Once upon a crime, during a particularly weird zeitordom, there stood a magnificent boarding school for boys within the undulating Chiltern Hills of Oxfordshire, England. (That little green and pleasant island – Which ‘Clutzy’ thought looked like a man riding a pig - just north of Gaul; which somehow or other once ruled a sizeable portion of the world).
Girls weren’t allowed, because they make teenage boys behave like morons, and do revolting things involving too much mucous and squelchy bits, when they should be focusing on woefully tedious things such as analysing Chaucer, for reasons none are any the wiser even years later.
This was a highly expensive educational establishment for a tiny portion of the world’s financially elite offspring. Parents paid good money to have their hormone laden sons shut off from dual gender society in a very military, and exceedingly religious school, which housed the poor unfortunates in a testosterone fuelled Cardinal’s dream of raising the youth into the Catholic faith. (Even if you didn’t think you were Catholic, but found yourself incarcerated there nonetheless, such as our hero).
It is called ‘The Oratory’, and it was founded, along with two other Oratories in Brompton (Where Tony Blair’s son went, and discovered dope) and Birmingham, by the first man in England to be officially canonised by the Pope since the 17th century: Cardinal John Henry Newman.
Given the history, prestige, and infamy of the school, one ‘could’ argue it was one of the holiest schools in the world. Holier than a Muslim terrorist full of bullet holes, certainly.
A large statue of the saint stands proudly to the right of the building when facing it from the grassy knoll in front of the school’s main entrance, adorning the wall of ‘Faber house’.
The school motto is ’cor ad cor loquitor’, which, contrary to some students belief systems, doesn’t mean ‘If you’ve got it, funk it’, but rather ‘let heart speak to heart’. Which isn’t as cool as the SAS’s motto: ‘Who dares wins’ (Or, ‘who dares rims’, now they’re letting homosexuals join the SAS), but it’s pleasant enough one could argue.
It was an absolute travesty how few of the boys actually knew the meaning of their own school motto, and even more concerning, one might suppose for a religious school, is how few of the boys actually believed in God, or took much of their time at the place seriously at all, as they fled from beatings, read saucy magazines and got up to random high-jinx. (Often, literally, when high, and jinxed).
Cardinal Newman was also not so famous for being ridiculed and mocked in the 1930’s, by famous and partially intelligent drug addict philosopher Aldous Huxley, in his rather boring dystopian (Or Utopian... it’s really down to the reader’s perspective) novel ‘Brave New World’. The ‘end of level baddy’ in the book, one of ten ‘world controllers’: Mustapha Mond (Which some wagered meant ‘Must have a world’) has a right go at the poor guy.
THIS incredible book, however, forged in the depths of vast insight and galvanised from the mind of an ‘illuminatus’, is not about Cardinal Newman, and his unwavering faith in the Lord, but rather, in the not too distant future, a bunch of friends who decide they will attempt to change the world in the way they see fit, according to their own whims, and generally in an ‘out of control young men’ kind of party hazard, with plenty of potential victims.
You know how it is... Young punks at a fabulously wealthy school, running around the woods with blank firing SA80’s, smoking joints, and quoting bad Vietnam films for shits and giggles.
It’s simply a hotbed of international revolutionary fervour when the young minds are keen and honed enough, and ‘international’ it most definitely is, with students coming from all over the world, including even a couple of Americans, which to the native English boys was totally exotic and radical... until, that is, one of them displayed his true colours virtually on the first day, and began pummelling heads of the weaker and more timid boys in his brutal attempt to rule the school and establish dominion... Much in the way Americans have a tendency to do, as they believe they have a God given right to rule the entire world. (It even says so in Latin on their dollar bills – ’Annuit coeptis. Novus ordo seclorum – ‘Favour our undertakings, the new order of the ages’).
Fact is... Little England did a better job at ruling more of the world in its time, and for longer, than our often inbred cousins from across the pond, who all own guns because that shit is wild. To be fair to the corpulent, burger consuming gun toters of Uncle Sam, they HAD however ‘mostly invented the internet’ (With great help from the British), and built Hollywood, NASA and Silicon Valley. Which WERE four extraordinary things worthy of much love and respect. It was a shame, therefore, that the internet, for all its vast wealth, was so populated with moronic imbeciles, and Hollywood was slowly losing its once massive influence, as most modern people preferred computer games, porn and online abuse to random interneteers than investing in the pictures.
