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Gordon's supply

Gordon’s supply of Brandy

“Get the fuck up and get over here” roars the Bish down the end of the phone. “The Inner Cyberian Pleece are coming over to make sure that all of us here at the Church of St Generic Brand aren’t tax evaders”emphatically states the Bish.

“Excuse me Bish but we are now in a Father O’Way story and swearing is not allowed anyway you said Fax Evasion, see that’s easy, just don’t have one” I reply while scratching my nuts then farting, as you do. Hmm, that fingernail needs attention. Now we have done the on wee gag enough for sure however it just seems to fit here beauteously.

“Oops, sorry Sandy, thought we were still in Foodge but you are a pudenda sometimes” laments the Bish “Just seems like everyone is fucking everyone these days and I said tax not fax you ninny”

“Bish, no swearing in my stories please. In Foodge your Emmjay and you can swear all you like there but here you are Bishop Billy Bishop we all call the Bish” I inform but shush, knowing secretly, I mean, keep this to yourself right, don’t tell a soul, on your honour, it’s because he is the BISH(Big Important Sh#t Head).”

“Well, between you and me, just our little secret right” confines the Bish “Rouge can at times look rather attractive and I must admit, even though I’m a Gordonian, and yes I know Gordonians can have girlfriends etc but if she ever dropped the soap as they say then I would try and you know” flippants the Bish.

“But what about Mrs Bish?” I ask in a non forensic way if you know what I mean.

“Am I married in this series?” asks the Bish.

“Actually, now you say that I don’t think Hung married you off in this series although you and a blow up dolly were caught in a compromising situation that you assured us was an accident” I needle without temptation, wasn’t that belted into us somewhere.

“Hey, I know” says the Bish “ why don’t I shoot her with a 12 gauge shot gun?”

“Nah, a bit messy plus everyone doing that theses days, pretty ordinary in my view” I express.

“I know” sparks off the Bish “ Lets ask the author whatever his name is”.

!!Warning: The Church of St Generic Brand wishes to advise that any material written in-between [ ] square brackets are talks between the characters and the author. No responsibility is taken for this bit or something, you know what I mean!!

[Well, it’s Mark here Bish. Seeing that anyone reading this will basically need lots of help, why don’t we have one of those interviewer style thingys. This means I don’t have to say he said then he replied etc., etc., get the picture?

Bish: Sure Mark but am I married in the Father O’Way series?

Mark: NFI mate CRAFT disease, who are you again?

Sandy: Mark, please, no swearing, not in FOW please and by the way, what’s his 45 thing you bring up all the time?

Mark: Well if you say are really old like say 58 when they is born, just sayin like, then you will be 103 when they turn 45, kiddies, that simple.

Sandy: Oh

Bish: But am I married Mark, Rouge is hot?

Mark: Look, it’s like this. If I go back through the archives I’ll cut Mrs Bish out if she exists or technically she may or may not exist in non existence. This is complex fiction Bish, I know of all people hat you will understand it but then again I’m a lair with limited IQ, wat wood eye no.

Bish:Cheers thanks mate.

Sandy: Now Mark I want you to stop all this excessive swearing and sexual references. Surely you don’t want anyone to be interested in your stories do you?

Mark: Yes Sandy, No Sandy, Whatever Sandy can I go now please?

Sandy: Suppose. But look Mark you truly are a DICKHEAD

Mark: Hey Pal, what about the swearing, you just called me a dickhead, hmm.

Sandy: Yes, Decent Intuitive Compassionate Kind-hearted, Helpful, Earnest ,Adaptable, Dependable , um, see ya.]

!The Church of St Generic Brand wishes advise that the story has now returned to normal, well sort of!

Bloody hell, forgot the story now, look I’ll tell this Mark guy anything to keep the story going, okay,  thinks Sandy as he looks to the left to see the next paragraph.

So Gordon and the Bish meet with the tax office officials and then they interviewed me, appeared to be painful process for them, can’t understand why, can you?

Then after the considerable consumption of 2000 year old brandy that Gordon picked up on one of his previous visits, from a place now called France, the tax folk left happy and rather meritorious.

We all stood any waved then goodbye, blew kisses and yelled silly statements like “We must do this again some time…”, how simply ludicrous as only as these stories can be. Fancy wanting to meet regularly with the tax office? Hmm, how very French brandy of us, no thanks.

The Bish heads back to he comfort of the Rectory. Probably for a few smokes, help settle his nerves.

So it’s just me and Gordon. Not very often one gets to stand and talk with the creator of the universe. So my neural pathways are becoming a bit disorganised and I ask “What did you say to the tax office Gordon? They seem pretty sweet”

“Well” says Gordon “you won’t like it but I told them to fuck off and never come back. Once they verified that I own all the money on this planet they were happy as. The brandy was a bonus and by being succinct here I’m keeping the word count down, eco-friendly like.”