One day, Jedward were strolling through their local city centre, heading off to KFC to suck on some citrus handwipes. They had spent the day in the local toilets and their mouths felt as crusty and salty as Dawn French's gusset after a long hot car journey.
Coming in the opposite direction was none other than Cliff Richard, brother of Keith, resplendent on his roller blades, in a "GOD'S MY BEST MATE" tee shirt and lycra shorts, all wired for sound. He was all in white, a saintly sight against the drab surroundings of the grey Primark and Poundland buildings.
Cliff spotted Jedward and glided to a stop. "Hey guys, how you doing? Sorry I cant remember your names",
"It's easy to be sure, Cliff, I'm Cunt One because I've got the taller hair, so I have, he's Cunt Two, so he is. So Cliff what ya be wanting? give you a blow for a Twix, so we will".
"Oh, no, you've got me all wrong " said the turkey necked crooner, "I've been celibate since before I knew how to hold my own cock. See this? " Cliff said, pointing to a chain round his neck, "God gave me this for being so pure, it used to belong to Jesus but God caught him wanking over Babestation so he took it off him, along with the Sky plus. He wouldn't have been so upset, but JC was trying to ram the crown of thorns up his arse at the same time. Shit, have you any idea how hard that fucker is to clean?"
Jedward looked puzzled, no more than normal, granted, "And what is dat?" They both raised an arm at the same time, probably due to them using the same pair of un-loseable mittens, to a small glass vial hanging on the chain, "That my pair of useless cunts is the purity stolen and collected from thousands and thousands of innocent choirboys by Catholic priests. I found that in the Pope's condom drawer along with a few other things"
"What tings would they be? Sweets? Sweets?" they said in chorus, which is a lot more than they can manage when they sing.
"Well there were a pair of sandals, my fucking size as well, would have had them, but some bastard had put nail holes right through them. A few SS badges and a signed photograph of Hitler, some letters from the CSA and a recipe book written by Jesus, including how to bake very-cross buns and the budget-busting bread and fish spread. The one thing I couldn't find in there was a solution to the problem I've got, because I walk on water, how the fuck can I have a bath?"
"Well enough of the small talk, how would you two like to come to my party?"
"Is there jelly? Is there jelly?" "Yes, of course" said the holiest man in the world, "Yeah, of course there is boys "
The 50's legend looked skyward "Ha, take that you hairy-faced bastard. There's 5002 coming to my party now, I've got more friends than you, so fuck you Jesus and I've lived five times as long as you, I've got your chain and your recipe book so now I know all it takes is a couple bottles of Blossom Hill and three loaves of fresh bread to get a party going"
"I've asked Richard Madeley and Antony Worrall Thompson to pick up the wine and some tuna in brine, they're taking a solicitor with them, just in case they forget to pay again. Judy doesn't go there anymore after being mistaken for a side of belly pork, she said she wouldn't have minded, but the Jews and Muslims didn't want to look at her.
"Michael Barrymore is in charge of the party games, that'll be fine, I've told him he takes his medication, doesn't go near the swimming pool and he must keep away from any butchers or bottles"
"Heston Blo- Blu -Blou, aw, fuck how you say his second name, but you know the bald-headed knob with the black, oversize glasses and what a fucking chin on him ?, Fuck me he looks like a Thunderbird with Downs, well, he told me he's bringing the bread, but I've told the prick, none of that funny shit, just yeast, flour and fucking water".