One of the coolest things about boarding schools is that most of them have guns which the boys train with. Machine guns and rifles usually. Toy soldiers, is where it’s at. Fanciful dreams of an ‘If...’ like situation peppered their young brains on occasion, as some imagined taking over the school by military force with a small bunch of renegade friends. Of course, they would never really do this, as ‘treadmill’ would be on the cards, but it was an exciting idea to romanticise over during prep periods or what have you, rather than learn by rote what Caesar and Augustus were up to thousands of years ago in Rome, which, contrary to the stupid American’s belief, was not founded by the twins ‘Fellatio’ and ‘Cunnilingus’.
It would arguably be more interesting to study Islam, than the various atrocities the Romans committed world over. Not because it was a useful religion, but because it was a) Currently more pertinent to the abysmal world situation, b) It was always a good idea to ‘know your enemy’, and c) it was hilarious if you had an IQ of over 80. Islam is to be laughed AT, not with. If one is bright enough, then the Koran is a lovely black comedy. It is the dark joke that keeps on giving. Any religion that thinks their paedophile war lord split the moon in twain with his finger, is categorically, without a doubt, a retarded ideology. The distinct lack of a decent sense of humour on the part of many Muslims is a wonderful irony which only exacerbates the nonsense. A Muslim’s sense of humour all too often involves an Arab state of Schadenfreude. Schadenfreude to the decent, intelligent, and pleasant members of ‘society’ (Which Margaret Thatcher once claimed didn’t exist, in a seemingly profound and confusing occidental koan that had everyone scratching their heads for a good few decades) was not really cricket. Indeed, it was a word imported from the Germans who traditionally had a ‘bit of the evil gene’. Deriving pleasure from another’s misfortune is the stuff of psychopaths, and our local Germans actually had a word for that, whereas in English, we had prettier words, such as ‘serendipity’, ‘effervescence’, and ‘lackadaisical’.
As this monumental story will go on to explain therefore, the relatively near future is a bit of an alien landscape to what you might currently be experiencing.
While sex, extra terrestrials, conspiracy theories, pretty awful music about violence and ultra modern gadgets are still the main sources of interest for most, Kanye West is president of the United States, and the world is still fighting Word War 2.5.
It was agreed by those in power that it should be called World War 2.5 as some clever boffins in high society wagered that world war 2 didn’t actually end, it just got displaced somewhere else less important, (such as, well, f**k knows where. Cambodia?)... And to actually declare it world war 3 would be too disturbing, as virtually everyone has weapons of mass destruction these days, and life in the modern world, at the end of the day, wasn’t so bad really, as long as you loved homosexuals and foreigners, didn’t talk about God and subscribed to the cartoon network.
Kanye West, and the first lady, Kim Kardashian (Who was famous purely for wearing no clothes all the time), were extremely popular with people that never showed their face in public. We presume this is the case anyway, as SOMEONE voted them in, and it sure as Dickens wasn’t the more cerebral members of the U.S. of A. But, and, like Kim, it was a big butt, they nevertheless festooned the world with a form of glamour and trendy pastimes, such as popularising ‘the vocal fry’ (Which was a way to sound retarded and like your oesophagus needed watering), topless selfies to generate further income for the national GDP, and bravado rap tunes, which tended to always include the words: “nigga”, “gangsta”, “bitch”, “hustler”, “wassup” and “f**k” amid the mild threats of gun toting violence and self-aggrandizement because, as we know, all rappers are the primary beef, the chief salad, the Fido’s plums. (At least in their own mind, and the large populations of advocates to this tenebrous art form who place these murderous dingbats into positions of fame and fortune).
In his inaugural speech to congress, Kanye had laid down in a way only a rapper can, the principles he believed in to make America great again:
“Yo, wassup... Now you better recognise my shit... Because me and my bitch ain’t going to lead America nowhere without a plan, and my plan is dope. I... am the main man... An international hustler... A player... And this is MY world, bitches... MY legacy... and MY gospel according to Kanye. MAKE SOME NOISE PARTY PEOPLE!! KEEPING IT REAL FOR ALL Y’ALL MOFOS... REPRESENT!”
