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And did come to pass that Saint Christopher of the Powelites, the chosen one of the one true Lord (Curbs), did gather his chosen people around him to tell them of his great miracle.
After many moons of sweat and toil the great red army were on top of the League mountain and the people of the red Valley were singing with joy, the wine flowed like the river Thames and the old folk did eat burgers once again in the Floyd Road.
And a lame and blind Addick who had suffered for many a long season did sink to his knees outside the Superstore and did looketh to the skies and proclaim;
“It’s a bloody miracle”
And he went up to Saint Christopher who was getting into his Jaguar and did grabbeth the sleeve of his coat of many colours.
“Can this really be true Master? Are we really on top of the League Mountain”?
“Ye must keep the faith oh blind foolish one” said Saint Christopher. “For I have been to the mountain top and I have seen the Promised Land. The dark days at the Valley under Saint Parky of Hoofball are now over and we will once again march to glory playing old testament proper footy”.
And a small crowd gathered at the Valley around Saint Chris. Then the crowd became larger due to a special 5 shekel ticket offer dreamed up by King Slater of the
Moneylenders.
“We are undefeated in all of our home battles- even against the lumbering giants of Sheffield under the deluded King Megson of Lumpit. We made the Cumbrian tribes look so poor they have all fallen on their own swords and now the angry Lord Brown of the North End has been sent packing to the wastelands in a right hump. We are truly destined
for great things.”
But the chosen people of the red Valley who did truly love Saint Christopher still felt sorely afraid. For they had heard these promises before from false prophets like the
smooth talking Saint Pardew of Toontotty who only led them to barren lands and did only purchase lame donkeys from dodgy agents. He made his own way to the Promised
Land but left the chosen people of the Red Valley behind. He was verily a complete Dick.
“But Saint Christopher ,” asked the lame old man “when will it all go wrong?”
There was a gasp of shock from the crowd and Saint Christopher was sorely and verily angry. “Don’t be a miserable old git" he told the old fool. For though we have walked in the Valley of the shadow of administration we fear no evil now that King Slater of the Moneylenders did come to rescue us with his bags of gold.”
And as the ancient
scribe Saint Peacock and the stewards did try to lead the toothless old fool
away he did again shout at Saint Christopher.
“And is not King Slater’s favourite son the evil (Dennis) Wise Man of Yobo and he doth covet
your suit of many colours??” And the
crowd was hushed with fear for Saint Christopher did truly hate the evil Wise
man of Yobo.
And then some of the crowd murmured the two dreaded curses that they all in the red Valley did truly fear “the post-
Christmas dip in form” and “Saint Bradley may leave us in the January transfer
window”.
And as the foolish old heretic was led away with his soiled red and white
scarf all tattered and stained with seven years of tears and tomato ketchup; Saint Christopher mounted a small box and
chastised his people for these negative thoughts;
“For verily I say unto
thee, King Slater of the Moneylenders hast given us great bags of gold to tempt
the finest disciples in the land and they are now a glorious red and white army
of noble warriors on top of the League mountain. Rejoice and Hallelujah I say unto
thee.”
And as the jubilant crowd
sang “Onwards Christopher’s' Soldiers" at the top of their voices the
foolish old heretic could just be heard being dragged away screaming to renew
his season ticket.
This is the word of
the Lord (Curbs)
Comments
And lo, later that same day there was more happiness when it was learned that he who went by the name of Francis was not a scion of the pious family of Assisi, as his followers had proclaimed, and was revealed by Saint Christopher to be nothing more than a journeyman on the road to Bournemouth...
Absolutely superb
Some people just seem to have too much spare time on their hands!! A great read. I can't wait to hear the "Sermon of the Season's End!"
Long may the good times roll.
i feel you brother... deep and true!
Dreams of the promised land taken from them before.
Crackin post by the way
Quality again Grumps.
Reverend Jesse Jackson and are battling tirelessly against the mindless thugs
and vagabonds of this League. Even the prodigal son, Saint Jason of Euell, has
returned from the barren lands of the North to join us in our quest.
as a Saint in the same mould as that ancient deity-the mighty Lord Killer of Hales.
For verily I say unto
thee, there will be rejoicing once again in the Streets of Floyd Road and this
is truly the word of the Lord (Curbs).