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[lawastooshort]

Episode Two, Turn Five: Personal Jesus!

The Village of Termonfeckin...

Verbally berate any gobshites in line until they depart.  This includes the Bishop if he acts to see the fillim!

...”Oi! Yer great feckin’ gobshite! Yes! I’m talking to you, you big arsebiscuit of a gobshite! You! And you! Gobshites the lot of you!”

“Erm, Father Pink, could you er…”

“Oh hello there, Mr McArgity. YER GREAT FECKIN’ GOBSHITE! Oi you! Father Veridian! YOU FECKIN’ GOBHSITE! You! Mrs McScargill! You’re a gobshite, your husband’s a gobshite, and your gobshite baby daughter’s a total feckin’ gobshite too! Oh look everyone – look at that poncy gobshite in the fancy dress! You! Purple dress man! You great big feckin’ gobshite! Yes! You! You with the stupid hat! I said, YOU’RE A GREAT BIG FECKIN’ GOBSHI-ahhh feck. Oh shite. Bishop Lennan.”

Bishop Lennan starts running in a demonstrably angry manner towards Father Pink. He seems to have forgotten Father Red’s naked bollocks and his promised bollock-kicking.

Father Viridian interrupts the theatrics to announce the special arrival of the Bishop! He will also try to adjust the audio of the movie by doing so.

...”Ladies and gentlemen!” announces Father Viridian. “Please welcome… Buh-ishhhop Lennannnnnnn! Right, now, I’ve er… just got to er… I’m just adjusting the… Oh, I think it’s inside.”

As Bishop Lennan runs towards the entrance of the cinema, Father Viridian ducks inside to search out some kind of… adjusting… button or dial or… something. He finds one next to a panel marked “Sound” in the projector room. He turns it.

Get some pants. I don't care how as long as they are not involved with Bishop Lennan. Then prepare a megaphone, prepare a mass...

...Back outside, Bishop Lennan is now sprinting towards Father Pink, hollering something about splitting his gobshiting bollocks from end to end so they look like a Cheshire cat and how NO gobshiting gobshite of a gobshite mere PRIEST is going to call HIM a gobshite without getting his gobshiting arse kicked right to the gobshiting moon and then suddenly Father Red is rugby-tackling Bishop Lennan to the floor and ripping his trousers off in front of the queuing crowd of locals.

They tumble and wrestle like half naked members of the clergy might on a summer afternoon’s meadowy frolic until suddenly Bishop Lennan is sitting on Father Red’s chest, pinning the gobshite to the ground.

“I don’t know why the feck you are half naked, you stinking little arsebiscuit,” he says, quite quietly and calmly, for a bishop. “But I do know why I am half naked. I want my feckin’ trousers back, and I’m feckin’ well going to take them.”

Bishop Lennan punches Father Red right in the fecking face!

He tears his trousers out of Father Red’s grip, struggles to put them back on in some kind of slightly dignified manner, kicks Father Red right up the arse, and turns to walk back to his car.

Behind him the crowd start entering the cinema.

One priest is naked! The sound has been fiddled with! Father Red has a -1 Bishop’s Punch Penalty to next turn!

Film Factor: 4
Queuers: 0
Viewers: 73 (including 5 priests)

The Village of Ardglass...

Let go of the feckin' piece of gobshite and let the gobshite have his gobshite. Instead, go to the nearest phone, which is probably covered in gobshite, and call the CWL (Catholic Women League) or equivalent. Tell em' that I need them to go and picket the gobshite they call a cinema and not allow anyone in. Except for those of the cloth, that is.

...Meanwhile, in Father Orange’s rectory room, Father Green realises he doesn’t actually need a banjolin. He needs a League of Catholic Women!

“Here, you gobshite!” he cries to Father Orange. “Have your feckin’ piece of gobshite, you great gobshite! I need to use the gobshiting phone!”

He leaves the room, muttering something about “feckin’ gobshite” under his breath as he goes.

A minute later he walks back into the room, walks over to the corner, muttering something about “oh right so… gobshite”, picks up the phone, and dials.

“Hello? Is that the Rolly Island Catholic Women’s League? Yes… this is Father Green. I need some help with a bunch of gobshites…”

Satisfied, Father Brown heads to the front of the theater and offers the queuers tea and biscuits, which he of course brought with him.

...Wondering where his comrades in protest have gone, Father Brown ambles amiably over to the front of the cinema and whips out his portable tea and biscuit station, which he starts pushing up and down the line of locals.

“Tea?” he asks. “Biscuits?”

“Ooh, yes please, Father!”

“You know, you really shouldn’t be seeing this type of film, you know. You might go to Hell.”

“Oh right then.”

“Biscuits?” repeats Father Brown. “Tea?”

A chorus of polite requests sounds along the line of villagers.

Father Orange rushes back to the cinema (hopefully with his banjolin) and begins a sing-a-long to distract the parishioners from the movie! It's a little ditty he wrote himself, entitled "Yer a feckin' gobshite ye are!" Great fun at parties, big hit at the Church Lawn Fete. It can't fail!

The song then continues with the designated feckin' gobshite leading the next verse, pointing at a new villager and making up words. The song goes until everyone has been reminded of their dirty sinful deeds as a feckin' gobshite, but it's alright because God forgives us and junk!

...Just then the chorus of polite tea-related requests is interrupted by the distinctive twangling intro of a banjolin maestro! It sounds like… no, it is Father Orange’s island-wide hit “Yer a feckin’ gobshite ye are!”

”Oh yer a feckin' gobshite,” comes the crooning voice of Rolly Island’s premier banjolin specialist. He dances past the line pointing at Mrs O’Craggity.

”Feckin' gobshites saith the Lord!
I'll send my only begotten Son
To save yer gobshite soul...rd!”

Father Orange stops in front of Mrs O’Craggity and delivers a nifty banjolin solo.

”Yes yer a feckin' gobshite Mrs O’Craggity,
A feckin' gobshite saith the Lord!
A good Christian likes forgiveness and all that shite,
And… er… praise be to Gawd!”

