Coven - Part 9

Korky is about to march in The Grand Parade that begins The War of Devotions. She is going to march with the Nazis, which is a bit of a bummer, but she seems to have little choice. For those still desperately looking for logic in this tale I would remind you of the subtle clue given in part 8. It seems the whole Bogan and Beaudesert region is a VPU (Virtual Private Universe). This makes everything crystal clear and completely rational. Thank goodness - because I was going nuts trying to think of a way out of the mess. So having left that bridge merrily blazing away we blunder onward – onward to war.

(The huge opening that is the team tunnel leading from the dressing rooms to the arena, is in chaos. Teams form, argue and reform. Banners furl and flap and bitter disagreements rage about precedence. Eventually The Catholics and The Muslims agree to march side by side as they lead the parade into the arena. Wailing belly dancing music clashes horribly with Ave Maria but fortunately the roar of the crowd drowns out the strident racket. The Pope and his bishops wave and bless like billyo as they stroll beside The Ayatollah and his bearded mufters who are threatening to chop off the right hand of any bishop who imposes on the gap between the teams. The mufters are taunted by several of the bishops who blatantly stick out their pinkie fingers into the no-go zone as they mince along beside the Muslim clerics.

Team by team the parade lengthens to a jostling ribbon of colour and noise. Protestants hurl bottles at the leading Catholic mob and Jehovah’s Witnesses refuse to breathe the same air as the rest and steadfastly expire to then be crushed by marching feet. Buddhists pass in silence their beatific and peaceful demeanour contrasting wildly with their internal raging at the Hindu hordes, cursing them as arsehole probes. Meanwhile the Jews run busily among the other teams selling commemorative Yahweh dolls to any that will buy, including the Nazis with whom Korky goose steps churlishly. Faith by faith, religion’s Mafiosi brandish beliefs like the weapons of war they are and the multitudes around them slaver in anticipation of martyrs’ blood by the bucket load.

For an hour the parade wriggles back and forth before disappearing once more into the tunnel. Within moments, participants in the egg and spoon race run eagerly into the arena. They bounce and caper professionally in a series of warm up exercises before making there way to the start line where they are given a spoon of official size. A marshal then walks down the line placing an egg on each spoon and the contestants crouch, waiting for the signal. In this case the signal is a sign from Almighty God and each contestant must be alert and receptive to divine intervention. There are several false starts as quite natural events trigger the various perceptions of Almighty God’s intentions but eventually a wildebeest charges into the arena and gores the Catholic contestant to death. This is deemed to be definitely ‘it’ and the race is on.

A Muslim mufter shuffles into the lead with a Nazi close behind. A Buddhist monk tries to ‘mindfuck’ the leaders and is disqualified. As the staggering group rounds the first turn the Cargo Cult contestant attempts a bunny jump into the lead whilst holding down the egg with his chin but he is disembowelled by the flashing spoon of a Whirling Dervish who claims obstruction and gains two places. Runners stumble, lurch and sometimes fall and a trail of scrambled egg is left behind the panting athletes. A Hindu, his egg stuck firmly to the spoon with sacred cow shit, gains on the Nazi but the passing move is foiled by a spirited rear-guard action from the ghost of Martin Bormann. On the back straight, unseen by the judges, a Mormon is strangled and mugged by a Thuggee devotee who had lost his egg and spoon. Out of the last turn and into the final straight, the Muslim mufter, the Nazi and a Jewish financial consultant dominate the race. They strain and gasp, balancing their eggs with pop-eyed concentration until the last few yards when, despite the apparent advantages of pausing to consider the negative gearing offer put together on the run by the Jew, the Nazi pulls ahead. With a strangled cry of desperation the Jew throws himself at the ankles of the Hun. The Nazi crashes against the mufter and the three go down together with the Jew on top pounding with his fists at anything that moves and, in all the confusion, the Whirling Dervish spins across the line and takes the honours outright for the Muslim Minority team.

And so Track and Field continues throughout the morning. The Catholics win a controversial victory in the three-legged race when their entrant, who had lost a leg in a sporting accident, was hastily ordained by The Pope minutes before the race and subsequently romped home. It is claimed by objectors that there is no precedent for bestowing a Catholic priesthood on a two-year-old racehorse. Nevertheless “Black Mass” is deemed a bona fide competitor and the win stands, if a little unsteadily.

In their “elected event” The Catholics again score in the alter boy relay race. At first, a Buddhist gleefully competes against the Catholics. The Buddhist runs from alter boy to alter boy tapping each on the shoulder as he passes but when it is explained to him that tapping on the shoulder is not the action required, the monk backs out. More accurately, he backs away – his eyes glancing fearfully to right and left at the Catholic bishops rampant who are trying to sneak behind him.

The crowd continues to have plenty to cheer and every religious group is eventually represented on the winners’ rostrum including the Beaudesert Baptists who score a shock victory in the pillow fight. By the end of the morning six groups qualify for The Elimination Bouts. The Muslims, the Catholics, the Jews, the Crackpot Churches, the Beaudesert Baptists and, mainly due to Nazi effort, the Boutique Churches. The eliminations will bring the number of groups down to three and these will meet in The Final Battle.

