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Wanderers Ways. Neil Thompson 1961-2021

Rivington Pike, author and undisputed master of Northern Romance, is back for Christmas


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"Oh Mr Darcy" she gasped. Do you think this tiara suits me?"
"Aye love, but best put it back, we'd make nowt on that. As I say, it's the sweetcorn amongst the shit that wins Bargain Hunt. Aye up, Dickinson's coming back - switch them price tickets."




"Oh Mr Darcy" she gasped. A duel, how romantic! But - my swift beating heart has to ask - do you know how to use that sword?"
"Course I do love, Sammi down the kebab shop showed me with his skewers"
"But beloved, this is not Hag Fold, it is Monte Carlo - and the gentleman there seeks honour or death"
"It'll be reet, Sammi and his brother are behind them curtains. If it kicks off they've got cleavers and a dog"





"Oh Mr Darcy" she gasped. "Given the intimacy of what's just happened between us, may I suggest that your marriage has run its course? Perhaps it has lingered too long, and like a leaf on an Autumn branch it needs to fall so that new life can burst through?"
"Aye love. But I best get back to the reception; she'll be after the first dance or summat. And you need to fettle the other bridesmaids"




















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14 hours ago, DirtySanchez said:

Any updates on Church violence?

Well funny you should ask that...



It's a tough life being Bishop of Lincoln. With Saxo still banged up in the Vatican and Lowson getting the push for turning a blind eye to something or other, I took over and needed to make my mark. The death of the Queen gave me the perfect opportunity. The soft bastards at the Ecumenical Council had organised an inter-faith service of remembrance, so now was my chance. Tickets were like rocking horse shit but Welby owed me a favour after I saved him from a kicking at last year's General Synod (tell you what, the Bishop of Tamworth was pissing blood for a week after I did him that day). So I recruited the gravediggers (luckily they were both out on parole) and a lay preacher from Grantham. I knew he was a good 'un ever since he got borstal for wounding with intent during Sunday School. We rocked up at Ely Cathedral early doors; the lads raided the communion wine but I swerved it - you need a clear head on days like this; though a quick snort behind the vestry got me in the mood. And it was needed soon enough. The Methodists turned up mob handed, along with a couple of Quakers who'd done time for arson and a Russian Orthodox monk from Bootle. He'd been a mercenary with Wagner until he got chucked out for being too uncontrollable during that attempted coup in Chad. Top lads but they were like mannah from heaven. Half the monk's teeth rattled across the narthex thanks to one of the gravedigger's shovels. As we sped outside to savour the crisp Autumnal Cambridgeshire air in triumph, we realised our mistake. It was a classic ambush, like that cunt must have led back in Chad. The Catholic Bishop's Conference were waiting, with a dozen members of the Congregatio Pro Gentium Evangelizatione - the hardest nutters in Italian Church Violence - in tow. Chaos ensued and I only survived by ditching my cassock and trying to blend in. Hiding behind a misericord I was spotted by the head of the Bury St.Edmunds Townswomen's Guild, the one I got a noshing from over a font at St.Pilchards in Spalding. She spirited me off through the vestry and on to the digs she was sharing above a boozer by the river. Later, looking out of the strangely stained window towards the history-steeped cathedral, I couldn't help but wonder how the lads had got on. I could have gone back to help, but as my host was already stripped naked and getting lubed up by her mate, a Lady Verger from Peterborough, I thought it's God's will I was spared and it's my duty to now stay here and administer extreme unction to these two poor souls. He does indeed move in mysterious ways; as did that verger - I think that's how I lost my watch. The next morning, as I lay there covered in sick, amidst the sounds of the hustle and bustle of the pub below, I got phoned by the Methodists - pissing on my cassock and calling in a result. I vowed to get my revenge, and it wasn't long coming...




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