Being a relative newcomer and thus unfamiliar with the island’s folk traditions, Mrs O’Craggity punches Father Orange right in the feckin’ face. He crashes to the ground, smacking himself in the mouth with his banjolin.

Some of them stepping over the floored priest, the villagers start entering the cinema to watch the fillim.

No priests are naked! The Rolly Island Catholic Women’s League has been called! Tea and biscuits have been served! The film has successfully been sabotaged!

Film Factor: 2
Queuers: 0
Viewers: 65

The Village of Creggenbaun...

Father Purple begins swearing at Cyan for breaking his foot! Forget the civilian. Not before apologizing to the crown on Cyan's behalf, of course.

Now, this speech needs to be HEARD! Drag Blue up to the ROOF! We shall perform our mass on The Pleasures of Rocky Balboa there!

...”Yea!” preaches Father Purple. “Rocky Balboa is good; yon Father Cyan over there, on the other hand, is a feckin’ eejit, upon whom the wrath of God shall fall like a torrent of shitey arsebiscuits from a wretched heathen gobshite! Did not the son of God say thusly: thou shalt not break my feckin’ foot, you feckin’ gobshite? Did he not?! Verbum… um… Oh bollocks. How does it go?”

Say the following: “etc and so forth”
And run off down the street, losing the gobshites as soon as possible.

..."Oh, Father Blue you feckin' gobshite, now look what you've done.” says Father Cyan “ALL RIGHT, YER GOBSHITES. That's right, I'm talking to you queuers for this shite film, the GOBSHITE OF A SAINT'S nipple. I'm a fecking murderer. Apparently I murdered someone. Anyone got a match? Pitchforks? Ah, thank you, Mr McNally. Now, anyone up for some good old mob violence? Chase me yer gobshite! Yes, you, Mr McNally. Yes, I know you've seen better days. NOW CHASE ME!"

As three dozen queuing Irishmen and women look on – each with a raised eyebrow that somehow seems to convey the words “what a feckin’ eejit” – Father Cyan sprints off down the street.

Mr McNally turns his rollator away from the cinema and shuffles after the running priest, one fist raised and shaking in the air.

“Come back, you great hairy bollock! Come here you gobshite, I’ll string you up and burn you meself, you little arsebiscuit!”

Back away slowly rather bloody quickly.
Then nip down the road, borrow a great big picture of jesus from a discount shop or something.
Go back and re-enter cinema. If anyone asks, tell 'em I'm with those anti-disease chaps and am checkin' for infectiousness.
Then hang the picture on a wall, so all cinemagoers shall feel distinctly guilty for watching such immoral smut.

Father Blue will then defend the picture from anyone threatening to take it down, yelling something about 'blasphemy' before punchin' 'em in the face. And kickin' 'em up the arse for good measure.

..."Oh bollocks Father Cyan, what've ye done now?!" cries Father Blue after his murderous comrade. He backs away from the crowd of raised eyebrows as fast as he can, his backward baby steps soon turning into an outright hundred metre sprint.

Barely out of breath, he stops fifteen seconds later in front of some kind of discount shop or something as an idea comes to mind.

Leaping face first through the glass window of the shop front, he snatches the thirty foot inflatable Jesus in the display and turns and flees before the shop alarm even begins to ring.

"Don't feckin' worry,” he cries over his shoulder as he runs. “I'll return it, y'great big gobshite!"

With the inflatable Jesus stowed safely away over his shoulder, Father Blue storms into the cinema, shouting as he goes.

"Infections, infections!” he shouts, beginning to foam at the mouth with excitement. "You’ve all got gobshitin’ infections!”

The waiting crowd go wild.

Violent screaming and outraged cries of “Gobshite! Gobshite!” ring out as panic begins to spread.

“It’s Jesus! It’s the big Jesus!” shouts one of the villagers. “Burn’im!”

The line of queuing villagers suddenly stops queuing, and starts running as fast as their assorted mobility aids allow them, following Father Blue into the cinema. They stalk him through the corridors and up and down the stairs, past the ticket office and beyond the unisex toilets until they burst as one into the room where Father Blue is standing on the stage before the silver screen, one hand on his hip and the other on his thirty foot inflatable Jesus.

"Keep back, you herd of gobshites! Keep back or I’ll give you infections! This is a bad fillim, and inflatable Jesus shall judge you accordingly!”

“Get the fecker out!” comes a voice.

“We want to watch the smut without being judged!” comes another.

“Take down the Jesus!” comes a third.

"Keep the feck back, you big shits!” answers Father Blue.

One false move later and the crowd of parishioners moves forward like a tsunami of greying flesh and minds, hell-bent on destroying the inflatable Jesus who doth judge them so – and Father Blue too, if he stands in the way. They storm up the three steps to the stage.

Father Blue and inflatable Jesus stand firm.

"Get back! Get back you blasphemous gobshites! I cannot allow you to see a saint’s feckin’ nipple unjudged!!”

One villager makes his way to the top of the third step.

"You bastard gobshite!” cries Father Blue, punching the old man to the floor.

Another villager steps over the stricken pensioner and makes her way to the top of the third step.

"You defiler of Christ!” shouts the priest, kicking her in the arse till she crumples.

"You heathenous gobshites!” he wails, stripping off his cassock and tying it round his head.

A third villager ventures up the steps to remove Father Blue from in front of the screen.

Father Blue kicks the old man right in the feckin’ bollocks!

The old man lies on the floor, looking desperately up to see Father Blue grab inflatable Jesus by the feet, lift Him into the air, and starting bringing Him crashing down repeatedly on the villager’s head.

With just enough consciousness in him to see that his sacrifice has been worthwhile, the villager passes out from the pain!

Whilst Father Blue is fully occupied with beating the old man senseless with the thirty foot inflatable Jesus, the angry villagers storm up the steps, overwhelming the pious priest with sheer weight of numbers, pinning him and inflatable Jesus to the ground and trapping his arms with their Zimmer frames.

They drag him towards the fire exit. One kicks down the door and the others throw him out. The door slams behind Father Blue.

“Bring out the smut!”

