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[Yoink]

"Feckin' hoity-toity off-islander gobshites..." Father O'Feckerty grumbled to himself as he lead the way out to the parish garage.
In a louder voice he said, "Right this way, your Bishopliness. I'll show yer all the important feckin' bits..."

>Enter vehicle with the Bishop!

>Give whirlwind tour of the Island's pubs, clubs, football stadiums and other dens of ill repute! Oh, drive past a church or two at some point, too.

"Oh, just a sec, Bishop. Got ter pick somethin' up."

>Stop off and borrow cash for wiggly earpieces from Mr O'Dimmerty along the way! Make sure to punch him in the face before he can react. Don't let the feckin' arsebiscuit catch me off-guard this time!

>Then buy some wiggly earpieces from a shop on the way back.

[Tiruin]

To the vehicle! Start on the long and ardous road of conversation while in vehicles. Impress him with the scenery and keep him content with my words.

To the relic site!

Father Tir moved along with O'Feckerty, Bishop Jordan in tow, pointing out the scenery with his hand and continuing on his tangent, "-the size of those busts! Pretty amazing when you view them at this angle, as if the sun was reflecting itself against their lightness...oh, did I forget the green grass and lovely flowers, best for the masses we're going to have. The natives love the art and natural scenery around them, including the length of their clothing. Did you see? Extravagant I tell you. The Holy Relic reminds me of that one time I committed - ahh, surely it will be much better in person.

"Say, I'm keeping notes on the size of people's clothing. I mean, in this weather, can you believe how much these things shrink in the washers? All that water and all that detergent, especially if it comes from a higher source. How long is your collar by the way?-"

[lawastooshort]

Episode Five: A Fistful of Bishops: Turn Two: Ditches and Department Stores!

The Village of Ardglass…

>Enter vehicle with the Bishop!

>Give whirlwind tour of the Island's pubs, clubs, football stadiums and other dens of ill repute! Oh, drive past a church or two at some point, too.

>Stop off and borrow cash for wiggly earpieces from Mr O'Dimmerty along the way! Make sure to punch him in the face before he can react. Don't let the feckin' arsebiscuit catch me off-guard this time!

>Then buy some wiggly earpieces from a shop on the way back.

…"Feckin' hoity-toity off-islander gobshites..." grumbles Father O'Feckerty to himself as he leads the way out to the parish garage.

"Right this way, your Bishopliness," he adds in a louder voice, "I'll show yer all the important feckin' bits... Like the er… um… the…"

Father O’Feckerty jumps in the car with Bishop McFeckerty, Father Tiruin and Bishop Jordan quickly hopping into the back seats with them.

Father O’Feckerty starts the engine and pulls out of the priestly drive.

To the vehicle! Start on the long and arduous road of conversation while in vehicles. Impress him with the scenery and keep him content with my words.

To the relic site!

…"-the size of those busts!” drones Father Tiruin, causing Father O’Feckerty to think of something completely different. "Pretty amazing when you view them at this angle, as if the sun was reflecting itself against their lightness...oh, did I forget the green grass and lovely flowers, best for the masses we're going to have. The natives love the art and natural scenery around them, including the length of their clothing. Did you see? Extravagant I tell you. The Holy Relic reminds me of that one time I committed – ahh, surely…"

Suddenly Father O’Feckerty slams on the brakes, and inadvertently slams Bishop Jordan’s face into the headrest in front of him. The car stops in front of the local post office, the engine still running.

"Oh, just a sec, Bishop. Got ter pick somethin' up!"

He dashes out the car, runs into the post office, and runs out again a minute later holding a bag of cash and rubbing his knuckles. He slides back into the car and burns off in a burst of smoke and dust.

Father Tiruin’s droning doesn’t so much as pause for the slightest of half-seconds.

Depart with Bishop Fachs toward the relic site!

…Meanwhile, back at the parochial house, Father Lars is still making friendly chit chat with his irritable bishop.

"It's pretty incredible, isn't it, Bishop? Our own little island with a Holy feckin’ Relic? But you're right- let's go!”

He ties his shoelaces and the pair trudge off down the lane in the damp and drizzle.

