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[Toaster]

"Fine then, Brown, we go see a professional after our TV mass, what?"

But that's what you get when you have a thorough selection process to determine the elite priests: planning, competence, and achievement!

And arson.  Don't forget the arson.

[monk12]

"There's a feckin' good idea, Brown! How about you find a werewolf hunter to consult while Father Lars and myself get down to the public broadcast station and put on a feckin' righteous Mass about the sins of promiscuity- then, we'll advertise the confessional Father Reilly has set up in the middle of town. When we've discovered the identity of the werewolf, we'll rely on your expert werewolf knowledge to subdue it! Him. Are werewolves feckin' people? Find that out, wouldja?

Sound like a plan, then?"

[micelus]

"Ah, good enough. Not as good as those thin's in the tv, but hell, its a plan at least. As for me doing some confessing...well I guess so, as long I don't get the whole island queing. You wouldn't believe what these sinners could say when left alone with me too long."

[Toaster]

"Righto."

Head with Father Dick to the local TV station to perform a Mass against promiscuity.  Mention the confessional Reilly is setting up.

[Digital Hellhound]

Father Brown wanders off to find a hairy babies expert. Or possibly a werewolf one.

[micelus]

Set up a discreet confessional in the middle of town. Preferably in dark, cramped room. Put a few posters around town inviting people to the confessional.

[monk12]

There's no way this plan can fail!

Operation Mass Media is go!

[Toaster]

Operation Mass Media is go!

i c wut u did ther

[lawastooshort]

Episode Three, Turn Two: There’s No Way This...

The Village of Termonfeckin...

Set up a discreet confessional in the middle of town. Preferably in dark, cramped room. Put a few posters around town inviting people to the confessional.

…In the parochial house of the village of Termonfeckin, Father Reilly is hard at work, deep in the creative phase of the poster campaign that will shortly announce his special confessional to the pious parishioners on the island.

“Preachin’ About Promiscuity...? Babies Are Bad…? Feck. Brothers Against Promiscuity? Hmm. Brothers Against Promiscuous Sins?  Promisc… Perverts…? Hmm, yes. Feckin’ perverts, the lot of ‘em.”

Father Reilly leans forward to draw carefully in marker pen on a large sheet of paper on the floor before him and sits up to admire his work.

“Mrs O’Riley?” he shouts. “Could you do me 100 copies of me poster do you think?”

“Ok so, Father Reilly. Do you want to post it under the doorway? Or do you think you might be coming out of the bathroom there?”

“Coming out? But it’s… oh right. I’m locked in the feckin’ bathroom. Again. And there’s no shitin’ paper left. Shite.”

Father Brown wanders off to find a hairy babies expert. Or possibly a werewolf one.

…“So,” whispers Father Brown out the side of his mouth, leaning conspiratorially over the bar and his half empty glass. “Have you seen any werewolves? Or, you know, abnormally hairy babies in general? Would you er… would you like any tea? I haven’t, you know, got any, but er…”

“Hairy babies, Father Brown? Werewolves? Have you been drinking, Father?” wonders Mr O’Malley, the barman. “Well, you know, more than normal? You know, Mr McCustard over there, he’s pretty hairy – why don’t you go and ask him if he’s a feckin’ werewolf, yer daft eejit! Oh wait Father, look, there’s some priest or something on the telly – that looks like your kind of thing so it does!”

“Oh right so. Would you turn the fecker up, Mr O’Malley?”

“Oh no, Father Brown, I can’t do that, it’s lunchtime, I don’t want to be scaring off the regulars. I’ll put the subtitles on – I don’t think anyone really wants to listen to this kind of shite.”

Head with Father Dick to the local TV station to perform a Mass against promiscuity.  Mention the confessional Reilly is setting up.

…"Righto," says Father Lars, as the director signals he’s going live. "Erm. Right. " He clears his throat with a certain flamboyant yet priestly je ne sais quoi and begins.

"So you know, people, I’ve come to Mr O’Draig Live Over Lunch to give you all a nice good Mass, a Mass about the dangers of promiscuity. Promiscuity is bad, ok?"

“And er,” asks Mr O’Draig, “I hear you’ve brought along your very own promiscuous priest to show us as an example? You know, of the dangers of promiscuity? Is that right, Father? Have you been suffering from the dangers of promiscuity? Have you been getting, you know, a bit of the old feckerty snap? A bit of the old, you know, sweaty badger dance? You know, a bit of the old cupid’s crotch bur-”

"No, I  haven’t brought along me very own promiscuous feckin’ priest, yer dirty gobshite. I’ve brought along Father Dick, to-"

“Is that what you call it now, eh, Father? Yer little Father Dick? Are you going to show us-”

"No, Father Dick is me feckin’ colleague here, you big dim-witted eejit – he’s here to help me with the Mass, so he is…"

“Oh right so. Erm. Go ahead then, Father.”

Operation Mass Media is go!

…"Et cum spiritu tuo…"

“Well, feck. He’s Massing the absolute feckin’ bollocks out of that crowd there. They can barely stand, he’s Massing them so hard. Well feckin’ done, Father Lars. Can I have another pint there, Mr O’Malley?”

“There you go, Father. Ooh, look, is that your friend Father Dick on the old television there as well? Should he not be wearing his cassock, you know, being on official priest business and all that? And, you know, should he not like be keeping his feckin’ pants on and all that? Father Brown? Should he not be, you know, even slightly dressed or something?”

“Oh feck.”

“Or, you know, is he demonstrating the dangers of promiscuity, or something, in like, a practical kind of way? You know, by tackling Father Lars to the floor there, whilst he’s entirely naked? Oh blimey, is that…  are those his… should he be… Blimey, he is! What’s he running about for? Waving it all about like that? Is that part of the Mass do you think, Father Brown? Chasing that old lady like that? Is that staged, do you think Father Brown? With all those security guards and all that?”