The projector or whatever it is these days begins to whir into silvery action, accompanied by the hiss of a punctured inflatable object.

A muffled voice comes through the fire exit.

"You’re all going to Hell, you bastards!”

One queuer has been tricked away from the queue! One priest is slightly undressed!

Film Factor: 1
Queuers: 0
Viewers: 45

Spoiler: GM Notes (click to show/hide)

Next turn the locals will watch the fillim! There will be one more showing after that!

There is no leaderboard this turn. Perhaps next turn?

[lawastooshort]

Episode Two, Turn Six: Feck, Arse 'n' Manslaughter!

The Village of Termonfeckin...

Chant the song of the mass, hopefully not like a subliminal message to the people!

...As the opening credits of The Passion of St Feckin’ Fibulus flicker across Termonfeckin’s premier silver screen, so too does the silhouette of the village’s current premier Mass-giver.

“In nòmine Patris, et Fìlii,” starts Father Viridian. Groans echo round the room.

“Et Spìritus Sancti,” he drones on.

“Feck off!” shouts a villager.

“Shut it, yer great eejit!” shouts another.

But Father Viridian is relentless!

“Gràtia Dòmini nostri Jesu Christi,” he continues. There is a sudden burst of snoring from somewhere near the back row! Just like my normal Masses… Father Viridian thinks to himself with pleasure.

Fashion pants from upper body garments. This is critical.
Then, when the fillim is showing, suddenly, madly look towards the exit, in terror, and then, epiphany, acting as if a monster was going to come in and all that. Flail around wildly and run around wildly and scream around wildly and preach around wildly, disregarding my own wellbeing and all that.

...Just as Father Viridian is about to conclude his, he has to admit to himself, particularly successful impromptu Mass, an entirely naked Father Red rushes up to Father Viridian with a look of terror in his eyes, and leaps onto the stage, tackling the poor priest over and sending him flying several feet into the air.

The two conjoined priests land and stagger backwards through the screen!

Boos echo round the room until one of the villagers cries out.

“Hey, hang on! This is one of them there racy bits! Look! I can see his nipple! Is he a saint? Oh wait! I can see the other one’s nipple too! Feckin’ shit! Oh shit. Shite! Is it meant to do that?! What's all that blood? Is that real?!”

Screaming randomly chosen phrases of Latin, Father Red savagely rips Father Viridian’s clothes into shreds, flailing around wildly as he flings the shreds of pant and cassock back into the audience, who begin to leave their seats to come and get a better view of the two naked wrestling priests.

Procure a smoke bomb and smoke out the theater.

...But then, just as someone notices that the sound seems particularly low, and don’t you just hate these foreign artsy films that can’t feckin’ well get basic feckin’ production values right and even worse are these fillims that deliberately make it difficult because a film is ”art” and ”politics”, not mere entertainment, and some shite about walls or something, a desperate shriek rings out.

“Fire! Fire! Feckin’ fire! We’re all gonna bastard die!”

“No, no,” come the reassuring tones of Father Pink. “Don’t panic, my children! It’s just a feckin’ smoke bomb I let off to protect you all from the evil feckin’ vices of this gobshite fillim!”

“Oh right so.”

A few minutes pass, during which Father Pink joins the circle of cinemagoers enthusiastically watching Fathers Red and Viridian wrestle nakedly amidst the wreckage of the silver screen.

“Er no, but, Father Pink? If it’s just a feckin’ smoke bomb, what the feck are all these feckin’ flames doing filling the back of the room?”

Father Pink looks around.

A desperate shriek rings out.

“Fire! Fire! Feckin’ fire! SHIT! We’re all going to bastard die!”

As the fire spreads, mercilessly trapping nigh on a dozen innocent smut watching parishioners in an unfortunately premature but deserved fiery hell, the panicked crowd drag themselves unwillingly away from the naked priest wrestling spectacle and flee towards the nearest fire exit, trampling each other uncaringly underfoot.

Several minutes later, the three priests stand outside watching the blazing cinema inferno, two of them naked and all three of them with smoke-blackened faces.

Mr McArgity walks over.

“Why, hello there, Fathers! Good to see you got out alive! Not like them other poor buggers. Apparently some feckin’ eejit thought a smoke bomb or some such would improve the fillim and then covered it with shreds of highly flammable fabric! Now I’m going to have to feckin’ well set up the marquee and portable projector for tonight’s showing! I might have to give a few refunds to the families of the departed too…”

Mr McArgity pauses to examine Father Red slightly more closely. He brings his hand to his mouth as he tries to stifle a retch.

“Jesus good God almighty, Father. I didn’t know you were Red all over! Oh shiting feck. Oh God.”

Mr McArgity gives up trying to stifle the retch and unleashes a torrent of gutspume all over the naked and horrifically burnt priest and what may or may not still be his crotch.

Father Red looks down, but his gaze is diverted before it reaches his crotch. He sees blood pouring from his chest.

“Oh God! Where the feck is me feckin’ nipple! Me feckin’ nipple! It came off in the feckin’ fire!”

Fathers Pink and Viridian desperately hold back their colleague as he tries to rush back into the burning building to save his severed nipple.

A Mass has been performed! Eleven villagers have been burnt to death! Two priests are naked!

Film Factor: 1.75
Queuers: 10
Viewers: 73 (including 5 priests)

The Village of Ardglass...

Head back to the cinema and find Father Brown entertaining the villagers and witness Father Orange's (the total piece of gobshite) failed performance. Seeing the villagers stepping over him to enter the cinema, Green will tell em' the truth of the little blockade: the movie is complete and utter bollocks. The saint's nipple is actually just a piece of cow lard and the whole plot is about the adventures of an underpaid and boring janitor who comments on paintings. Did I mention it was made by some indie neo-liberal enviromentalist studio?

...In Ardglass’s local uniplex, Father Green steps over the total piece of gobshite Father Orange and marches purposefully into the cinema. Trying with little success to make himself heard over the opening credits which seem to involve a surprising quantity of pandas, he exhorts his flock to realise the truth.

