Brother Scaramouche

Infamy, Infamy, They've All Got It In For Me

by Scaramouche1 @ Monday, Oct. 20, 2008 – 08:42:35 pm

Good Day Brethren,

'Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, for summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells'. Yes, summer has definiately 'o'er brimm'd, as the amber chills of autumn wafts around St Leonards. It's out with the thermal scapula from here on in I'm afraid. None of these new fangled hot water bottles to ward off the cold, lengthening shadows for us.
Our only solace is a goblet of mulled wine after Vesper, and an extra horse hair blanket in our cells.
Brother's Homoious and Analious have even taken to mutal flagellation in an attempt to raise up each other's temperature - although oddly, they adopted this method in June.

I fervently hope I'm not giving the impression that Priory life is an endurance, say, akin to Brian Blessed finding himself lost in the British Library. Imagine all the mayhem that would entail.

'I SAY, ANYBODY THERE?'. 'I'M LOST IN THE MINOR CLASSICS SECTION'. DOES ANYONE KNOW WHERE THE GREAT MOUNTAINEERS OF OUR TIME COLLECTION CAN BE FOUND?' 'I NEED TO PERSONALLY SIGN A COPY'. 'HELLOOOOOOOOOOOO'.

No, on the contrary, in these troubled times especially, people are queuing up to experience this haven of solitude and reflection.
Only last week, a new soul joined our Order, one who has spent the last three years serving in our Philippine outpost, now safely relocated to the sanctury of our walled community.
His only request is to visit the outside world once a week, so as to volunteer on the local constabulary's child helpline.
Yes, Brother Gadd is a welcome addition to our Cloisters.

Unfortunately, not everyone manages to discover an inner tranquility. Sister Amy visited our Priory very briefly, but was distressed to learn we couldn't offer her the same moral rectitude as another Priory she apparently attends down South.
Following her vistitation, a large stock of mulled wine was severely depleted - but we wish her God’s speed.

We even enjoyed the company for a short while, of a Middle-Eastern gentlemen who had tragically lost family members in a flying accident in the United States.
So overcome with grief, he was on the verge of relinquishing his life’s calling to unite all Zionist and American souls before the Almighty.
Fortunately, we were able to guide him back to his righteous path.
He was so grateful upon leaving our Order, he vowed to include the British in his mission of unity.

Yes, hear at St Leonards, we feel we play our little part in God’s vast plan.

Whoops ... Vesper time again judging by the chimes.

Peace be upon you.

Brother Scaramouche

The Mysterious Absence of Exploding Dwarfs

by Scaramouche1 @ Monday, Oct. 06, 2008 – 04:46:33 pm

Good Day Brethren,

Here at St Leonards we're all just getting our breath back following yet another Harvest Festival. For any heathens amongst you, this is the time of year when we gather in, and celebrate another successful harvest of food from the land.
In every nook and cranny, hanging wicker baskets of freshly picked fruit and veg adorne the monastic cloisters.

However, this year, I've noticed the outside world is creeping ever more into the sanctity of our Priory.
Whereas once, said baskets were overflowing with wholegrain loaves, cauliflowers and ruby red apples, now, 'KFC' buckets bulge with finger lickin' cheese quarter pounders, marzipan-topped Mcflurrys, and five litre bottles of 7-Up's.
Although, Brother Ling's contribution has Starbucked the trend slightly with his number 29 with fried rice and sweet and sour sauce.

To be honest, this dietary change is having a rather unfortunate knock-on effect for the Brotherhood overall.
For instance, Brother Lardious has been noted having double helpings of mashed Foeniculum vulgare upon his Cucumis sativus - double mind you.

A result of such gorging I believe, can lead to a disease called Morbid Obesity, whereby poor souls are subjected to cruel jibes and insults along the lines of ...

'I say sir, rather rotund isn't one' 'Been consuming a rather large consignment of credit crunchy bars have we'

And ...

'I wager one needs an export licence in order to extricate one's cranium from between those humongous mammories madam'.

All devastating for those to whom these comments are directed.

Although, there is one section of our society that has managed to sidestep this crippling disease - namely - dwarfs.
I mean, have you ever seen an obese dwarf?
No, me neither, and that's for one very good reason. They know how much they've got to play with.