A televised Mass has been performed! Island-wide guilt has been increased! One priest is trapped in the toilet! One priest is naked!

Spoiler: GM Notes (click to show/hide)

Father Lars 4
Father Brown 1
Father Reilly 0
Father Dick -3

This didn’t really come out how I wanted. I deleted a few drafts, including a great quantity of perfectly reasonable puns about it being very hard and sometimes just coming out. This time it didn’t just come out. Hopefully I’ll be happier with it next turn.

[monk12]

Oh dear. This sure is harder than it looks!

Get my feckin' clothes and head to the nearest confessional, ready to hear the sins of the island!

[Toaster]

I dunno- my turn and Green's are pretty hilarious.

Assist Green with getting out of the bathroom/setting up the confessional.

[Digital Hellhound]

'Err.. quite. You know, it's probably some kind of imposter, trying to sully the good name of the priesthood. Probably sent by the parents of hairy babies. Be sure to spread the word,' Father Brown says. Leaving the barman with a promise of tea, he waddles over to Mr McCustard.

'So,' Father Brown says, sitting down and leaning over the table. He lets a moment of uneasy silence pass. 'Would you care for some tea and biscuits? Yes? Well, too bad. You can't have any. Now, tell me everything you know about the epidemic of hairy babies overtaking our fair land.'

Father Brown says this and slams his fist down for emphasis. Interrogatin' time.

[micelus]

"Yeah, slide em' under the door dear."


Once I have the posters, use an appropriate amount for cleaning my dirty bits, and then count how many are left. Replace used posters with more discreet versions.

[lawastooshort]

Episode Three, Turn Three: The Big Hairy Gobshite.

The Village of Termonfeckin...

Get my feckin' clothes and head to the nearest confessional, ready to hear the sins of the island!

…”Err.. quite,” says Father Brown, watching Father Dick live and naked on Channel Rolly Island. His fellow priest is frantically trying to beat off a posse of security guards intent on subduing him and, indeed, covering him up.

”You know, it's probably some kind of gobshite imposter, trying to sully the good feckin’ name of the priesthood. Probably sent by the parents of hairy feckin’ babies. Be sure to spread the word,” finishes Father Brown as Father Dick disappears off the side of the screen, dragged away by a pair of guards with oversized truncheons. The camera briefly cuts to a naked man lying face down on the floor in an empty corridor. A navy blue suited man is sitting on his back.

Father Brown says this and slams his fist down for emphasis. Interrogatin' time.

…”Definitely some kind of feckin’ imposter,” says Father Brown, glancing back up at the television. ”So then… I’ll bring you a nice cup of tea next time, Mr O’Malley?” he finishes, waddling over to the hairy Mr McCustard nursing a pint of stout in the corner.

”So, you big hairy gobshite,” he says, sitting down and leaning over at Mr McCustard’s table. He lets a moment of uneasy silence pass. ”Would you care for some tea and biscuits? Yes? Well, too bad. You can't feckin’ have any, because you’re a gobshite. Now, tell me everything you know about the epidemic of hairy babies overtaking our fair land.”

“Hairy babies Father? I think you’re talking a big bag of shite there, Father Brown,” replies Mr McCustard, twirling his sideburns with menacing intent. “I haven’t seen any hairy feckin’ babies around here, and even if I had, I don’t see what it would have to do with me!”

”Well,” says Father Brown. ”Well, all I’m saying is that we seem to have a lot of hairy feckin’ babies recently, and that perhaps the hairy feckin’ baby maker had better be a bit more feckin’ careful, if you catch me feckin’ drift!”

“I think I catch your feckin’ drift, Father. I think you’re feckin’ well advocating some form of contraception or something, Father. Is that what you’re feckin’ well sayin’? Is it? Perhaps your old Bishop there might like to hear about that, eh? Or the feckin’ Pope?! How about that then, Father? Eh?”

”I er… I… I um… Feck off!”

“You ain’t got nothing on me, Father! I’m the fastest milkman in the west, so I am, and you’ll have to get up very early in the morning to catch me at it, Father, very early in the morning indeed! Now if you don’t mind, I’ve feckin’ well got milk to finish delivering, you big feckin’ gobshite!”

Once I have the posters, use an appropriate amount for cleaning my dirty bits, and then count how many are left. Replace used posters with more discreet versions.

…"Yeah, slide em' under the door dear," shouts Father Reilly, keen to finish up in the bathroom.

Suddenly a strange shuffling noise comes from just outside the door, and Father Reilly leaps up in terrified surprise, dashing forward several feet before realising his trousers are round his ankles, tripping over them, and flying forward through the nearby window, shattering it and falling dirt-streaked and half undressed to the ground thirty feet below.

Assist Green with getting out of the bathroom/setting up the confessional.

…”Er… hello there, Father Reilly? Are you in here?” shouts Father Lars, finally busting the door open and bursting into the bathroom. “Erm, Father Reilly? Shite me, it’s rather feckin’ cold in here.”

Suddenly, as Father Lars walks over to investigate the broken window, a gust of wind blows through the bathroom, slamming the door shut!

“Oh shite,” he realises, walking back over to open the shut door. “It’s shitin’ well locked.”

One priest is trapped in the toilet! One priest is naked! One priest has a -1 Injuries Penalty to next turn!

Spoiler: GM Notes (click to show/hide)

Father Brown 4
Father Lars 4
Father Reilly 0
Father Dick -3

[Toaster]

At least it's not the same priest locked in the bathroom.


Fill self with the Holy Spirit to bust down the door.  Go help Reilly not be naked and incompetent and a big stupid gobshite.