an unholy fuss

hello dear readers! i can only apologise for the long silence. i wonder if i have any readers left! even my most loyal fans must have become frustrated by the lack of musings. it is entirely herself's fault. as you know i have to rely on her to do the typing and it has been impossible to interest her in my blog of late. some of this has been because she has been busy but that is not uncommon. the main problem is that she has been doleful. however the wonderful doctor has increased her dose of happy pills and she is back to her bright-eyed and bushy-tailed self. (she does not really have a tail, nor indeed particularly bright eyes but i occasionally allow myself the luxury of a saying or two).

what has been occurring in the interim, i hear you ask. well, among other things she has built a barbecue. those who have been paying attention will know that the plan was for himself to build the barbecue as he has a degree in architecture and a building diploma. however, this proved an unsuccessful plan. by the time he had mixed the first bag of cement himself was looking decidedly feeble. so herself stepped in and attacked the bricks.

herself could not be described as a perfectionist. however, to give her her due, she got out the spirit level and waved it in the general direction of the bricks and so the masterpiece grew and grew until it was finished. this weekend is the grand opening and we will see if it actually works.

last week the peeps went to a concert. mrs captain sings in a choir. she has a truly beautiful voice. the concert was in a church and the peeps went along with the captain and some other friends to watch. the people running the concert had clearly heard of my boy and his mates and guided the peeps to the upstairs bit of the church out of harms way. my boy proceeded to conduct a survey of the audience below. "there are 87 old people and 51 bald people. some of the bald people are women!" he announced in his usual dulcet tones. the acoustics of the church meant that this echoed rather more than you would think possible.

at the interval there were refreshments downstairs in the cloisters. the peeps queued up. my boy and his mate slunk off to the loo. they were gone rather longer than it takes to have a tinkle. suddenly my boy rushed through the large crowd of people waiting to buy drinks. "that bastard vicar!" he shouted. everyone looked round. herself tried to melt into the floor but it was made of very hard stone so instead she focused on trying to calm my boy and find out what had happened. "we were only looking" protested my boy. after some deft cross-examination he was forced to admit that he and his mate had been trying to make a phone call when the vicar had come along and said "how dare you!" this is the same vicar who my boy grills every time he meets him about in an effort to prove that god does not exist. the vicar is by all accounts a saint in his patient explanations to my boy about how that is the whole point of faith.

herself found it hard to picture the benevolent vicar being so harsh if my boy's account was accurate. however the second half was starting and the peeps had to get the young folks under control. throughout the whole of the second half my boy muttered about how he was going to kill the vicar. beefburger people can take things to heart.

it was not until several days later, after exhaustive forensic questioning, that the full story emerged. my boy and his mate had gone into an office somewhere in the depths of the church and had been trying to make phone calls to god. they had also found a public address system. my boy's mate had shouted into the public address system: "get out, you're all going to die!"

fortunately for my boy and his mate the public address system was not switched on. in the heat of the moment the audience would not have had time to reflect on the accuracy of this statement. clearly we are all going to die at some point. the 87 old people and 51 bald people and all of the hairy young people would have assumed that the voice was god. it is unlikely that they would have paused to consider that god would perhaps not have a new zealand accent. nor indeed that god might have a deeper voice, given his long white beard.

ho hum. i'm glad i stayed at home...