Feckin’ eejits, thinks Father Lars to himself. Taking the only bastard cars. This is going to take a feckin’ hour if we don’t cut across the feckin’ fields…

”Feckin’ mud!” grumbles the Bishop, mostly to himself. ”Feckin’ bastard rain! Feckin’ wind! Feckin’ islands! Feckin’ damp! Feckin’ drizzle! Feckin’ feck! Feckin’ feckintown!”

If the Bishop requests something, purchase it, then depart with him. If not, also depart. Drive cautiously and turn on classical music. Avoid other priests with wiggly earpiece thingies.

…Not long after Father Lars and Bishop Fachs trudge off down the lane in the damp and drizzle, Father Errol zooms up the lane from the other direction, drives up the driveway, and skids to a stop in front of the parochial house. He strides purposefully in.

"Er. Right then. Well, feck. Um. Bishop O'Neill? We'll be departing now. That all right with you, or do you still need something?"

”I er… the um… Yes! Socks!”

"Erm. Right so. Er, let’s go then!"

Father Errol speeds off to the nearest department store in a terribly uncautious way.

Some Distance Outside the Village of Ardglass…

"…say, I'm keeping notes on the size of people's clothing. I mean, in this weather, can you believe how much these things shrink in the wash? All that water and all that detergent, especially if it comes from a higher source, and, you, know, the plumbing costs and all that, terribly difficult to get a good plumber for a reasonable price round here you know, but, anyway, how long is your collar by the way? I like mine the traditional length, but some of the younger priests, well-"

Suddenly Father Tiruin’s terrible droning takes its terrible toll, and Father O’Feckerty falls asleep at the wheel from sheer boredom, and drives straight into a nearby ditch!

The sudden impact wakes him up with a bit of a jolt, although the two bishops seem to be more seriously afflicted, and can still be heard snoring over the flames that suddenly burst out from under the bonnet!

The Nearest Department Store in the Village of Ardglass…

”Oh feckin’ shite, Father Errol, this is doing my heart no good at all you know! We’ve been wandering round in circles in this lingerie department for HOURS!”

"Yes. Well. You know, it’s the largest lingerie department in Ireland, you know? Quite astonishing, really."

”Yes, Father Errol, I think you may have mentioned it. You know, if I, as a Bishop, am seen wandering about in Ireland’s largest lingerie department, it would be a right terrible feckin’ scandal! It’ll make all the front pages! I don’t know HOW the feck you managed to get us lost in here! I just wanted a feckin’ sock!”

"I… erm..."

Father Errol suddenly comes face to face with what is clearly some kind of bra. He nearly stumbles to the floor in fright!

"Oh gosh. The um… I… Keep looking down, Your Grace! Keep looking down!"

Spoiler: GM Notes (click to show/hide)

Father Tiruin 4
Father O'Feckerty 2
Father Lars 0
Father Errol 0

Did I previously mention my dislike of 3s? I may spice them up in future with violence and nudity. Or stick with damp and drizzle. Anyway, it wasn’t clear that the two Fathers were or were not meant to be in the same car, but then parochial houses don’t traditionally have four cars, just two, so an element of sharing would be obligatory anyway.

[freeformschooler]

((I think you only dislike threes because they're the only result that keeps the players safe from flaming nudity. ))

[Toaster]

"This rain is a bit unpleasant, what?  Let's stop in and get some coffee!"

Get some coffee for the irritable bishop, paying for his.  Improve his morale with scripture!

[Errol]

Perform quick exorcism! Leave scene with bishop in tow. Drive to the nearest church with the Bishop to calm him down, maybe organize a mass, then requisition socks.

[Yoink]

"What the feck have you done now, you bloody stupid gobshite?!"

Father O'Feckerty was furious. He screamed at Father Tiruin in a rage for a good moment, then abruptly realized the situation.
"Oh feck oh feck oh fecking fecked feck..." He muttered through clenched teeth as he ran to the vehichle.

>Pull Bishop McFeckerty from the wreck before it can explode and deposit him a safe distance away!
The other one, too, if there's time!

>Then give Father Tiruin a good kick in the bollocks, followed up by a punch in the gob for being so dangerously feckin' boring!

