passage, almost akin to how the Lord Jesus parted the waves!

Well, my Parsnip Parted the Flames!

Naturally, the Fire Brigade are now big followers of the Way of the Parsnip. I have instructed them to replace their enormous hoses with a special crop of My Parsnips. That way, they can channel and direct the flames. Indeed, I have been invited to a special community open day, during which I shall demonstrate to all how to save themselves using a Parsnip when their microwave TV dinner has been accidently placed in the oven, rather than the microwave as the name implies it should be.

You would be surprised how often this happens in Milton Keynes. Or perhaps you wouldn't if you know the area.

God Blessed the Parsnip Today! He survived through a Miracle!

The Way of the Parsnip can Open the Path To True Miracle Making!

(But He cannot Solve Your Financial Crises. I already have one of my own which I shall solve tomorrow with the Joys of the Pay Dearly For Your Sins Collection Plate!)

God's Love

2004-07-09T00:43:00.000-02:00

God's Love is said to be all around.

It is not so.

His Love is only around when there is a conduit for His love in the vicinity.

I am such a conduit.

His Love can take many forms. It can be physical: as a thrashing, a caning, a whipping and a swashbuckle of My Belt. Or it can be emotional: such as psychologically torturing people about the Hell of Turnip Insertion in Hell. It can even be special Parsnip Lovin' which certain members of the Community Receive.

But today, someone questioned my Love. They demanded to know why Love is mainly based on forms of assault.

Their insolence was rewarded with a machine gun. They no longer exist.

Let This Be A Warning! Accept God's Love when it is Given! It Is Free and It Cleanses the Soul!

A Stroll... Turned Into a Party

2004-07-08T09:57:00.000-02:00

Strolling through my Vicarage Orchard (which is actually nowhere near the Vicarage but on the other side of town, and it also has a motorway/freeway/autobahn on one side with a main road on the other) this morning I noticed that several apples had fallen from the trees.

This saddened me immensely, as apples are not supposed to fall just yet.

But then I realised that these were no ordinary apples. In fact, upon closer inspection, they appeared to be Parsnips.

It seems that my continual fertilsation of the soil since I arrived three weeks ago is paying dividends! The apple trees are growing succulent and delicious parsnips, much to the contradiction of the Laws of Mother Nature. I laugh in Mother Nature's face, for it was that silly bitch that invented the Turnip in the first place. Heathen!

The Parsnip has the Power to encourage Growth Everywhere.

To celebrate, I have called the rest of the day a National Holiday: The Day of the Surprise Parsnip. All of the local Scum have taken the day off work, and will relax watching their favourite shows such as Jerry Springer and Trisha. I think most of them were already off today anyway. Strange that their holidays booked in work co-incided with this Glorious Day!

The biggest event of the day will be when I hide a ginormous parsnip somewhere in the town. The first to find it gets to eat it out! Clean!

They Will Feast off the Parsnip! Forever Their Excrement Will Be Long and Fibrous!

I am firing up my turntables and bringing out the old vinyls. There's going to be an illegal rave again tonight! Bob Dylan will be my mix of choice!

God Blesses The Parsnip On, This, His Special Day.

Ridiculous!

2004-07-07T09:12:00.000-02:00

It's unbelieveable!

I've just been to my local post office. I purchased a nice A4 envelope, plus some stamps.

The cheap envelope wouldn't stay stuck together! So I searched my house for some sellotape. I couldn't find any, and yet I always have sellotape as it comes in very handy for certain games I play when the Old Dears come to visit.

On further searching I located a stick of runny glue. I applied it to the envelope folds, and - lo and behold - the glue failed! A simple job... exactly what glue is supposed to do, and it would not hold the two flaps together. Of course, As a Parsnip With Might and Power, I am quite used to dividing flaps and forcing through with an Explosive Thrust.

But I could not stand the sight of these disunified folds!

In my disgust I tore up the envelope. Envelopes are not allowed to resist the Parsnip, and this is deeply infuriating. Never before have I encountered such a blasphemous piece of wood pulp.

I was about to go out to buy a new envelope when I spotted that I already had an A4 envelope. It had been used before, but I had since found a tube of Pritt Stick. This seems to work.

But where are my stamps?

ARGH! I had put them in the bin on the envelope I tore up.

I rushed to the bin and rescued the several pieces of the envelope.

It was beyond hope. One of my tears across it had caught the middle of both stamps.

A waste of £1! God does not look kindly upon wastes of money! Especially if that money could have been spent on a bottle of Jack Daniels otherwise.

The Lesson: Do Not Tear Up Your Envelopes If You Have Already Put Your Stamps On Them. Hold Fire on your Fury Until The Situation Is Assessed.

Also, Never Run Out of Sellotape! You never know When You Might Need It!

Hail the Parsnip, who brings you good Advice Daily.

Ask Teh Rev: Week 3

2004-07-06T07:07:00.000-02:00

This week my question comes from Mrs Armitage from Texas, USA.

"Dear Vicar,

I Praise The Lord Jesus on a daily basis. I would also like to Praise the Parsnip!

But here in Texas it is very difficult to get hold of a good crop of parsnips. I have heard many people comparing parsnips with carrots. They are the same shape but a different colour.

Will I be able to get away with dying a carrot?

Yours faithfully,

Sharon Armitage"

When I read this letter my blood pressure surged and my temperature rocketed through the roof. I couldn't believe that someone could be so stupid as to think that a carrot could be as good as the Mighty Parsnip!

It is of little surprise then that this ignoramus comes from the most idiotic and stupid state in the whole of the world: Texas. Mrs Armitage needs to stick a rocket up her backside and wake up!

How dare she write such blasphemy about the Way of the Parsnip. The Parsnip did not sacrifice himself, rising again on the third day, just so people could take an inferior carrot and dye it white.

I have a good mind to pay her a visit and give her one. A Parsnip that is. A Real Parsnip. Then, once she has tasted the fruit of the Vine, she will do all that is necessary to import the Parsnip from far away locations to ensure that she has a daily source.

Indeed, if she was an enterprising type she could set up her own church with a culty fanbase. Then she can threaten people with semi-automatic guns, perhaps even killing them once they refuse to eat the Parsnip. Only in America do such events happen!

Another Loafhead, Judged By The Parsnip!

Keep your e-mails coming to the address on the right.

Can't Be Arsed

2004-07-05T08:40:00.000-02:00

The Parsnip is not in a good mood today. He cannot find a good source of Power through which he will be able to channel his energies into something productive.

So it's going to be a relaxing day, during which I shall prepare for next Sunday's bloodbath and sip a few litres of Jack Daniels.

This will enable me to recharge my batteries, ready to answer my favourite e-mail tomorrow.

Best wishes,

The Parsnip

Sunday Service Number Three

2004-07-04T13:15:00.000-02:00

It's Sunday again. The weeks are flying around and I know not what is going on!

Today's sermon was on an important topic - one that is very close to the hearts of the people of Milton Keynes. They are all fans of such poor alcoholic beverages such as Lambrini, White Lightning, and the Viz classic "8 Aces". So today, I talked about the dangers of the Demon Drink In Excess.

