With a resolute hold on power among the faithful of The Church of Chris Martin,Father Drobbingdon is one fascinating but elusive enigma! In an effort to counter an aloof, ivory-tower image, the Great Father Drobbingdon agreed to sit down with the True Widow for a little get-to-know-you interview recently. We now present an intellectual exercise in opening up a crevice into the mind of a spiritual powerhouse…
True Widow - Good Evening Father Drobbingdon. Congratulations on yet ANOTHER grab of the Father Drobbingdon Award. Was there ever a doubt you would NOT win this highly-sought after trophy?
Drobbingdon - It is difficult to remain modest and humble, especially when you’re as rich and handsome as I. Yet I know in my heart that I deserve it, and in all humbleness, accept it. It is an honour that truly belongs to me and me alone.
TW - Let’s review the year just past. What is the highlight of 2009 in regard to the Church of Chris Martin?
D - Most likely, my divorce. If I can manage to continue to hide my assets from my soon-to-be-ex, and also stall the judge on alimony payments, I may hold onto my millions. This is vital to the Church, as that shrew-my ex-wife has threatened to take title to this website, if I don’t pay her off. No doubt the harpie is in cahoots with coldplaying.com! [Please readers: send your tithes to Father and they will be used to rid the Church of that shrew - Ed.]
TW - Speaking of coldplaying.com, what is the current status of the peace negotiations on-going with them? Might that accursed group show up at the Glastonbury Pilgrims Invocation and demand to be seated on stage with Saint Bono?
D - BrotheRob attempted to intercede with coldplaying.com, since he was once one of their debased threaders, but they shooed him away. Next, chicks.dig.coldplay issued a Writ of Co-Joinder Status and attempted to have Jen-Jen of coldplaying.com sign it, but the Exeter concert event intervened and the entreaty came to naught. Now it is up to I, the Holy Arch Pope. I am proposing a Glastonbury 2010 truce, so that we may have a Yellow Tent Event free of shenanigans.
TW - What special treats await Saint Bono if he should grace our Yellow Tents and Pilgrim Party with his presence?
D - Firstly, I regularly party with Saint Bono at his house on the French Riveria, so I know that he is partial to fine French wines, Cuban cigars, Italian cuisine, and young ladies with pert bosoms. All shall be offered the Great One of Ireland, along with the choicest seat on the Pilgrims dais. An ode to Bono will be read, accompanied by a C:O:C: interpretative dance. I’m sure our Saint will be pleased.
TW - Since your self-imposed exile in your cellar, and subsequent resurrection, what lessons have you learned?
D - I learned that as the spiritual and ecumenical leader of this Church of Chris Martin, I have an undeniable greatness of leadership, and without that guidance I offer, the Church lurches along shakily and without a mighty helm to right the wheel of magistral majesty. I am indispensable, if I may say so. I learned that acting like a cross between a survivalist hillbilly and Howard Hughes is a sure method of ridding onesself of a troublesome spouse. And I learned that rats may seem friendly, but they are lying.
TW - Father, I must say I am taken aback by your meek appraisal of your many talents! What do you make of the scandalous behavior of Chris Martin in Las Vegas with that Hollywood hooch-Kate Boswell? Why must Chris Martin always go for those skinny, nerdy blonde-types-(this is a question that weighs heavily on the minds (if you would call it that) of many C:O:C: Girls.)
D - Remember, Chris Martin was a virgin well into his twenties, before he got lucky and went to town with the ladies. Perhaps that long, dry spell during the crucial hormonal period of youthful horniness made him yen for women that are non-threatening - like all these anorexic, flat-chested blondes. I don’t believe he would find a healthy, curvy, buxom C:O:C: girl attractive - he would be terrified! And as for the rumours that he once had a thing for Beyonce - that sista would crush Chris Martin to death with one thigh!
TW - Father Drobbingdon, it has been a pleasure to have this conversation with you today. May I say you exude a very charming demeanor and masculine confidence? Despite the religious vows you have taken, I find that the rumored “way with women” you are said to possess is alive and well. Is there a favorite C:O:C: girl that just might become the next Mother Drobbingdon?
D - Thank you, True Widow, for those kind words. I look in the mirror everyday and wonder how the many women in the Church can possibly NOT be overtaken by my charms? As such, there are certain C:O:C: women that I have “studied Coldplay lyrics” with, but at the advice of my divorce attorney I must refrain from discussing your question at this moment in time. However, Ms. Pamela DD has been a particular pleasure to be around. We have spent many an evening-late into the night, “discussing Coldplay metaphors” and I do believe I feel a “musical kinship” with this fine “C:O:C: artiste” developing.