[Tiruin]

Appease the situation via diplomacy, by that I mean HELP OUT THE BISHOPS - prioritizing that who is in more trouble - and my fellow Father if any conflict is to come!

Also, clear the area.

"-and then that one time wherein...Oh dear, it looks like our Bishops lacked sleep.

"Feckerty, you should be paying more attention to the road! I've been talking on and on, and its not like you can fall asleep by listening to my words. This reminds me of one time-" Father Tiruin continues in his act, "Where I took a good rest in one of the King mattresses they had on sale last week..."

[lawastooshort]

Episode Five: A Fistful of Bishops: Turn Three: Naked Scripture!

The Village of Ardglass…

Get some coffee for the irritable bishop, paying for his.  Improve his morale with scripture!

…"This rain is a bit unpleasant, what!" remarks Father Lars, coming over all feckin’ English like some kind of great feckin’ eejit. "Why don’t we have some feckin’ coffee! Read a bit of feckin’ scripture! Get the feckin' morale up!"

Luckily passing right by a nearby café, Father Lars drags his bishop inside and sits him down before walking over to the counter and noticing the particularly dark and sombre décor of-

"OH MY!" shouts Father Lars, suddenly lowering his voice and turning round to check Bishop Fachs hasn’t noticed. "Feck!" he finishes, whispering at the naked elderly waitress behind the counter and staring up in shock at the café’s logo on the wall.

"The Naked Heathen Café?!?! I can’t feckin’ well let a naked heathen pour coffee for a feckin’ bishop! I can’t even let a feckin’ bishop see any naked feckin’ heathens! I’ll never get feckin’ promoted if a bishop hears I have naked feckin’ heathens on my feckin’ island! Feck! We need to get out of here FAST!" He ambles sheepishly back to Bishop Fachs.

"Erm! Your Grace! I’m afraid they’ve not got any coffee left! Let’s go!"

”No feckin’ coffee! What the feck! I need some kind of feckin’ caffeine to survive this feckin’ drizzly island of shite! Let me go and have a look over their alternatives meself then!”

"Erm! No! Your Grace! I’m afraid they’ve got nothing at all!"

”What?!” demands Bishop Fachs, incredulously, before turning to the waitress behind the counter. ”YOU’VE GOT NO FECKIN’ DRINKS AT ALL IN A FECKIN’ CAFÉ? WHAT KIND OF FECKIN’ EEJITS ARE YOU, YOU RIDICULOUS GOBSHITES?!”

”What’s that Your Grace?” asks the naked elderly heathen behind the counter. ”We’ve got plenty of coffee! Look, Your Grace, I’ll bring you some over right now!”

The waitress walks towards the end of the counter.

"Nooooooooooooooo!" cries Father Lars, sprinting towards the waitress, hoping to reach her before she reveals her naked heathenness to the bishop. "Only priests are allowed to feckin’ serve coffee to bishooooops!!"

Just as the naked elderly heathen reaches the end of the counter, Father Lars flies through the air at waist height, crashes into her, and tackles her to the floor where she lands with a smash. Her tray of coffee flies through the air, two generous cups hurled towards the wall just above Bishop Fach’s head.

They smash, covering the bishop’s lovely purple cassock with hot coffee.

As Bishop Fachs rises to severely admonish Father Lars, the back door of the café bursts open. An elderly naked heathen, a man this time, stands in the doorway carrying a shotgun.

”WHAT’S ALL THIS FECKIN’ SHOUTING THEN?! Oh, hello Your Grace!”

His gaze quickly switches from the bishop to the priest wrestling his naked wife.

”AND WHAT THE FECK ARE YOU DOING ON ME FECKIN' WIFE, YOU FECKIN’ PRIEST?”

A Ditch Outside the Village of Ardglass…

>Pull Bishop McFeckerty from the wreck before it can explode and deposit him a safe distance away!
The other one, too, if there's time!

>Then give Father Tiruin a good kick in the bollocks, followed up by a punch in the gob for being so dangerously feckin' boring!

