"WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?"
Aristocratic cadaver Fitz-James stalks through Spain’s high society, her loose and pulpy face a testament to the time when, in 1952, she waltzed into the Grail Sanctuary as a young woman. The Knight, dazzled by her then-stunning looks, could only gawp as she giggled and swigged tainted champagne from a heavily bejewelled False Cup. His excitement turned to horror as her skin filled with yoghurt and her hair frazzled into a ghostly ‘fro.
Fitz-James: Taught you independence.
Beatnik drone Lou Reed entered the Grail sanctum atop a throne of his own irony. With a nonchalant flick of his wrist the rayban wearing wraith sipped from a poorly chosen chalice and, with raised eyebrow, performed an improvised death dance as he crumbled to the floor.
Reed: Can go from zero to 100 kms an hour in 12.5 seconds.
Poor-man’s everything Donovan sought everlasting life and chose a grail more akin to an hooker’s high-heel than the cup of Christ. The flower power deadbeat was transformed to a shrivelled chimera, bones turned to dust and hair stretched like wire.
Donovan: What happens at eleven o'clock?
Slide guitar phantasm Loretta Lynn warbled her way into the Grail Knight’s armour, seducing the three hundred year old sword wielder with a haunting version of her hit “Don’t Come Home A’ Drinkin.” After the dusty act was complete the Nashville songstress slipped into the Grail chamber and gargled from a poorly chosen vessel. Her skin to parchment – doomed to haunt southern music halls with her skullified jangles forevermore.
Lynn: Must face the final challenge.
Early evening cartilage face David Hasselhoff won’t be singing a-top of any walls in the near future. Choosing poorly in the Grail Chamber, the Baywatch booze-hound’s bones turned to dust as his skin slopped to the floor like a carrier bag full of puss.
Thanks to Thomas Maxwell
Hoff: If he a Scottish lord, then I am Mickey Mouse
Boorish womble Michael Winner stumbled upon the grail chamber whilst touring for his culinary horror show, Winners Dinners. Sneering at the venerable Knights inferior wine etiquette, the obnoxious gargoyle snatched up a chipped promotional mug for Death Wish 3, sipping lambrusco bianco from it with pompous disdain. The effects were immediate, skin sagged from his distorted braincase, a hideous nasal keening pervaded the air.
Guest Contribution: James Burke
Winner: His soul is prepared.
Gravel voiced Goonie chaser Anne Ramsey chose poorly in the grail sanctuary, drinking dark oils from a discarded bedpan. The Sloth-dropper calcified and disintegrated into a dusty pyramid.
Ramsey: Does she detect a rebuke?
Mystical crone Aughra spends more time looking at planetary alignments than she does examining her face in the mirror, largely due to her having swigged font water from a Yop bottle during a trip to the grail sanctuary. The result, as you can see, was that her head turned into Tutankhamun’s testicle.
Aughra: Wrote it down so she wouldn't have to remember it.
Monetary Fund relic Christine Lagarde supped fine Burgundy plonk from a poorly chosen chalice and defaulted on life. Even the Grail Knight turned in terror as the French tan-a-holic became a cocoon-like shell.
Lagarde: Has the Diary in her pocket.
Chart-topping graveyard apparition Basil discovered the final resting place of the most holy Grail while doing a tour of Holy Land shopping centres to promote her 1982 hit single Mickey.
Shoving her pom-poms in the stunned Grail Knight’s face, the greedy songbird pounced upon his own personal drinking vessel, a chipped Italia 90 World Cup souvenir mug, and drank hungrily from the font water contained within.
The incontinent knight righted himself just in time to watch Basil’s eyes turn into chalk balls and her skin wither like old toast.
Basil: Breaks The Heart, And The Head
Irish presidential hopeful Michael D Higgins entered the Grail Sanctuary in a bid to elongate his already lengthy tenure on earth, but a foolish error in judgement left the once sprightly political maverick an unsightly shell. His sallow skin flaked from his skull as his eyes liquefied and oozed to the floor.
Higgins: He's absolutely right.
Buck-toothed harridan Janet Street-Porter chose poorly, quaffing a heady draught of Thames Wash from a chalice resembling more a horse trough than the cup of Christ. Blinded, she clawed at her scalded throat, lips peeling back from rancid, misshapen teeth, her ruptured larynx emitting a sound so horrendous the Grail Knight lapsed into a coma lasting several decades.
Guest Contribution: James Burke
Street-Porter: As human as the next man.
Authorial phantasm Dahl happened upon the Grail Sanctuary during his time in the Royal Air Force, stubbing out his long cigarette in the frail Grail Knight’s eyes and ignoring his warnings.
The blanched writer promptly mixed up a frabjous, glabjous, dib-doob-dabulously Marvellous Medicine of Grail Water and gin in a shit-smeared kidney dish, and his finger nails grew long while his eyelids raced into his medulla oblongata.
He lived for another 50 years, terrifying many, many children.
Dahl: How dare he?
Fuchsia fossil Barbara Cartland instructed some of her sprightly manservants to test an array of grails before drinking from the holy goblet herself. The bygone Barbie watched indifferently as her sex slaves fell one by one. It was her dementia that proved fatal, however, when she mistook her surroundings and used a false chalice as a pill swallowing aid. She rapidly transformed from periwinkle pensioner to archaeological abortion.
Cartland: Fourth or Fifth Century.
Emaciated watershed crone Mary Whitehouse entered the Grail Sanctuary to issue one of her trademark moans, but unbeknownst to the Point of View witch the the last of three brothers had slipped her false teeth into a glass filled with a false grail juice the previous evening. As she began ranting her jaw dropped to the floor and her skeleton became haunted.
Whitehouse: Belongs in a museum
