The whole truth
Grandad December 30th, 2008
Dear God,
I know I haven’t been in touch lately and I apologise for that.
Anyway, I know you have been rather busy with the war between the Bssghyts and the Rtfdds over on that galaxy in Quadrant 42.
Here on Earth, we are fast approaching 2009 and this is traditionally a time for making resolutions, turning over new leaves and getting drunk.
I would like to ask a small favour. I know people are always asking you for favourable exam results when they haven’t bothered their arses studying, or for their football team to win [like you give a shite about football?] or winning lottery numbers, but this is an altruistic request. I don’t want anything for myself, but I would get a great laugh out of it, and it might improve our lot on the cesspit we call Earth.
All I want is for you to visit a plague upon the land.
I’m not talking about AIDS, or Ebola or any of that kind of stuff, because I would be afraid of collateral damage [that's what the American military euphemistically call it when they carelessly shoot one of their own!]. What I would like is well within your capabilities, and I think you’d get a laugh out of it too.
The plague I am looking for is a highly contagious disease that has only one symptom – it forces everyone to tell the truth.
I know there will be casualties. There will be the unfortunate men who get asked by their partners "do I look fat in this?" There will be a dramatic failure rate at interviews. The Santa trade will vanish overnight.
But think of the other side of the coin? There will be no more court cases, as the perpetrators of crimes will confess instantly. All those crappy tabloid newspapers will instantly go out of business. But the biggest laugh of all will be the politicians. Boy, would I look forward to elections then!
On second thoughts though, I would have to tell Herself where I really was when I was supposed to be down in the pub.
That could be nasty.
Nah!
Forget I said anything.
Yours humbly,
Grandad