…"What the feck have you done now, you bloody stupid gobshite?!" screams the furious Father O’Feckerty, standing by the burning priestly car in the muddy ditch just outside the village of Ardglass. Suddenly he remembers the bishops in the burning car!

"Oh feck oh feck oh fecking fecked feck!" he eloquently mutters as he dashes closer to the blaze. "Oh feck oh feck oh feckerty feck!" he adds, jumping into the fiery car head first and then delivering such a firm kick to Bishop McFeckerty’s arse that His Grace flies out of the vehicle, through the drizzly air, and lands a safe distance away in the ditch.

"Oops," mumbles O’Feckerty. "He doesn’t look very pleased. Oh well, start as you mean to go on and all that," he affirms, hauling himself out of the car and into the path of Father Tiruin, dashing to the fiery inferno to rescue his own bishop.

"-and then that one time wherein...Oh dear, it looks like our Bishops lacked sleep. O’Feckerty, you should be paying more attention to the road! I've been talking on and on, and it’s not like you can fall asleep by listening to my riveting words. This reminds me of one time-" Father Tiruin continues, "Where I took a good rest in one of the king size mattresses they had on sale last week..."

Father Tiruin stops abruptly as O’Feckerty kicks him right in the feckin’ bollocks and then bends to the floor to punch the stricken priest right in the gob.

Appease the situation via diplomacy, by that I mean HELP OUT THE BISHOPS - prioritizing that who is in more trouble - and my fellow Father if any conflict is to come!

Also, clear the area.

…"-and then, you, I said, well, only if you still do the old priestly discount you know, I said, flashing a bit of the old stiff Betty" recommences Father Tiruin, flailing about on the floor and bleeding a little from the corner of his mouth. He has a sudden realisation. 

”You feckin’ punched me right in the gob, you great eejit! And what about me feckin’ bishop! He’s in the burning feckin’ car!"

"Oh right. So he is. Don’t want the eejit to feel left out now, do we?" realises Father O’Feckerty in his turn, heroically walking back over to the car and smashing Bishop Jordan right in the feckin’ gob. The force knocks the bishop out of his seat and out of the open door, into the wet and slippery ditch. He rolls over once and slides the few feet into the dreary ditch water at the bottom, a joyful streak of mud suggestively staining the back of his bishoply cassock.

Father Tiruin struggles to his feet and watches aghast as Father O’Feckerty wanders into the middle of the road and strips naked before using his cassock to flag down a passing car, dragging the innocent driver out onto the tarmac and kicking him right in the bollocks! Father Tiruin suddenly realises Bishop Jordan is now the nearest person to the probably-about-to-explode car!

"...Oh I… um… you see, mustn’t get too damp, Your Grace," he blurts, dashing over to his bishop. "And, you know, you’re a bit too close to the car for my liking, Your Grace," enthuses the dronesome priest. "You know, I read somewhere just the other day that the average car explosion radius, in the average 1992 model Vauxhall Nova like this one," he continues, as he turns the bishop over and drags him up and out of the ditch, now covering the front of his cassock in a muddy stain, "Is about twenty seven point eight metres," he concludes as he lays the filthy bishop on the roadside exactly twenty eight metres from the car whose last few flames, as Father Tiruin turns to observe them, fizzle out in the miserable dribble.

A small wisp of smoke escapes from the wreckage.

Naked Father O’Feckerty finishes enthusiastically kicking the groaning driver in the crotch and surveys his companions: Bishop McFeckerty face down in the ditch, Bishop Jordan covered in mud on the roadside, and Father Tiruin bleeding, now quite profusely, from the face.

”Are you feckin’ well coming or not, yer big bunch of gobshites?”

He climbs into his new car and starts the engine.

The Nearest Department Store in the Village of Ardglass…

Perform quick exorcism! Leave scene with bishop in tow. Drive to the nearest church with the Bishop to calm him down, maybe organize a mass, then requisition socks.

…Meanwhile, back in the nearest department store in the village of Ardglass, Mrs O’Patrick is queuing with Mrs MacBrien at the checkout in the largest lingerie department in Ireland.

”I say, Mrs O’Patrick,” says Mrs MacBrien,”Can you hear some kind of kerfuffle going on?”