The Only excess allowable is that of the supreme Jack Daniels or Southern Comfort. Anything else is just pure idiocy. Indeed, I have told them straight: all of my sermons are fueled by a lethal and Powerful combination of Parsnips and JD/SC. This is from where I derive my Awesome Power, to which they are transfixed on a weekly basis.

And this week was no different! I let them all know that their donations from the previous Sunday had been Importantly Spent on my alcohol, and I had consumed 1/4 of a bottle of whisky before I conducted today's musings. I staggered and swaggered across the altar; my parishioners listening to my every word and absorbing the intricacies of how 3.4% 8 Aces is nothing compared to the mighty 40% proof of whisky.

I even made the ultimate sacrifice! This week I told them to keep a hold of their chequebooks and credit cards to which they fund my Lavish Lifestyle. This pained me a lot, but I am sure that God will be pleased with my total selflessness. Fancy a Reverend not demanding money from His people! I am Strong and Brave! This week will be difficult, but I Will Survive With the Love of God! (and previous lottery winnings... but we keep that quiet)

Instead, I told them to save their money! Spend it on whisky! Next week I have told them to turn up to my service completely rotten-eyed pissed drunk and off their faces on heroin (they normally do the latter anyway without me asking).

Then they too will Understand how Clear Thinking is Improved! They Will Get The Message!

And There Will Be Much Drunken Brawling!

Meanwhile, the Reverend Parsnip will turn up completely stone-cold sober. He will take command of the situation! He will place bets on prize fights, and will run books on who is going to be the parishioner who escapes without a single bruise!

It will be like a Royal Rumble! The activity will be extraordinary.

Then, I will deal the crushing blow. The Parsnip Will Reveal His Trump Card!

The Parsnip Colada! For Free!

They Will All Drink My Bounty. And They Will Fall Under My Spell Forever!

The Rabble of Milton Keynes Will Finally Fall Under My Control!

And THE PARSNIP WILL REIGN SUPREME!

ALL HAIL THE PARSNIP!

A Clever Person!

2004-07-03T09:58:00.000-02:00

http://www.wegmans.com/kitchen/ingredients/produce/vegetables/parsnips.asp

The creator of this page obviously knows what they're talking about! They understand the significance of the Parsnip. They know that only through thorough knowledge of the Way of the Parsnip can you reap the significant benefits available to you!

I quote:

Selection: Look for small to medium, well-shaped roots. Avoid limp, shriveled or spotted parsnips.

And I concur wholeheartedly! The limp and shrivelled parsnip is a total waste of time. You cannot gain any benefit from one so flaccid. Spotted parsnips are also sign of a disease! Beware!

Instead, only trust the Power of the Parsnip, whose Parsnip is prominent, strong, sturdy and, best of all, Powerful. Only through consumption of such will one attain full greatness.

However, the remainder of this page leaves me concerned. The writer does not once advocate the joys of eating Raw Parsnip. There is no need for this:

To bring out their sweetness, season with nutmeg, ginger, mace or cinnamon and a little brown sugar

Such blasphemy! On further consideration, I am unable to tolerate such liberal and diverse ways! These have no place within the Way of the Parsnip!

Be warned! Do not idolise false Gods such as the writer of this page! They may well know what they're talking about, but they have clearly been influenced by some shocking substance. I suspect that this is the result of sniffing glue while in their troublesome teens. They crave danger and the sweet results that can be found from conquering it! Nutmeg, ginger, mace, cimmamon and brown sugar... all clearly signs that their brains have been tarnished and addled!

There is no danger in a Raw Parsnip. But it is the best way.

It is the Only Way.

Fear the Parsnip!

£5,944.69

2004-07-02T05:43:00.000-02:00

I counted all my pennies in my Secret Collection Plate Stash this morning and it amounted to this princely sum.

Clearly it is not enough.

It is time for the Parsnip to devise a scheme. A scheme so cunning and wicked that it will be forever remembered as one of the most devious and daring in history.

As yet I am unsure what the plan will be. But I know that whatever I create it will be a Glorious Success. It must be something through which I can make obscene amounts of money, and also, if possible, raise the profile of the Parsnip immensely through an audacious plot.

I know that the Good Lord will provide. I know he is on my side. And if he isn't, I shall be converting to Islam forthwith. This is going to be the real test.

We will soon know if God Believes in the Way of the Parsnip! If God is a Heathen, then I fear the worst... the Human race will soon be doomed to forever eat the Turnip.

But I Know That This Will Not Happen!

Strike Down the Sinners!

The Party Commences at Dawn!

A New Month

2004-07-01T16:00:00.000-02:00

On the first of a new month I like to fling open to the door to the Vicarage at approximately 5am and release the cock I have penned in my house all month. This is the only use I find for it, although I do look after it in any case. I feed it well and bathe it every now and then. I've kept this a secret from you up until now, but I believe that now is the right time to tell this.

But yes, I release my cock and it bellows an almighty wail to punctuate the end of the previous month and the beginning of a new one. I always perform this ceremony completely naked as otherwise it ruins the mystical vibes of the event. It's almost like Summer Solstice, only this is much better as it happens every month, rather than once a year.

Then, I offer thanks and praise to the Lord Our God for keeping me safe the previous month, and pray for my continued safety in the coming month. I do not need to pray that I continue to do the good work as God intended, as this automatically happens anyway. Instead, I pray that Our Fickle God does not fall victim to the temptations of sorcery, witchcraft, voodoo dolls, Jumbo Sized McFlurrys and The Hallowed Mars Bar.

For too Many Mars Bars can cause severe blockage of spiritual energy! They fill up the chakras with chocolately goop, and cause one to no longer Receive the Message of the Parsnip!

I bestow this wisdom upon you now, as it has been Learned by the Learned Parsnip over the past 24 hours. Gosh darn it! Raves, ecstasy and drug-fuelled acid trips do not mix well with continued consumption of the Mars Bar!

Pray for the Parsnip's Swift Recovery! And He Will Judge You Kindly!

Wet and Windswept

2004-06-30T07:26:00.000-02:00

The Rev cannot possibly perform today due to the atrocious weather conditions sweeping across these Fair Isles of the United Kingdom.

I tried to go out into the garden of my vicarage but I noticed that it actually isn't a garden. It's a yard. Flagged all the way across. Not a square of soil in which I can grow my Important Plants (two of very special importance, oho!)

So I'm going to have to make some adjustments. But not today.

I think I'll listen to some acid-fused trance instead. That ought to blow the cobwebs of this miserable weather away.

RAVE IN THE VICARAGE!!! ALL ARE INVITED!!!

Ask Teh Rev: Week 2

2004-06-29T05:32:00.000-02:00

I had an absolutely bulging postbag last week after I started up Ask The Rev Your Questions.

So I searched long and hard and located my favourite one. Here it is:

"Dear Reverend Parson Peter Parsnip,

I enjoy your journal and I find it a great comfort to me. I have always believed in the Way of the Parsnip, even before I discovered that there was a True Leader amongst us. Now I feel safe in the knowledge that there is someone leading us to True Victory. Hail The Parsnip!

But there is something troubling me at present.

When I go outside and look up to the sky, all I see around me are stars. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, my chip pan catches fire and burns quite considerably.

