The bells, the bells! St John's Church bells, in Brigg, have been refurbished and on Sunday morning they will be re-dedicated/re-blessed. Following this short service, local campanologists will peel the bells at lunchtime.
The church privy council gathered in the nave awaitng a meeting at 8pm. The group was suddenly disturbed by loud yelling, swearing and yahooing from the belfry. Puzzled, the group scurried to the tower and saw a sinister, drunken figure swing from the rafters and jumping from bell to bell. 'Come down!' exclaimed the vicar nervously. 'Be creful', said the privy council members. The noise had now seriously increased - the bells were bonging and the yelling and shouting had increase so mush that it disturbed the punters in the Black Bull who then emptied the pub to view the spectacle from Market Place. 'Be careful' said the vicar. 'Come down, now!', said the privy council 'Stay where you are - it's great', said one of the punters. By now the miscreant was now swinging high up on the bell ropes - bong-bong-bonging rang out over the town. The desperado bell-ringer was now oscillating violently up and down; his head was smashing against a bell that was swinging in harmany with his gymnastists on the bell ropes. Cussing increased when suddenly therew was an enormous crash and a shaddowy figure was seen being ejected from the one of the high belfry's window. 'Wow!', said someone in the crowd in amazement. The vicar's entourage rushed outside just in time to see the delinquent belfry bandit his the ground with a sickening thum. The silenced massed crowd automatically parted as some of the vicar's party struggled towards the lifeless victim.
The curate was first to encounter the prone figure. Bending down, he peered...trying to identify the unfortunate person. Someone played a torch on the body. 'Who is it?', enquired an anonomous voice from the crowd. 'I don't know, but his face rings a bell....and he's a dead ringer for the bishop' exlamined the curate.
The church privy council gathered in the nave awaitng a meeting at 8pm.
ReplyDeleteThe group was suddenly disturbed by loud yelling, swearing and yahooing from the belfry.
Puzzled, the group scurried to the tower and saw a sinister, drunken figure swing from the rafters and jumping from bell to bell.
'Come down!' exclaimed the vicar nervously.
'Be creful', said the privy council members.
The noise had now seriously increased - the bells were bonging and the yelling and shouting had increase so mush that it disturbed the punters in the Black Bull who then emptied the pub to view the spectacle from Market Place.
'Be careful' said the vicar.
'Come down, now!', said the privy council
'Stay where you are - it's great', said one of the punters.
By now the miscreant was now swinging high up on the bell ropes - bong-bong-bonging rang out over the town.
The desperado bell-ringer was now oscillating violently up and down; his head was smashing against a bell that was swinging in harmany with his gymnastists on the bell ropes.
Cussing increased when suddenly therew was an enormous crash and a shaddowy figure was seen being ejected from the one of the high belfry's window.
'Wow!', said someone in the crowd in amazement.
The vicar's entourage rushed outside just in time to see the delinquent belfry bandit his the ground with a sickening thum.
The silenced massed crowd automatically parted as some of the vicar's party struggled towards the lifeless victim.
The curate was first to encounter the prone figure. Bending down, he peered...trying to identify the unfortunate person.
Someone played a torch on the body.
'Who is it?', enquired an anonomous voice from the crowd.
'I don't know, but his face rings a bell....and he's a dead ringer for the bishop' exlamined the curate.