INDEX TO WEB
STORY UPDATE NEWS AND EBAY LISTING
THE EVIL OVERLORD
THE EVIL MINIONS GUIDE
OTHER EVIL/ HERO GUIDES
NAMES I CALL MY WIFE
& SHAKESPEAREAN INSULTS
NOUNS FOR ANIMAL SPECIES
SOME OTHER EBAY SALES WITH STORIES
THE REAL MEANING OF HAYNES MANUAL INSTRUCTIONS
KITE MAKING PAGES
REVOLUTION KITE MAKING
CONTRIBUTIONS FROM READERS
STORIES BY HELEN WORRALL
STORIES AND EBAY SALES
1 AN OLD LAND ROVER
SELLING AN OLD LAND ROVER
4 SELLING WHEELS AND TYRES
5 A NEW JOB AT THE FUNERAL
6 SELLING VIDEO CAMERA
7 MY BIRTHDAY TODAY
8 WITCHERY PART ONE
9 SELLING CANVAS HOOD
10 WITCHERY PART TWO
11 SELLING CARAVAN HITCHDRIVE
14 WITCHERY PART FOUR
17 SELLING A HI VIZ COAT
18 WITCHERY PART SIX
19 SELLING 3 TONNES OF CLAY
2O WITCHERY PART SEVEN
21 SELLING A WHEEL CLAMP
AND THE HESITANT DOORS
23 SELLING AN OLD PAIR OF BOOTS
24 THE REAL
DE VINCI CODE
25 MY GUITAR
26 SELLING MOTORBIKE
28 SELLING A HIGHWAY
29 ZEN AND THE ART OF
LAND ROVER MAINTENANCE
30 SELLING A
CIGARETTE LIGHTER AND A TRIP TO SCOTLAND
33 SELLING AN AMBER
34 THE UNIVERSE IS A
35 SELLING A
36 SELLING BOOTS
37 SELLING A
38 SELLING A MOTORBIKE
39 SELLING A POWER
40 SELLING A HORSE
41 THE BOAT
42 SELLING LAND ROVER
43 SELLING A TOW
/ RECOVERY CHAIN
44 SELLING LAND ROVER
45 SELLING THE FOGGYDAVE CARRIER BAG
46 CARAVAN RAGE OR AGINCOURT DEUXIEME
WITCHERY PART FOUR
COVEN AT THE BOWLING GREEN
Where a home for the coven is found and destroyed and
who is the man in white?
My Kicker of the codpiece is now
known by her witch name Galantha which means snowdrop, she looks nothing
like a snowdrop more an avalanche but I have been told the name is
mathematically worked out. You too may wish to determine your
She is trying to involve me by making me a Warlock. I am sure some of her
thinking involves sex of some kind so I am having none of it. Mind you one
of her acolytes has a well turned ankle, and a nice smile when her teeth are
in.................. This line of thinking could be bad for my health, as my wife seems to
know what is going through my mind at any time.
I decided that I must try
harder to find a location, our cellar was too small, the shed was a burnt
out hulk, the village hall or any property owned by the council was out.
There must be premises of some sort available.
My wife though beat me to it. She had noticed that there is a building eminently suitable for her
purposes, is used only one day a week, is in a remote location, and used by
people who with just a little coercion may join her coven. I speak here of
the bowls club, set at the far end of the playing fields behind the fishing
lake. It is surrounded of course by the obligatory twelve foot electrified
fence topped with razor wire and CCTV cameras, to deter the ever present
threat of vandalism, and nocturnal nude bowling, which because of the
warmer nights is a growing craze amongst more elder members of the club.
Here the term “Jack High” has a completely different meaning, especially
when Jack has been at the weed yet again. It would be “Dead Jack” or even
worse “Short Jack” if ever his wife found out.
To get access to the club and its members my wife decided to join, being a
complete novice, not having played the game before she practiced on our back
The only pastime on her island anything like bowls was the very dangerous
sport of “Stopping”. This involved throwing a round boulder up a slope and
letting it roll down. In rolling down it gathered moss, twigs, lumps of
earth, and other bigger boulders. When finally it reached the thrower again
it had grown in mass and weight by many times its original. The thrower then
had to stop it; the heavier it was the faster it would be rolling. The
winner was he or she who stopped the most weight in twenty minutes. As in
fishing matches it can be the person who catches more little fish who wins
over the person who catches one big one. (This is true of so many things in
life). So it is with the “Stoppers”, the smaller the boulder thrown up,
the lighter it was when it came down. You could throw more small ones than
big ones, and stop them more easily. The danger came from the “Super
Stoppers who put everything into one or two boulders. These athletes were
built like brick out houses, the trouble came when their ambition to stop
the “Big One” outweighed their abilities. It is a fundamental law of nature
that when a heavier mass with energy hits a lighter mass at rest the lighter
mass will be displaced or squashed. So it was with the “Super Stoppers”.
