They're on to me.

I'm in trouble. I had hoped that Sister Faith would just let sleeping Delbuts lay. Not to be. Seems that once a nun gets the taste for it, she wants more. Without blowing my own trumpet ( tis impossible; i tried. Unless i take a few vertabrae out i'll never be able to bend over that far) I have ruined sister Faith.

Apparantly, she is now so out of control they have banned all phallic-shaped items from the convent and now wash not with soap, but with their own saliva.

As well as Faith phoning from the dorm public phone and getting a private eye on my case, she has enlisted the help of her most trusted confidante. Very-old-sister Hope . Apparantly Hope was betrothed to a Welsh hill farmer ( i think that should be hyphonated. otherwise he farms hills (why didn't i just change it instead of writing about changing it?)) To cut a long story short, David David (Dai twice. (see much earlier blog)) led her down the garden path to get his hands on her father's prize ram. He left her traumatised - if not a little sexually frustrated. She ran away and signed up to the French Foreign Legion -Jesus department. Not even the hoards of vagabonds, rapists and the like, who join the foreign legion, would make a pass at her so she fled again to the convent, where she has been for the last 60 years. Her dislike of the male specie has given her a cause to hunt me down like a dog.


Armed with a pentium iv processor and a 30-day free trial with Yahoo broadband, she keeps an eye on this place just waiting for me to slip up. She gets closer by the minute. My only hope is that the Yahoo broadband works as badly as my BT one and keeps crashing. Here is a picture of her when she mistakenly typed, Del's butt into Google. The result, apparantly, was a host of arse fettish websites.

You may note tht she only has 4 fingers. Her thumb was blown off during the infamous "night of the exploding vicar's trousers" incident in Dol de Bretagne 1974.