Wednesday 19 February 2014

Holiday Snaps: The Burning and Pillaging of Lindisfarne

I’m often out and about on my longboat with my murdering war band. Lately we have been targeting monasteries. Monks are really easy quarry. They never put up much of a fight, are never armed and are always willing to turn the other cheek which we smite mightily. Furthermore monasteries are a great repository for books and learning. Together with the wooden pews this all makes for a good burning. At the end of our pillage me and the lads like to line up the tonsured monks, place a red dot in the centre of their bald pate and then throw darts to see who can hit the spot. Harold ‘The Herald’ is very adept and is usually the first to reach one hundred and eighty. I usually get bored and crush the monk’s heads with a handy sceptre. We often stop off for a bit of light refreshment at the local kebab shop. Costas at Lindisfarne sells great wild boar kebabs and the daintiest of pastries. An absolute steal for 3 groats because we never pay. We usually finish off by burning the place down together with the local real estate agent- there goes the neighbourhood.   

The picture: This one was taken just after a brisk discussion with Asmund ‘The Monk.’ I argued that he would be better off writing his books in West Saxon runes rather than Latin which has been a dead language for nearly 400 years. We agreed to disagree and I terminated our discussion by introducing Asmund to my double headed Danish war axe, ‘Twat Cruncher’. Oh we did laugh! Note to self- must buy moustache wax.              


  1. Perhaps whilst you are ridding the neighbourhood of pesky priests, you could turn your attention to the Archbish Westminster who has been making rather a nuisance of himself lately by claiming that our welfare reforms are leaving people destitute. He, of course, being Catholic has taken a vow of poverty which accounts for his grace-and-favour palace and the gold robes and regalia he is frequently seen in.

    Welsh is also a dead language but a much harder place to get to from the fjords, of course. Westminster therefore seems a much easier target...

    1. Who will rid me of this turbulent priest? I'll drop by his place and explain the humility inherent in being twated. Perhaps I'll make a detour to the Rhondda valley. But from what I can see it has already been devastated.

  2. "......Furthermore monasteries are a great repository for books and learning......"

    Books, maybe, but learning? I think not. Learning did not begin until the completion of the Iberian Reconquista in 1492 and the vast libraries of the Moors were discovered and translated from the Arabic into Latin.

    ".......Note to self- must buy moustache wax......"
    I think you wouldn't be amiss ifin' y'all gots yourself a nice revitalising cream too. Those bags under your eyes are concerning. Too many late nights, killing the men, raping the women and burning the houses - and not getting it right very often - are playing havoc with your boyish good-looks.

  3. I hope you are not implying that us murdering Dark Age barbarians are uncultured- have you not read Beowulf? C'mun, tis hard to be a ravishing and look a ravishing all the time. I try to moisturise when I can. But the salt air and the wind plays havoc.

  4. Tis true mistakes can be made in the heat of the moment. But in mitigation we are often, very, very, drunk.