NormThe Odd Asylum. Chapter B. Bugger. (Page b49).
Being a blitzkrieg blackness (1) at St Bernadette’s, Baz and Benny banished the believers, bolted the basilica doors, and blandished Arty to become somebody – ‘Anybody you bloody beg to be.’
Subdued into believing such behaviour belied cross-dressing, Arty bound his bloated being in Baz’s blotched habit, burgeoned bombastically towards the broadcasting soapbox, (2) established his being before the barren pews bereft of believers as Brother Botyritis, and began bombarding the bogeys.
‘Blessed be buggered, you mob of bleating black sheep. Big Being will not be bullshitted to or belittled. You blameworthy, borderline cases, buggerising about with barely a biennial blameless job (3) to your being, abandoning Big Being to the backmost of your brains like disbelievers, have Buckley’s of beatitude. You mob of semi-biotic breakaways have become blasé, beating the breadth of the broad byways, after being berated beforehand about the bony boulevard. (4) You buggers will become blatantly aware on that bleak day of black-and-white, of blinding light and blaring brass, when Babylon burns, tribes bewail, bodies become submerged in boiling brooks of bygone businessmen’s blood, and Big Being sits in banc, banging his bacilliform gavel on the bench. Buggers and beggars both – not numbered in the Book of Being – branded with a bar sinister, the badge of the beast, the breastplate of blasphemy and abomination will all be bidden – in the blink of an eye and bat of a lash – to bugger off. Be not bamboozled. Big Being’s judgement will be binding. Like the Braille-beholding bedraggling the Braille-beholding (5), the bulk of you will be banished to the barrysphere, that burning furnace and bottomless bearpit, where Beelzebub, Belial, goblins, bogeys, hobgoblins, bicephalous bestial beings, incubuses, basilisks, bad brothers, and all beings of bad faith burn in abiding buckets of burning brimstone.’
Beckoning the bogus congregation to blench and blanch at his fire-and-brimstone broadcast, Arty – besides sobering up a bit – bloody-near rehabilitated himself and Br Benny into believers, and probably would have, had it not been for the bathos of a bow-legged Fr Baz, bent by the baptismal font in his Bond’s briefs – beyond his tonsils in botyritis like an overgrown babe believing he was being breast-fed.
1. Bastardisation of, ‘It was a dark and stormy night.’
2. Bastardisation of, ‘Preacher’s pulpit.’
3. Bastardisation of, ‘Good deed.’
4. Bastardisation of, ‘The narrow way.’
5. Bastardisation of, ‘Like the blind leading the blind.’
Subdued into believing such behaviour belied cross-dressing, Arty bound his bloated being in Baz’s blotched habit, burgeoned bombastically towards the broadcasting soapbox, (2) established his being before the barren pews bereft of believers as Brother Botyritis, and began bombarding the bogeys.
‘Blessed be buggered, you mob of bleating black sheep. Big Being will not be bullshitted to or belittled. You blameworthy, borderline cases, buggerising about with barely a biennial blameless job (3) to your being, abandoning Big Being to the backmost of your brains like disbelievers, have Buckley’s of beatitude. You mob of semi-biotic breakaways have become blasé, beating the breadth of the broad byways, after being berated beforehand about the bony boulevard. (4) You buggers will become blatantly aware on that bleak day of black-and-white, of blinding light and blaring brass, when Babylon burns, tribes bewail, bodies become submerged in boiling brooks of bygone businessmen’s blood, and Big Being sits in banc, banging his bacilliform gavel on the bench. Buggers and beggars both – not numbered in the Book of Being – branded with a bar sinister, the badge of the beast, the breastplate of blasphemy and abomination will all be bidden – in the blink of an eye and bat of a lash – to bugger off. Be not bamboozled. Big Being’s judgement will be binding. Like the Braille-beholding bedraggling the Braille-beholding (5), the bulk of you will be banished to the barrysphere, that burning furnace and bottomless bearpit, where Beelzebub, Belial, goblins, bogeys, hobgoblins, bicephalous bestial beings, incubuses, basilisks, bad brothers, and all beings of bad faith burn in abiding buckets of burning brimstone.’
Beckoning the bogus congregation to blench and blanch at his fire-and-brimstone broadcast, Arty – besides sobering up a bit – bloody-near rehabilitated himself and Br Benny into believers, and probably would have, had it not been for the bathos of a bow-legged Fr Baz, bent by the baptismal font in his Bond’s briefs – beyond his tonsils in botyritis like an overgrown babe believing he was being breast-fed.
b49.
__________________________1. Bastardisation of, ‘It was a dark and stormy night.’
2. Bastardisation of, ‘Preacher’s pulpit.’
3. Bastardisation of, ‘Good deed.’
4. Bastardisation of, ‘The narrow way.’
5. Bastardisation of, ‘Like the blind leading the blind.’
Rugby World Cup 2007
...that is very very clever...odd (well...of course) but so clever...braille beholding. Braille. Beholding.
Still loving the
bastardfootnotesI could probably lose myself in this work for the rest of my life. It's just a never-ending process.
Big Being, Big Brother references alone would spawn another book.
It's just bloody endless. There's something comforting about that thought, in that, I like the notion of a project never ending, but there are times when I'll think, Bloody hell, I can't even finish the first three chapters and I've been working on them for ten years. I guess it's just my punishment for not having children.
David ..
Butterfly Etching