The end of the Clergy

The vicar had been born in the West Indies, but his mother died six months before the family emigrated to England. The vicar was only a nickname but it had stayed with him throughout his life. When he’d been born he had a white patch of skin on his throat and one of the doctors jokingly said he was going to be a vicar.

He was brought up in the East end of London and slowly integrated with the criminal element there. By the age of twenty he’d organised a powerful group known as the Clergy. They dealt in drugs, robbery, murder and any other kinds of illegality profitable to the mind of man.

He spent most of his life ruling a large section of the criminal classes and was universally hated by anyone not a member of the Clergy. However the time comes for everybody’s career to come to an end. The vicar decided to have one last holiday before he retired for good.

He loved a good time, so the lieutenants in his gang accompanied him to Blackpool for a week. He’d always enjoyed a good fireworks display and chose the Chinese New Year for this adventure. If the combination of place and occasion didn’t present a top notch display he’d be very disappointed.

So he went down to the promenade for the New Year display, strolling along with his men around him. The group were walking with the sea on their left minding their own business when a large black car with darkened windows came alongside them. It cruised just behind them keeping pace until a particularly loud burst of crackers rang out. The car’s window was rolled down and the group destroyed in a burst of machine gun fire.

Nobody really noticed anything unusual, so a group of drunks had fallen over; there was no particular noise to arouse anyone’s suspicion. Nobody thought anything of it until the police came along the next morning.

“Thoughtful of the other gang to fire out to sea,” said the mop up team, “it just shows the holiday spirit that exists in our lovely resort!”