President Kanye’s plan, however, aside from cancelling world war 3 due to health and safety concerns, was seemingly a very well kept secret, as no one actually knew what his plan was, although a welcome relaxation on cannabis laws had plenty of people chilled out and listening to abysmal ghetto music, so, ostensibly, no one gave a monkey’s gall bladder about the plan. They were simply all too high, eating donuts and shooting each other when vexed. Especially the cops.
This is why politics and taking drugs don’t ‘really’ mix. You need to be sober minded to address a nation, if only so you don’t go off on bizarre tangents about dimensions and visuals during your speeches, or have a severe case of the munchies when you’re meant to be balloting over social welfare reforms, and simply forget to register your vote. It was this kind of idle approach to politics which let insane dictators like Genghis Khan, Stalin, Hitler and Jeremy Kyle get into power.
Kanye was no exception. He didn’t actually commit genocide, or anything as anti-social as that, but his lectures on Nike trainers, ‘bling’ and ‘keeping it real’ had a tendency to confuse congress when they expected leadership on the economy and / or national security.
When ordering warships and fighter jets into combat, for instance, ‘keeping it real’ didn’t really explain the full technicalities of what their mission was. It WAS real, and they DID keep it that way... but that’s about as far as it went logically. Aside from that, most of the military were bamboozled by their present status, and Kanye’s ego had officially been registered as being just a few numbers short of ‘infinite’ in scope. Some said he was a legend. Some said he was a hero. Those NOT on crack cocaine, however, worried about the certainty of a decent pension plan.
Still, the people of America had nifty footwear to brag about and gun people down for, so it was all good at least from that perspective.
Britain’s Parliament, on the contrary, was a very different and modern affair to historical politics in the House of Commoners. (It must be remembered that the House of Commons is called ’The House of ‘Commons’, because the members are all ‘commoners’. If you really want an ermine clad status of true kudos, it was better to be in the ‘House of Lords’, but that was a really tough gang to gain membership in, and was preserved for the elite of the elite – Only a tiny fraction of whom were apparently paedophiles).
London looked more like ‘Africa / Asia’ than ever before, (aside from the quality architecture) given the epidermis hue of the majority of its modern denizens. “You see a white man in some parts of London, and he’s probably a foreigner from the home counties”, moaned some of the ancient Caucasian indigenous, as they witnessed their capital city become festooned with ethnics over the years. Many of whom had travelled half way around the world to escape war and poverty, find benefits, or get a job at dosing out the bacon double cheeseburgers at Burger King with skilful velocity.
In fact, the invasion of foreign types, largely down in part to England’s invasion of their nations many years ago, was one primary reason Britain had left the European Union. Which, in the minds of millions, especially the youth, was a bloody retarded thing to do. However, allowing the peasantry a voice is one of the crippling aspects of a healthy democracy, and so, thanks to a referendum everyone saw coming from years away, we ended up with a result no one foresaw coming even the night before it happened, and once Britain had agreed to leave the EU, problems, racial attacks, and one mother of an economic mess even an expert in Rubik’s cubes couldn’t solve, all rapidly bubbled to the surface causing sizeable amounts of local indigenous to wish they’d been born elsewhere. The largely white, patriotic members with a touch of the secret racism about them, sent a clear message to Brussels, and that message largely comprised of drunk footballers shouting ‘F**k off Europe’ at European matches their team had a tendency to do terribly badly in.
Queen Elizabeth II herself, so popular with many Brits and around the world, had passed away due to old age in secret... Yet the royal masters knew no one could stomach Britain having a king, as it was all too weird and masculine after much loved Liz’s epic reign. So they hired the best taxidermists and animatronics experts in the world to stuff her corpse and enable the illusion of facial muscle movement with mini robotic gizmos first invented in the 90’s in order to animate the costumes for ‘The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’, whereupon they wheeled her out each Christmas to deliver the latest speech to the nation made up of cleverly edited historical audio tracks by ‘Cassetteboy’ of previous speeches. ‘Cassetteboy’ were so talented at editing video, they’d (There were two of them known as Cassetteboy) been given BBC 2 to rule as they saw fit as their day job. The legend of ‘Banksy’ continued to shine too, with a second pretender to the title, trained by the mysterious man himself, like a padawan of graffiti, going by the name of ‘Manky’. Unfortunately, ‘Manky’ wasn’t as good at maintaining anonymity as Banksy, and it had been revealed ‘Manky’ was really a young middle class girl named ‘Jessica’ with a violent, militant lesbian tendency. Her art also wasn’t as particular as Banksy’s, and one of her murals had been more confused than a Muslim trying to pray in the direction of Mecca while riding a waltzer, when it had ACTUALLY intended to display a map of Australia with an underlining message about the considered dangers of fracking.
