From: Rev Priest <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: Tue, Nov 13, 2001 8:39 PM
Praise "Bob" there will be at least one extra
join us on the escape vessels next X-Day as a result of
our intensive and holy blitzing of the slackful city of
Hamburg last weekend. The new reverend Nobby Styles
is the first notch on my own personal Dobbs-Head and
his conversion was the fastest I have ever seen. He
only even heard the holy name of "Bob", slack be upon
him, for the first time last month and converted within
hours of meeting Pope Black for the first time.
"It's really sorted my head out" he explained to me
later, now free of the Con's control and manipulation.
I flew out to Hamburg, on a mission from "Bob"
(not yet reverend) Styles on Thursday morning, after
"Bob" teased me mightily with a slowed down London
Tube service which left me just minutes to spare in
which to pass through Heathrow's newly tightened
security. The Conspiracy version 7 has certainly
cracked down on the Muslims. I could hear the airport
security muttering their new mantra under their
breath as we passed the metal detector:
"Innocent until proven Muslim, Innocent until proven
Muslim" - How much longer can it be until it's
OUR church which inspires the conspiracy's greatest
wrath? For now they were content to allow me onto
the plane, sure in their own delusion that I'm
Harmless, nothing to worry about.
WELL NOT YET! Just wait until X-Day, Bwahhaaha.
Reverend Edfred and Pope Black met us off of the
plane and thus began the hunt for Rev Oilslide,
a particually slackful hunt which mostly consisted
of ordering beers and gin and sitting at a table
until "Bob" granted that it was time for us to
scab a free lift into town FROM THE CONSPIRACY
ITSELF in the form of airport security. Rev
Oilslide still missing, presumed fropped.
Pope Black's Flat Of Slack is the most holy dwelling
I have ever laid my poor drunken eyes on. Entering
his abode is a complex affair, negotiating a maze
of freshly painted doorways leads to a room full
of "Bob's" love, and merchandise of course. The
slack oozes from the walls which have seen much
population in their time since the building used
to be a brothel and is still in the center of
Hamburg's premier Red Light district. True to
the Dobbs plan, escape is easier than entrance
and if timed right could easily avoid the Con
attempting to steal slack from those inside,
slipping down the OTHER HALF of the building
while they wondered trapped in the maze.
Hamburg is a totally slacked-out city. In the city
of Hamburg it's always "Too early yet," right
up until the moment you collapse into a jittering
mess of drunkenness and you know it's finally,
utterly, TIME ladies and gentlemen PLEASE! This
contrasts utterly with London, not only city of
the clocks, but Big Ben is a syringe injecting
time into the sky, closing the bars while Hamburg
(which is already an hour later) still finds it
"Too early yet" to begin.
After two days and two nights of Following Pope Black
around the Red Light Wilderness, seeing bars that
haven't closed in forty years, hookers that look as
though they haven't slept in about that long,
line-dancing prostitutes outside BurgerKing asking "Who
would obstruct us from not going upstairs now" in attempts
to confuse their prey into paying for sex, A Latent Drunken
Homeless man with a hammock telling us to "stop looking
in the sky for stars, they're here in the sea in
the form of fish" (and refusing our beer in favour of
an Elephant), Nobby becoming REVEREND STYLES in a pub
then within HOURS preaching the word of "Bob" from
the stage of a German comedy show, beginning to wonder
if Hamburg has a Restaurant Seat Tax - since Pope Black
takes us to so many Stand Up ones and trying to sleep
in a hotel room only twice the size of a single bed
with a Rave disco downstairs that doesn't finish
until MIDDAY, it's finally time for the Devival itself.
Ah, seeing the slack generated, the vive's undone,
the preachers rant and the bands play at a Dobbs
Approved social event of some standing is a joy
as always. Seeing people come to an event to learn
about Slack and the Con and Dobbs, even in a
foreign language makes the event even more appealing.
Rev Papa Joe Mamma's rant was as inspiring as
though Dobbs himself had been on stage explaining
that it's FIVE TO MIDNIGHT and the conspiracy is
throwing out it's last gasp, it's final fruitless
efforts before OUR KIND SHALL TRIUMPH. The music,
the preaching, the other music, the different
preaching, the PILS and the frop and the booze
and the HEAD LAUNCHING left me struggling for a
footing, my whole world turned back on course by
an evening with the Dobbs.
The European SubGenius movement is surely beginning
to gather speed. Why, within another decade or two
we may even TURN A PROFIT, Dobbs willing.
London is calling, whispering the name of "Bob"
into my ears, beckoning me, calling me, demanding
of me that it needs the slack. The Xtian revivals
around here have brought so much False Slack that
SOMETHING must be done. Next year, I must FIGHT
those who would sway me with apathy and restfulness
and at least TRY to bring a similar slackfest to
my home city. Religious Hatred is ILLEGAL here now,
we must surely show our Civil Disobedience and stage
a more hateful misanthropic event than even the
Conservative Party Conference, but we'd have
JOY and SLACK too!
Nobby's own account of the First Annual Dobbsburg "Eat
the hell out if a" Hamburger devival can be found here: