CHAPTER 25: THE BLOWING UP OF IRELAND (PART TWO)
Continued from the beginning of Chapter 25.
The mountains, as legend has it, was the result of a build-up of humpty-dumpies from an Táin, the legendary livestock bull, which had been stolen by Queen Maeve, and the bull had been so furious by the kidnapping that he’d crapped all over the South of Ireland. The olfactory scale registered the smell in the area of that mountain patch was akin to the smell from the breasts of the Celtic goddess Caron, whose dilapidated tittery was rumoured to have resulted in an early famine followed by seven years of deadly plague and alas she was finally given the boot from ancient Gaelic mythology when legends Fionn MacCumhaill and Cúchulainn, in their first and last crossover episode, sent Caron packing to the edge of the solar system where she added a h to her name to give herself a more bitter and gutteral sound. Charon, as she came to be known: But she still left her namesake in that mountain range after her breasts and the smell was so bad in the Macgillicuddy Reeks that they were regarded as the smelliest thing in France and that particular slug-eating and cheese-loving nation not even in Ireland at all.
And when Sean and Tancred could take no more of that redolence after seven days and seven nights twice over they came back down from that mountain range and turned themselves into the police in a village in the foothills. And they masqueraded as police officers for close to three years between them, until they were finally discovered by the locals to be fugitives and were expunged from the village. Whereupon were they arrested by the real police, solicited for dry cleaning, convicted without trial, fed gruel and crust for nigh on a tuppence hae-penny, prosecuted by fire, imprisoned under clause 3 for breach of contract, and last – but by no means least – executered to the death for sixteen miles with impunity of the soul? Yes, indeed and they were.
And Judge Rarely-Smyled had a cruel streak in him, ordering the two quote unquote criminals, quote, unquote, to be bludgeoned to death by bishops armed with nothing more than macrame bags filled with feathers.
Now, no offence to the Church, but bishops wouldn’t know how to kill anyone, being overqualified men of God, much less know how to kill a criminal, cushioned macrame sack or no. And the criminals weren’t the ones armed with the macrame bags, I have to stress, it was the bishops.
Continued in Chapter 25 Part 3.