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179. Bring Back Merica

Posted on: June 12th, 2015 by Colonel Crabtree-Smythe No Comments

TheLoki Crabtreeworld is most certainly insane, but regardless of such madness it still is a wonderful place to reside even now, but then again we don’t have much choice as we are all born into this psych ward with out much say on the matter.We are all in some way related to Randle .P. McMurphy. We are all battling the coldness and evil of a Nurse Ratched and her cohorts. “Save us chief, save us all chief from this sane madness, don’t leave us here to rot in chains of puritanical tomfoolery and self righteous men and women of god who would sooner labotomise us than to see us run free wild in the woods.” I for one can see our reality for the beast that it is and to be fair it’s laughable, dark and twisted but laughable. The powers that be are on their last legs in terms of their dark magic and manipulation. Many people sadly will fall by the wayside as they have been retarded beyond the point of no return and for that I’m sorry but at this moment there is nothing that can be done to help other than to say it’s up to us as individuals to claim our own lives create our own magic and mythologies, any thing to steel us away from the Abrahamic,  Jehovian dessert nonsense that haunts and poisons our culture today and has done certainly from 1066 and beyond. The rise of dogmatism self righteous crank pot-ism repression and perversity, a demon from the dessert.The ghost of Emperor Charlemagne haunts us all.

Point about all this is I recently decided I was going back to my Nordic roots and I wanted to make a show of doing so. I made my way to Euston and walked up to Hampstead Road to my most favorite fancy dress outlet Laurence Corner to pick up my pre/ordered Viking garb. Now I was very happy with the main apparel it made me feel a connection to my dear Odin, Loki, Freya and Thor. I could feel the power of my ancestors coursing through my varicose veins and limp penis.

The problem arose when the limp wristed store attendant shop keeper whatever you wish to call him turned up from the back with a horned helmet that he claimed was Viking. I told him in no uncertain terms.

“That’s a comedy helmet, I want a Viking Helmet!”

“Ohhh no, this is a Viking Helmet horns and all.” Limpy replied

“No, the Vikings never wore devil horns on their heads.” I argued.

“Did they not? Well this hat has horns on and it goes with that costume.” Said Limpy pointing at what I was wearing.

“I’m bloody not wearing it. Vikings never wore horns on their helmets! I refuse to perpetuate the Christian propaganda that Vikings wore devil horns on their helmets.”

“Oooooh your a stubborn one! Very Adam Ant.” Added Limpy

“You’re a cretin trying to sell me dodgy goods. Iv’e a good mind to report you to Off-Com, for selling historically incorrect shoddy wares. Propaganda.”

“That’s the hat that comes with the costume.If you don’t like it, tough… nothing I can do you silly olde man. All I knows about Christian propaganda is that they don’t like us poofs!” Limpy respond.

That’s when I snatched the helmet off the limp wrister. Grabbed both horns in either hand and ripped them… tore them off the helmet. It was a clean snap surprisingly clinical and I popped one of the horns in my pocket for later and I shoved the other up Limpys bottom, after a short struggle of course with his Levi 501s and belt. I think he liked it though, I think he enjoyed our altercation as he kept on saying,

“well if thats Christian propaganda I’m all for it big boy.”

I kicked Limpy in the balls dropped two cocaine vouchers  on the floor for the Viking costume and any damage I may have caused. The horn still sticking out of his two buttocks he lay there drifting in and out of consciousness.

I put on the now doctored helmet caught myself in the full length mirror an olde Viking stared back at and then I slowly made my way up the Hampstead Road towards Primrose Hill all eyes on me as I did so. I climbed the hill and at the highest point by the William Blake benches I sat and waited for the call of the Valkyrie.

After ten minutes or so I looked up and saw a Raven, I got quite excited, it swooped down towards me, circled, swooped again and let out a squawk.It then circled again swooped as before and let out another squawk, and then it shat on my Viking helmet. A sad twist of fate. I felt irritated by this as the pony rolled down the helmet and dripped onto my nose.What a way to go out I thought. It boggles the mind. It always has, “Valhalla will have to wait,” I reasoned to myself while looking for a Kleenex, which I did not find. Oh well such is life I thought as I slowly made my way down the hill to the nearest public lavatory for a wash, whereupon strangely enough I bumped into Jimmy Somerville of Bronski Beat fame who invited me back to his for tea and crumpets… He also sang an impromptu acoustic version of ‘Small Town Boy’ which was a turn up for the books, good olde Jimmy I say. Thank-you and goodbye Odin bless.

Colonel Cuthbert Crabtree Smythe…….

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