“This fillim is complete and utter bollocks, my children! There’s no real saint’s nipple! It’s just a piece of feckin’ cow lard! There’s no real racy bits! It’s about a feckin’ janitor! A communist feckin’ janitor! Who just feckin’ well makes up a bunch of shite about some fancy gobshite paintings! You might not go to Hell if you watch this bag of shite, but you’ll never get back those wasted three hours of shite!”

Father Orange enters the cinema and starts singing loudly, preventing anyone from enjoying whatever movie might be playing!

...Father Green’s tirade is interrupted by a sudden burst of tuneless wailing coming from the other corner of the room.

“Oh come, all ye people!” sings Father Orange.

“Rejoice in yon nipple!
It will be coming pretty soon,
Along with racy bits…”

The crowd’s interest is piqued despite the images of pandas chewing bamboo now filling the screen.

“Oh sing, all ye nipples,
Many, many nipples,
For the pleasure of my flock,
We watch intently…”

Many of the seats are now technically empty, so enthusiastically are the villagers leaning forward off their chairs in anticipation.

“All hail, lovely nipples,
And even saintly buttocks!
The Racy Fillim Society,
Giveth this film five stars!”

“Bloody shite!” shouts an old man near the back. “Phwoar! Come on! Get to the nipples! Fast forward all this panda shite! Shit!”

Barge into cinema, wrest away tea and biscuits from everyone...?

...”No!” booms the commanding yet welcoming voice of Father Brown. “Step away from the nipples! And the tea! And the feckin' biscuits. ESPECIALLY THE FECKIN’ BISCUITS, YOU GREAT GOBSHITES!”

Father Brown wades into the overexcited crowd, fists pounding this way and that as he smashes delicate china tea cups out of people’s hands and kicks biscuits into the air. One woman protests: the priests headbutts her back into her chair.

“It’s for your own feckin’ good, you little shits! You’ll burn yourself if you spill it! There’s folks out there in more desperate need of tea than you!”

No priests are naked! The Rolly Island Catholic Women’s League has been called!

Film Factor: 1.75
Queuers: 0
Viewers: 65

The Village of Creggenbaun...

Father Purple will keep feckin' performing his Mass! It seems to be doing well...

Also, he will Urge the Feckin' Gobshite Cyan to perform with him! The Holiness MUST BE DOUBLED!

...”Gratia vobis et pax a Deo Patre…”

Standing outside the cinema of the village of Creggenbaun, Father Purple preaches uselessly to himself.

“Father Cyan? We should do this part together. In feckin’ harmony and such like. Father Cyan? Father Cyan? Shite. Lost the little bollock. Now, where was I?”

Losing the rather slow pensioner, Father Cyan shall burst in on account of "incredibly important priestly business” to do, run to the front, and say the following speech:
"etc and so on."
Saying that, Father Cyan grabs someone from the front row, pushes them to the floor and rips off 2 armrests, forming a cross. He then shouts some gobshite latin while performing a fake exorcism to distract or horrify the audience out of the cinema.

... Just then Father Cyan runs past, apparently carrying a poor defencless pensioner above his head!

Bursting into the cinema, the priest throws the old man to the floor, kicks an old woman out of her seat, and begins ripping the vacated seat to pieces.

"Right. I'm afraid that, on account of the earlier DISEASE, this old man has been filled with the soul of the devil, and I shall now have to perform an exorcism!"

Father Cyan grabs the two armrests and begins horrifically beating the old man about the face and head with them!

“Verbum um gobshitium et feckum!”

The audience cheer.

Form cassock into a makeshift rope and tie it to the fire escape's railing! (Adding my underclothes only if strictly necessary)
Burst through a window/wall/some shite with a dramatic yell, swingin' down in front of/through the screen!

...Suddenly Father Cyan’s exorcism is rudely interrupted by the sounds of shattering glass and hysterical wailing priest.

"Verbum in fili Geroni-feckin'-moooooooooo!" cries Father Blue. "Feckin’ shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiite!"

Jumping through a skylight, Father Blue dives straight towards the ground, his fall only slightly cushioned by Father Cyan and the old man.

Father Blue is entirely naked!

One priest is entirely naked! One priest is slightly undressed! Father Blue has a -1 Broken Limb penalty for next turn! Father Cyan has a -1 Broken Limb penalty for next turn! Mr McNally has a -1 Broken Limb penalty for next turn!

Film Factor: 1.25
Queuers: 0
Viewers: 45

Spoiler: GM Notes (click to show/hide)

Next turn the locals will start queuing for the final and latest showing of the fillim!

And this turn: The Turn Six Provisional Priest Operative Point (POP) Leaderboard!

Father Purple 5
Father Cyan 4
Father Brown 3
Father Blue 1
Father Green 0
Father Red 0
Father Orange -1
Father Veridian -1
Father Pink -2

Remember: TWELVE POPs each to the winning team!

[monk12]

Father Brown, you/I so naughty!

[Tiruin]

Violence will only worsen the situation! My fellowmen...

Noooooooo!

[lawastooshort]

Episode Two, Turn Seven: Bishop Lennan and the Hat Molester.

The Village of Termonfeckin...

Get Daddy Red off of me! Find some better clothes that I can borrow at the time!

BEGIN ANNOUNCING A FIRE HAS STARTED AND HELP PEOPLES OUT OF THE THEATRE! OR USE THAT FIRE EXTINGUISHER!

..."You heretical feckin'-..." cries Father Viridian, presumably at Father Red, still desperately trying to wrestle himself free and retrieve his severed nipple from the blazing cinema.

He suddenly notices his naked knee is touching Father Red’s naked thigh.

"Arg! Feckin’ well get away from me you naked gobshite!!" he screams. "I need some feckin’ pants! Fire! Fire!"

Picking up the nearby fire extinguisher, he nudely rushes across the street to what seems to be a second hand charity shop, launches the extinguisher through the window, and climbs in through the resulting hole.

He proceeds to loot a fine set of clothes!

RIP Nipple. Ye shall be missed.
Then, pants. Failing that, a loincloth. Get some. Can't be that fecking hard.
Then, seeing as I look particularily saintly right now, convince the queuing crowd that the end of all times is nigh and that the pub's prices are currently halved. And will not stay that way for very long.

