And the Lord did create the Travel Lodge.
And he created the postcode.
However, in the far off land of Peterborough in the Shire of Cambridge, he was loathe to allow the two of them to wed, and thus it was written that Ralph Malph found himself in the middle of a fucking field late one Monday evening, cursing all and sundry whilst wondering what the fuck he’d done to deserve this.
Fortunately , the Lord did smile upon him and after just an hour and a half touring the countryside he would discover that the Promised Land was just on the other side of the roundabout from where he had started his epic journey just jours before.
And it was a fiver for a bottle of Magners.
Still, thats nothing to the travails of Neil Lennon.
He stepped from the darkness into the light and saved that which is dear to him from ruin, and yet still his followers seek solace in looking for a false God, as they still doubt him.
Various effigies have been hung in front of the crowd by those who really should know better than to doubt the leaders ability and enthusiasm. Images of false gods that have been praised by unbelievers and proclaimed by those who who seek to cause chaos and disaster in the Land of the East before the rewards are handed out. In May.
The disciples have been given time off and should anyone spot any of them in a different part.of the country we can be assured they are not disrespecting their leader by seeking financial gain elsewhere or even following in the paths of Herod, who is in a land not too far from me but probably had better luck finding that which he sought.
It waa revealed that the Lennonites would fight the winners of the struggle between the Wild Men of the North and the Staunch Soldiers of Satan himself next month.
This is for the right to claim the prize offered by Satans Followers Association, for their cup is much desired among his Soldiers, as they have fuck all else to look forward. Even if they could look forward to it they wouldn’t see it as they are condemned to eternal darkness anyway, despite taking out another secured loan to ward off those who seek to cleanse and purify our land.
And so the fable comes to an end, as the storyteller must now undertake another journey, in order to break his fast which he underwent whwn he found out the fucking kitchen was closed when he finally got here.
Tomorrow we may see a proper diary, with pictures and news and gossip, but only if the Peterborough Pilgrim can pray to the God of WiFi and learn how to absorb his teachings into a laptop.
Instead of a phone. Still, i think I’ve cut out most of the mistakes.