”I dare say I can, Mrs MacBrien,” says Mrs O’Patrick, her ears twitching with excitement. ”It seems to be coming from over there!”

”I say, Mrs O’Patrick,” says Mrs MacBrien,”Is that naked priest Father Errol from your parish?”

”I dare say it is, Mrs MacBrien,” says Mrs O’Patrick, her eyes widening with scandal. ”He seems to be wearing a bra upon his head!”

”Come back here, Father Errol you great gobshite!” shouts Bishop O’Neill, chasing the priest through the blue lingerie section as fast as his aging heart allows him. ”Come back here, you stupid eejit! THAT’S NOT HOW YOU FECKIN’ WELL EXORCISE A PIECE OF LADIES UNDERWEAR! Come back at once before you suffer irreparable damage!”

”Oh feck, Mrs O’Patrick,” says Mrs MacBrien,”They’re feckin’ well coming back this way!”

”I do believe they are, Mrs MacBrien,” says Mrs O’Patrick, her face blushing with astonishment. ”Doesn’t Father Errol look terribly spiritual! Oh feckin’ SHITE, Mrs MacBrien, LOOK OUT!”

Just then Father Errol, suddenly and partially blinded by the dangling bra strap on his head pinging back into his eye, trips over a purple panty display and tumbles at top speed into the queuing women. He slides along the floor, chafing himself lightly and turning as he lies to see Bishop O’Neill bearing down upon him.

The panting bishop catches up with Father Errol with a glint of triumph in his eyes, rips the bra off the priest’s head and, pulling a cigarette lighter out of his cassock pocket, sets the offending piece of underwear alight.

”The power of Our Lord,” shouts the bishop, flinging the burning bra away from him with all his force, ”Compels you!”

The bra lands on a neatly arranged display of peach coloured pantyhose a few feet away, and immediately flares up in a six foot tall ball of flame.

”That,” yells Bishop O’Neill to Father Errol, ”Is how you bastard well exorcise a piece of women’s feckin’ underwear! Oh Jesus,” he adds, ”Me feckin’ heart!”

The bishop falls to his knees, a slightly glassy expression crossing his eyes and his hands clenching his chest.

Blood pouring from one eye, Father Errol stares in horror.

”Oh no,” says Bishop O’Neill, ”It’s ok!”

Two priests are naked! One post office has been robbed! One car has been burnt! One car has been stolen! One lingerie stand has been set on fire! One bra has been exorcised! Father Errol has a -1 Slightly Hideously Blinded Bonus to next turn!

Spoiler: GM Notes (click to show/hide)

Father O'Feckerty 7
Father Tiruin 4
Father Errol 3
Father Lars 0

[Toaster]

I see we went with the violence and nudity anyway.   Everything went rather south rather quickly.



"Bishop Fachs, it's a good thing you're here!" he shouted, addressing the appropriate person.  "This poor woman was being assaulted by a minion of the Devil himself!  I was able to drive it off, but not before he stole this poor couple's clothes and turned them into heathens!  Quick, the only thing we can do now is convert them back via the power of Mass!  Join with me, Your Grace!"

Deliver a glorious mass with the Bishop!  and convert the heathens back to the true faith!

[Tiruin]

Spoiler: Only for la... (click to show/hide)

Perhaps try to subdue Father Feckerty before he gets too rowdy...Initiate Sermon.

Use Father Feckerty's clothes to wipe of my wounds!

Get in ye car.


"Oh dear Feckerty, the priest I mean. You robbed a man! But that's in the name of the Bishop's needs of course...but then that still goes against all moral laws, you see. Him being the innocent victim and all, but then that also correlates to what had nearly happened last time where you dozed off in the middle of driving...

"I don't think you should drive."

[Errol]

"Thank ye, Grace. I shall remember this valuable lesson the next time I need to exorcise a piece of lingerie."

Start an impromptu mass to disguise the fact that I am in fact naked. Nudity is purity! Then put some clothes on. PUT SOME CLOTHES ON.
If this plan A fails, drop a smokescreen and get ye grace to the car.