TW - Father, thanks be to you again for your time here. I hope that the Church of Chris Martin appreciates and values you, as I do, and I wish you a bountiful Holiday and Happiest New Year.
D - Thank you, True Widow. May the Chris Be With You. Viva.
Now, to business. Brethren, Sistren, I am leaving the bunker. The time has come for me to return to the world, and to the mission of the Church of Chris Martin. While the True Widow’s protestations have not been ignored, the decisive factor arrived this morning, when I received the following letter -
Whilst I feel glad that the world has not ended, I do feel disappointed to be proven wrong. I had hoped that I would become the only broadcaster left on earth, firing polemical broadsides from my bunker laptop. Instead, I was a fat man in a cellar for a month with brick dust in my hair. Not only that, but the housing market seems to be on the way back up.
So what have I learned? I learned that rats may seem pleasant when you’re awake, but they’ll try to eat your eyes as soon as you fall asleep. I learned that internet pornography is the surest way of catching a computer virus. And I learned that man can survive on beans alone, but he better have a well-ventilated house.
Above all, I learned that hope is the greatest gift we have. Except language. And maybe music.
(Following on from Part 1, we here complete Drobbingdon’s musical based upon Viva la Vida/Prospekt’s March by Coldplay.)
Act 2, Scene 1
Three years have passed. The revolution was successful: the FOX was overthrown. Drobbingdon, the leader of the revolution, has become leader of the land, with Prospekt his deputy.
In a hut in Violet Hill, now the capital of England, a small group watch Drobbingdon’s latest broadcast on an old TV…
Drobbingdon:When you try your best but you don’t succeed
When you get what you want but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can’t sleep
Stuck in reverse
When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can’t replace
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you
Tears stream down your face
I promise you I will learn from my mistakes
But the complaints rise, and Drobbingdon is forced to address the people.
Drobbingdon:The FOX is defeated, we no longer get sick, we are free! Why then are the people unhappy?
Voice in the crowd:Because we are still poor!
Drobbingdon:Our misfortunes are due to an unseen conspiracy…
Oh no, I see, a spider web is tangled up with me,
And I lost my head, the thought of all the stupid things I said,
I never meant to cause you trouble,
And I never meant to do you wrong,
And i, well if I ever caused you trouble,
Oh no, I never meant to do you harm.
Oh no I see, a spider web and its me in the middle,
So I twist and turn, here I am in my little bubble,
They spun a web for me,
They spun a web for me…
(During his current sequesterment in his bunker/basement, Archpope Drobbingdon has become convinced that the Viva la Vida album and related EP contain the basic elements of a narrative, which the band have chosen to obscure, perhaps through fear of how their radical new direction would be received. Their hints about recording a concept album may in fact be a clue. His attempts to reconstruct it have led to this, a musical play in two acts, which we at the CoCM have assembled from his sporadic e-mails and an envelope stuffed with scribbled-on napkins. We suggest that you play the songs where indicated, and read the description that follows, allowing the images to form in your mind. It’s like Titaniccrossed with The Matrix, but with songs. Seriously, it’s THAT GOOD.)
Act 1, Scene 1
Narrator (Prospekt, whom we will meet later…):No-one knows the exact day that the earth died. But we all knew it had been sick for a very long time. And when the land died, so did society. It got dark and cold, and the corn withered and died. One day, there just wasn’t any food left in the supermarkets, no fuel for the cars, no water you could drink. And we began to get sick, and die. That was a few years ago. No-one knows what today’s date is anymore. The Fox abolished clocks when they seized control. They shut down the internet and the phones, and soon they were marching into what little was left of the cities, to root out the resistance. But there are many of us who survive.
Open on a rainy rooftop in London, on a dark cold night, some years after the Event. Several people huddle together on a rooftop.
Chorus:At night we go walking till the breaking of the day
The morning is for sleeping
Through the dark streets we go searching to see God in their own way
Save the night time for your weeping
And the night over London, hey
There’s no light over London today
So we rode down to the river where the toiling ghosts spring
For the curses to be broken
We go underneath the arches where the witches are saying
There are ghost towns in the ocean…
Our Hero, Drobbingdon, and his lover are moving through the city, aiming for a resistance camp known as Violet Hill. But she is weak from hunger, and sick from the water. He tries to keep her spirit high as they move slowly.
Drobbingdon:Lovers, keep on the road you’re on. Runners until the race is run. Soldiers, you’ve got to soldier on - sometimes even right is wrong.
Lover:They are turning my head out, to see what I’m all about… Keeping my head down to see what it feels like…
Drobbingdon:But I have no doubt - one day, we’re gonna get out…
Lover: What happened to our world, Drobbingdon? What went wrong?
