It was sunny and quite mild here this morning and then these people came with a golden torch and the skies darkened and it started to rain, slowly at first and then heavier and then the temperature dropped and we became cold and the flame left and with it went the sunshine. Slowly around the country, the sun goes out and the persistant rain chills the air and so it will continue.
(9 posts) (6 voices)
I fear 'The Torch' angers the gods beau.
It came upon us in early June, on a day of sunshine and great warmth.
The crowds thronged, and gave thanks for the warmth of the sun on their skin, they danced and sang, and went on little fair-ground type rides as they awaited the coming of 'The Torch'.
It swept among them soon, and they did cheer. But soon, the skies grew dark, as though night-time had come before night and it grew chill as though happiness was being sucked from their very beings.
And then came the rain. Rain which looked like the rods used for stair-carpeting purposes. Rain which bounced back up from the parched ground to meet itself, and welcome its brethern raindrops.
And still it rains.
Do not go unto 'The Torch', for it angers the gods.
And lo the Torch heads on to Weymouth where sunny sand did kiss the seas and children's laughing faces dream of bright parades.
But as the gaudy branch decends the darkening skies do follow through and long planned jolity is cast inside to shelter from the torrent.
And children's snotty noses press against the dampened pains and watch though raindrops many buses as the Torch moves on again.
(I'm beginning to scare myself now.)
You are definitely on to something here, B-J.
Here in rural South-West Devon it never rains because the tourist board won't allow it, but then that fucking torch came past and it's pissed it down ever since.
How do we appease the God of the Torch? I say we sacrifice Seb Coe, bet it's not that hard to build a wicker man.
It's much easier than building a Wickes man, that's for sure.
The wicker man on the M5 near Taunton is starting to look a bit tatty
Maybe we could lash the Coe creature to his penis and set fire to it.
I'll bring the cider.
(bloody hell Wayland, don't upset the Wickes God for chrissakes....he's coming to start on my new kitchen come Monday. I'm dreading it enough as it is)
All the people in the
flatsapartment where I live are all posh and absolutely filthy rich - so I'm hoping the Wickes van they send round with the fixtures and fittings doesn't have their name on it.
Kitchens of Distinction - I fear not.
And so, from every corner of the kingdom came the wise-ones and Elders. A Gathering had been called, for upon every family, Clan and group a darkness had come.
Twas time to appease the gods, for 'The Torch' had
smited smitten smittedbeen visited upon them all, and they did suffer greatly from the foot of Trench, and other liquid incontinences.
For many nights of the new moon did they talk, and fight, drink and fornicate, and then they realised they'd better think of something.
And thus, it came to them that a sacrifice must be made. They must decide who is to be the sacrifice, so for many nights of the new moon they did talk, fight, drink and fornicate. And so it came to pass that the offering of Seb, Lord of Coe was chosen.
And soon, a Wicker Man was built, but because of the rains, the reeds were soggy, wet, and short. And they took that as a sign for Seb, Lord of Coe was not of great height. And they took him, and bound him, and stuffed his gob with old, sweaty sports socks to stifle his screams, and they did BURN HIM!
Do you think you ought to take more water with it Jeni?
No, might put the flames out.
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