Grandad March 10th, 2008
Bless me father, for I have sinned.
It is forty five years since my last confession.
What?
Yes. I did say forty five years. Stop whining. You lucky I’m here now. Now, where was I? Oh yes…….
I have partaken of genetically modified food by eating seedless grapes.
What?
White ones. Stop fucking interrupting me.
I have lit countless bonfires, thereby destroying the environment. I suppose you can add the fact that I own a car to that.
I have conducted a morally debatable scientific experiment by ramming a firework up a tourist’s arse.
?
He asked for it. I told you to stop interrupting.
Last week I aided a drug user by giving them a light outside the Alexander Hotel.
In mitigation though, I don’t have a fortune of billions in the bank. Nor have I buggered any children in the last few years.
?
No. I don’t repent. Do you?
Feck off then.
See you in another forty five years…..
Grandad March 10th, 2008
We went down to the village yesterday.
We knew the weather was going to be a little inclement for the next few days, so we thought we’d enjoy the good stuff while it lasted.
Herself went pottering off to the shops and Sandy and I headed for a coffee.
We sat in the cosy corner, under the canopy out of the breeze. The place was quite full, and it was pleasant there. Sandy made lots of friends.
A group came along and sat down. One of the group was on a mission. He had a thing about smoking. His three companions all lit up their cigarettes and listened to him politely while he regaled them with the evils of tobacco. I listened politely too, as I didn’t have much choice.
Herself came and joined us and asked me what the bloke was on about.
"Anti-smoker," says I.
"Ah," says Herself, as she lit up.
Next thing the heavens opened. It was one of those downpours that takes no prisoners. It pissed down.
And the anti-smoker was the only one who was outside the shelter of the canopy, and there were no vacant chairs for him to move to.
He sat out there getting soaked. The fires of his passion had been somewhat dampened.
We all supped our coffee and smiled at him as the fires of our cigarettes and my pipe glowed brightly.
So there is a God.
But is He pro-smoking, or just anti-anti-smokers?
I must ask Him sometime.
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