Monday, April 16, 2007

Pissup of the year, part 2.

I am obliged to a dear friend and occasional reader of this nonsense, a Mr Trellis of North Epsom, who has encouraged me to share a little of the details of the birthday shindig in the Vatican. I have just arrived home, and would perhaps be better advised to collect my thoughts before attempting to chronicle the events, but I think that someone spiked my food, and I appear to have let my abstemious and well-behaved self slip into the background. I cannot really feel guilty about this (there is so much in Catholicism to feel guilty about, after all), as Keith Moon in his heyday would be hard pressed to outdo some of the scenes witnessed this weekend. As a consequence of the tampering, I have to confess that I am unclear about which of the following scenes could be hallucinations and which actually occurred. I must confess that I tend towards the latter.

I am not, as you all well know, a judgemental person on the whole, and believe that the Pontiff is allowed to let his tiara down every 80 years or so. I therefore ask you to treat these insights as confidential, and not to be spread around to satisfy the curiosity of the masses.

  • David Beckham is not aware that the pope is catholic. He is aware of where his wife shat. It was not, unfortunately, in the woods.
  • Variety acts can be very entertaining, I allude to the display put on by around 24 cardinals, in full crimson attire, singing “Satisfaction” while dancing in the style of the Tiller girls. (If you are under 50, look it up. I am too jaded to be bothered with explanations).
  • The archbishop of Canterbury was not invited, and did not attend. Just as well. I saw at least thirty people dressed up as him, and none of them contributed much to the spirit of reunification of the Christian church.
  • Some Swiss guards are very camp given the opportunity. I would rather not have found this out.
  • Even though I have know Ratty for years, I have never seen his impersonation of Deirdre from Coronation Street before. I nearly vomited up my pelvic bone.
  • Sadly, the clearest recollection I have, and I pray to the deities of all the major religions that I imagined this, was me and Ratty urinating off the balcony into St Peters in the early hours of this morning. I have no idea who won the contest for distance, but I was too inebriated to spell my own name. I can only hope that there were no pilgrims below, and that if there were, they did not believe that they were experiencing some sort of bizarre blessing.

19 comments:

the masses said...

Our curiosity is satisfied. Thank you.

First Nations said...

oh thanks. and there i was, dancing around the square with an empty perrier bottle trying to catch some like a loon. next you'll be telling me it isn't holy.

Richard said...

Post no good without pictures. And don't use the old one of the empty bottle of creme de menthe with a prophylactic stuck over the neck again.

Dave said...

Did he get any interesting presents?

Vicus Scurra said...

David, and you can tell by the fact that I am using your Sunday name, that you have been very naughty, you know very well that he got at least one interesting present. Although "inappropriate" might be a better description than "interesting". I have been told by Ratty, in an unusually sombre tone, that in future your welcome in Roman parts will be cooler than before.
It was the wrong size, anyway.

Vicus Scurra said...

First Nations, the act of eliminating from an eighty year old bladder a concoction of Benedictine, copious amounts of Guinness, several servings of the cocktail known here as "Torquemada's Brainfucker" and a diet Dr Pepper will often cause the eliminator to exclaim, enthusiastically, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!". Whether that makes the product holy is an ecumenical matter.

Jane P said...

So that was you pissing off the balcony. Quite ruined my cornetto.

Vicus Scurra said...

Hello Jane. Or Jane P as you seem to fashion yourself. A name like that lends itself to ruined cornettos.

(For my non british readers, (A Mrs Trellis of North West Virginia), a cornetto is an iced confection. Just in case you were confused.)

Homo Escapeons said...

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow you all the days of your strife; but you shall dwell in one of the dungeons in the Rattican for ever."

Why do you think they call it St. PETER'S square?

Vicus Scurra said...

Hello Donn.
One day I will think of something quasi-worthwhile on your journal. Until then I reserve my right to lurk.

ziggi said...

I'm still waiting for my £300 - did he give it to you to pass on?

Vicus Scurra said...

Ziggi, you know as well as I do, (and don't blame me for publishing these details - you brought the matter up) that your fee was only payable if the service that you provided was truly unique. The college of cardinals had seen a similar display from a young lady from Albania in 1992, and she had the decency not to include live animals in the performance. Although you managed to exhibit an admirable degree of suppleness and dexterity, you failed to meet the basic criteria of the contract.
6 hail marys and 7 holy shits.

broomhilda said...

I just loved it when you put on the Popes hat and began a rendition of 'I can see clearly now". One word of advice, the next time you attempt to make a pyramid out of Cardinal hats, remove them from the Cardinals heads first.

ziggi said...

pythons are tricky to train especially with such short notice.

Vicus Scurra said...

Broomhilda, your wisdom and experience in matters with deep religious significance is welcomed.
Ziggi. Try to do better next time. I have heard that the Ecumenical Patriarch of Constantinople has a soft spot for caramel truffle.

Kyahgirl said...

sounds like a fine time!

Jane P said...

I've come here again (if you'll forgive the familiarity) as you kindly invited me, but you don't seem to have moved on much further.

Surely a man who mixes with Popes and has such interesting readers must have more insights about the world to share with us?

Foilwoman said...

Vicus: Not only are you my cross to bear, you've made Charlotte Bronte spin in her grave like a tubercular top. (Except it was Emily who died of tuberculosis and Charlotte died of childbirth? Anyway, they all died, and there's an end to it.) At long last, sir, have you no shame?

Foilwoman said...

Oops, the above comment is to the post above this one. My bad.