Tuesday, 3 April 2012

Two Altercations and I get kidnapped by the 10 Disciples

I don't know exactly how many disciples Jesus had, but this next pictures shows vaguely how many of the beggars I had to deal with the other day:

So, I'm limping along Holloway Road with sholley and I see the above set of religious types approaching me.  Except the N7 version wore slightly more modern outfits.  Several of 'em suddenly clustered round me, and I'm thinking 'oh, jesus' (and he's thinking: 'you're on yer own, mate!').  So, I stopped and one of 'em said: 'Hello, madam,' and another one started patting my shoulder.  I tried to get 'em to vacate the environs with: 'I'm sorry, dears, but I'm ever so busy.'  And one 'em says: 'Oh, we won't take too much of your time,' so I rejoindered with: 'Oh, I can't stop in one place for too long, not with my legs, I start seizing up.' (Which is a bit true, tho' enhanced).

Then it all went completely and utterly to buggery (note: sounds like that fake butter: 'Utterly Butterly' p.s. it is horrid and part made of coal).

Anyhow, soon as I mentioned I had bad legs, they're man-handling me over to a wooden bench and sitting me down and saying: 'the afflicted need the salve of the Lord more than most,' and all sorts of old cods, and I'm thinking: 'Yeah, afflicted by you bloody kidnappers.'   I tell you, I didn't need salve, I needed a bleeding gun.

Then, they start telling me how the Lord cares about the afflicted, and 'am I a believer?', and 'only the Lord can cure me,' and why don't I 'come along to their Healing Workshop,' blah blah extraordinarily 'Does she take sugar?' type cheeky blah.

By this time, my patience is getting well tried.  So I try to get up off the bench and one of 'em has the nerve to put a hand onto my arm so I can't get up at all.
I've had enough by now, I said: 'Now, I really have to get going,' in a bit of a sharp tone.
Then one of 'em gets shirty and says: 'Don't you realise that the Lord afflicted you for a purpose?'
And by this time, I lost my rag.  I think my mouth fell right open with the bare-fared audacity.  I said: 'What sort of fucking purpose was that then?  So I could get kidnapped by you bastards.  Why don't you just fuck off and go and annoy some other cripple who gives a fuck,' (or something similar with lots of fucks in it, sorry!).

Honestly, I was as cross as two sticks.  Then a nice man and a lady came over and said: 'Are this lot annoying you?'  And I said: 'Yes, they are.  I've got M.S. and that man said god did it.'

Oh ho! And then the bloke and his wife got abso furious and starting going all Roman on them, and serve them right too.  So, they buzzed orf, finally, with a parting shot of: 'We'll pray for you.'

I mean, it was all over and done with inside of 10 minutes and they only kidnapped me about 5 yards from my previous location, but it was the principle of the thing.  Honestly.

Will tell you about the two altercations in next post cos must go for glass of boozington - I've probably got that Post Traumatic Religious Disorder.  (Oh, I'm that mad, I really am - small wonder those atheists get in such a paddy - if this carries on, I'll be bloody joining 'em - I tell you, there can't be much worse than a converted agnostic).  Poor Jesus.


  1. What a fecking nightmare. I s'pose that's one good thing about living in the arse end of nowhere - no rampant religious zealots throwing themselves at one's person (apart from the lady who delivers the Whitestone Parish newsletter but the most intimidating thing she does is flash her falsies at you. Er, false teeth that is). "We'll pray for you"... what a bunch of twonkers. Hope the glass of boozington sorted you out... And yeah, butter substitutes. There IS no substitute for butter. Everything else is just yellow grease.

  2. Well where the hell were they the other day when you REALLY needed saving - haircut day?!?! Hahaha! Sorry, couldn't resist! You shoulda had Henry or Connie Brix with you - they won't mess with dogs I tell you. When the Jehovah's come to my door I simply open the kitchen window & tell them I can't possibly open the door because I have three pit bulls (which consist of one Lucy pit who LOVES everyone and one Duke weiner dog that WOULD tear their legs off!) and they run like the very devil is on their righteous tails. Gosh, if it weren't only 7:22 a.m. here I'd be joining you for a little shot of boozington - misery loves company, right. But heck, it's only a few hours till
    noon ;- )

    Sending ((HUGS)) from Calif USA