On vicars getting their advertising wrong
So, there I was, a deity-curious atheist and Top Cheese of the Holy Church of Don't Be A Dick, inside an actual church for reasons far too exciting to mention on these pages.
As usual, my eye is drawn to the usual piles of leaflets, cunningly designed to draw people into their little club, and I see this little number advertising a creepy taster session:
Now, wait a cotton-pickin' minute. I didn't get where I am today - a hideously angry godless liberal - without knowing my enemy. And the first thing they promise you is from the Gospel of ET The Extra Terrestrial: "Beeeee Goooood", boiling down to "Be good and get reborn up there in heaven, playing badminton with yer man Jesus Christ".
I'm not much of a fan of badminton, except the bit when the lady players bend over to pick up a stray cock, so I'm not that fussed, but a promise to be reborn in the company of the Lord is a cast-iron promise.
Therefore, - if I am not mistaken - that is two lives. Two. What a rip-off.
Make your minds up, church. At least the Holy Church of Don't Be A Dick doesn't make promises it can't keep.
The Holy Church of Don't Be A Dick. One Life: Don't spoil it by being a dick.