Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week #60 The Devil – 22nd – 28th December 2014


Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week #58: The Devil – 15th – 22nd December 2014
Well, that’s a ruddy surprise, me pulling that card out of the twenty that I haven’t done yet. I actually do pull them out of a pack you know, it’s all totally random. Or at least that’s how it would seem to the casual observer. But you and I know, gentle reader, that a force greater than we could possibly understand guides my hand to the card which is most significant.
I was surprised to draw the ruddy Devil, as my Nephew Michael played the part of the Devil in the Bar Steward Sons of Val Doonican‘s Pantomime thing in Barnsley the other night. On stage, in front of a ruddy audience, if you please. Well, he didn’t actually play the Devil himself. He used a ventriloquist puppet sort of thing. And in case you were wondering, yes, everyone in the ruddy house could see his lips moving. Even the blind bloke who came. His sighted interpreter told him. “If he’s a ruddy ventriloquist,” he said “I’m one of those Gordon Blair chefs.
I must admit, I was a bit put out. He has turned his back on me for a ruddy puppet. I was relegated to pulling the raffle tickets at the ruddy interval. After all I have done for him an’all!
Any road. To business. Look at that Devil’s face. He’s a miserable looking so and so, isn’t he? And he has let himself go a bit in the pubic hair department an’all. He has let them get completely out of control. I bet it takes him half an hour to find his John Thomas when he goes to the toilet. And by the time that he has found it, I’ll bet it’s usually too late. I bet he stinks to high heaven.
In contrast, them two young uns chained to his stump have no pubes at all. But they have got tails around the back. His is on fire and she’s eating ruddy grapes out of the end of hers. It is obvious to me that the pair of them have been dabbling with forces that they don’t understand, and fallen under the wicked influence of Lord Satan himself. So just watch out what you get up to this Christmas. Stay off excessive drinking, ouija boards and taking things up the back passage. You wouldn’t want to end up chained to the Devils stump, would you!
Four things that you might do this week. (i) Make sure that any old people you know are well looked after this Christmas. Don’t leave them on their own performing menial tasks like pulling raffle tickets. (ii) Give your pubes a trim. It’s only hygienic. You don’t want them attracting lice or other small creatures. Do you? (iii) If anyone offers you a grape, make sure that you know where they got it from. Ask to see the rest of the bunch if necessary. I would hate to think that I was eating a grape that had come out of the end of some filthy hussy’s tail. (iv) Have a lovely Christmas, and at some point, raise a glass of sherry to your old friend Auntie Doris.

Auntie Doris’s “Thats Swearing” #4: Hell’s Bells and Buckets of Blood

Warning: this level of swearing shouldn’t be used lightly. It would have completely infuriated my father. Then again, so would “Jesus H Christ” and “Ruddy Nora.” Even “Heavens to Betsy”would have irritated him. But “Hell’s Bells” alone would have been totally unacceptable to him. He felt he had the monopoly on images of lakes of fire, and the Devil punishing sinners,and that the only place that they could be put to proper use was in his pulpit at the Non-Conformist Chapel, and certainly not for use by a member of the fairer sex who has dropped a stitch in her knitting. Adding “and buckets of blood” at the end of it would have rendered it completely blasphemous. If he had ever caught me saying anything like that, he would have nipped my legs so hard that he would have probably done lasting damage to my anterior tibial arteries or something.
To understand where the phrase “Hell’s Bells and Buckets of Blood” comes from, you have to imagine the scene in Britain in the first hundred years or so after William the Conqueror invaded. Psychological and chemical warfare was rife and used by the Norman invaders to break the spirit of the Saxon, Danish and Celtic populations and convert them to the English way of life we know and love today, where our population is famed the world over for getting too drunk, and either laying by the side of the road spuking up, or disrupting football matches.
If a British settlement resisted, the Normans would first use the psychological method, building churches in all the surrounding settlements, and ringing the bells all day and all night for weeks on end. Usually the inhabitants of the target settlement either gave themselves up, or fled to Scotland, Wales, or even Ireland, all of which were well out of earshot. The Americans used the same idea to force the Dictator, General Noriega to surrender after they had invaded Panama in 1989, but rather than use bells, they used loud pop music, including Bananarama, the Fun Boy Three, and Kim Wilde. When he gave himself up: Noriega uttered the words “Las campanas del infierno! Cedo!” ( Hell’s bells! I give up!)
However, back in early Norman Britain, there were some tough so and sos who were resistant to that kind of treatment. Maybe they were deaf, maybe they liked bell music. Whatever it was, they stayed put. So the Normans started chemical warfare. What they would do was murder somebody, probably one of the ones who had given themselves up because of the bells, and throw him down the village well, late at night. Next morning, when they came to draw water, the bucket would come up full of blood. Eventually the whole villages water supply would be contaminated with blood, rotting flesh and ruddy maggots. And while all this was going on, the rotten so and sos would still be ringing them ruddy bells. No wonder that when Eadric the Wild finally stumbled out of Stafford in 1070, he cried “Höllenglocke und Eimer Blut” or something.
Some situations where “Hell’s Bells and Buckets of blood may come in handy.
(i) When you can’t think straight because there’s a ruddy car alert going off outside and you accidentally cut your finger whilst opening a tin of sardines.
(ii) When you have gone for a quiet weekend away at the seaside, but the people in the next caravan are playing ruddy pop music every minute God Sends
(iii) When your ruddy stupid other half has got out of his bed without his glasses on, and trodden on your beloved little doggie, and caused its eyeballs to pop out of one end, and it’s innards to pop out of the other. (In this instance the phrase should be shrieked at the top of your voice and accompanied by a range of other cuss words, all delivered whilst beating him over the head with the nearest available blunt instrument – in my case, the hardback edition of “The Bedside Book of British Garden Birds”