...”Feck off, you feckin’… fecker!” articulates the grief-stricken Father Red, shouting after the fleeing Father Viridian. “I’m not feckin’ naked!” He looks down again. “Oh right then.”

He looks up again a minute later to see the fully dressed Father Viridian exiting a nearby shop through its smashed window.

“You’re not feckin’ naked though!” he cries, as an idea forms in his pain-demented mind.

Father Red charges towards Father Viridian, smashes him to the floor, rips off his clothes, and fashions a crude loincloth from the remains before proceeding to dance up and down the line of queuing villagers screaming about the end times and the nearest pub’s half price happy hour.

Many of the queuers have only recently come from the nearest pub’s half price happy hour, and seem remarkably ready to return to it.

Perform a funeral mass for the dearly departed right in the way of the set up of the portable screen.

...As his colleagues-in-protest fight over who is the nakedest, Father Pink has a sudden fit of conscience, and decides to perform his priestly duties.

“Yea!” he begins, in front of the portable screen and right next to the queuers. “For these poor sinners did see this smutty fillim, “The Passion of St Feckin’ Fibulus,” and thusly in sin did they pass unto the blazing feckin’ inferno, literally, of Hell. Feck! Yea! And though they be dearly departed, let it not be forgotten that they were SINNERS, and that they burnt in HELL, for the sin of having watched this SMUTTY fillim! And beware that this same fate does not befall us also, and heed God’s warning not to see this kind of shite!”

Worried murmurs spread through the waiting queue. Mrs O’Jenkin’s even leaves her place and wanders home!

“And let it not be forgotten, that the only reason these poor sinners did die like screaming pigs and then consequently go to HELL for ALL ETERNITY was because of YOU! Because you wanted to watch the disgrace of a saint’s feckin’ NIPPLE!”

Mrs Rannigan passes out from the guilt, her head cracking open on the pavement.

“And yea! Should ye watch this feckin’ fillim, even in a gobshitin’ tent, I wouldn’t be terribly surprised to see YOU burn like a bonfire! But I won’t see ye in Hell. No! BECAUSE I WON’T BE GOING THERE! BUT YOU WILL!”

A small girl collapses from the fear, blood pouring from her ears.

Father Pink watches on with a strong sense of self-satisfaction.

One priest is naked! One priest is wearing only a loincloth! Ten villagers have gone to the pub!

Film Factor: 1.50
Queuers: 23
Viewers: 73 (including 5 priests)

The Village of Ardglass...

Go outside to serve the tea and biscuits to the hopefully soon-to-be-arriving Rolly Island Catholic Women's League! Those fine women deserve them more than the eejits inside.

...In the village of Ardglass, Father Brown is preparing his tea trolley outside the local cinema. He has to provide appropriate hospitality for the soon-to-be-arriving Rolly Island Catholic Women's League! He sees them coming round the corner! There’s hundreds of them!

"Oh shite!" he cries. "We need more tea! Me tea trolley cannae take it!"

Oh shite. They feckin' ruined my tirade. MY TIRADE!
Grab both Orange and Brown, thump and slam their faces together, and beat them out of the cinema, all the while reminding the viewers that the movie is utter shite and that they're better off watchin' some priests beat each other at the local parish church.

...But just as Father Brown is getting his first tea cup ready and polished, Father Green runs out of the cinema wielding Father Orange, twirling the unfortunate priest about his head and smashing him right into Father Brown’s face. He knocks Father Brown sideways into his tea trolley!

Father Brown falls to the floor, his tea urn collapsing on top of him and horribly scalding his groin.

Still being twirled about by his feet, Father Orange decides now is the right time to break out his banjolin and offer up his happy place song about sheep and flocks and all that shite.

Father Orange will whip out his trusty banjolin and sing a happy little song about sheep and flocks and Jesus and stuff, leading the queers uh, people in line away from the cinema in a manner not unlike the Pied Piper!

...”Sheep! And FLOCKS!” he sings, every few words noticeably louder as his rotation brings him closer to the listening villagers and newly arrived but sorely unrefreshed Women’s League.

“Unto JESUS ye shall be thrown!
And your cinematic type sins shall be KNOWN!
But we can be HAPPY!
Like the BABY Jesus in his nappy!
In the manger WITH the sheep!”

“Oh, shut up with that shite, Father Orange, you big arsebiscuit. We should be explaining to these lovely parishioners that this fillim is a big bag of bollocks and that perhaps they wouldn’t prefer to watch a bunch of priests beat themselves off down the church. Come now, Father Orange, really.”

“Oh no, no!” shout the assembled Women’s League. “We love all this moronic kind of shite! Oh wait Mrs O’Grady. Don’t you mean bubonic? You know, that shite in the meadows and all that. Anyway, Father Brown, we love this bunch of bollocks, so we do! Come on now, Father Orange! Sing louder!”

“Erm. Ok right so. And er happy sheep!
YON shepherd is nigh and er…”

“Oh come on, Father Green. You should put the poor fecker down, so you should!”

“Oh right then.”

“Flocking with JESUS and stuff,
For yea, all YOUR sins are not enough,
Or are too much,
And if you do not repent He shall treat you rouuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhharrrrg!”

Suddenly Father Green puts the poor fecker down, flinging him directly away from the cinema!

“Come on chaps!” shouts the Women’s League. “Come on Mrs McDoherty! Come now, Mr O’Guire! Let’s all go and listen to Father Orange’s holy banjolin!”

No priests are naked! One crotch is burnt! 8 villagers have been piedpipered away!

Film Factor: 1.75
Queuers: 25
Viewers: 65

The Village of Creggenbaun...

Father Purple will try o hang his gigantic metal sign back up again.

Once that's done and feckin' over with, find a way to help Blue and Cyan. Somehow.

...Outside the village cinema of Creggenbaun, Bishop Lennan drives up in his bishopmobile to see Father Purple struggling hopelessly with an enormous sheet of metal.

“WHAT THE FECKIN’ FECK DO YOU FECKIN’ WELL THINK YOU’RE FECKIN’ WELL DOING, YOU USELESS FECKIN’ FECKER?”

“I… er…”

“YOU’RE MEANT TO BE PROTESTING AGAINST THIS GOBSHITIN’ FILLIM, NOT FECKIN’ DOING DIY!”

Suddenly a gust of wind blows by, knocking Father Purple to the ground with the sheet of metal covering him almost completely.

“YOU’RE LUCKY I DON’T TEAR OFF YOUR BOLLOCKS, YOU BIG GOBSHITE. NOW, WHERE THE FECK ARE YOUR TWO INCOMPETENT HALFWIT COLLEAGUES?”

Bishop Lennan storms off into the cinema, stomping over the metal sheet on his way. He soon finds Fathers Cyan and Blue.

Punch feckin' Father Blue in the face for being such a gobshite, then attempt to take Mr McNally with me to the church to "perform an exorcism", trying to persuade a crowd to come with me.

...”FATHER CYAN. YOU LITTLE SHITE. YOU’RE MEANT TO BE PROTESTING AGAINST THIS GOBSHITIN’ FILLIM, NOT FECKIN’ PUNCHING THAT GOBSHITE FATHER BLUE IN THE FECKIN’ FACE, HOWEVER UNDERSTANDABLE A DESIRE IT MAY BE. BUT YOU’RE PRIESTS! YOU HAVE TO CONTROL YOURSELF! YOU CAN’T JUST PUNCH ANYBODY! HEY! COME BACK YOU FECKER! AND PUT THAT FECKIN’ OLD MAN DOWN!”

As Father Cyan tries to escape, Bishop Lennan kicks him right up the feckin’ arse, sending him sprawling to the floor with the hatless Mr McNally collapsed right on top of him.

He winces, dusts himself off, snatches borrows Mr McNally's hat to preserve what's left of his modesty, and aids Father Cyan in whatever he's doing. (Got to make it up to him after, you know, landing on him.) Unless, of course, what Father Cyan's doing happens to involve inflicting bodily harm on Father Blue. In which case he'll punch the fecker right in the gob. And then salvage his cassock.

... "Er, whoops," Father Blue mumbles, attempting to pick himself up off the floor. "Sorry about that, Father Cyan! I thought these cassocks'd be made of stronger feckin' stuff..."

Just as Father Blue steals Mr McNally’s hat and starts rubbing it over his naked crotch, Father Cyan punches his rival priest to the ground before hoisting the innocent villager onto his shoulders and fleeing straight into the path of Bishop Lennan who kicks him right up the feckin’ arse.

Bishop Lennan is momentarily becalmed, stunned by the sudden appearance of a hat-molesting naked priest.

Blessed with this unexpected and very temporary reprieve, Father Blue jinks past Bishop Lennan over to Father Cyan. Pinned down by the fallen Mr McNally, Father Cyan is unable to resist as Father Blue bends over to punch him right in the gob and start ripping off his cassock.

One priest is entirely naked! Another priest is increasingly naked!

Film Factor: 1.25
Queuers: 29
Viewers: 45

Spoiler: GM Notes (click to show/hide)

Next turn the locals will start entering to watch the final and latest showing of the fillim! One last set of queuers will arrive!

[Toaster]

Six sixes?  No ones?  Did you change dice?

[Tiruin]

There will be death no matter what we do.

NOT THE CHILDREN! D:

[Greenstarfanatic]

...Is it bad that I'm only reading my group's stuff for now?

[monk12]

...Is it bad that I'm only reading my group's stuff for now?

Well, you're missing out on the hilarity occurring in my group. Assuming that isn't your group, in which case you're missing out of the hilarity of the other groups.

[lawastooshort]

Six sixes?  No ones?  Did you change dice?

I have to admit I was also profoundly disappointed interested by this development. I really had to restrain myself to not have any fatal six-/Mass- related explosions.

...Is it bad that I'm only reading my group's stuff for now?

Well, you're missing out on the hilarity occurring in my group. Assuming that isn't your group, in which case you're missing out of the hilarity of the other groups.

That's very nice to hear There is, generally, something quite bad or incompetent happening in each team each turn, I think.

[Greenstarfanatic]

...Is it bad that I'm only reading my group's stuff for now?

Well, you're missing out on the hilarity occurring in my group. Assuming that isn't your group, in which case you're missing out of the hilarity of the other groups.

I'm only reading ours FOR NOW. Once the true game starts, I'll go back and read the others'

[Tiruin]

...Is it bad that I'm only reading my group's stuff for now?

Well, you're missing out on the hilarity occurring in my group. Assuming that isn't your group, in which case you're missing out of the hilarity of the other groups.

I'm only reading ours FOR NOW. Once the true game starts, I'll go back and read the others'

Mmm. Very interesting.

So you think you're part of those who would pass into the next phase judging by your wording there.

Mmmmm, very interesting indeed.

* Tiruin nods sagely.

[lawastooshort]

Next turn is Turn 8, and the last time any viewers come to queue and enter. So it is the last turn the priests can affect their team's chances in terms of total viewers, so I am considering ending the Episode.

But, with a last turn of film showing, individual priests can affect their own chances, so I am considering ending the Episode at the end of Turn 9.

Whereas another turn of hapless incompetence and unwitting destruction would be enjoyable, it is hard work tying together 3x3 actions.

Whereas Episode Three starting sooner would be enjoyable, I have to fine tune the mechanics for it anyway. It's gonna be about hairy babies, I think.

If anyone has any thoughts I'll totally listen to them.

edit: right well I'll probably go for the one extra turn of incompetence then.

[monk12]

I support further incompetence!

....wait

[lawastooshort]

Episode Two, Turn Eight: Life Bollocks on Mars!

The Village of Termonfeckin...

Find a decent set of clothes that I CAN WEAR that anyone doesn't own! This does mean that it is befitting of my position!

AND THEN CONSECRATE THE THEATRE!

