The Life of Brian is my favourite film!

27 May

I don’t usually go for baiting people. Look if you want to believe in fairies down the garden, angels coming down and telling you stories, spending eternity sitting about on a cloud that’s up to you. Just don’t try and impose it by threat on others you fuckwitted microbe. Its that that really gets my back up…and before I start the original title for this blog has been changed as it contained lots of naughty words!

So I’ve just got back from Paris and before I’ve had chance to open the demanding letters from the NAT WEST BANK on THE HIGH STREET BEDFORD I’m in Bedford where we are seldom seen and I can hear one of the fuckwitted twatheaded microbes using a mini sound system to sound off across that gap between Clinton Cards and Boots about fire, damnation, boiling oil, pokey sticks, satan, how god will only really love you and let you past the pearly gates if you repent sort of like now…RIGHT NOW you sinner , on your knees , none of this deathbed rethink or having second thoughts when your 84 and your husbands died of dementia and let …..oh fuck it I can’t even be bothered going into the specifics.

I will not let you get between me and the word of god..

I will not let you get between me and the word of god..

Anyway this prize fuckwit is on a little ladder with a few bouncers holding placards and an umbrella and making sure that no one gets a word in edgeways. Now I can be pretty loud when I want to be so having worked out that he’s talking total shite I’m in there playing at decibels with him with my opening gambit of “Explain the holocaust away” “Where was your god”. Then  he starts on me accusing me of being a non believer and being doomed to burn in gods hell. All because I asked why his god sat about and let it all happen.  Apparently god is in charge of hell as well, satan, the unholy host is on gods payroll so he’s got both doors covered there! Meanwhile Mr Fuckwitt hasn’t answered my question and all he’s trying to do (quite successfully I might add!) is drown me out with his head microphone so I up the decibels although this time I claim the vocal high ground by demanding that rather than being sent to the furnace when I die his god might want to just cut me down with thunderbolts and lightening there and then which might drum up support, sort of make his case and get me in the papers as my remains smoulder. That’ll teach me. Come on big sky man, strike me down…. Nothing happens! Actually something does…there’s a small crowd forming so I change tac, god has spared me for a purpose, I start jumping about a bit saying “I’ve seen the light” “god has filled my empty soul with love and prawn flavour crisps and so on although after a minute or so I looked at the people near the library admitted I wasn’t serious and it was all a load of poo! and got a rough sort of applause from some folk sheltering from the rain over the road. Then some big geezer slides up to me and says that I should just leave him (god man) alone. Now I don’t know why but for some reason I went along with this suggestion and made to walk off in the direction of Waterstones but then I twigged that everyone around was watching me which was real weird. So I went back for seconds. Noah got a mention, why kill all the animals off? Fucking big boat. What about Polar bears? How did Noah get two of them, did he save two of each virus,  I got cobbed out of Sunday school for this sort of thing (Methodists, Failsworth, Oldham back in 1971) but again given the chance to explain things to me all he did was drown me out with more fire and damnation, a few quotes from his very wet book and basically I am evil personified. Spawn of Beelzebub! Disciple of the Lord of the Flies..Now its pissing it down and I really want to go home (via Specsavers and Oxfam) but I’m not letting this little gobshite win…then the troops arrive in the form of some young girls (pictured) who then proceed to say their bit, one of them pointing out that his book is going soggy at which point he points to me and says its better than burning in the fires like he will (that’s me) and then off camera a gang of good old hoodies come up for a laugh. So what about the holocaust…well he answers, Christians did a lot to help the holocaust…although what he meant by this I don’t know but I terminated my part in this comedy routine by suggesting his god maybe might have been able to do more. At which point I walked away. I was wet through and it was time to make my appointment with the optician. I nearly said Wicker Man then but I guess some of you worked it out!

Go on, slip off you prize twat!

Go on, slip off you prize twat!

This sort of “shout everyone down” tactic does I will admit work. You struggle to get a word in and lacking a microphone you end up having to shout but having had chance to think about this I have an idea that could be both very funny and specifically make the point that the god man is quite literally barking! I need a volunteer, circa six foot as it involves wearing a costume and making a total fool of yourself safe in the knowledge that I shall be doing the same and no one will know who we are. Debs and Pete are you reading this?


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