I receive a postcard from the quaint English village of Belchford-Upon-Scribble, where my mad Aunt Madelaine is researching her biography of the seventh-century monk and heretic, The Interminable Pede.
According to Pede, Adam and Eve were cast out from Eden because they defaulted on a sub-prime Paradise loan that the Devil should never have offered them in the first place. This theory was anathema to the established church in Wall Street, who have always claimed that God had cut interest rates prior to "the Fall."
Mad Aunt Madelaine's short missive informs me that Pede's earthly remains are located beneath the altar of St Mortgage's Chapel, but many theologians believe that this is merely an early case of identity theft, and that the venerated bones actually belong to King Arthur, an Anglo-Saxon stockbroker.
Unfortunately, St Mortgage's Chapel is very nearly bankrupt, and the roof is in desperate need of repair. Mad Aunt says she put fifty-pee in a collection box marked "Pees for Pede." Every little helps.
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Auntie Madelaine is barking, up the wrong tree of course. Everybody knows the Veritable Pede is buried in the North Chapel of the Cathedral
in Saltburn, transported after the unfortunate incident with the Vikings and the gravy smugglers. Ah Bisto...those were the days.
Luckily, the devil never could get proper gravy browning.
Posted by: Peter Horne | August 17, 2007 at 16:13