What does this mean?

Your faithful servant,

Rachel Roberts."

First off, Rachel, I thank you for your e-mail. It is encouraging to know that I have fans out there who I can count on and trust to spread the word.

Clearly what you see is a vision from Hell itself. Anything involving fire is almost certainly sent by Satan in order to burn down your defences. Alternatively, there is a small possibility that localised fires are being started by McDonalds in order to eliminate certain elements with the Parsnip Family.

If so, then this is a deeply worrying development. It means that they have a central database of addresses of fans of the Way of The Parsnip. If this is the case, then it means a new front has opened in the War.

Then again, it may even have been a message from me. It has been known for me to disturb the cooking of others if they are not cooking Parsnips. You were cooking potatoes... this is only slightly less heathenous than cooking a miserable turnip. Potatoes are fluffy and white inside... far too Virginal for my liking. I could have tossed in a match while you weren't looking.

Last time I went to a restaurant, for example, I noticed that the soup of the day was Turnip Soup. So I stormed straight into the kitchen and bellowed at the chef:

"HOW DARE YOU COOK TURNIPS IN THE PRESENCE OF THE PARSNIP!!! IT IS NOT ACCEPTABLE!! FACE MY WRATH OR BE JUDGED AT THE HAND OF GOD, WHERE HE WILL CONDEMN YOU TO HELL!!"

I then reached for the pot of Turnip Soup and poured it all over the chef. He suffered 94% burns. This Punishment was justified, as it was exacted from the hand of God himself. As before, the punishment was coupled with God's Love. The soup represented God's Love, as it poured all over him and washed his sinning skin clean. It also tore his skin off.

I couldn't believe it when they then arrested me on trumped-up charges of GBH! Fortunately, the jury saw things my way and I was found innocent of all charges. God Bless the Fiercely Independent and Incorruptible Great British Jury System.

I digress. There is another possibility. It is only a remote one, and I do believe that it is extremely unlikely. It is unbelievably dangerous and I worry for all those who are caught in such circumstances. I will pray for divine intervention at the next possible moment.

Yes. It is possible that you left your chip pan cooking while you went out to look at the stars. Fat boils and burns! Beware!

This has been a Public Service Annoucement from Your Loving Parsnip.

Heed It!

If you have a question for the Parsnip, I will answer them every Tuesday.
E-mail me at peterparsnip@gmail.com

The Rev's Computer

2004-06-28T09:27:00.000-02:00

... is Parsnip Powered!

You have all seen the clock that runs off a potato.

Well, I have a PC which runs off the Power of the Parsnip!

Parsnips hold a remarkable ability to absorb and hold charge, much like a capacitor. Well, I jammed my Favourite Parsnip into a plug earlier and switched on the mains. Electricity surged through it, and it felt good to be alive.

Then, I stuck it firmly into the power connector at the back of the computer. Lo and behold, it generated enough electricity to power the thing quite considerably.

So once more I have found a new reason for Loving the Parsnip. Another excellent use for the world's most versatile, and most friendly, vegetable is discovered. Can you imagine getting a miserable turnip to hold electrical charge? What arrant nonsense that would be! Poppycock and balderdash, even!

So now I will craft a new PC badge. You know, instead of saying "Intel inside" it will say "PARSNIP INSIDE!! FEAR IT!! IT HAS THE POWER TO POWER THIS COMPUTER!! DO NOT TOUCH OR IT WILL KILL YOU FOR INTERFERING IN ITS ALMIGHTY POWERFUL POWER!!! BOW BEFORE IT!!!"

Respect The Parsnip, and I will continue to push the envelope and expand the boundaries of thinking with new and exciting uses for it.

Non-abstract thinkers Need Not Apply!

Sunday Service Number Two

2004-06-27T13:57:00.000-02:00

It's been a remarkably quiet day. I have decided to spend it talking to my Parsnips.

Today's Sunday Service was busy, but I did not feel I had the energy to pull off another superb performance as I did last week. Instead, I just scared the living shit out of the Scum by telling them about Satan and his red hot poker. Also, the dangers of eating from McDonalds, which appeared to be a serious shock to most people there. It seems that a lot of the fat bastards in Milton Keynes have no life and no prospects.

So they gorge themselves on McDonalds for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Indeed, I managed to extract a confession from an elderly man that he had eaten more than one Turnip Tower. I let people off with one. But two is no accident.

I shook the bastard till all his money fell out of his coat, and then put said money into the Collection Fund. Then I roared a Voodoo Curse on him, telling everyone that if anything goes wrong in their lives over the next seven days, it will because of This Evil Man! It will be him to blame, for he has Upset The Parsnip, and when The Parsnip is not Happy, then God May Intervene With Fearful Vengeance!

May God Have Mercy On Their Souls!

Desmond Tutu: Failure

2004-06-26T08:58:00.000-02:00

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!

The Parsnip is Out.

2004-06-25T17:41:00.000-02:00

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

Pina Colada?

2004-06-24T21:07:00.000-02:00

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!

When Will They Learn?

2004-06-23T16:35:00.000-02:00

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!

Uncle Parsnip's Agony Column

2004-06-22T17:02:00.000-02:00

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!

More Tea, Vicar?

2004-06-21T13:17:00.000-02:00

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!

The Beginning of the New

2004-06-20T18:04:00.000-02:00

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!

The Rev Has G-Mail!

2004-06-19T09:53:00.000-02:00

Being a modern Reverend, well up on the pleasures of smoking weed and parsnips, and with a blog, it is also important that I keep with the times, and hence, I now have a g-mail account.

Only the Most Powerful and Worthy People have g-mail accounts. Mine is:

peterparsnip [AT] gmail DOT com

This is surely a sign from God. And a good sign too! Especially today as I make my journey up to Milton Keynes and prepare to enter my new Parish. I am certain that the Local Youths, with whom I will ingratiate myself, will be most impressed with me. My street cred will soar infinitely as I offer to them all personal invitations to get their own GMail accounts.

They will then Subscribe Wholesale to the Way of the Parsnip, and Milton Keynes will fall to my Powers within days! Turnips will be banishéd!

God Save the Parsnip!

Pressing Forward!

2004-06-18T16:59:00.000-02:00

Time Waits for No Parsnip!

My prayers have finally been granted. I have a new Parish!

The Archbishop of Cunterbury has told me that this is a "problem parish." He tells me that I will find this one an enormous challenge. The locale is full of wicked sinners; he suspects that most of them are inbreds. Most of them are unable to communicate in any meaningful way, talking in an accent exceedingly cutting, yet most of the time they babble incoherently and foam at the mouth.

Yes, folks. I have been sent to Milton Keynes.

He believes that my Powers of Communication, and My Rule With My Rod of Iron will get the message across. And I agree with him. It is time to Spread A Little of the Parsnip across more of God's Hallowed Earth!

I must begin packing. I am concerned that the Police may want to examine the contents of my "Parsnip Growth Laboratory" which I have under my hotel bed, as I understand they often vet incoming Vicars (the last was apparently a drugs baron! What a SINNER!!) ... but I will assure them that it is for my Personal Use Only. I will get away with Class C, I think.