...As a burning evening sun dries the skies above the cinema in the lovely and bucolic village of Termonfeckin, on the otherwise eternally windswept and grey, cold, and featureless – except for the many fascinating outcrops of rocks in the field behind the parochial house of Ardglass – island of Rolly Island, Father Viridian is searching about desperately – and, it should be pointed out, for it explains his desperation, nakedly – for a free – and befitting of his position as a vital and determined clergyman! – set of clothes and, even though he believes, in a moment of weakness, that he’ll never reach the end of either his search or this sentence, eventually he finds an old but relatively decent cassock, in a nearby skip, strangely enough.

He looks shiftily about and then grabs it, hastily throwing it over his nakedness. He feels the Lord shine on him from above, and decides to consecrate the theatre.

Continue with the saintly preaching around. Explain in great detail why these queuing eejits would not want to see a saint's fecking nipple, make references to my current condition, use faux latin and the fact that a thunderstorm is about to brew - as holy visions have shown me - and the film is supposed to be shown outside.

...”Roll up! Roll up! You great big eejits! There’s a saint’s fecking nipple on show and it’s a lovely feckin’ evening! Come on chums! It’s the most beautiful saint’s fecking nipple you’ve ever seen! Terribly racy so it is!”

“Oh, come on, you great feckin’ eejit. You’re attracting the locals, you daft gobshite!”

Corral my fellow priests, dress them in a priestly manner, and get them to mass with me.

...”Right, you bastards!” shouts Father Pink, interrupting Father Red’s surprisingly competent drumming up of interest in The Passion of St Feckin’ Fibulus and stopping Father Viridian’s consecration before he can even get started. “We’ve got a problem, and we’re priests. There’s only one thing for it. WE NEED TO DO A FECKIN’ MASS!”

Punching Father Red right in the feckin’ face, Father Pink kneels down to hoist him over his shoulder before running over to the suddenly and surprisingly dressed Father Viridian, kicking him up the arse until he collapses to the ground, and hoists his second victim over his second shoulder. Dashing over to a nearby table, Father Pink plants both priests firmly on the ground and clears his throat with considerable authority.

“In nòmine Patris, et Fìlii,” starts Father Pink. “Come on, yer feckin’ gobshites,” he continues, turning very briefly to his two colleagues. He elbows Father Viridian in the ribs.

“Oh right so. Erm. Gràtia Dòmini nostri Jesu Christi and er, all that.”

“Come on, you big bollock!” encourages Father Pink, kicking Father Red in the side of the ankle.

“Oh yes. The erm Dòminus vobìscum and er, did you see the saint’s nipple and stuff?”

“Shut it about that feckin’ nipple” shouts Father Pink, oblivious to the nearby microphone that a passing wellwisher has turned on. “Erm, I mean, ut apti simus,” he carries on, turning back to the growing crowd.

“Mea maxima culpa,” he announces in a priestly three person harmony. A few cheers and a prolonged applause break out from the back of the waiting villagers, many of whom now seem more interested in listening to Father Pink’s awesome Mass than in seeing that stupid gobshite of a fillim with fake nipples and all that shite in it.

“Totally perdùcat nos ad vitam aetèrnam, man.”

An old man walking his dog passes by, staring at the transfixing holy trio as he goes. He walks, head sideways, into a lamp post. Blood spurts out horizontally.

“Praecèptis salutàribus mòniti,“ shouts Father Pink, really getting into his stride, waving his arms about and uplifting the waiting ex-cinemagoers.
   
“Da nobis hòdie,” he spits, spreading his terrifying liquid charisma across the massing multitude. He begins to wave his arms in excitement, and feels the breath of the Lord upon him as his flock mirror his arm movements and begin to chant in religious ecstasy.

“Et dimitte nobis debita nostra, sicut et nos dimìttimus et oh feckin’ shite OH SHITE FECKIN’ RUN!”

Suddenly a passing lorry driver is totally distracted by the best three-priest Mass he’s ever witnessed! He stares and he stares as he drives towards the impromptu altar set up by the cinema, winding his windows down to better hear the marvellous preaching.

He passes out from the Mass!

He drives his lorry straight into the impromptu altar!

There’s a tremendous explosion!

A Mass has been performed! A truck has exploded! A considerable number of innocent Mass-goers have been slain! The marquee is on fire!

Film Factor: 2.50
Queuers: 0
Viewers: 102 (including 5 priests)

The Village of Ardglass...

That's it. Retrieve my drugged tea and biscuits from where I left them and spread them amongst the queuers.

...In the more peaceful village of Ardglass, Father Brown’s tea trolley is reaching critical mass as the groinally burnt Father tries to relieve the hundreds of Catholic Women’s League ladies all at once.

His feet begin to ache as he runs up and down the line of women, distributing his delicious tea to each and every one with a kind word and a friendly wink. Suddenly he realises: “Oh shite! I’m a feckin’ priest, and I have a feckin’ problem! There’s only one feckin’ thing for it! I need me drugged tea and biscuits!” he cries, reaching into his cassock pockets.

While Orange is keeping a few viewers occupied, tell whoever is giving out tickets that the thing about the saint's nipple ain't playing no more and that he should tell everyone who asks that they'e only got a panda documentary to watch.

...Meanwhile, Father Green is deep in hushed conversation with the box office cashier

“You know, that… dirty fillim with the nipple… the saint’s feckin’ nipple… the gaffer says it’s not being shown anymore and stuff… doesn’t want to bring the wrath of God down upon ye all, like that other cinema in Termonfeckin. You know, all that shite.”

“Oh right then. Erm.”

“Yes – apparently yer only showing that shite about the pandas and all that.”

“The panda’s nipple?”

“Erm. No.”

As the first few disappointed queuers turn away, suddenly a cry of alarm goes up.

“Quick! Help! Mrs O’Bennett has passed out!”

Before anyone can react there’s another shout.

“Shiting feck! Mrs McBiscuit has fainted! God has cursed us all for wanting to see the nipple of the feckin’ saint!”

Murmurs of panic go up and down the line of remaining would-be cinemagoers.

“We’re cursed! It’s a sign! It’s the fillim! Feck! Arse! Shite!”

Father Orange thoughtfully twangs his banjolin, trying to decide on a singalong that will occupy his audience for the duration of the film. B-I-B-L-E or C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N or G-O-B-S-H-I-T-E, one o' those repeaty spelling songs, maybe. Catholic ladies love that Bible School shite. Oooh, wait, a medley will surely last for the whole length of the film!

...Just as a plague of acute unconsciousness and viral panic seems to be on the verge of breaking out, a sudden twang of banjo announces an important decision. Father Orange has decided on the well known Irish folk spelling song C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N-B-I-B-L-E-G-O-B-S-H-I-T-E as the best song to distract the masses from the cinematographic promised land of a saint’s feckin’ nipple!

I am a C! he begins.

There is an indistinct jeering sound from the crowd.

I am a C-H!

”Oh right so. I see.”

I am a C-H-R-I-S-T-I-A-N!
And I have C-H-R-I-S-T in my H-E-A-R-T
and I will L-I-V-E E-T-E-R-N-A-L-L-Y

”Hang on, that doesn’t feckin’ rhyme you great eejit!”

The B-I-B-L-E
Yes, that's the book for me
I stand alone on the Word of God
The B-I-B-L-E

Applause breaks out at the improved rhyming and Father Orange busts out a lengthy banjolin solo.

Yes, I am a G-O-B
S-H-I-T and E
I don’t like saint’s nipples ‘cause I’m not fickle
And the Lord stands over me!

Several young ladies near the front of the mob of villagers begin to swoon and scream.

Christian Bible Gobshite
F-E and C and K
If you don’t like my song you’ll all go to Hell
And I can send you there today!

A soiled pair of panties flies through the air, landing square on Father Orange’s forehead.

A-R-S and E
B-I-S-C-U-I-T
If you want to be saved, you’ll have to come
And sing along with me!

Suddenly the barriers holding back the crowd of screaming teenage girls crash down, and they swarm upon Father Orange like a vast herd of lustful piranhas. Tearing with their teeth and grabbing with their claws, the mob begin frantically ripping Father Orange’s cassock to shreds, desperate for one last souvenir of their new-found hero and idol before he falls, buried beneath several hundred pounds of lovingly flung soiled panty.

When the girls are done, no banjolin sounds, and there is but a muffled cry and a protruding arm to show that, where there is now a mountain of soiled panties, there was once a devoted priest.

One priest is naked! One crotch is burnt! Father Orange has a -1 Soiled Panty Incident Penalty to next turn!

Film Factor: 1.75
Queuers: 0
Viewers: 92

The Village of Creggenbaun...

Attempt to put the sheet back up one last time, before running into the Box office and stealing all the tickets!

Run around with them in hand, hopefully dropping them in some sort of fire.

...Back in Creggenbaun, meanwhile, Father Purple has just managed to ram his great big metal sheet against the entrance, blocking the cashier in the ticket booth and his co-priests in the cinema. He tries to reach his arm around the large obstruction and into the ticket booth, blindly feeling around with his hand for the remaining tickets.

He persists for a minute or two before there’s a sudden scream of repulsion from behind the metal sheet.

Father Purple’s face turns very white.

Surprise hulk smash Blue off of me, and timidly protest against the film at the front, claiming something a lot more scandalous is happening outside, under a metal sheet.

...”Oh hello there, Bishop Lennan!” says Father Cyan, weakly trying to shrug off the pensioner lying hatless on top of him. “Erm, we’re priests and all that, and there’s a terrible feckin’ problem outside. There’s only one thing for it, we need a feckin’ bishop!”

“SHUT IT, YOU GREAT GOBSHITE!"

I will fashion Father Cyan's cassock into a natty loincloth, thus preserving my modesty! Then return Mr McNoodle's hat! Then use a spare piece of fabric to block out any naughty bits on the screen! Avoid face-punches and arse-kicks, responding with interest! If anybody asks, blame the English!!

Father Blue shouts over his shoulder to the no-doubt upset cinemagoers, "Can't 'ave you corruptin' yer innocent little minds with this kind've bollocks, now, can I?"

..."Oh, uh… hello Bishop! Don't mind me, just changin' into somethin' more feckin' appropriate for protesting. I have to say, would it be much of a stretch of th' feckin' budget to get some sturdier feckin' cassocks? Bloody things aren't too good multi-purpose-wise, y'know."

“FECKIN’ CASSOCKS? MULTI-FECKIN-PURPOSE? YOUR FECKIN’ BOLLOCKS ARE MULTI-FECKIN’-PURPOSE YOU BIG EEJIT! THEY CAN FECKIN’ WELL BE KICKED WITH MY RIGHT FECKIN’ FOOT AND WITH MY LEFT FECKIN’ FOOT. WHICH FECKIN’ FOOT DO YOU FECKIN’ WELL WANT?”

"I'm doin' this fer your own feckin' good, you know," stupidly continues Father Blue. "I er… don’t um," he concludes, realising who he’s speaking to. "I uh… feck"

“MY OWN G… MY… You horrific great feckin’ arsebiscuit, Blue. I’m gonna kick your bollocks off so feckin’ hard you won’t be getting them back till there’s a manned feckin’ mission to Mars! YOU NAKED FECKIN’ GOBSHITE!”

Back outside the cinema, where Father Purple is whimpering in a corner trying to forget what he just enjoyed a good minute or two vigorously fondling, a good swathe of queuing villagers is suddenly cut down by a viciously sharp sheet of flying metal accompanied by a rather naked priest.

A rather angry bishop soon follows.

”AND IF YOU FECK UP AGAIN, YOU FECKIN’ FECKER, THERE’S PLENTY MORE KICKS UP THE FECKIN’ BOLLOCKS WHERE THAT ONE CAME FROM!”

One priest is entirely naked! Father Blue has a -1 Bollocks on Mars Penalty next turn!

Film Factor: 1.25
Queuers: 0
Viewers: 94

Spoiler: GM Notes (click to show/hide)

Gosh. I didn't expect that when I added it all up.

All the villagers are entering for as much viewing as they possibly can in the circumstances. There is one more turn for individual priests to get to the top of the leaderboard: next turn is the end of Episode Two!

Edit: oops!