[Yoink]

"Oh no you feckin' don't!"
Father Blue growled, rummaging about in the glove box. You ain't passin' the feckin' blame onto me, yer spineless feckin' gobshite! This was all your fault! You an' yer feckin' mumbling! For all I know you were chantin' some feckin' magic shite! What kind've priest are ya, anyway?!"

>Acquire duct tape (or any sturdy kind of tape) from the glove compartment, have one of the Bishops give a blessing to imbue it with holy powers if possible, and then use it to firmly fasten Father Tiruin's demonic lips closed.
If no tape is available, just gag the fecker with a spare cassock or something.

>Then load all three of 'em into the car and leadfoot it to... Wherever the feck we're supposed to be going! I dunno.

>Keep an eye out for any cassock supply stores. In fact, that should be the current destination until one of these bloody unconscious fecks tells me otherwise. Find a cassock shop and make a 'purchase'.

[lawastooshort]

Episode Five: A Fistful of Bishops: Turn Four: A Dangerous Thing!

The Village of Ardglass…

Deliver a glorious mass with the Bishop!  and convert the heathens back to the true faith!

..."Bishop Fachs, it's a good thing you're here!" shouts Father Lars. "This poor woman was being assaulted by a minion of the Devil himself! I was able to drive it off, but not before he stole this poor couple's clothes and turned them into heathens! Quick, the only thing we can do now is convert them back via the power of Mass! Join with me, Your Grace!"

”Feck! I’d got totally the wrong end of the stick, young Father Lars! I thought you were wrestling that naked woman! But no! Sterling feckin’ work, well feckin’ done! You know, there’s only one thing for it, in this kind of naked-heathen-devil’s-minion situation! WE NEED TO MASS! AND WE NEED TO MASS HARD! Count us in, Lars!”

"A one! A two! A one-!"

”Oh no! Feck it! They’re closing in! We can’t wait! GIVE ‘EM EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT, LARS!”

"In nòmine Patris, et Fìlii,”

”Et Spìritus Sancti.”

The two priests’ voices join as one.

”AAAAAAAAMENNNNNNN!”

”Noooooo! They’re still coming! They’re still naked! AND THEY’RE STILL FECKIN’ HEATHENS! Nooooooooo! MASS HARDER, BISHOP!”

”Gràtia Dòmini nostri Jesu Christi…“

Suddenly the bishop enters a Massial Trance! He wades forth into the midst of the heathens with the faithful Father Lars by his side! He shouts Latin to his left! He shouts Latin to his right! Father Lars dashes to the café counter, vaulting over it and landing on his feet: he shoots out one arm and grabs some bread, he shoots out another arm and grabs some wine, and he sprints back over to the Latin-wielding frenzied bishop!

”Your Grace! The fecking bread and wine!!”

”YOU DO IT, FATHER LARS! I CAN’T HOLD’EM ANY MORE! APPLY THE BREAD AND WINE! DO EEEEEEEEEEEET!”

Father Lars bravely applies the bread and wine! The heathens, all of a sudden, repent! They wonder where their clothing might be!

Bishop Fachs collapses to the ground, exhausted. Father Lars stands next to him, hands on his knees, panting.

”Feckin’ shite, Bishop Fachs! That was feckin’ amazing! I’m filled with a tremendous warm spiritual presence!”

”Aye son. There's nothing like a good feckin’ conversion. Nothing like it at all.”

He leans back against one of the tables and lights a cigarette.

A Ditch Outside the Village of Ardglass…

Spoiler: Only for la... (click to show/hide)

Perhaps try to subdue Father O’Feckerty before he gets too rowdy...Initiate Sermon.

Use Father O’Feckerty's clothes to wipe of my wounds!

Get in ye car.

..."Oh dear O’Feckerty, the priest I mean. You robbed a man! But that's in the name of the Bishop's needs of course...but then that still goes against all moral laws, you see. Him being the innocent victim and all, but then that also correlates to what had nearly happened last time where you dozed off in the middle of driving... Anyway, to cut a long story short..”.

>Acquire duct tape (or any sturdy kind of tape) from the glove compartment, have one of the Bishops give a blessing to imbue it with holy powers if possible, and then use it to firmly fasten Father Tiruin's demonic lips closed.
If no tape is available, just gag the fecker with a spare cassock or something.