I doubt the Archibishop of Cunterbury would mind if they filed a report to him. He looks like a man who experimented in his sinful youth days.

THE PARSNIP IS GOOD! HE WILL BE COMING SOON TO A CHURCH NEAR YOU!

PRAISE THE PARSNIP!!!

Exciting!

2004-06-17T15:53:00.000-02:00

I appear to have offended the Head of Housekeeping at my Hotel.

I left her a little note this morning asking if she would be so kind as to send a cleaner to remove the parsnip that appears to have been accidently smashed through the back of the TV (The Lord must have done something in an attempt to get free adult channels?)... but upon my return I noted that my TV had been taken away and a bill for £200 had been served upon me!

I could not believe this! So I made a personal visit to The Maid Mistress (who was wearing a rather fetching outfit at the time) and disciplined her most severely. I produced my Rod of Iron, thrashed and flaggelated her into submission and then forced her to Eat The Parsnip.

That solved the problem.

But now, a new twist to the tale!!

I have just received a phonecall from The Maid Mistress asking if I would visit her home this evening to give her a Personal Confession, as she has been Extremely Naughty. She also asked me to bring my Favourite Parsnip Collection, to peruse at her leisure.

Naturally, I could not refuse such an offer. I am merely a vessel of the Lord's Goodness. If, in the course of my duty, I am required to give personal assistance to someone who is not an ordinary member of my congregation, then so be it. I merely do as the Lord requests, for it is The Lord who presents such opportunities and obstacles in my way!

It is at this point that I realised that I'm glad I'm not a Catholic.

A Reminder

2004-06-16T13:56:00.000-02:00

This is a good point at which I shall remind all of my new and recent converts of the Doctrine of Parsnippery, more commonly known as The Way of the Parsnip. It is a simple and fairly short tale, with an accompanying message, as follows:

On The Third Day, I rose again, in accordance with the Scriptures.

Blessed be all who Believe in the Miracle of the Resurrection of the Parsnip! For one time before did He roam the land in search of Good Parsnips, and failed only due to the searing heat in the desert killing him before he arrived at Mecca. Ooops, wrong religion.

Regardless, it was His fault! Everyone knows that parsnips do not grow in the desert.

But fortunately, three days later, I was created in the 2nd Immaculate Conception as the result of a Holy Union between Mother Teresa, Anne Widdecombe, Margaret Thatcher and The Seed of a Thrusting Parsnip, provided by Ronald Reagan and impregnated deep within the aforementioned Parsnip. I feel Proud of My Noble Heritage!

Since my Conception, I have not veered, deviated or digressed from the True Goal of Parsnip Advocacy. My mind is focused and sharp at all times. My job on Earth is merely to spread the good word in any way possible. The Lord agrees with me, and hence my occasionally unorthodox manners.

But I do not have to justify myself to You or to Anyone!

In turn, your duty calls. It is a simple one which you could not have difficulty with.

It is to Eat Parsnips.

Once you have fed off My Bounty, consuming every last drop of my Power and Strength, I will leave this Earth, for my job of Spreading My Seed will be done. I will have planted within each and every one of you the Tool of Everlasting Joy. And you will be grateful and say much Thanks and Praise to Your Friend, The Parsnip.

And yet, the mystery of the religion is, thus:

AT ALL TIMES YOU WILL FEAR THE PARSNIP!!!!

May God have mercy on your pathetic souls.

No Woman, No Cry!

2004-06-15T17:51:00.000-02:00

Connoisseurs of my journal will know that the wife left me a week or two ago. I can't remember the exact date, as the Stupid Heathenous Bitch is of no consequence any more. I have no feelings for her, the cunt!

But this evening, I couldn't feel better about it!

I cracked open my Bob Marley CD, flung open the doors of my hotel balcony, and am now sitting high atop the streets of London. The sun is setting beautifully, Bob Marley is playing loudly and I have acquired some good ganja, in the true spirit of Bob himself!

London's streets are full of the finest dealers in the country!

Peace and Love to all!

Once I've finished this, I intend to see if I can smoke a Parsnip. Good gracious! Imagine the highs I would get from one of my private "under the bed" stash!

Love The Parsnip!

Death!

2004-06-14T19:31:00.000-02:00

I meant to say "Dearth" there, but I thought I'd just tease you for a moment!

Haha, I know there are lots of HEATHENS who would rejoice to hear news of the Death of the Parsnip! I laugh in your faces! You will never bring down the Parsnip!

Today has been an amusing day. I decided to pay a visit to Parliament Square. As usual, there were a number of stalls set up for pro-fox hunting, anti-fox hunting, and pro-anti-aunties-for-pros-party. I despite anyone who tries to make prostitutes out of people's aunties. It is not appropriate!

But I decided that it would be a good idea to set up my own stall. I promptly purchased a wallpaper pasting table, the type on which one sees wares being peddled at a car boot sale, and adorned it with my favourite variety of parsnips.

The draw of my table was magnetic!

All around many people came to view the Parsnip at His Full Glory! I posed for many pictures in numerous "FEAR THE PARSNIP!" gestures for the tourists. They look very dramatic, but I am not allowed to post links to them, as I suspect my enemies may try to use them against me in their own propaganda. I must not fall to their level!

Shortly afterwards I was arrested for public order offences.

People just aren't ready to accept a The Naked Parsnip (i.e. "His Full Glory!") just yet.

UPDATE: I have been informed by my solicitor that the aforementioned pictures may be published after all. On disgusting filthy websites, filled with filth about dirty crack ho's sticking parsnips in All The Wrong Orifices!

Shudder! My thoughts go out to all of my Parsnippery Brethren who suffer such fates!

A Warning

2004-06-13T17:38:00.000-02:00

12 Tequila Slammers are not a good idea.

Fuck me. Not even the Powers of the Parsnip (usually an excellent hangover cure!) will save me from this one.

Oh gosh. Another explosion.

What the Critics Say:

2004-06-12T22:07:00.000-02:00

"That shit blog is gonna come back and strip any credibility you think you
had...When you're older.

If the chance came for me to meet you in person, I would take great delight
in kicking your head in."

Violence is frowned upon under the Way of the Parsnip!

Unless, it's the Parsnip inflicting the violence. In that case, it is merely corrective action issued under the Loving Auspices of the Lord.

All Heathens are Punished! And the author of the above quote is certainly a Heathen! I'll bet he inserts turnips up his rectum on a regular basis, and consumes copious amounts of Turnip Towers from McDonalds! The turnips have addled his brain!

Do not fear Heathens such as this one, for they are weak and ineffective, desperately trying to play the Big Man and failing miserably.

Instead: Fear The Parsnip!

Writing for Columbia

2004-06-11T18:08:00.000-02:00

I have started on one of my greatest projects. Once complete, it will herald the coming of the dawn of the age of the Way of the Parsnip!

Yes! I am rewriting the Bible from start to finish. Everyone knows it's full of bollocks. It often contradicts itself several times in one page.

So I would like to remove this measure of uncertainty from Our Faith. And once I have finished, it will no longer be Our Faith. It will be My Faith. But You will accept My Faith, and so once again it will become Our Faith. Do you follow?

I intend to start with the Sermon on the Mount of Olives. Of course, everyone knows that olives are a heinous creation. So the Sermon will take place on the Mount of Parsnips.