Europe, meanwhile, was teetering on the verge of inward and economic collapse, once Britain had led the anti-social, anti-European charge, as they’d spent a fortune building ‘The great wall of Europe’ (Lovingly referred to as ‘La beau frontier, avec armes à feu’) to keep international refugees and migrants from flooding their nations with strange ideas, diseases, vile treatment of women, and randomly exploding individuals.
99.999% (or thereabouts) of the world remained mostly at peace given all this hoo-hah, if only because fighting was scary and they weren’t very good at it, but, unfortunately, as is so often the case at house parties offering an open invitation to the whole of Facebook, a scummy 0.1% of the world’s population were what one might technically describe as ‘demonic assholes’, and it was this thorn in the lion’s foot which our story is mostly about (Sort of).
The other thing that was curious about this minor epoch was the relatively newly installed Pope, after Pope Francis had died in a freak urinal incident after watching the latest James Bond film: ‘Until Forever Ends’ (Which starred a black, ginger, homosexual midget as Bond for reasons of political correctness).
‘Pope Badass I’ was an interesting, zealous, and forward thinking Pope of Ethiopian descent, who had managed to climb to the heady heights of paterfamilias by appealing to the world’s ghetto folk and snorting hilarious amounts of cocaine in private in order to boost his confidence. (He justified it to himself that ‘cocaine’ was from God given nature more or less, and there was nothing in the New Testament which said you burn in Hell for sniffing the powdered produce of coca leaves. Indeed, if you knew your church history, then you’d know Catholics in Spain once gave cocaine to their slaves to make them work harder, so if it was good enough for them, it was good enough for him). The Bible DID say ‘sorcerers’ go to Hell, and some Biblical scholars translate ‘sorcery’ as ‘drug use’ as the original New Testament Greek uses the word ‘pharmakeia’ for ‘witchcraft’, when this ‘could’ extend to users of ‘medicine’, (‘drugs’), which would seem a bit harsh, burning in Hell for eternity for using an inhaler as an asthmatic, for instance. Pope Badass I didn’t think cocaine was sorcery / witchcraft. He didn’t know a fleas Johnson about magic. His power, so he believed, was ‘divine power’.
He had begun his religious career preaching on a microphone via the medium of rap to the more desperate members of earth’s mighty family. Originally going under the name of Cardinal Rizla prior to his inauguration as pontiff, his views on cannabis were radically fresh and liberating, claiming it also to be a natural gift from God and citing the ‘keneh bosm’ theory as ‘sound’.
(The theory stated that ‘keneh bosm’, the Hebrew for an ingredient in the holy anointing oil, rather than be translated as ‘fragrant cane’, as mentioned in the book of Exodus – which the Tyndalian scholars had translated – and didn’t actually exist, actually referred to ‘cannabis’).
His stance on abortion was: ‘like, you know, whatever’, and his opinion on same sex marriage was classified, so as not to cause mayhem in the church and the world in general. He also demanded people love one another in livid lectures filled with venom, threats of eternal damnation for calling your ‘brother’ a ‘fool’ (Which, oddly, was Biblically accurate), and claimed that the majority of the world was doomed unless they ‘front the massive for Jesus’ (whatever that means) and stopped being so damn randy.
A number of elder members of the church (Who were nearly dead anyway, so it didn’t really matter) were not so proactive in accepting his chosen moniker, and would have ideally preferred a Pope Leroy, if at all (given that was one of his early suggestions). Yet Pope Badass I declared that it was his admission of being a sinner which justified the name, and that he was ‘the least amongst us’. (Which, again, according to the words of Jesus, paradoxically made him the greatest). Suffice to say, the name ‘Badass’ went down very well with many of the young, who were generally off their tits, getting pregnant at the age of fifteen, and all raised on a diet of music with offensive, even quasi-Satanic lyrics. Pope Badass I therefore was a truly revolutionary head of the faith, believing himself to be ‘down with the kids’, and he would sometimes swing his rosary around his head like a bola during services and hurl it randomly into the congregation in order to lasso anyone found yawning during his spiritual rants.
