After the shock of Dulwich Raider’s post about going to the gym, I’m afraid I have another revelation. I need to talk to you about God.
You hear a lot of people say they talk to God. Some speak to Him every day. The UK is quite a secular society, but if someone says they talk to God, our attitude tends to be – whatever, good for you, knock yourself out, mate. We’d think they’re probably harmless.
It’s a bit different in America. They could be similarly pious, God-fearing people saying prayers, going to church, trying to be nice to people – some people. Or they could be completely insane and heavily armed.
Those are two distinct possibilities across the pond. Often killers say they heard a voice from God telling them to do it. George W Bush said God urged him to go to war in Iraq. That’s the American dream for you. It’s a beautiful thing. You could be a homicidal maniac, or the President of the United States of America. Or both.
It’s strange. God never says to anyone: ‘Don’t forget to pick up milk,’ or, ‘I fancy Blenheim Lad in the 2.30 at Kempton Park.’
It’s always: ‘Slay everyone! Kill them all!’ Or, ‘Invade the Middle Eastern country of your choice.’
Politicians in America are very keen on deity dialogue, because you get nowhere in the States without loving Jesus. So it’s not a big deal to say you talk to God in America. Just don’t say you talk to the other guy.
But God and Satan are supposed to be either side of the same axis. They’re old friends who were on the same team once and then fell out. Like Louis Tomlinson and Zayn Malik. And after a heated social media exchange, God banished Satan to Hell and an inconsistent solo career.
Tell people you talk to the Devil, anywhere in the world, not just America, people think you are crazy and want to lock you up.
So, if you talk to God – here are the nuclear codes. If you talk to Satan – here’s your porridge, that you can’t eat because you’re in a straight jacket. No one in their right mind says, ‘I talk to Satan.’
I talk to Satan.
And do you know what, she’s much nicer than you’d think. She does have a temper, I’ll grant you. But she knows how to have fun and boy, has she got some stories.
Everyone assumes she’s a feller, don’t they? She hates that. She’s got the right hump at the moment. She went to the movies and she saw yet another film where she is depicted as hideous and crazed; powerful but horrible. And a bloke!
It drives her nuts. She can tell you exactly how many times she’s been portrayed as a man on screen, on stage, in paintings, in books. It’s millions.
‘Why am I never a woman?’ she shouted!
I did point to Elizabeth Hurley in the 2000 remake of Bedazzled, of course I did. But she doesn’t like being contradicted. That’s when she turned me into a man in his 60s. I’m actually only 23 and really hot.
She’s doesn’t have red skin, tails or horns, or cloven hooves. No one in the world has red Lucifer skin. You don’t become that colour by being in an eternal flame environment. That’s not how fire works.
If you think about it, if Hell was that bad, why would she prefer it to the other place? Because apparently God’s always saying, ‘Come on over. It’s been aeons.’
He actually says aeons. He thinks he’s funny. The thing is it actually has been aeons, he just can’t take the hint.
‘Don’t get me wrong,’ she says. ‘He’s a lovely guy. Absolutely lovely. He’s just a bit boring.’
She can’t be dealing with it. She reckons he lacks direction. Says he’s not really paying attention.
‘’Tan! ’Tan!’ he shouts. He calls her ‘’Tan.’ He thinks he’s Alan Partridge.
‘How about a pint early doors? Did you know, Spoons opens at 8am?’ he says, like he’s just fed the five thousand.
‘That sounds lovely,’ she replies. ‘But I’m actually quite busy here.’
He has no idea how hard she works. I mean, wake up and smell the carnage, isn’t it? Does He think that happens by accident?
‘How about a day off?’ He says. He only asks her to call in sick so He can have a day off. She says ‘No’ and He takes one anyway.
She reckons He’s the laziest motherfucker He ever put breath into. Ironically she has a Protestant work ethic, but Him…? He wakes up late, then it’s a buffet breakfast, checks his email. Then it’s tea and biscuits. Couple of miracles. Lunch. Nap. A round of golf then it’s gin o’fucking o’clock.
He doesn’t work part-time, He’s awake part-time. She says if she had His regime we would be living in everlasting harmony. So hats off to her, really.
She doesn’t even mind that everyone thinks God is superior to her. That helps her, if anything. She is clearly winning all over the world isn’t she?
Like she says, ‘Look at the war zones. Who’s winning? Me! Music? I don’t even need to go there, do I? Look at all the world leaders. What team do you think they’re on? In what country do you think God is winning? Look at the richest and most powerful men in the world. Look at the media. Who do you think they’re working for?’
As she says: ‘You think a man could be this competent and modest?’
He wins on real estate, she admits that. Fuck me, the guy has property. And bling. And it’s always: ‘Oh the Almighty God, God is great, Satan is shit.’
You hear it everywhere. Followed by, give us your money. She doesn’t do that. He does. He’s got TV channels. Radio shows. Online donations. And his retail outlets, or churches as we call them, with the plate going round.
‘Cash only?’ Yes, cash only.
‘Stick it on the plate?’ Stick it on the plate.
‘No cards?’ No cards.
It’s like that Morley’s near the Blythe Hill Tavern. At least you get chicken from that Bossman.
But she’s fine with the red skin, the tail, the horns. She doesn’t care that everyone thinks God is all that and that she’s horrible. A strong capable woman being overlooked for a lazy, incompetent man, you say? Surely not! In what world could that happen?
But being misgendered really gets her goat. She’d rather be a goat.
I told her, ‘It’s the Bible that’s to blame, isn’t it? I mean, you’re a man in the Old Testament.’
‘Well I wasn’t when I wrote it,’ she fumed. ‘But if you believe in pregnant virgins, I’ve got some PPE I’d like to sell you.’
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Image credits: Main image, St George’s Cathedral, Southwark, JFVoll used under this licence
The Devil by Edal Anton Lefterov used under this licence
Elizabeth Hurley by Andrew Halpern used under this licence