And Noah's Ark? Yup, you guessed it, "Noah's Parsnip."

This will be the tale of how Noah found the first parsnip seed. He planted it in the ground, fertilised the soil (in the manner that only Parsnips know best!) and grew it to ginomous proportions.

He hollowed out the insides, and in the cavity within he housed two of every animal so that they could weather the mighty storm that Our Loving Lord sent us, in order to Smite the Wicked Earth of all Evil!

I like the lesson of that tale, because it is true. Only by purging the Earth of Sin and Wickedness will the Way be cleared for the Way of the Parsnip! God remembers that one must often be Cruel to be Kind! He kills millions of animals because he loves them all equally!

... and once the Veritable Tome is completed, I will distribute it throughout the world. Missionary Positions are available in Africa, I hear.

I have No Doubt that I would Impregnate My Seed amongst such fertile soil, and sew the Wild Oats of Parsnippery!

The Way of the Parsnip is Coming!

Be prepared! Or Die at the Choking Hands of the Parsnip, as Heathens feel their favourite Wicked Turnip being smashed into your face!

This evening

2004-06-10T08:39:00.000-02:00

I have plans to visit a political event in the UK. It will be highly intriguing to witness the counting of votes as people get elected councillors to my local council.

I was invited (As the event is very exclusive!) by a good friend of mine who says that this is a good opportunity to cause a ruckus.

I agree. This evening, I will kill the Returning Officer, wear his clothes (and his face: I have perfected a "face stealing" transplant technique that few surgeons in the world can do) and I will announce all the results of the votes. I will declare Councillor Peter Parsnip to be duly elected as councillor of some God-forsaken ward in London!

Haha! The Way of the Parsnip is on the up! No more will I be involved in powerless and pitiful Parish Councils, with Old Dears and wannabe politicians who failed to make the grade.

I will move up in the world! And Will Have Great Influence!

Be warned! Soon I will be influencing school policy so that the daily fruit provided by the school should become a DAILY PARSNIP!!! Children will no longer be fat, as parsnips encourage regular dumping.

So Hail the Parsnip! My new Plan Will Come To Pass!

Procrastinating

2004-06-09T03:35:00.000-02:00

It is at morning time when I feel the Power of the Parsnip at its strongest.

I have often wondered why this is, but now my scientific experiments with an EM field scanner and my sekrit Parsnip Plantation (that I keep under my hotel bed) may have given me the answer.

It appears that my parsnips emit a stronger EM field in the morning than they do it night. Consequently, as all the parsnips in my current time zone begin to give out their glorious glow, I receive the Love of all Parsnips across this stretch of world.

I Feel It! This sense of power and passion from my parsnips across the world is what drives me to produce good deeds for them all day! I have no doubt that these emissions are their way of saying "Thank You, Oh Parsnip, For Your Advocacy!"

For if I did not advocate The Way of the Parsnip, then no one else would. And the world would be a much poorer place! No Parsnips! No Glory Thrust In The Faces of all Parsnip Fans across The World! Much more Constipation!

Long Live the Parsnip!

I got a call!

2004-06-07T18:54:00.000-02:00

It was from Kofi Annan, the Secretary General of the UN. Some of you may remember that some weeks ago, I applied for a job at the UN in charge of their Religion and Vegetable Advocacy Directorate.

We had a small chat. I ended up telling him to shove his job up his arse because he wouldn't change it to "Religion and Parsnip Advocacy Directorate". He insisted that I do not discriminate against other vegetables, because the parsnip will not grow in certain areas of the world.

I retaliated, calling him a Heathen and a non-believer. Faith and freshly Fertilised Ground, straight from the Parsnip's seed will help the parsnip to grow anywhere. But he would not accept the Way of the Parsnip.

I am disappointed. But it is his loss.

When world hunger next ravishes Africa, BLAME KOFI ANNAN FOR IGNORING THE WAY OF THE PARSNIP!

The Parsnip is the key to solving every problem in the world. But there are obstacles everywhere to its success. But trust me, its Success Will Happen. Just a little patience is required, and then it Will Inherit The Earth.

Respect the Parsnip!

Sunday Recollections

2004-06-06T05:28:00.000-02:00

I know not what I should do next. The absence of the wife is making the Power of the Parsnip dwindle most signficantly. I even had a day off from posting to my journal yesterday because of this situation! Alack! Alas!

But I must be strong and brave. The Way of the Parsnip has taught me that all along there will always be setbacks. The path to victory is strewn with obstacles, and this will be my greatest challenge yet. Far more important than defeating McDonalds. Possibly not as important as beating the Turnip, though.

Sunday again, and I still have no congregation to preach to. The damn Archbishop of Cunterbury obviously was taking the piss out of me when he was nodding sagely and sympathetically to my pleas of how the Parsnip Requires an Oval Office from Which To Work! The bastard!

I recall a previous sermon here. Several years ago, when I had a beard, during the service I was asked by a small boy who had came up to do a reading from the Bible if my beard was real or a wig.

I condemned the boy to Hell for not being able to distinguish between faux, manufactured synthetic hair and the Real Deal! I was gravely insulted by this! How dare he insinuate that the Parsnip would wear such a heinous facial adornment as a fake wig!

I bellowed and screamed at him, right in front of my congregation. The boy was brought to tears and I thrashed him with the back of my hand. He felt the Love of God running through his veins after that, I can tell you! Never again did he commit anti-social acts such as standing on street corners, swigging bottles of cider!

The congregation burst out into spontaneous applause! The Old Dears longed to see the return of the birch, the rod, the slipper, the gallows and the electric chair, because they are all Horny, Kinky Devils into Bondage, Discipline and Sado-Masochism! I was only too pleased to play out many of their fantasies. Funnily enough, I received many visits from the Old Dears that evening, to congratulate me one by one. Then we re-enacted the scene again. I was a very tired man that evening! The Parsnip was drained of all his Power!

Funnily enough, the boy was never the same again. He committed suicide some five days later.

He did not deserve God's Love! I am sure that he was Condemned to Hell! The best place for little tykes!

Fear The Parsnip!

The wife has left me!

2004-06-04T21:43:00.000-02:00

I can't believe it! She'd never told me anything was wrong!

And now the Parsnip is without a Bride!

This is a terrible blow. I fear she has run off and married the Chief Executive of McDonalds UK.

There is something very sinister about it! I know she has not run off because of love for another vegetable: such as the evil turnip... but I still suspect there must be some involvement of some dark force somewhere.

A new crusade must begin! This will only be a temporary setback before the Way of the Parsnip finally inherits the Earth!

Bow before it!

Quickie

2004-06-03T20:14:00.000-02:00

Outside the window is a large screen. It bears adverts for McDonalds and things.

As such, it is evil.

So I smashed it up with a big baseball bat while no one was looking.

That is all.

Successful!

2004-06-02T11:24:00.000-02:00

This morning has been productive!

I decided it was time for a full frontal assault on McDonalds. I have let me attention slip the past couple of days, and for this I should be flaggelated most severely. I would do this myself, but God does not seem to want me to do so. I know if He would, because he would take control of my body, send me down to Soho and ensure that I receive appropriate corrective discipline.