Many were either flattened as a hedgehog on a motorway, or they were caught
up in the debris on the boulder as it went over them and were carried down into the sea,
and a watery grave.
Back to the bowls. My wife a “Third class middleweight
super stopper” juggled the bowls in her hands as one would a few tennis
balls (If she was middleweight then the heavy weights must have been very
big people, and by big I mean .......big). After an hour of practice my once
beautiful well manicured lawn looked like a scene from the WW1 trenches
after a particularly heavy artillery bombardment. My dearest uses the
"Barnes Wallace" method of bowling as in the famous film, The Dam
busters, with much the same technique skimming the bowl across the lawn
until it shattered the jack. Her other method is the no contact “Howitzer" technique whereby the
bowls first contact with the ground is when it hits the jack again
shattering it. She eventually got the idea of rolling the bowl, but insisted
on taking a run up instead of the obligatory foot on the mat rule.
Resplendent in her pure white bell tent of a dress with freshly emulsioned
plimsolls, (yes two, she tied one to her wooden leg to protect the green),
Also a white 50 gallon Mexican straw hat, (we made holes in the 25 gallon
one and stuck it on the donkey). She went for her enrolment interview
chaired by Major General (Big boy) White, and Mrs. Irene P
Nightly both of whom smelled of moth balls and carbolic soap. My wife is a
very imposing, one may say scary woman who when in a room fills it in many
ways, from the size of her shoulders, to the aroma of her athletes foot
(singular). The interview was over very quickly maybe it was her Halitosis
or her menacing stare who knows, but she was accepted and the ink barely had
time to dry before the committee left the room for more airy places.
My loved one being the sort of helpful person she is volunteered to attend
to the cleaning of the club house at the end of the day, and thereby
obtained a key. The only other key holder being Bernard Entwhistle the
postie who did a bit of green keeping in his spare time, but mostly just
oiled the sit on mower and other machinery.
At the stroke of midnight my wife, or should I say Galantha as she was now
in witchery mode, entered the club house. She was accompanied by her two
acolytes carrying a heavy cast iron cauldron and a bag of “Flora and Fauna”
i.e. roots etc and various disgusting animal parts both dried and bloody.
They placed the cauldron in the middle of the clubhouse floor and poured in
the water. Galantha then started putting the bits and pieces in the pot, all
three chanting the famous speech from the bard. My dearest insisted
that they all be naked, I think as a symbol of purity but probably it was
just to stop their clothes getting dirty.
"Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble."
There was a problem, the cauldron was not bubbling, how could they be real
witches if there was no bubbling, there was always bubbling it was one of
the rules, a cauldron had to bubble. To do this it needed to boil, to boil
it needed a fire. A fire needed fuel, petrol was fuel, and mowers needed
petrol. So the garage was raided and a jerry can full of petrol was found, a
quantity was poured into an old frying pan which was placed under the
cauldron and lit, soon the water was steaming with a very satisfying bubbly/ploppy
sound and the clubhouse was lit by the dancing flames. It was also filled by
copious amounts of toxic fumes from the burning petrol and the contents of
the pot, and so the chanting carried on
Fillet of a fenny snake,
In the cauldron boil and bake;
Eye of newt and toe of frog,
Wool of bat and tongue of dog,
Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,
Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,
For a charm of powerful trouble,
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
By now the fumes were affecting the trio who were bursting into coughing
fits and falling into unconsciousness; also the acrid smoke was filling the room
so that visibility was limited. Then the flames got out of control and were setting fire to the floor.
The situation was looking very serious indeed and my normally serene wife
was beginning to panic.
