Monday, 13 October 2008

Conference Speech in Full

Watcha mates. Yeah it's yer
Bishop o' Fiff 'ere and let's get this right and sort this aht. Cause I know you chaps here, and me, and what we want, innit, is ahr own pies and peas, and not just one pies and peas but at least two. We ain't havin' no cola donald duck, ah no. What's that response? Every-one-too-gethah:

No cola donald duck!

Yeah, just like we responds to them psalms. I mean, this Christina Wotsisname, she ain't gonna order as abaht. No, we's gonna be in this Church of England, raht, on our terms - aint that right? Every-one-too-gethah:

No cola donald duck!

We wanna 'ave ahr pies and peas and grow in ah pies and pies, not like wither and dither away. Nah nah. See, now the bloody Welsh. 'Ere, Father Smock over there, you know 'oo you are, 'ees bloody Welsh but not like that Archbishop they got. Jellied eel get his cummuppance.

And that Lincoln bloke, Sack me or summin: he'd tell us lot to get lorst. We ain't gonna get lorst! We ain't goin' nowhere! Every-one-too-gethah:

No cola donald duck!

Good on ya lads. Naw ya see, these Welsh, right, they think reception is like something you get on yer TV coming round yer mountain! But, what we know, is that we believe in reception don't we? Proper reception! Yer full 625 lines innit! Come on Church of England, you 'ave your pies and peas with all them wimmin and we'll have our pies and peas and let's see 'oo gets the bigger dinner. That's reception and it ain't over yet.

And that Bill Oddie! How dare the old Bill Oddie decide to just chuck aht thousands of years of Chrissie annie ee? Bill Oddie? Phuh. It's yer big bin, that one. Not a vote: it's a bin. Big bin. Every-one-too-gethah:

No cola donald duck!

An' what d'ya make ah that doin' the Lambeth Walk eh? What a load a shite! What a load a shite. Givin' it loads a gob and not a decision in the 'owse. Rabbit rabbit rabbit rabbit. That's all it was. Talk abaht the old manip. Puppets on a string. And, aye, the old Anglican trade union: that's well and truly gone to bed. I dunno what that old bearded bloke thinks ees upto, 'cause the trade union and all that shite is well in bed, and it ain't gonna be resurrected either.

But look lads, in yer smocks, it ain't all over yet. Cause what we like is that soft touch, innit, of the male 'ands on yer ed. We don't want wimmin touching ah bleedin' eds. Down the line, on yer eds, thousands of years, keep off. Ann oo the hell are these Firmin' Catlicks? They ain't the real deal; we are. And we ain't having a cold donald duck either, not a chance. We want our own pies and peas. Every-one-too-gethah:

No cola donald duck!

Ey, an ain't that Pope Benny fabulous! Don't forget to prey on Benny in yer worship. That's yer lot. Good on ya all ah yeh.

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