New Year's Day Ride

[Sweaty Eds]

Earlier today Brother Leighton and Brother Sweaty from the Virtuous Order of Smug-Moi met for a morning of cycling, do-gooding and quiet contemplation.

Having agreed with Our Most Reverend Father Rees that the Order could spare us for a couple of hours, we left the Bloomfield Monastery grounds just after 9 and set off to meet our flock. After distributing fresh supplies of Diamond White and Old Holburn to the enterprising folk who, on occasion, relocate most of their indoor furniture outside onto the pavement opposite the castle, we headed towards the climb up to Molleston. As ever, there was a fair amount of water on the road but we resisted the temptation to walk on it and simply cycled around it.

In Reynalton we stopped and helped a couple of ladies across the road and freed a badger that had been snared in a local award-winning butcher’s tenderising cage, then we headed up Tanners Lane. When we got to the crossroads at the top of Ludchurch we found a scene that reminded both Brother Leights and myself of Hampsterdam from the third series of The Wire. There were reprobates strewn across both sides of the road in various stages of undress, consciousness and coitus and enough empty beer cans for Blue Peter to buy another three guide dogs. When we quizzed one of the poor unfortunates as to how they got in that state they could only mumble about a money-lenders party the night before in the Manor House. Even God cannot help some people, so on we went.

We passed uneventfully through Tavernspite, apart from the usual stone throwing from the locals, and made good progress until we hit a Tsunamiesque tidal wave as we approached Cold Blow. The general slippiness of the road was bad enough but what made this a disaster of truly Biblical proportions was the incredibly acrid, eyeball-blistering fishy stench. This was surely the blood, guts and gore of Jonah’s whale that had somehow been transported into the backwaters of Pembrokeshire. Brother Leighton, who has not, I think, lived a life quite so sheltered as he tells us, explained to me that this was simply the water washed into the overflow during one of those lesbian hot tub parties that are all the rage in that neck of the woods.

Our work complete, we rode back to Narberth for an afternoon of Bible readings.

Happy New Year.

[ValleyMan]

Brothers Sweaty and Leights

Whilst your dedication to spreading the gospel according to his holiness Sir Wiggo of Olympia is to to be admired, your solo venture into the wasteland undermines my efforts to highlight to failings of the heathen order nestling on our southern shores who are wanten to both fracture and discourse.

We must maintain our discipline and unite around the true teachings of our faith that ye shall venture forth only on the Sabbath unless the clocks are celebrating the joys of British Summertime. Woe betide those who are cast asunder as ‘Splitters’ by the Gospel according to Brian.

You have been warned

Abott

[Sweaty Eds]

Sorry Abott

It must’ve been the glass of Buckfast Abbey wine I had on NYE, it always makes me hyper. I understand that I have done wrong and must make amends. I think the punishment of wearing the hair-shirt for a fortnight and chanting the mantra ‘I am not Sir Brad, I am a very naughty boy’ a thousand times after evensong is reasonable given the seriousness of the crime, but really, please, I beg you, don’t make me record and publish my mileage for the year.

I remain your penitent servant.

[Roger]

I may be wrong but I think the pope made a reference to this type of activity in his New Year speech…

[Sweaty Eds]

Forgive me Abbot for I have sinned.

It has been two days since my last ride, but when I woke up this morning I thought I could sneak a quick one under the cover of the mist. Unfortunately, I didn’t factor in the weekly tithe collection by Mother Superior and Our Most Reverend Father Rees.

Hear my prayer

Our Strava, which art on the internet,

Dynamos be thy name.

To Narberth we will come,

Cycling will be done, in Turbo,

As it is on Club Runs.

Give us this day our daily ride,

And forgive us our wheel-sucking,

As we forgive them that wheel-suck against us.

And lead us not into Tenby,

But deliver us from the Aces.

For high cadence and le souplesse

keep our legs spinning in circles

for ever and ever

Wiggins

[Author]

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