Having said that, I may make a personal visit anyway, to inspect the conditions that the prostitutes work in. I often used to do this in Mevagissey, as I provided them with excellent support and the powerful blasts of energy that they required to keep them going. I would not want others to miss out on the Power of the Parsnip! They should feel humbled to be in My Presence!

But anyway, I went down to the McDonalds UK head office. Everything ran like clockwork. I drove down in a large lorry, packed to the hilt with parsnips. One could feel the magnetism and raw beauty emanating from the huge amount of parsnips that were in the container behind my seat in the cabin of the truck. It almost distracted me from my crusade! But I was strong. The Lord provides strength and comfort to those in need!

I made it to the front gate. I was asked for clearance, and I immediately supplied the man with a dose of Express Verbal Authorisation. I roared in his face

FEAR THE ALMIGHTY WRATH OF THE PARSNIP!!!

and then proceeded to kick him in the face with my stomping boots.

I crashed through the gates, slowed down, and then carefully reversed into the building. Smash crash and boom!

I then opened the back of the container (aren't remote controls wonderful!) and the building was deluged with parsnips. Turnip Heathens and Satan Creators were drowned in the Glorious Sea of Parsnip! The Parsnips cleansed their sins by cleansing them from this Earth!

I jumped out the cabin and promptly bellowed:

IT IS NO USE TRYING TO RESIST THE PARSNIP! FOR IT WILL STRIKE YOU WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT! TODAY IS A LESSON! LEARN FROM IT!

I then snatched a nearby Turnip Tower off one of the corpses of a member of staff (he must have been eating at the time!) and stood on it. I felt immense satisfaction as the miserable excuse for a vegetable was crushed into the ground.

I jumped back into the cabin and sped off.

They shall not forget this day!

And nor shall I, for it is the day when I Struck a Crushing Blow for Parsnip Lovers Everywhere! There is no need to fear the influence of McDonalds any more!

Go now, eat a Parsnip or Two, and Spread the Word! Spread the Love by Torching McDonalds Restaurants everywhere! The flame will be provided by the Lord Himself!

The only good McDonalds is a Burning McDonalds! The burning is a mere representation of the Power of God's Love (And The Way of the Parsnip!)

Revere it!

Nuclear War!

2004-06-01T20:39:00.000-02:00

Can you imagine what this would be like?

No Parsnip for anyone, for the soil would not be fertile enough!

What a woeful scenario! Banish it!

People do not realise!

2004-05-31T18:55:00.000-02:00

And yet ignorance is not an excuse!

The Lord WILL strike down all of these bastards that are voting against my blog on bloghop.com! (Links to which are on the right)

I assume, naturally, that all of these people are not reading properly. They do not understand the underlying message of devotion to all things Parsnip. The Parsnip will Provide if selfless toil is granted to his Power!

You didn't have an excuse before... but let this be your final warning. If you vote against because you are a turnip lover, then fear not, because all is not lost. You can read through my journal and be enlightened! Then you will immediately run to your refridgerators and burn all of your turnips in a glorious fire! Laugh as its puniness is cast into the flames and never eaten again! Feel free of its Wicked Ways!

Open your ears and mouth To Receive The Parsnip, and He Will Bless You With His Love!

For Whom The Parsnip Tolls

2004-05-30T15:20:00.000-02:00

Sundays are filled with pleasant reminiscences at the moment, as I'm still not able to perform my sermon duties at a church, because I don't have one at present.

So instead, when 10:30am comes, I sit down and recreate an entire service from memory. My memory is remarkable, and I am able to recall every little detail and nuance of the things that happened. I like to have much bell ringing during my service, and so I also re-enacted the Bells Tolling with my ginormous mouth (bigger than Steven Tyler's of Aerosmith!) ... and this had the unfortunate result of being knocked up by one of the maids in my hotel. Some guests, it seems, did not appreciate such 100dB piercing booms on a Sunday morning.

Today, I recreated one of my favourite services from 1997, shortly after the election of Tony Blair as the Prime Minister of the UK.

In it, I warned of people not to be taken away and swept aside by Tony's dashing good looks and uncanny ability to speak what everyone was feeling. I especially warned the Old Dears of this, as they were convinced that he was going to give them all free teeth, free wigs and free newspapers everyday, hand delivered by a local paperboy (paid no more than £1/hour!). The cheeky beggers only wanted everything free, even though Mevagissey Pensioners are well known across the UK for being some of the most affluent in the land!

They all want something for nothing. And later, as is proven, they all wanted a piece of the Parsnip for free, too. I should have charged the bastards to hear my Great Sermons. My wise words we cast upon them, but they largely ignored them, and only to their own peril, as was proved when many Old Dears were washed away in the floods of 2001! I had already warned them that night that they would not be able to sleep easy in their beds that evening! A forceful gush would take them away and cause great embarassment, shame and inconvenience!

Most of them thought I was talking about a sudden plague of incontinence and redoubled their underwear protection: most opting to wear several pairs of undergarments.

Alas, that wasn't much protection against the flash floods. Many of them were washed away over yonder Hill, never seen again. No doubt they now live in the wild, where there is no Meals On Wheels to keep them alive. Or an NHS to see to their dodgy hips! Or Tony Blair to promise them that things will only get better!

The Parsnip Is Wise! Ignore Him At Your Peril!

Further

2004-05-29T14:32:00.000-02:00

This evening there is an interesting function going on in my hotel to which I have been invited. There is going to be much line and square dancing, so I have dug out my best stomping boots (I had these specially made: they go up the knee and all along them they have pictures of parsnips, and then "FEAR THE PARSNIP!" emblazoned on the heel).

I intend to show the fuckers what REAL line dancing is like.

There will be no match for me!

I am now able

2004-05-29T14:02:00.000-02:00

... to disclose this information. I couldn't give the full story last night as I didn't know who was reading. I have reason to believe that M15, M16 and the Freemasons are onto me for plotting to overthrow McDonalds. All of these organisations receive hefty funding from them, you see.

But I believe I have fallen off their radar for the time being.

Yesterday I had a meeting with the Archbishop of Canterbury. He had a quiet word with me. I could tell from the way his hands gesticulated that he is a turnip fan. Turnip fans often make very round hand gestures... and consequently I treated everything he told me with a certain level of distrust.

But he heard me out, and he has promised to try to find me a new parish. I dare not disclose any names just yet, or I may tempt fate.

On the way back, however, things did not go as planned. I returned to my hotel where I was promptly told that I had had a package delivered. The receptionist handed it over and I took it back to my room.

I opened it and had quite a shock. Inside was a half eaten "Turnip Tower" from McDonalds - with a note saying, "Here, I saved some for you. Try it! You love it!"

I have no idea who could have sent this disgusting object to me. Just the mere sight of the revolting turnips made my stomach churn, and I vomited all over the foul thing. Yet again, that must have been Sent By God! He doesn't want to have me suffer from seeing such wicked creations as that!

I immediately reached for some petrol (I keep a stash close by just in case I am ever required to burn down a house containing Heathens) and torched the fucking thing to oblivion. Then I opened the window and chucked it out. I think it hit a passing car, and for all I know it may have gone up in flames. If it did, I didn't hear anything about it, so presumably the car contained Turnip Lovers, and so they should be smited anyway.