>Then load all three of 'em into the car and leadfoot it to... Wherever the feck we're supposed to be going! I dunno.

>Keep an eye out for any cassock supply stores. In fact, that should be the current destination until one of these bloody unconscious fecks tells me otherwise. Find a cassock shop and make a 'purchase'.

..."Oh no you feckin' don't!" blasts Father O'Feckerty. ”You ain't passin' the feckin' blame onto me, yer spineless feckin' gobshite! This was all your fault! You an' yer feckin' mumbling! For all I know you were chantin' some feckin' magic shite! What kind've priest are ya, anyway?! No! No more feckin' anecdotes, and no more feckin' droning!"

O'Feckerty starts rummaging about in the glove compartment of the stolen car.

"Oh, feck arse." he shouts from inside. "What kind of a feckin' eejit doesn't keep duct tape in his car! What a gobshite! Here, Your Grace," he says, turning to Bishop McFeckerty and grabbing hold of his sleeve, before giving a good hard tug. "Give us yer feckin' cassock, will you?"

”ME FECKIN' CASSOCK?! TO A NUDIE CAR THIEF?! WHAT THE FECK! I'LL SHOW YOU THE ONE FECKIN' THING I'LL GIVE YOU!”

Bishop McFeckerty demonstrates the one fecking thing he feels like giving Father O'fecking Feckerty, and smashes the priest in the face with his right fist!

Father Tiruin turns to the bishop before addressing the inert mass of priest before him on the road.

”Thank you, Your Grace. I was going to have to Mass the little gobshite into submission, you know. Anyway. And so, O'Feckerty, as I was trying to say...."

Father Tiruin somehow manages to bundle Father O'Feckerty into the car before wiping his face with the naked man's cassock.

”...I don't think you should drive."

Tiruin throws the soiled cassock to the ground.

…   …   …   …   …   …

Father O'Feckerty wakes up a few minutes later in the back of the stolen vehicle. To his horror, it is moving. To his even worse horror, it is Father Tiruin who is at the wheel!

”And so, you know, I was a bit on the cautious side, because I didn't want another three hundred metres of lagging, because really, what was I going to do with it! So I said, no, thanks, but-"

Father Tiruin turns over his shoulder and notices Father O'Feckerty stirring.

”Oh, you're awake now, Father! Just in time for the good bit of the story, I was just explaining to the two bishops here about the alignment of the new tiling I've had done on the roof of my old parochial house there, fascinating tale so it is!..."

Father O'Feckerty looks around. He notices that Bishop Jordan is also turning over his shoulder from the passenger seat.

He has a look of pure desperation in his eyes!

The Nearest Department Store in the Village of Ardglass…

Start an impromptu mass to disguise the fact that I am in fact naked. Nudity is purity! Then put some clothes on. PUT SOME CLOTHES ON.
If this plan A fails, drop a smokescreen and get ye grace to the car.

..."Thank ye, Your Grace. I shall remember this valuable lesson the next time I need to exorcise a piece of lingerie."

Bishop O'Neill, still on his knees, looks sideways at Father Errol.

”Aye. It's a dangerous thing, a bra, my son. A dangerous thing. Now, whe-”

"OH FECKIN' SHITE I'M FECKIN' NAKED! COME ON YOUR GRACE, WE'VE GOT TO FECKIN' WELL GET OUT OF HERE!"

”But Father Errol, we've been going round in circles for ages, and we haven't seen an exit sign even once!”

"DON'T WORRY, YOUR GRACE, I'VE GOT A PLAN!"

Father Errol quickly knocks a passing shopper to the ground and steals her trolley, frantically emptying the shopping onto the ground, trying neither to touch nor to set eyes upon the lacy underwear contained within.

"Come on, Your Grace!" he cries, turning back to Bishop O'Neill. "We'll use the burning lingerie in the trolley as a moving smokescreen, so no one will be able to see us! Or my nudity! And then, when we get close to the exit, we'll ram the burning trolley of bras right through the window and make our escape!"