Suddenly the door burst open and a white clad figure strode into the room,
covered from head to toe in a full rubber suit that was undulating as though
filled with water or some other fluid. This apparition wobbled over to the
fire and grabbing an extinguisher tried to put out the flames which licked
around him. Who was this brave hero, this strangely appareled fellow who,
with no thought for his own safety was now attacking the flames with feet
and hands...... Then he sprang a leak, whatever was in his suit shot out in
a great arc away from his body, the great arc met the flames which in turn
shot back up the arc to his body. On reaching it a great sheet of flame
erupted from his suit propelling him out of the door and into the fishing
lake, where in a white cloud of steam he disappeared below the surface. In
the meantime my beloved and her two blue rinse acolytes had revived and escaped across
the Bowling Green their flight hidden by palls of smoke as the club house was engulfed in
flames but were stopped when they got to the locked gates the key to which
was in the flaming club house. But once again they were saved, out of the smoke appeared the white clad hero, his suit now in wet
tatters streaming about his body. He was driving a double gang motor mower
at great speed bursting through the gates and on down the drive onto the
main road. My dearest taking the opportunity ran through the gates and
slowly wended her way home keeping to the shadows.
I was awoken by the sirens of the fire brigade as they sped through the
village to attend the conflagration, and heard the tread of my wife upon the stairs
as she made her weary way to bed.
Of the man in white nothing was seen, the mower was found outside Bernard
Entwhistles house on the newly mown verge, and it was noticed that Bernard
was limping as he did his post round. Although this looked highly suspicious
all the evidence was circumstantial. So the burning of the club house was
put down to arsonists, possibly “hoodies”, who must have used the mower to
joy ride on. Smoke had obscured the CCTV footage.
Have you noticed when a person robs a bank the CCTV footage is always
grained and unclear. Why spend lots of money on cameras when from the
results you do not know if it’s a man, giraffe, or Oran Utan. Is this done
on purpose so that the robber may never be caught and the insurance claim
can then be inflated by several thousand pounds?
So even had there been no smoke it is doubtful if the film would have been
of any use. Had they looked at the tapes from the day before they would have
seen Bernard carrying four cans of engine oil, a tyre foot pump, and a brown
paper parcel into the garage mmmmmmm.
The image below was caught on camera as the white clad hero came through the
bowls club door. Taken by Miss Drinch Spinster and part time acolyte of this
parish, on one of those cheap and cheerful cardboard cameras bought from the
local chemists. Why she had a camera is under investigation by my wife, who
suspects her of being an undercover sensation seeking ninety eight year old
journalist for the local Cross Stitch weekly.
I have noticed though that Bernard keeps staring at the house when he
delivers the occasional letter or postcard from the wife’s relatives. It
seems as though he wants to speak but is a little nervous or afraid, I don’t
know which, maybe it’s just my imagination. They are building a new club
house, out of brick this time, and on Bernards advice locating the machinery
store around the back where it’s more out of the way from prying eyes (I
think WE know why he wants his privacy don’t we children).
The man in white
How to find your Witch name
---------------------- Numerological Formula for Names-------------------------------------
1. How to find your Birth Number.
Add all the numbers of your birth date.
Example: March 10, 1954 = 3+1+0+1+9+5+4 = 23
Bring down the final two digits (23) and add together.
Example: 2+3 =
5 is the Birth Number.
2. Now to find out if the name you have chosen is appropriate for you.
Alphabet and number equation.
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
A B C D E F G H I
J K L M N O P Q R
S T U V W X Y Z
Now by using the chart above calculate the name you have chosen by adding
the letters and final sum.
Example: name = DIANA, D = 4, I = 9, A = 1, N = 5, A = 1
4 + 9 + 1 + 5 + 1 = 20
Bring down the sum and add:
2 + 0 = 2 2 is the Name number.
Now your birth number is 5 so you will need to add a letter equivocate to 3
(C, L, U) or you could add 2 letters, (one equivocate to 1 (A,J,S) and one
equivocate to 2 ( B, K, T).
Example: Dilana = 4 + 9 + 3 + 1 + 5 + 1 = 23, 2 + 3 = 5
Diakana = 4 + 9 + 1 + 2 + 1 + 5 + 1 = 23, 2 + 3 = 5
If you don't like any of the names that are created to equal 5, try another
Notice the caveat at the end “If you do not like it try another name”. So
why go to all the trouble in the first place.
Note If anyone has ben affected by any of the
issues raised in this story, ie Oil fetishism, Witchery, Boiling frogs,
midnight nude bowling etc, please do not contact me as I can be of no help
what so ever.
Copyright © David B