I feel that God is very proud of my activities lately. But I shall not stop! I shall never rest until the world is full of parsnip devourers and all turnips have been eradicated!

But I will not rest until I discover who sent that Turnip Tower to me! When I find them, I will show them what the Power of Parsnip can achieve! I will wrap my hands around their neck and eliminate their puny turnip loving life from this Earth!

The Parsnip Shall Reign Supreme!

Bow Before Him!

Oh dear...

2004-05-28T19:17:00.000-02:00

Things didn't go too well today with the Archbishop.

In fact, they couldn't have been any worse. But currently, I am too pissed to reprise the story in full glory for you. Even a drink of my favourite Parsnip Juice Cordial is not helping liven me up. Indeed, it seems that the combination of Parsnips and Jack Daniels/Bells/Southern Comfort is producing quite a reaction in my stomach.

No! God is not making me vomit. This is Satan's doing! He is trying to stop me from ingesting my special Parsnip Brew, which makes me strong in the face of McDonalds and such forthness.

If the Jack Daniels runs out, I may be forced to drink the vomit, much as it disgusts me to think about it. But it will be merely a symbolic gesture to Satan: he cannot defeat the Parsnip so easily!

Bow before the Parsnip, and Hail Him, for He Has The Power To Cut Short Your Life!

Driving forward...

2004-05-27T19:36:00.000-02:00

Things have stagnated.

I can't remember the last time I enjoyed testing out new parsnips. At the moment, I have been eating my favourite breed (Parsnippus Maximus) for some weeks now. Normally I try lots of different varieties and try them all on for size... but right now I'm finding it difficult to entertain my palate.

I think it's to do with the fact that I'm still stuck in London. It is time for some action.

I'm going to visit the Archbishop of Cunterbury tomorrow. I hate him, and his fucking beard. No doubt he has several turnips secreted in there somewhere, slowly realising their obnoxious and defamatory slander into his brain, poisoning him against me and my doctrine f the Way of the Parsnip.

(And here is a link to a picture of him so you can see what I mean:
http://www.peacemala.org.uk/image/pix/patrons/big/rowan.jpg)

But I must find a way back into a community, where I will once again mix it up with the Old Dears and Blue Rinse Brigades of this world.

I miss the cut and thrust of the Parish Council! One never knew if that objection that the Heathens were going to raise was going to be over the size of my Parsnip that I'd brought to the table, or whether they were suddenly going to pull out a sub-machine gun and blast me into smithereens (but of course, I would be waiting with a huge Parsnip Shield which would deflect the bullets back and lodge them firmly into the Heathens Skull).

God Willing, and I know he Is On My Side, I will be Back Amongst Them soon!

Another Twist

2004-05-26T07:27:00.000-02:00

Sometimes I find that the best way of dealing with a situation is by grasping it firmly with both hands and throttling the living daylights out of it, until it's limp and lifeless once more.

But not this one. It requires slow and painstaking attention to detail. This is a difficult chapter that I am entering, and I am afraid it could be much more difficult than I thought initially.

Yes: there are rumours that an unholy alliance between McDonalds and Burger King is on the cards. Since my easy devastation of McDonalds on the South Bank of London, they have become a little worried about my power. So they have teamed up in an effort to stop me.

This week they are launching a new burger together: The Turnip Tower!

I couldn't believe I was hearing such blasphemy. Turnips are Evil! And the thought of a turnip burger just turns my stomach.

Difficult times are ahead! No doubt there will be many fooled by the glamorous advertising, involving full frontal nudity and other sexual use of the turnip (advertising is so blatant these days!), and rush to the nearest Drive Thru to bark an order for a Turnip Tower.

This is disgusting and must be stopped. I will spend today formulating a plan.

Beware of the Parsnip! It can speak to you in ways that you cannot imagine!

Fear it!

Ack!

2004-05-25T18:45:00.000-02:00

I am currently eating these delicious novelty Euro coin shaped chocolates (yes, I am allowed to not eat parsnips from time to time). But they are so delicious that they appear to come with a downside.

They are giving me terrible heartburn.

I swear, it is almost as if I am eating a real Euro coin.

Perhaps I did. Maybe this is the French people's way of getting rid of us damn Englishmen.

If it is true, and I am certain it is based on my gut feeling (which has never been wrong, even when I told everyone the decimalisation will be the destruction of this country: and it has been, because now everyone is fooled by 99p things and it turns them into alcoholic shopoholics) ... then I will exact swift revenge by calling in a few favours with the Lord.

Some people have asked me what it's like working on behalf of God. But I turn the question on its head.

You see, the Lord generally works for me. I don't work for Him, although I still bow to Him and offer Him a few cornish pasties as a sacrifice every now and then (which I duly eat on His behalf. It's how He prefers our arrangment).

He's kind of like the boss you never see. You know what I mean... the type that spend all their time out on the golf course, and when it comes to doing some work, they get to their computer, fuck everything on it up, and then use it as an excuse to squeeze in a couple more rounds working on their putting skills. They really don't know what they're doing, and let their staff get on with the job. Sometimes they pitifully attempt to stamp their authority on things by launching a new initiative to drive up productivity, and most people play along just to humour the boss. Anything for an easy life... but at heart, everyone knows that it's just a little charade.

But in my case, I know that God does know the difference between all the different breeds of parsnips, and knows that turnips will never be an acceptable substitute for a Plump and Prime Parsnip. He just prefers me to do the work, because he knows I enjoy it very well.

Until then, I will smite the French for attempting to kill me. As you may have just noticed, I have decided to class eating these Euro chocolate coins as attempted murder. But they will never Strike down the Parsnip so easily! I do not bend and break like you Garlic chomping wusses!

The French are the proof: if you don't eat Parsnips, you turn into a cow and a monkey.

A Cloud

2004-05-24T18:44:00.000-02:00

There has been unpleasantness.

I must leave immediately.

Quick tip: never put a fork through the eye of the chef because he won't serve Parsnip a la Parsnip. It generally causes much blood to be splashed around, and then allegations are let loose about mental illness and charges of grievious bodily harm, etc. etc.

All unbefitting to a Man of the Cloth!

And of course, they would obstruct the Way of the Parsnip!

God meant for me to smash his weedy, toady eyes in with a big sausage poking fork.

My sink is conducting electricity!

2004-05-23T18:43:00.000-02:00

This must be a sign from On High! How many people can boast that their sinks have the full power of 230V, 50Hz AC flowing through them!

I touched the sink earlier and was flabbergasted. I almost got thrown across the room, but it must have been my sheer grit and determination not to succumb to this electrical force, thanks to the gritty determination and strength I show in the face of such enemies as McDonalds, Satan, and Turnip Lovers, which assisted me in staying rooted to the spot.

But, on further thought, I can only conclude that someone has fiddled with the electrics in an attempt to punish me! I saw a very shifty looking maid leaving my hotel room earlier, just before I returned from a hard day's sightseeing. Perhaps it is her who did this dastardly deed!

I may have to call room service and demand that she come forth and Face the Wrath of the Parsnip immediately!

