Monday, September 7, 2009

Spasmodic Weasel Indifference Day Eve

The day before Spasmodic Weasel Indifference Day Eve is always a hectic time in Little Frigging, as we all have to make sure our Spasmodic Weasel Indifference Day costumes are back from the cleaners and our sex spatulas have been fully recalibrated back to Greenwich Mean Time in readiness for the darker evenings that Spasmodic Weasel Indifference Day celebrates.


Those of you with some knowledge of the state of religion in this country before the Christians came and buggered about with it all, will, of course, know that Spasmodic Weasel Indifference Day dates back to beyond even the pagan times. It has been found to date right back into the mists of history, back to the time when early man first realised that someone or something must be responsible for creation and set about finding out precisely who was to blame for it.

Back in those days, of course, gods were not to be venerated, worshiped, feared or even loved. They were there to take the blame when something – as it often did – did not go well. When the hunt failed, when the crops did not grow, when the illnesses spread, when there was nothing any good on the telly, when Windows 1.0 kept rebooting for no apparent reason, then the gods were blamed and held responsible. Most of all, though, during the elaborate and vital fertility rites that the ancients performed to bring about the bountiful harvest failed, because the essential sex weasels were spasmodically indifferent to the high priestess’s intricate manipulations of the revered and holy sex spatulas then that – most definitely – was the fault of the gods.

So, then the gods would have to pay. And, pay they did through the rituals that enacted the savage dismemberment and consumption of the gods in order to serve the buggers right for starting it all off in the first place.

These days, in supposedly more enlightened times, the ritual is enacted through the ritual where the naked high priestess (our village librarian) Miss Lesley Mufflapper is coated in virgin sex weasel oil by her handmaiden (and assistant librarian), Miss Margie Mingefinger. Then they engage in the ceremonial slicing and ritual eating of the Holy Pork Pie (here representing the body of the gods) on the High Altar, before we get down to the traditional all-village orgy and tea dance that rounds off the ceremony.

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