Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Don't call us..................We'll call you.

Occasionally,years ago,in my old school,we received visits from recruitment Priests from various Orders.We did'nt mind these visits,in fact we welcomed them as a diversion from getting
the three Rs beaten into us.Corporal punishment florished in those days,and plenty of it,boot,
box,stick or leather strap,any of these or a combination could be visited upon our scrawny
persons on the slightest pretext and often at the whim of malevelant,sadistic brutes,delivered with glee and spite,it seemed to us.Happy fucking days,me arse.Anyway,these Priests would
lecture us,extolling the virtues of whichever Order from whence he came,Franciscan,Capuchin,
Christian Brother,etc. Each talk would end with a slide show about the Missionaries or "Black Babies" or some other oul' shite,followed by" any questions",and always,fuckin' always,some little bollix of a teachers pet brownnose cunt would raise his hand.............

"How will I know if I want to be a Priest?"

"You'll know because you'll get a vocation."

"how will I know if I have a vocation?"

"You'll know because God will call you."

This never failed to frighten the living shite out of me,what if he called me as he worked in his mysterious fuckin' ways.I certainly did not want his "call",he could stick that straight up his
arse,and even if he did come calling,how would I recognise it.Would it be a flash of lightning,a
barking dog,a halo appearing,a talking statue,what? Apart from that,such a calling would greatly
interfere with my own ambitions as I'd never heard,still hav'nt heard of a pirate/fisherman/pilot/fire-fighting/horse-training priest .Also the thoughts of learning Latin really freaked me out at that time.Little did I know that I'd end up with Honours-Latin years later,but thats another story,Festina Lente and all that.

Spare a thought for all those poor gobshites who found themselves packed off to the Seminary and all because the cat had 19 kittens or a rat scratched the back door or a dotty aunt dreamt about fuckin'Moses or any other such shite,what became of such men.I think we all know the answer to that!!

All this current talk about Clerical Abuse has awakened my subconsious mind to what went
on all those years ago and I'm going to discuss it here as I have never mentioned it to a living soul before,and were it not for the anonymity afforded me by this blog,I doubt if I could do it here either.I always knew something was not quite right as I grew up but had no one to turn to,
my parents would punish me,my friends would laugh at me,the cunts,if they knew.No doubt a
half-decent Shrink would nod his head wisely and agree that I never stood a chance,that my life was fucked-up before it began.Dirty fucking bastards,I'd like to stick red-hot pokers up their
arses,backwards,so they'd burn their hands pulling them back down.The trauma that I
experience with every abuse case and every outing is becoming unbearable,no man should have to carry the burden I bear.After serious thought and consideration,I feel the only course open to me is to seek damages in the Courts.I know I'll become a figure of fun,probably a figure of hate
but I need some kind of closure.How many men have to live with the knowledge that with all the
touching-ups,sexual abusing and general buggering going on,I seem to be the only one that was never touched,by anyone,man,woman or child,not once,never,ever.I must have been a right ugly little bastard.
,

5 comments:

Andraste said...

I'm laughing my ass off at this post, because I once asked my mother, "how does someone know if they want to become a nun?" And she said something like "oh, you get a calling."

For weeks, I wouldn't answer the phone.

El Barbudo said...

What a fucking trauma! I think if I'd gone through that degree of being ignored then I would feel as bitter as you do. Red hot pokers is too good for the bastards.

Dr Maroon said...

I find the concept of a recruitment priest an alarming one, we were thankfully spared that. But I have first hand experience of young Irish “Brothers” who turned up in their duffle coats to play us at shinty.
The were the roughest, dirty tricksey-ist, most cheating bastards ever. They battered us right off the park.

Anonymous said...

what the fuck is shinty? Of course they were rough and dirty, how else could they work off the ragin testeosterone than by shovin and pushin little boys.

UnAmerican said...

Good stuff there. I nearly pissed myself reading it. Though, I found myself feeling like shite when I was done reading it. Maybe it was cuz I was educated by the Jesuits and have some bad memories (to say the least) or maybe cuz they never fondled me either.