And so Brian the Wise did strolleth amongst the multitudes there, dressed in his new cloths from Mother and His Holy Clogs, which weret hand carved by a dyke in Holland. Er, nay, that weret a DUKE in Holland. He paraded about sullenly, hoping that someone would notice the words scribed upon his shirt front. But the multitudes did not notice and Brian the Wise becameth verily depressedeth.

He wanderedeth high and He wanderedeth low, but alas and alack, nobody did notice His new t shirt with the words: I HATH BEEN TO RUSSIA AND THERE ART NO HOLY GRAIL! His Holy Feet dideth hurt from walkething all day in clogs. He hath blisters upon His Holy Feet and He weret verily woe indeed.

He suddenly could go-eth on no longer and did stoppeth to rest outside the General Scribes Office. Lo! He did thusly abhor scribes but He couldeth go no farther. Peering through the window to get a better look at these despicable creatures He weret amazed to see-eth His old pet Centaur inside, toiling away feverishly.

"CENTAUR!" He cried joyously, 'CENTAUR! 'TIS I, BRIAN THE WISE!"

The Centaur looketh up from his feverish toiling and did thusly recognise His beloved master and did gleefully gallop unto Him and waggeth his tail furiously.

"Centaur, thou art a sight for thine sore eyes, thy depression hath vanished!" cried Brian the Wise.

"Why forartthou depressedeth?" inquired the Centaur, suddenly verily worried.

"Oh, woe art thee" moaned Brian the Wise "For thee hath lost thy Holy Goblet and offereth eternal blessing for those brave enough to accept the quest to seeketh the Holy Goblets did We, but, alas, only the Holy Goblet of Roger the Divine hath been foundeth and returnedeth. And Lo! now thee doest weareth this cloth scribed by Mother to bringeth awareness to the multitudes there, that thy Holy Goblet art still missingeth, but alas, they do not notice and I fear that no-one seeketh the Holy Goblet of Brian the Wise"

"That art a sad tale" agreed the Centaur, "And it do shame-eth thee that no-one searcheth for thy Holy Goblet of Brian the Wise for thou art the kindest God of all."

"Yea, though they do-eth search for the Holy Goblet of John the Mysterious, for I hearkened to a group of men who spaketh about a trail of pipe cleaner fluff!"

"And what of the Lord God Freddies Holy Goblet?" inquired the Centaur.

"Oh thee knowest not, but the Lord God Freddie doth not worry of such things for He art a fabulous, lush creature who art adored by millions, so fear not, someone will taketh up His Holy Quest."

"Brian the Wise, thou art thy Most Holy Heavenly Father and for thou, thee wouldest surely lay downeth thy life, but I fear thy job art here in the General Scribes Office, for it art here do thee serve to protect thou. Weret it not for that, thee would surely taketh up thy quest!" sayeth the Centaur, quite solemnly.

"Pray tell Centaur, how doeth thou protecteth thee here in the General Scribes Office?" Brian the Wise asked, for He weret verily curious.

"Well" sayeth the Centaur, "It art here that all the scribings cometh to be sorted and deliveredeth and Lo! it art here that thee can intercept scribings from the other Gods, whence They tell wicked tales of Thee and sendeth them home to Mother!"

"Oh, thee see-eth!" sayeth Brian the Wise. "Then thou place art truly here!"

"Yea, though it weret only today thee stoppeth a scribing from the Gods home to Mother!" whispered the Centaur.

"Pray tell! What weret it about?" gasped Brian the Wise.

"Dear Heavenly Father, thee do not wisheth to worry thou and They weret obviously drinkething of the Vodka downeth at the pub, for They weret scribing wicked tales of thee, Brian the Wise, being a spoilt sport!"

"Bitches!" spat Brian the Wise furiously "Why do they doest such things when thee art out of earshot!"

"So thee can see that thy job art here at the General Scribes Office" sayeth the Centaur.

"But Centaur!" pleaded Brian the Wise, "What art thee to do-eth? Thee must hath a band of brave knights willing to marcheth unto Hell for thy Heavenly Cause! Thee cannot appear to be an unpopular God!"

"Nay!" agreed the Centaur, "That wouldeth ne'er do!" And he thought long and hard to cometh up with a plan to save Brian the Wise from such a hideous fate.