The one problem Pope Badass I had (aside from secretly disrespecting many other Christian denominations because he thought they were morons for believing half the stuff they came out with, which was precisely what they thought about Catholics. So it was all swings and roundabouts, but never, it appeared, slides and roundabouts), which absolutely terrified most people on earth, was that he was blind in one eye and wore an eye patch. This was not congenital, or the result of an accident, but due to his earlier membership of the reawakened Opus Dei where, so utterly psychotic on the words of Jesus on night off his tits, he had gouged out his own right eye with a ceremonial fork one spring evening due to being offended by accidentally seeing gay porn on a hacked kindergarten computer. The reason for this was a literal interpretation of the words of Christ in Matthew 5:29:
“If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into Hell.”
So determined to be as perfect and saved in the eyes of Christ as he intended, and not end up in the possible fiery fate of coals, he was one of the only people – if not THE only person - in history to actually take this psychotic passage literally, and audiences would grimace and feel queasy when he would lift the patch to show a dark and scabby socket as evidence his ideas about God and Jesus were right, holy and ‘totally sensational, baby’.
It was pretty much this one act of self-mutilation in the name of his faith which convinced the other Cardinals to vote him in, as it was generally considered a world’s first, and people were simply too terrified of him and his self-mutilation to deny his seemingly religious authenticity. Furthermore, one of the chief tenets of Christianity, ‘do unto others as thou would have done unto you’, in the hands of Pope Badass, became a terrifying reality, as he displayed traits of serious masochism.
Anyway, that was then... and this was now... And the Oratory itself had powerful links to the apex of the Catholic hierarchy. Pope Badass even sent an emissary to the school to hunt for ‘fresh, faithful blood and bones’.
Upsettingly, most of the kids were either off their box, intellectually atheist, or hiding in their cupboards from such a bloodcurdling scenario. After all, it was Pope Badass himself who had declared that the Bible should come with an ’18 certificate’, and the added cover tagline: ‘Nobody gets out of here alive first time round’.
‘Stygiophobia’ is a rare word that most people don’t know the meaning of, yet should. For it is the core reason many religions are so successful. It is ‘the fear of Hell’. For if there was no concept of something as terrible and frightening as Hell in the afterlife to be concerned about, a lot more people would get away with a lot more shit, and logic, reason and intelligence would have been implemented widespread earlier with far less insane religious folk all suffering from ’apocalypticitis’ – which was a crippling mental condition that had affected millions of people for thousands of years.
It all stemmed from reading the last book of the Bible, which was so frightening, so over the top, and so filled with blood and horror, that ANYONE who has even begun to read that sacred parchment was naturally destined to turn a shade mental. The word of God, indeed, was cripplingly scary, (Even though you apparently burn in Hell for ‘living in fear’ in the very same book) so once they’d ingested even a few paragraphs of the holy prophecies, their minds would flip into a religious psychosis, believing that the last days were upon us immediately, all manner of suspects could be ‘the one true Anti-Christ’, and that you could risk the flames of Hades for purely having a ‘Sherman tank’ (A wank). So blisteringly disturbing were the words of St. John the Divine, that no one could read the book without experiencing a touch of insanity forevermore. Even a priest had admitted as much once many orbits of the sun ago on Radio 4, declaring: “You’re either mad before you read Revelation, or mad afterwards”, and this, was coming from a respected member of the clergy. What hope did we have as God’s spawn?!
The legacy of stupidity was SO profound, and the number of poor innocents who had been proclaimed ‘the Anti-Christ’ or ‘the false prophet’ for hundreds of years SO offensive from a coherent state of mind, that by now, at this stage of our planet’s future, many had given up on the church as some of their teachings and ideas were so delusional and out of whack with having a brain, they needed to become apostates for reasons of mental well being and sound thinking. These people had to hold down decent jobs, after all. Hospitals, for instance, were crammed with the mentally ill declaring Armageddon was immediate, or believing themselves to be the second coming – including the women.
Thus, without further ado, let us fly through the cyan and magenta sunset skies of Blighty in summer bloom, like a roving butterfly of inquisition, and settle delicately upon the statue of Cardinal Newman, where we begin our desperate tale.