Going to Hull?
I’m something of a raconteur and have built up quite the fan base over the years. People come from far and wide to hear my tales. Now, when one speaks for a living, one needs to lubricate one’s mouth. Some of my contemporaries preach the virtues of honey and milk, others waters mixed with flowers and such concoctions.

Me, I’m fond of a glass of wine and have perfected the art of brewing my own using water, and well, I won’t say, lest you should steal my recipe ;)

I’m also fussy about the vessel in which it comes. After all, I’m not some crummy student on a mission to kill brain cells. I taste. I savour. I enjoy.

So which vessel is my favourite?

Well, I have been given gifts in goblets by Kings of far lands. I have drank from the same vessel with rich men and poor but the only one I have ever coveted, for my sins, was that of my Father – a simple wooden vessel, carved by his own hands.

When I grew up and left the family home, I joined a travelling flock of raconteurs of sorts and drank from many’s the vessel. Indeed, I may even have forgotten about my Father’s cup.

Near the end of my first life, I returned home to face charges with the local magistrate – something about inciting rebellion - but the cup was no longer there. My Mother had given it to my uncle Joe. I asked him what happened to it. He said he lost it somewhere in Europe.

Years later, my fans still look for it. It’s virtually an industry influencing tourism, philosophical debate, any number of books attempting to explain the mystery as well as create elaborate fantasies surrounding it.

Dan Brown is my biggest fan.

Yours,
Jesus H. Christ
(bazmorningstar efil4nat3b, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 9:16, 1 reply)

"A Graaaaaaaaaaiiiiil?"
"we 'ave already got one - it's very niiiiice."
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 9:18, closed)