Think about it. At school they were always top of the class in algebra. Why?
Because they made it their business to learn that only a set number of single polynomial variables can fit into a group of modulo integers at any one time. Yes?
Simple when you see it written down is'nt it?

All of which is why you'll never see an exploding dwarf whilst strolling round the 'Trafford Centre' on a Saturday afternoon.
I mean, for Lord's sake, it'd be akin to taking the full force of an colostomy bag in the mush.

No, moderation in all things is our byword here at St Leonards, as I was only musing this very morn to Brother Inebriatious as he was brewing our daily forty gallon barrel of Mulled wine.

Ah, there's the Clarion call for Vesper.

Peace be upon you.

Brother Scaramouche

Team ASBO Beijing 2008

by Scaramouche1 @ Sunday, Sep. 28, 2008 – 05:39:06 pm

Good Day Brethren

You know, a lot of people are under the impression that we here a St Leonards, along with all our Priory Brothers up and down the country, live a very insular life, with no awareness of the outside world and it's doings.

Actually, nothing could be futher from the truth.
For instance, only last evening just before Vesper, we held our weekly quiz night - adapted obviously for Priory sensibilities.

'Complete the title of Andrew Lloyd Webber's famous musical; Jesus ... what ... Superstar'.
We also have the latest in hi-tech computer games. 'Sister Lara Croft - Catholic Tomb Raider'.

And here's another case in hand. Brother Cliffordous - our new head of PR at St Leonards - was so inspired by the recent success of team GB out in China, he's instigated the 'Inter Faith Olympics'. Although, I must say, I do have my misgivings.

'And on the last bend of the fifteen hundred meteres final, Abu Hamza is neck and neck with the Holy Father, golden robe flowing, crucifix and swastika glinting in the hot afternon sun, as Rabbi Lionel Blue makes a late surge on the inside lane'.
'But wait a minute, Hamza is attempting to garrote Pope Benedict the Sixteenth with his prosthetic hook. And goodness me, disaster for Rabbi Blue, who's sent tumbling from the track by the Bishop's flailing papal staff'.

No, I'm sorry, we've had too much of these running, jumping and throwing games of late. Now we've got the Paralympics as well.

Please don't misunderstand, I'm all in favour of letting these poor unfortunates have a go, and they do very well ... in their own little way.

No, It's the organisers I have a gripe with, blatantly discriminating against the most obviously impaired in our community.
For example; those with learning difficulties - they're not represented. There'd be problems, granted, but not insurmountable.

'Now then Archie, I've made little coloured markers along the track every so often so you'll know how far the race is'. 'So when you see Tinky, then Winky, Dipsy, Laa Laa and finally Poo, you'll know it's over'.

And what about the ASBO's - Why aren't they included? Although it'd be unwise to feature them in the fencing and archery events I admit.
But they'd be brilliant in the relay, providing they'd looked upon the baton as a nicked DVD player.
'Ere Wayne, cop hold of this and don't drop it 'yer mong'.

Even the title's incorrect. There isn't a Paragliding event in the whole thing.

I'm sorry, there's just too much competitiveness on television these days in my humble opinion.

Anyway, it'll soon be time for Vesper, and we've got to rehearse for the next series of 'Last Choir Standing on Ice'.

Peace be upon you

Brother Scaramouche

The Bronze Age of Television

by Scaramouche1 @ Saturday, Sep. 20, 2008 – 05:18:39 pm

Good day Brethren,

Some of you may be wondering - if you have far too much time on your hands - how God directed me to the safe, and community charge-free cloisters of St Leonards.

Well, as I’d not been hitting my Basra timeshare sales targets for some time, I thought a career toe-dip into the lucrative waters of media-land might just be the ticket. Breakfast with Andrew Neil, lunch with Paxman, and late supper with Mariella Frostrup - very late.

However, as I was in dire need of the readies, I fully appreciated that the requirements of becoming an overnight celebrity these days might require some dubious shortcuts. It might for instance, necessitate deploying dangling rats from my nipples in the Aussie outback, or perhaps solemnly gift wrapping my bottom droppings for Dr Gillian Mckeith to drool over - so to speak. Still, I wasn’t proud.

Then, one Sunday, whilst scanning my 'News of the World' - vainly seeking evidence of the clue in the title - I hit upon the idea that it would be far less arduous - and possibly more profitable - to make my name as a kiss 'n' tell merchant. After all, I'd been a confidante with many an up and coming thespian, crooner and ward councillor over the years; Oh yes.

Unfortunately, upon further investigation, the celeb market appeared rather an oversubscribed arena. I mean, even now, any Wayne, Shane or Saffron seems happy to impart their precious memoirs for a Spritzer and the whiff of a junior reporter’s ‘Aldi’ brand body spray.

Right now, pound to a penny, there’ll be some wizened old boy cogitating to his Woodbine rolling contemporaries in - oh I don’t know - ‘The Murderer’s Arms’, ‘sarf’ of the river, that the Krays were salt of the earth, misunderstood boys.
‘He was a lovely lad, Ronnie’. Didn’t do no harm to no one that wasn’t asking for an eye gouging’. ‘I mean we’ve all got our limits, right lads?’.

Thing is, who’s to query these spurious claims. Any hippy whose now too old to catch the wind, knows Donovan’s solicitors won’t serve a writ because the ‘Croydon Crier’ publishes alleged shenanigans by the folkster down Carnaby Street in ’65. In fact, it’d all be good publicity for any upcoming ‘All Gold Retold’ tour.
I mean, where do we draw the line?
‘Jesus Christ? - yeah, he used to drink here mate’. ’Red wine was his tipple. Always had a glass of Beaujolais BC40 in his hand’. ‘An’ I tell you what pal, he didn’t half whiff. Beard down to ‘ere, you could smell him a mile off’. 'Dirty minger'.

No, I’m sorry, these tabloid tales should be accompanied by a provenance - like the antiques on ‘Lovejoy’.

So then I thought, why not upgrade to a career on the tellyfunkie. There must be a raft of freeview-box series where my talents could be deployed to their fullest.
‘Naked host for a jungle-in-the studio quiz?’ ‘I’m up for that Marcus’.
‘Gently act as third party agent relieving a pig of his life-giving fludis?’ ‘Of course, I grew up on a farm’. ‘Twas a regular occurrence’.

And there’s the ethnic channels of course. Although I have to say I find the programmes on ‘Shalom-Already TV’ on freeview 40,263 a little derivative of the mainstream;
‘Have I got Jews for you’, ‘Ready Steady Smuchk’ and ‘Jewsnight Review’.
Big mistake there I think having Martin Tyndall as guest host.
‘Tonight we’ll be reviewing my own book entitled: ‘The Holocaust ... and?’

Even the drama’s have dumbed down. Have you seen the remake of ‘The Sweeny’ staring David Suchet?
‘Mon ami, you are nicked you slag, and I have not even ‘ad my veal escalops with lemon sauce’.

No, having mused on a new life in the spotlight, I was convinced my career in property to be far more honourable.

However, following some miss-adventures selling farms down Zimbabwe way, I decided at long last to seek the contemplative life.
And here is where you find me today - contemplating.

Hello, there's the bell for Vesper - must dash.

Peace be upon you.

Brother Scaramouche

Blog Directory

email me: jesus_loves_you@paradise.com

by Scaramouche1 @ Thursday, Sep. 18, 2008 – 06:06:00 pm

Now that I'm writing my first blog, I just need something interesting to say I suppose ... er ...

You see, this is the problem isn't it? Far too much technology available to people who only type with one finger (Stephen Hawkins omitted), that allows them to share every minute detail of their morning trip to 'Asda'.

'When will the almond frosted donughts be marked down? The sell by date's clearly up - look. I said look, damn it. Don't go wandering off to feminine hygiene'.

I'm sorry, but I think this Internet malarkey has got completely out of hand.

Jesus didn't use the websites and texts and laptops at hand to get his message across. He just got off his backside, got out onto the hustings with his interns and pressed flesh and kissed babies - except the leper ones obviously.

No offence to any Christians by the way, after all I'm a Priory Brother myself.
If it helps, I'll make up for it next time and have a go at the Jews, Hindus or Arabs for you. But maybe not in that order, I'm not racist.

Anyway, I'm boring myself now, God knows what I'm doing to you.
Besides, it's time for Vesper. (google it)

Peace be unto you

Brother Scaramouche