Jack Monroe #198 Marcus! Marcus! Marcus!

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Someone needs to make the koolaid slow cooker tea (glass of fat for the vegans).
 
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heretics! You will be submerged in a barrel of slop, and if you drown it’s your own fault. And if you don’t drown it’s because you’re awful and you will be dried out like a radiator mushroom and burned with the plug hole toilet roll innard firelighters. Praise beans!
 
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Yes the cult of Monroe. All followers must wear a denim shirt and boy cap or blazer with pens in the pocket.
All will drink from the bowl of salad bag pesto and partake of the lemon drizzle brick during ceremonies
Under her eye
:oops: i have none of these things
 
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:oops: i have none of these things
Do you have a giant curly wig? A viv (RIP) dress? A grey Calvin Klein sports bra? A stripy suit? A stripy skirt? Hammer pants? A floral crown? All are clothing of the true jackolyte.

There’s that awkward moment when we try to pass around the homemade kombucha and slimy slow cooker bread and everyone says ‘ah no thanks - I ate before I left’
No sacrament will be made.

(my fake cults go very catholic - other fake cults are available)
 
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I apologise for saying the vegans should drink the fat. I don’t mean real vegans OF COURSE, just the Jack vegans.
I’ll say three Hail Mary Berrys as penance.
 
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There are rumours of a breakaway DKL cult who honour Matt's forearms...all must roll up their sleeves thanks Matt very much
May the slow cooker open

I fear I have watched too much Handmaid's tale...
 
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Ninny is thought to be a corruption of “innocent” so as a concept, being a bunch of mithering ninnies is quite cute.
Suffer little squiggles, to join with us, and your food will be freshly prepared and of adequate al dente-ness.
 
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exile came on my spotify just now and i remembered the swiftie jack episode, which was very offensive to me.

can't find the screenshots where she said she was "picking out exile on the piano" tho

Screenshot_20210714-233901_Chrome.jpg
 
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...have we started a cult?
On nights when the moon is full, we show our devotion by working a 20 hour day, then sitting inside a circle of beans whilst clawing and howling at the moon. The Goddess' divine messages are interpreted through Slopmancy (an ancient method of divination which involves cupping a bowl of brown ephemera in dirty hands and reading the patterns of lumps and smears).
 
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On 26 or 27 Dec Jack will rise again, and yomp around the Southend chip shops, blessed be the trifle.
 
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Do you have a giant curly wig? A viv (RIP) dress? A grey Calvin Klein sports bra? A stripy suit? A stripy skirt? Hammer pants? A floral crown? All are clothing of the true jackolyte.

There’s that awkward moment when we try to pass around the homemade kombucha and slimy slow cooker bread and everyone says ‘ah no thanks - I ate before I left’
No sacrament will be made.

(my fake cults go very catholic - other fake cults are available)
By the light of the moon, a circle of upcycled Del Monte cans are placed in a circle around the garden and filed with tea lights.

We then strip down to our underwear, carefully tucking away our unruly labia, before sliding across a sideboard, one by one, then dropping to the floor howling and clawing in a frenzied state in an attempt to summon ex-girlfriends to our bungalow.

If we manage to accidentally set fire to something then our crops will be fruitful for the next year.
 
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Offerings of yellow sticker cheese and anchoïade eggs shall be bestowed upon the brambly mice, lest we too face their wrath. The offerings must be made three-fold, for 3 is the number of the Jackus.
 
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Jack is an audacious, grifting, self serving nightmare! Nightmare is the careful choice. Unt?
 
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On nights when the moon is full, we show our devotion by working a 20 hour day, then sitting inside a circle of beans whilst clawing and howling at the moon. The Goddess' divine messages are interpreted through Slopmancy (an ancient method of divination which involves cupping a bowl of brown ephemera in dirty hands and reading the patterns of lumps and smears).
Does Cotswold do an altar?
 
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The cult maintains eternal youth through the time-reversing powers of soft pink velvety Nan curtains
 
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Jack drinking that fat is the worst thing on the Internet.

(I’m on UK time finally in my quarantine prison)
 
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