The first elimination is the holy relics competition and it comes down to the offering from Beaudesert and the Catholic entry. Beaudesert Baptists are disqualified when it is discovered that their organically farmed potato, miraculously grown like the head of John the Baptist, has had the nose drawn on with magic marker. Not so, the Catholic relic proudly displayed by Bishop O’Leary of Park Ridge. It is a picture-perfect representation of St. Peter’s Basilica, formed by the delicate tracery of wrinkles underneath the bishop’s scrotum.

Other eliminations follow. Korky wins the conker contest for the Nazis and McDuck triumphs for the Crackpots in the twelve-syllable stutter. Eventually we reach the most popular event – the 2-kilometre obstacle race. This race has always drawn the most media attention and Sky Sports has won the bidding war to cover it. Therefore we must now hand the next part of the blog over to Sky Sports and your obstacle race presenter, Rupert Drydoch.

SKY SPORT - SKY SPORT - SKY SPORT – SKY SPORT.

This event proudly brought to you by:

The Vatican (keep your spirits up!)


This event also brought to you by:

Kop-u-lite Reinforced Kondoms (keep your pecker up!)


And also brought to you by the old prune himself……

RUPEEEEEEERT DRYDOCH.

Drydoch: Good afternoon sports fans and it’s almost time for The Greatest Obstacle Race in the World, exclusively on Sky Sports. It’s a beautiful day here at the War of Devotions Arena and my co-presenter, the lovely Connie Lingus, is down in the arena talking to the outgoing God of Gods, Bert Watkins. Connie?

Connie Lingus: Thanks Rupert. Well, Bert … you know - it is so hard to just call you Bert. I’ve spent my entire life praying to you for help, for guidance, for support.

Bert Watkins: Yes, I remember how nervous you were when you were going in to get your tits done.

Connie Lingus: Yes … well … um … REALLY! …. Did anyone ever notice what a fucking useless God you were?

Bert Watkins: Did anyone ever notice your nipples are in your armpits?

Drydoch: Yes! Well …. Uh ..we seem to have lost the signal there. If we get it back we’ll continue the interview. In the meantime we’ll take a short break. Be right back with more on The Greatest Obstacle Race in the World, exclusive to Sky Sports.

(Fade out. Music from Rigoletto begins to play. Fade in to a view of a tumbling stream in the foothills of the Italian Alps. Beside the stream a young family are enjoying a picnic. They are dressed simply but elegantly. The children are happy, laughing, eating wholesome food. The parents also laugh, wide mouthed, very white teeth. They all eat apples and hold the fruit to the side of their mouths so we can clearly see the brilliant whiteness of their teeth. They continue to feast and we pan away to follow the stream. It leaps, flashing and splashing through mile after mile of a rustic world so beautiful it hurts. Eventually the stream reaches Rome and we see a few seconds of fountains dancing with Roman sunlight and then fountains illuminated at night behind the family we saw before, but now they dine at an outdoor restaurant – they still laugh. Dissolve to a shot of the Pope feeding the host to a kneeling bishop and then dissolve to a view of a settling tank in a sewage treatment plant.)

Voice Over: And it all ends up here. Unless it meets trouble on the way!

(Bert Watkins walks into the scene and speaks to camera.)

Bert Watkins: That’s when I get called in. If ever you get trouble with your pipes – storm water, mains or sewer – just call on me for fast efficient service.

(Text overlays the screen with Bert’s name, phone number and professional plumbing details.)

Voice Over: No jobbie too big for Bert to handle and all enquiries treated in the strictest confidence because, don’t forget, even the Pope has to poop.

(Fade out.)

Drydoch: Welcome back to Sky Sport’s exclusive coverage of The Greatest Obstacle Race in the World. The contestants are just coming up to the starting line so I’ll hand you straight over to our race caller, Connie Lingus. Are you there, Connie?

Connie Lingus: Yes, I’m here Rupert and fully recovered from that little prick, Watkins, thank you very much. I can’t believe he had the gall to mention my tits.

Drydoch: Um … are you sure you’re okay Connie?

Connie Lingus: Of course I’m fucking sure! But I don’t expect a dried up, walnut faced old prat like you to understand. All you care about is appearing to be important when really you’re on the verge of losing everything to a medium you can’t control. It won’t be long before the average blogger has more influence than you, you desiccated old arsehole. Now where the fuck was I?

Oh yes.

Well, Rupert, the contestants look eager and ready to go, so for the benefit of our viewers we’ll quickly run through the line-up.

Lane One: Korky the Cat representing the Nazi contingent of Boutique Churches. Behind Korky are fifty Tiger tanks and a whole division of Waffen SS.

Lane Two: The Pope followed by three thousand bishops and six thousand unfrocked priests.

Lane Three: Rabbi Slivovitz with his Mossad bodyguard and The Ark of the Covenant containing a nuclear device.

Lane Four: Ayatollah O’Shaunessy and his Muslim Hordes.

Lane Five: Representing The Crackpots is Andy McDuck, his Coven and the combined teams of the Church of England Rugby League. There is also a small committee of Kevin Rudds.

Finally, Lane Six: The Beaudesert Baptists backed up by two hundred bad tempered Brahma bulls and a flock of lorikeets.

Drydoch: Thanks for that Connie. We’re going to take another short break now but when we get back it will be time for the start of the main event. Don’t go away.


TO BE CONTINUED.