So, after my brush with a roaming group of faith healers the other weekend, I decided that I should, perhaps, get up close and personal with the touchy-feely-preachy buffoons.There they were, in the town centre of a Saturday afternoon, day-glo flags, comfy chairs, little cushions and great big beards, stalking the bit of pavement outside Nat West for victims.
I would, I decided, be one of these victims, and walked past three times - once with a pronounced limp and speaking in tongues - until I was noticed, flung into a chair, and prayed over.
Prayed, good and hard.
Now, here's a hint:
When they have quite finished their bonkers little ritual, DO NOT jump out of your seat and scream "PER-AAAAAISE THE LOOOORD!"
Neither should you run up and down shouting and dancing "HALLELUJAH! PRAISE HIM! PRAISE HIM! I CAN WALK! I CAN DANCE! PER-AAAAAISE HIM!"
This is because they will tell you to fuck off in a most unchristian manner.
And I've still got this windy bottom. Q E bloody D.
7 comments:
FURST!!
Would have loved to have seen their faces when you did that.
Second.
They turned me into a newt!
Turd for windy bottoms.
Actually, have you considered the thought that they might have been atheist faith healers? No wonder they told you to fuck off when you said Praise De Lord.
Pffft. Faith healers. You need a magic spell to cure windy bottom.
Confuto ventus or some such.
Just seen the latest Harry Potter? Why yes. Yes, I have. Why do you ask?
They took the wind out of you, you took the piss out of them. Fair trade, I reckon.
I've always wanted to go the other way with faith healers. To whit:
Limp up to their tawdry little sideshow, and once the laying on of hands has occurred, scream, "I've gone blind!"
When they next touch me, claim paralysis of the legs, and so on for a merry day out.
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