Close Encounter


I first unearthed my connection with God in a fruit shop on Crookes.
As I waited at the till, a remarkably well-dressed couple came through from the back of the shop and climbed into a Range Rover.
I asked the owner if he had got the accountants in.
Or maybe the Bank Manager.
He replied that they were from a church down the road.
They came in periodically to clean his toilet.
They said it brought them closer to God, and who was he to argue?
Having been a plumber, I suddenly realised I had spent half my life installing these connections to a higher realm.
And never known that these were nodes on God's Own Internet, Web pages on the Defeacation Super-Highway.
Deity and ecology hand in wipe.
These prayer stations have long echoed to the sound of our unwitting adulation.
Who amongst us has not taken the pew in time and exclaimed 'Thank God for that!
Or knelt by this apostolic stool, this wayside pulpit of communication and shouted into its depths, ' Oh God! Never Again!' as we try to curry favour.
It may be that by the use of this mendicant mug, our most immediate prayers are heard.
That calls answered by this Great White Telephone are more metaphysical than those merely of nature.


Perhaps God takes personal calls.


Perhaps his name is 'Hughie'

 

 

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