Thursday, August 28, 2008

Where’s Brewer and Pritchard when you need them?

Dear me the last 24 hours have been tumultuous, and I must apologise for not having posted anything yesterday. As my Facebook friends will know I began yesterday morning by settling down for a day’s bagpipe practice with a book of Graham Kendrick arrangements. unfortunately during my third hour of “Shine Jesus, Shine” somebody called the local law enforcement officers and complained about my “disturbing the peace”.

To be perfectly honest I dislike the bagpipes as much as everyone else, but the property next door to my Manse is currently for sale, and by practicing my this instrument - which I’ve hitherto not had the slightest interest nor experience in playing - whenever the agents are conducting an inspection any potential buyers should be firmly discouraged, thereby enabling me to purchase the house for an absolute bargain. Indeed, so attractive do I find this proposition that it even renders me oblivious to my own playing, much as if I was one of the birds not infrequently falling from the sky in response to my hitting one of the high notes.

Unfortunately the incompetent young officer responded to this malicious call failed to appreciate both my playing and my business acumen, and his disrespect resulted in my being taken into custody and charged with a multitude of trumped-up allegations. Admittedly, I may have struck him about the head once or twice with my chanter, and in forcing him to swallow the tartan bellows used marginally more violence than was called for, but it’s not my fault if the young officer was without any feeling for music.

Naturally upon arriving at the station I demanded to see the senior officer in charge, and informed him I’d be contacting my attorneys, the famous Brewer and Pritchard< in regard to this outrage, but for reasons I still can’t comprehend this caused him to break out in peals of laughter.

Brother Richthofen insists this could only have resulted from the officer previously had clients represented by Brewer and Pritchard, but I refuse to believe there is anything laughable about Mark Brewer’s advocacy skills, and remain convinced they must be just as professional as his capacity to manage bookshops. Consequently I’m convinced his mirth was just a nervous reaction to the realisation that this matter would soon be dealt with by people so important that even the mighty Amazon books are willing to function as their delivery service.

As it turned out, however, there will be no need to engage Brewer and Pritchard, nor any other firm bold enough to act as their associates, since Consuella contacted her relatives once Evangelical Eric breathlessly informed her of the situation. After their arrival at the station, accompanied by a bag full of money and several submachine guns, the officer in charge quickly realised it was all a mistake, and permanently reassigned the young man responsible for my arrest to traffic duty. As well as ordering him to pay for the repairs to my bagpipes on the condition that I never again play Shine Jesus, Shine. It appears that when it comes to Praise Music even corrupt police have standards.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.


Anonymous said...

I have similar complaints from my neighbours when I'm on my organ, particularly when I use the swell.
I asked Brewer & Pritchard, through Amazon, to send me their best "Book of Organs", and I became the recipient of unspeakable filth.

Anonymous said...

Maybe he thought you meant Brewer & Shipley.

Cany said...

I used to teach kids piano, dear Father, and many of them play better than I do.

I never get complaints, though... I close the windows.

June Butler said...

Fr Christian, I pray that you don't give up the pipes entirely after your traumatic encounter with the police. I want to hear you play one day.

Robert said...

Fr. David Heron, in the interest of saving your soul, I agree to sacrifice myself and become the collection point for all unspeakably filthy books of organs.

The Rev. Dr. Christian Troll said...

Dorothy - thanks for this; they're sort of like the Indigo Girls for stoned old men. I enjoyed the Lawrence Welk version even more.