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Bedminster Chronicles. Book 1-Ye Monstrous Shoppe

July 15, 2010

Long ago in the mists of  time it was discovered that the lowly citizens of South Bristol were about to suffer great hardship. The rich absentee Lord Lansdowner of the ancient Manor of Bedminster was intent on levelling his playing fields to build a Montrous shoppe, bigger than the very cathedral of the once great City of Bristol.

And verily was he also to destroy more green fields and habitats for water voles and such creatures as are endangered to the utmost, including the much trod upon citizens of Ashton Vale. His insatiable search for vain glory and coin with his loyal barbarian band of rednecks had much blinkered his vision until he could forsee no future but ye Monstrous Shoppe and ye 100 million groats corrugated plastic stadium.

“Do not fear”, said the brave band of Basices, sons and daughters of Beratists. “We have fought off the evil Tescshite hordes until they surrendered even as they reached the bloodied gates of Gores-Marsh. ”

“Even as they bombard our villages with false promises of  large purses of riches and much work so we will throw in their faces the destruction and damage they wish to inflict on our peaceful citizens and streets.

And then the great day loomed when the citizens looked to their leaders to protect them from the onslaught. The great and mighty Beynone could do no more than cower in the corner whimpering that he had joined the Lord Lansdowner  and was one of his faithful servants,  (may the gods of darkness and corruption forgive him). The legendary leader Bradsure, was also seduced by thee multitude of riches dangled before his eyes and he too lay prostrate at the feet of the rich and munificent Lansdowner. The tribal leader Crimanalrolo had already been seduced much as to render her speechless  and also prostratre on the very destruction of her lands.

And together they verily prayed to the lord FIFA and his high prophet Sepp to shower the unworthy multitude Bristolianites with crumbs from his plate, which consisteth of much contracts  that decreed that no riches shall arise in the purses and pockettes of ye ordinary citizens. Yea the prophet Sepp decreed that they shall serveth no other False Godds excepteth ye mighty and munificinent corporationites, which includeth interalia Sainsburyanites, Budweiserisms, Mcdonaldites and Cocacolaists.

And thee leaders of yea high county of Bristole sayeth “Yea we accept your price Sepp, and to prove our worthyines,  we will selleth offe thee land too cheappe in exchange for bogge all!

Yea basicists and sons and daughters of beratists said verily, but ye old stadium shall do thee jobbe. Why not playeth on thee hallowd turf which we love beyond measure for thee foreseeable future? And which our farthers and grandfarthers lovedd and also their grandfarthers  farthers loved  beyond measure? Just maketh it a bit bigger why dont you for ye loyal souls are currently few in number?

Lo.          Answer from thee Landsowner and thee sexstonite came they’re none! Except a distant rumour of ye exceedingly dodgy deal of which they shall profiteth mightily.

And so it came to passe that ye monstrous shoppe fouled ye ancient lands of thee beratists! Much plague, pestilence and gnashing of teeth followed. Accompanyed by ye fans chanted prayer “Lo, why are we now bankrupted and sold to ye dodgy foreignne investor?”


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