Religion.

There was a small, balding man on my doorstep. For once, this isn't a doorbell story, because the man was just standing there when I opened the door. To be fair to him though, his arm was extended, his finger pointed and ready to caress the buzzer afixed to my wall. I had merely stumbled upon him, hoping as I was to slip out in the early morning dew and dispose of a body.

 Not, I should point out at this juncture, a human body. Just a Rhesus monkey. I strangle Rhesus monkeys sometimes, but I'm planning on giving up after Easter. Anyway, dressing gown barely covering my dignity, dead monkey wrapping in newspaper in hand, I met this strange little man on my doorstep. I recognised him; his name was Brian or Barry or something like that, and he worked in a corner shop a few streets away where I sometimes bought glue. He had a nervous looking face, and little round glasses.

 "Oh, hello" He mumbled, the initial shock of our meeting having passed.

 "Good morning!" I replied unnecessarily loudly. "Can I render unto you assistance?"

 "Well, I was just wondering if you might want to have a look at these fliers?"

 Nervously, he presented me with some fliers. On them, I noticed a large cross, and assuming them to be religious, smiled politely and took them. With any luck I could avoid a theological debate, I hoped feverishly.

 But I was wrong, and BarryBrian continued to stand, hoping from foot to foot with a look of expectant optimism on his face. I smiled politely again and looked at the fliers. The first thing I noticed was the crucifix. Secondly, I noted it was upsides-down. Underneath was the message, "Hello! My name is Barry, and I'm the Anti-Christ".

 "So Barry, you're the anti-Christ then?"

 "Oh yes!" Barry replied, "That's me!"

 I waited patiently, expecting him to capitalise on this opening and tell me more.

 "So. I'll bet that keeps you busy, doesn't it?" I asked, my face a mask of pained enthusiasm.

 "Oh, you'd think." Barry replied, "But actually, I've not got a lot to do really."

 "Right." I replied.

 A bird began to sing in the distance, and a chill breeze passed us by.

 "I'll just be off then." Barry said.

 "Great stuff." I yelled, my mouth contorted into a grin of unbearable enthusiasm. "Right so, have a good day."

 Barry smiled politely and turned to leave. I watched him as he walked down my path, crossed the road and approached the house of old Mrs. Aaronovich, who probably wouldn't put up with any Anti-Christ nonsense.

 I began to scan the leaflet unenthusiastically. Really, there was very little to it. ("Hello" I heard in the distance."I'm the Anti-Christ.") Largely, it contained poorly-Xeroxed exerts from negative reviews of the local Church's performance of Jesus Christ Superstar. (Across the road, the voice of Mrs. Aaronovich cried out in protest that she didn't believe in Jesus, let alone anything else.) Underneath the almost unreadable reviews there was a crudely-drawn picture of what I assumed to be Jesus, underneath which was the message, "You suck!". I retired into the house, dumping both the Rhesus monkey corpse and the leaflet in the corner.

 I very much doubt Barry, a 45 year old man with thick little glasses and a cardigan, was the Anti-Christ, but to be sure I'll sneak into his house later and shave him of what little hair he has left, just in case. Then we'll see who has numbers on their head.

I have a recurring nightmare...

One day in the future, my son comes home from school. Apparently, another kid's been bullying him, and my son's confronted him. The kid, obviously not as tough as he appears, has promised my son his dad will fight my son's. Whom I believe to be me.
 Of course, I plan to meet the father and settle things amicably. However, after a phonecall, I realise the father is actually a jerk, and he comes round to fight me. Only then do I discover the kid is Jesus, and I have to fight God in my front yard.
 Also, we're dressed like turn-of-the-century boxers, and have large, handlebar moustaches...

Happy new year...

Well, it's a new year again. Instead of some tacky chart showing all the merry, happy things that happened to me last year (there were none), I thought I'd give you a timeline of the history of your brilliant species, humanity. Or something.

• 4,000 B.C - God creates the earth, heavens,space and dinosaur bones. This comes as a great shock to the advanced people of Mesopotamia. God also creates the first two human beings, not to be confused with the 7 million who are already alive. 
• 0 - Jesus is(n't) born (yet). He spreads a message of peace and love, before being crucified. In a typical religious manner, his simple lessons of love are interpreted as directions for 2,000 years of genocide. The same can be said for the works of John Lennon.
• 1889 - Hitler is born. He will forever be remembered for sparking an interest in the WW2 sub-genre of films, novels and computer games.
• 1957 - Stephen Fry is born. He is often looked upon more favourably than Hitler, but had yet to be played by Charlie Chaplin in a film.
• 1979 - Earth is ravaged by the Apocalypse. It goes largely unnoticed
• 1990 - I am born. I accomplish mild fame in the field of romantic fiction for bears, before dying in obscurity on a lunar prison colony.
• 2042 - Due to a transporter accident, Stephen Fry's cryogenically-frozen body is transported back in time, to the early 20th century. His adventure is popularised in a film starring Charlie Chaplin.
• 2151 - Earth is all but destroyed by a Martian invasion. This blog, and several cookbooks offering conflicting nutritional information, survive. They are used as an inspiration for the 10,000 survivors of Earth as they rebuild the species near Shropshire.

"ist tot"

It is 1883. Returning home late, Friedrich finds God has been murdered. Who has killed a a being who by definition is undestroyable? Of course, the list of suspects is immense. Blame first falls on his son, an ambitious young man with everything to gain from his fathers death. Jesus, has had little contact with his father for 30 years, living with his mother and stepfather. Since God left his mother at birth, Jesus has a clear motive.
However, after his will reading, God's benevolence becomes transparent, and the list of those who gain from his death grows.
Was it Saint Peter - vying for a desk job? Or Satan, who has long promised vengeance on his enemy? Or Edgar, the butler who serves little purpose in the plot and seems unnecessary?

As Fred continues his investigation, he comes to a worrying conclusion: "God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him." He is left with one question - How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?

ist tot is the first novel in the Friedrich Nietzsche trilogy.

Christmas is coming early... Not really.

I'm thinking about creating a supermarket-style shop and opening it at Christmas. I get why no-one else does - It seems unfair to those who do celebrate it, and its nice to have a day that's about peace and love for one another, even if it is often overtaken by crass commercialism. It may also be illegal, I dunno.
However, there could be a profit (prophet, get it... ho...ho...ho...) in it. Last minute flowers, food you've ran out of just before the family arrives, cheap generic toys for your cousin's husband's kids from his first marriage you forgot about that'll be at your house later for Turkey. And so on.

Then, I worried about upsetting Jesus, and the big man himself. After all, it's his birthday, and his father is a very influential person in some parts. Of course, it would be unfair to ruin his birthday - as we all know, the shops are closed because JC likes to partake in a bit of Supermarket Sweep for his Birthday, and who are we to ruin it for him?

Fecking door

Knock knock.
This isn't a joke, it's onomatoepea. You see, someone is at my door again.
I took out the bell and gave it to a tramp. He wasn't too happy about it, but life isn't fair.

I answered the door, as usual. The man stood there was about 5'2", bearded, long haired and dressed in a white robe. A pair of brown Converse protruded gently from under it.
"Hello, it's my birthday in 4 months" He said. "Because i'm Jesus."
"No you're not." I replied. It wasn't even a real beard, i could see the velcro.
"Yes, i am!" He retored, slightly angrly. Then, calming down and smiling serenly, he offered me a peice of card.
"Just give me a call if you need any help tidying the place." He said, before turning on his heel and speeding off.
The card was blank. Pity really, the place is a bit of a mess.