”Holy Mary and all that!” shouts back the bishop. ”I'm gonna put you forward for the priest of the year awards when we get out of this, Father Errol! That's a feckin' plan that can't fail if ever I feckin' saw one! LET'S GO!”

Bishop O'Neill gets to his feet to help Father Errol lift the burning bra display as carefully as possible into the hijacked trolley. The smoke is thick and acrid. Bishop O'Neill ducks behind, and Father Errol begins to push  towards where he reckons the exit to be.

…   …   …   …   …   …

The two men of the cloth take turns pushing their burning trolley of bras and panties silently through the farthest reaches of the largest lingerie department in Ireland. Occasionally Father Errol, currently on point, stops to turn back to Bishop O'Neill, and slows the flaming trolley with a subtle hand signal. He whispers.

"Two old ladies ahead! They're looking at the purple pantyhose! Slowly, Your Grace!"

Bishop O'Neill pushes slowly past, crouching and concealed behind the thick plume of black smoke.

The two old ladies don't hear a thing.

The trolley passes into the deep undergrowth of tights and bra extenders.

…   …   …   …   …   …

Some time later, Bishop O'Neill separates a few hanging nighties and peers through. He can barely believe his eyes.

”We've feckin' done it, Errol! We've feckin' done it! The end! Escape! Freedom! Look!”

Father Errol carefully parks the trolley of burning bras and peeks through. The unmistakeable gleam of windows lies ahead.

"Feckin' shite, Your Grace! We HAVE made it! Come on, let's get the trolley and push both at once. We'll ram straight through and get free!"

The bishop turns to the priest, holding out his hand.

”Say, Father Errol. What's the first thing you're going to feckin' do when you get back?”

"A feckin' Mass, Bishop O'Neill! The longest and hardest feckin' Mass you ever feckin' heard! Yeah! It will be the best Mass I ever feckin' did! A Mass of pure feckin' joy!"

Father Errol looks all wistful for a few seconds, and then calms down.

"And you, Bishop O'Neill?"

”And me? Ha, well. When we get out of here, the first thing I'm going to feckin' well do? I'm going to feckin' wel-”

"OH SHITE BISHOP O'NEILL! A FECKIN' WOMAN! COMING THIS FECKIN' WAY! WE'VE GOT TO GO NOW! PUSH THE FECKIN' TROLLEYYYYYYYY!"

Suddenly interrupted, both bishop and priest leap into action, rushing the flaming trolley through the remaining rows of nighties, and on into the open space beyond! They see the gleaming windows ahead! They push with all their might!

"YOU READY BISHOP?!??"

”LET'S SHITIN' GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The burning trolley of bras and panties smashes into the window!

It breaks straight through the glass!

It immediately plunges straight down!

"OH SHITE WE WEREN'T ON THE GROUND FLOOOOOOOOOOOR!!"

”OH BOLLOCKS I THINK THAT'S A VERY BUSY CAFETERIA UNDERNEATH US!”

"OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIITE!"

Suddenly with a tremendous clanging and banging the burning trolley of lingerie and the two men of the cloth crash to the ground thirty feet below, Father Errol landing nakedly on a family's table and Bishop O'Neill landing at the feet of a lovely old lady eating a pie.

Burning bras and panties are showered for twenty feet all around!

The mother and the children at Father Errol's table begin to scream!

They begin to run!

Soon the entire cafeteria is filled with screaming women and children running in circles and flailing their arms amongst the rising flames of the panty-metereorites.

An old woman realises she has been impaled by a falling shard of window glass, and faints in horrified shock!

The men rush back and forth and shout!

”Feck!”

”Shite!”

”Arsebiscuits!”

Father Errol tries to move, and discovers that he too has been impaled by a falling shard of window glass, and is pinned by his leg to the cafeteria table! Blood flows abundantly from his naked thigh!

Two priests are naked! One car has been stolen! One cafeteria has been set on fire!

Spoiler: GM Notes (click to show/hide)

Father Lars 9
Father Errol 5
Father O'Feckerty 3
Father Tiruin 2


I keep trying to do shorter turns

[monk12]

Well played, Father Lars. Well played indeed.