From a disaster turned a triumph...

2004-05-22T06:14:00.000-02:00

Yesterday I made the "mistake" of travelling on the London Underground. I decided to visit the Millennium Dome (I'm friends with Paul McCartney, who is currently practicising there with his band. He's a big fan of the Way of the Parsnip, being a vegetarian, etc.)... but I wasn't counting on a major power failure while I was travelling along the Jubilee line.

All of a sudden the train started slowing down... and it came it a halt. The lights went out, and up came the very dim emergency backup lighting. The driver, clearly possessed by some Turnip Obsession, stepped out from the drivers cabin and bellowed

"THE TERRORISTS HAVE CUT THE POWER!!!"

There was immediate chaos and panic. I remained calm and dignified, as a Parsnip should do in such situations. All around people were desperately trying to break the glass, but it was too strong for the little hammers they have in the train.

Getting sick of the noise, I stood up and Roared:

"YOU WILL ALL BE CONDEMNED TO A LIFETIME OF GETTING TURNIPS STUCK UP YOUR ARSE IN THE FIREY PITS OF HELL IF YOU DON'T BE QUIET!! THE DRIVER IS POSSESSED BY A TURNIP! LOOK AT HIS EYES! THEY ARE THE PIT OF EVIL! YOU CAN SEE REFLECTIONS OF TURNIPS DEEP WITHIN THE PUPIL IF YOU LOOK CLOSELY! THE SIGN OF A POSSESSED MAN! EVIL! DEMONS!"

The driver cowered in the corner as I blasted him into submission by beginning an impromptu rendition of "Always Look On The Bright Side of Life." My loving fans took it all in their stride, even joining in at the whistling part.

Then, I seized the opportunity.

"THIS! IS! A! PARSNIP!"

I exposed my favourite Parsnip for all to see. The one which is attached to me and I carry around everywhere.

Shocked gasps went up from the crowd as I held it aloft.

"BOW BEFORE THE PARSNIP! IT WILL SAVE YOU IF YOU REVERE IT! ONLY BY THE USE OF THE PARSNIP WILL WE GET THE POWER BACK ON AND GET TO OUR RESPECTIVE DESTINATIONS!"

This is a new tactic for me. Normally I try to gently persuade people. But here, I was forcing it upon them. I was surprised that it actually worked! They all got down on their knees, except the Heretic Driver.

The driver quipped:

"What are you going to do with that miserable shrivelled thing? It wouldn't fit up anything!"

He was not expecting to eat his words. And Eat Them He Did, when I smashed in his skull with the Parsnip and forced him to eat it clean. I knew I'd have use for my favourite parsnip one day.

Cheers went up from the crowd, and I then I said:

"THE PARSNIP WILL NOW TAKE YOU HOME! ALL HAIL PARSNIP!"

I went into the driver's cabin and pressed the ignition.

It seems the driver had turned off the engine.

The Turnips must have rotted his brain!

Here endeth the lesson. Hail the Parsnip!

When the Lord returns...

2004-05-21T06:57:00.000-02:00

He shall arrive on Earth in a giant spaceship shaped like a parsnip. No joke of a lie. I've heard it from Him in my dreams last night. He knows where it's at... and I was especially excited when He told me that the first thing He'll do when he steps out of the spaceship is KILL everyone who grows turnips. I wanted Him to kill everyone who eats turnips as well, but He decided that that would be too vindictive.

Yesterday I spent my time visiting Canary Wharf. I had a special meeting with the Executives of the Mirror newspaper, and there we decided that if I slip them a few hoax photographs of soldiers eating turnips - INSTEAD OF PARSNIPS LIKE THEY SHOULD DO! - they will publish them as long as I secure them a place at the Right Hand side of the Lord.

This pleased me greatly. Look out for the photos soon! They will finally convince people that turnips are WRONG WRONG WRONG! Their bulbous shape is wholly inappropriate for correct usage by most right thinking people.

Afterwards, I went up to the top of Canary Wharf and threw out a mighty Siren Song all about Parsnips. I'm sure that the whole of London heard, as a few minutes later on the Vegetable Stock Exchange, the prices of 1kg bags of parsnips had gone through the roof. Demand was surging! The Lord looked upon all of those who had parsnip stew or soup, or even raw parsnips, very favourably last night! And it will improve their regularity! Thames Water will never have dealt with such huge amounts of waste all at once!

I am really making a big impact here in London. There are less Heathens here than in Mevagissey. But I feel that it will soon be time to move on...

I can't believe it!

2004-05-20T06:35:00.000-02:00

My best laid plans for yesterday were ruined by the inconsiderate actions of a few others, who must clearly be in league with McDonalds and/or Satan.

I decided to pay a visit to Parliament and watch Prime Ministers Questions in action. Little old me managed to use his influence (a quick Parsnip Examination with a very attractive female MP, oho!) to get into the Public Gallery in front of the new screen they have. I had a clear view of the PM.

But then some fucker decided to throw a bag of purple cornflower into the chamber at the PM! Chaos ensued, and I felt like killing the bastard who'd done this as they'd taken my thunder.

In only another minute I was about to unleash a wave of parsnips onto the PM and the front bench (which I had sneaked in upon my person, (or parson)) roaring, "THE WAY OF THE PARSNIP IS FOREVER! SAVE YOURSELVES BY EATING PARSNIPS!" while I'd be dragged out of the chamber by burly security guards... although, of course, I could have slipped them a Parsnip up their backsides and made my daring escape.

My opportunity was ruined. I had no choice but to leave with no success.

So I made my way into the Central Lobby where I planted several of my favourite parsnips behind numerous radiators. With a bit of luck, in a few weeks time they will have rotted to buggery, and the smell will be atrocious! Knowing how overreactive they are, they'll probably think they're being attacked by sarin gas or something.

But No! It will merely be a message from the Parsnip!

Bow before it! Legislate to make Parsnip Growth a compulsory part of being a British Citizen!

Hail the Parsnip!

Ahead!

2004-05-19T07:48:00.000-02:00

One of these days I'm going to find out who is behind all these strange voices I hear talking out of my favourite pen. This morning they woke me up from my hotel slumber at 3am to tell me all about the plight of the streetlights that burn all day because some bird has crapped on the light sensor.

This was most disturbing as I really don't think this is appropriate. I have long thought that the pen must be communicating messages from God, and in times gone by it has instructed me to demonstrate the Power of the Parsnip's parsnips to the Old Dears, as well as teaching me the best way to eliminate my rivals at the bowling green.

But now God wants me to help solve the problem of streetlights being on all day? This is something new, and I may be right to suspect that McDonalds have something to do with this. They have attuned into God's Humble Frequency and are attempting to brainwash me from the inside! There is only room for one brainwashing inside my head, and that is to receive the Pure and Loving Thoughts of the Almighty!

This will not do! I will Strike at McDonalds. And I will strike Today! Clearly the ransacking of the South Bank McDonalds in London wasn't good enough. God Willing, the Parsnip will prevail!

PS: there is no contradiction between God's Love and wreaking a terrible vengeance by wishing for a plague to strike down the employees of McDonalds.

This is merely the Way of the Parsnip! It is the only way to Get Things Done!