Great stories wert told around the campfires, after a few beers, of the haunting melody of the lone half human, half goat creature who wailed in the desert from morn til nigh.
“Whoforeart this creature and whyforeart it so sad?” asked the little children of their parents, who wert verily pissed and prone to exaggeration.
“Gather round little children, while we telleth unto ye the sad story entitled: Sycophantic Habits Leadeth Ye Nowhere!
And the children gathered around and sat quietly whilst the parents spake.
“Lo, wert there not once a dedicated but somewhat over-zealous Queebler. Try as she might she couldst ne’er get Roger the Divine to shag her.
“Go away, thou art not buxom enough for Thee, wench” sayeth Roger and he broketh her heart.
So she trieth John the Mysterious. Set upon Him she did, with all her feminine wiles but alas, John wert too busy rushing unto the maternity ward to notice.
Again her heart wert broke.
Still she trieth, this time with The Lord God Freddie. “Dear!” sayeth He, “How big art thou dick?”, unto which she kneweth not what to say.
The Lord God Freddie hath no patience and commanded “Piss off then, thou stunned mullet!”
Ran away, didst she and crieth muchly.
“Brian the Wise art thy last hope!” she thought sadly, “but He art too pure and I art too old now to carry on like a.... like a.... oh gosh...like a blonde!”
She wert verily woe. And then one day she deviseth of a plan!
“Yea!” she thought, “I wilst devote thy life unto Holier Than Thou Brian the Wise and I shall tear Him away from The Other Gods, put Him high upon a pedestal wherest He can be-eth worshipped as He thusly shouldst be! Yea! Worshipped by me and those like me and not sullied by the tainted maulings of those ‘other fans’!”
So you see, young children, all this rejection hath twisted her mind and she becometh possessive, self-righteous and bitter. She began to see Brian the Wise as the Only Pure God and through their rejection of her, came to hate The Other Gods.
“Behold!” she crieth unto no-one, for no-one paid her much attention, “A curse upon the Fan Club, I will bring them to their knees. I shall build the biggest cyber church dedicated to The Only Pure God – Brian the Wise. I shall plunder the fans and take only the pure at heart for my own. I shall become ELITIST!”
And so it was!
Soon enough, Brian the Wise didst readeth all about Himself on this website and didst believe that He wert greater than The Other Gods and that He needeth them NOT!
Lo! Did His Ego not swell and His Self Worth not quadruple until it’s value played havoc upon the stock market!
And Brian the Wise didst seek out His Greatest Sycophant and didst sayeth unto her “Lo! Thou shalt become Thy Censaur and telleth the world of Thy Grandness! Thou shalt giveth up thy life and devote all thou time and energy to transcribing Thy Every Word and designeth Thy Website so I, Brian the Wise, may instructeth the world on the ways of Wiseness and totally bitch about sodding journalists who sayeth NOT WHAT I WANT THEM TO SAY!”
“Oh yea!” sayeth she - for it wert what she hath dreamed of all her life.
Brian the Wise wert so happily to haveth a Number One Devotee that he let-eth rip a giant fart that smelt of Albacore Tuna.
And the newly crowned Censaurs’ submission unto The Great Wise Diety wert so great that it rose her up from the Earth in a whirl!
Suddenly, the fumes of the Big Wise Fart combined with the Magnetic Forces of the Earth and swept up an unfortunate goat who wert passing by!
Slammed together in mid-air did they and formed the Half Man Half Beast that ye hearken in the desert today!
“Wow!” crieth the little children “But that doth not telleth us why we hearken the sad song in the desert!”
“O, well, it art obvious! Brian the Wise forgot to send a birthday card didn’t He!” sayeth the parents.
“So what art the moral of the story then?” asked the children.
“Doeth not eat tuna or thy farts will stink” sayeth one parent.
“Watch wherest thy step if thou art a goat!” sayeth another.
“Nay!” sayeth another parent, “the moral of the story art thus:
“Kisseth All The Lily White Arse Thou Wish But Thou Mailbox Shalt Still Be-eth Empty On Thy Birthday And Singing Birthday Tunes Unto Thyself Alone In The Desert With Thou Empty Wine Cask Wilst Be-eth Thou Fate! ”
And let that be-eth a lesson unto ye!
The little children didst shaketh with fear and hath many nightmares for they wert afeared of the Censaur and they didst vow to get-eth a life and keep it!