Drobbingdon recalls the day of the Event
Soon they spy the distant glow of Violet Hill. She stumbles, and cannot go on. He picks her up, and carries her. He cries at the gates, and they open slowly. Beyond them, he sees many shacks, lit by the first street lights he has seen since the Event. But even as he carries her through the gates, she dies. He falls to his knees, griefstricken.
Drobbingdon:Steal my heart and hold my tongue
I feel my time has come
For you I’d wait ’til Kingdom Come
Until my day is done
Say you’ll come and set me free
just say you’ll wait for me
In your tears and in your blood
In your fire and in your flood
I hear you laugh, I heard you sing
I wouldn’t change a single thing…
Now several of the rebels have gathered around them.
Drobbingdon(to the rebels): Let me in… unlock the door
I never felt this way before
I don’t know which way I’m going
I don’t know which way I’ve come
I need someone… who understands
I need someone… someone who hears
Rebel #1:We hear you, friend.
Drobbingdon:What am I going to do?
Rebel #1:Why don’t you ask Prospekt?
Drobbingdon:Prospekt? Who’s that?
Rebel #2:He’s our leader… kind of. He’s a very wise man. They say he knows how to the see the future, by staring into a glass of water.
Drobbingdon: Do you think he’d speak to me?
Rebel #1:Maybe… Hey, why don’t you write him a letter? I’ll take it to him - he’s sure to read it then!
Scene II
In Prospekt’s hut. Prospect reads the letter from Drobbingdon.
Prospekt:You ask me, ‘Will I see heaven in my future?’ Let’s see…
He stares into the water, and an image forms. He gasps, and pulls his gaze away again. What has he seen?
Prospekt:Bring him in to me!
Drobbingdon is taken in to Prospekt’s shack.
Drobbingdon:What did you see? Is there anything for me here? Is there any point in living?
Prospekt:Son, don’t ask me how full or empty your glass is. Trust me: cling to the mast, spend your whole life living in your past, going nowhere fast.
Determined to take revenge for the death of his lover, Drobbingdon makes a prophetic speech that stirs the resistance into action.
Drobbingdon: There’s a wild wind blowing
There’s a cold war coming
On the radio I heard
Baby, it’s a violent world
I can hear it coming
I can hear the silent sound
Now my feet won’t touch the ground
Time came a creeping
Oh and time’s a loaded gun
Time only can lead you on, still it’s
Such a beautiful night
Oh, love, don’t let me go
Won’t you take me where the street lights glow
I can hear it coming
Like a serenade of sound
Gravity, release me
And don’t ever hold me down
Now my feet won’t touch the ground…
The crowd cheer and chant. Yet even as they reach a crescendo, Drobbingdon mourns his lost love…
Drobbingdon:Reign of love, I can’t let go
To the sea I offer this heavy load
Locusts will lift me up
I’m just a prisoner in a reign of love…
The Church of Chris Martin will soon be holding auditions in various locations to pick the next crop of COC girls.
These women represent the finest examples of what otherwise would be considered a “loose or immoral” woman rising above her circumstances and achieving sacred dignity & respect within the Church of Chris Martin.
There are requirements to attain such an exalted position that may lead to other career opportunities in the fields of escort services, pole-dancing, and unclothed modeling in men’s magazines. As such we are specifically looking for:
–”REAL ladies-Not sex-changed”
–Weight and height within reasonable limits.
–able to sing a few Coldplay tunes either in or out of tune (whistling acceptable.)
–ability to dance, strut, wiggle, or strip in public with no shame or blushing allowed.
–natural or enhanced bosom - no droopsy allowed.
–either natural or fake tan… no pastiness.
–IQ NOT to exceed the doubling of the breast size. i.e., 40 DD bust = no more than 80 IQ.
–tendency to accept the amorous interests of more than one man… at a time.
–pride in maintaining one’s looks and figure.
–must be able to rattle off certain memorized Coldplay lyrics and seem sincere.
This is a very important public position. C:O:C girls represent The Church at various events and a self-possessed and friendly manner is preferred. The ability to travel is a plus. Please email name, contact info and bust measurements with a color photo: to propaganda[at]thechurchofchrismartin.com. We will get back with you with a reply within a week. Thank you for your interest in the COC girl program at the Church of Chris Martin.
Brethren and Sistren, be strong. Michael is gone, but soon he will join the Chapel of Dead Rock Stars, where, all being right in the world, Lennon will give him a good telling off. Do not allow this to upset the mission of the C:O:C at Glastonbury this weekend - the fans need love more than ever. Give them a Thriller, Thriller night. I’m looking at the man in the mirror - but it’s too late to make the change now.
True Widow - Good Evening Father Drobbingdon. Congratulations on yet ANOTHER grab of the Father Drobbingdon Award. Was there ever a doubt you would NOT win this highly-sought after trophy?
