Religion

Finding My Religion

by Enormous on February 6, 2008

For a while now, I have been toying with the idea of starting a new religion.

It isn’t that I feel inadequately provided for or spiritually bereft in any way, neither am I living in purgatory or suffering any kind moral agony – it is simply that I think the time is right for a creed that is innovative, clean and fresh.

I am as entitled as the next man to invent and describe the divine and I am tempted to do so sometime in the near future. But, for the time being at least, my theological course – and indeed the very nature of my beliefs, is slightly inchoate.

I have no idea what the ethos of my religion will be, what fundamental elements it will encompass, what it will be called, or to what universal truths it will eventually aspire, only that it will endeavour to be benign, compassionate and all-embracing. More significantly, it will be uncorrupted by centuries of extremism and abuse.

My religion will be liberal and civilised and ultimately objective in essence, unlike most of the established faiths which seem to me to be handicapped by atavistic barbarism.

Love is all you need. Who’s in?

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The Triumph of Good over Evil

by Enormous on April 18, 2007

Just to keep you informed of the minutiae of day-to-day life in our Derbyshire village: the regional simpleton with the interminable, malfunctioning car-alarm has at last had his vehicle removed by the local authority. Yesterday, a man from the council arrived to carry it away on the back of a big red tow-truck. Hurrah!

It had been comprehensively vandalised (partly by me) and, apparently, never had any valid road tax. I knew that logic would prevail and that we would triumph eventually. All along, I had an unwavering feeling that good sense and objectivity would win in the end.

I think, after speaking with several of my neighbours, I am right in saying that the same conviction has held true through these difficult times for every other reasonable person living on our street. It has been rather like a religion, whereby the absence of a tangible god creates the need for faith.

Susan, who lives at no.29, told me that she saw him carrying what looked like a number of water tanks, several bags of colourful gravel and a couple of air pumps into his house yesterday. Hmm, perhaps this is The Dawning of the Age of Aquariums for our ugly buffoon.

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Jesus Was a Punk Rocker

by Enormous on January 30, 2007

A church in Lincoln is to host what is thought to be England’s first Holy Communion using rock music. The idea has been trialled in the United States since 2005 as a way of boosting dwindling congregations.

The Right Reverend Timothy Ellis, the Bishop of Grantham, calls it a ‘U2-charist’ – it will use hits from worthy Irish rockers U2 in place of the usual hymns in the service – and says it’s important to find new ways to worship.

Well that’s all well and good, Reverend Tim, but U2 for God’s sake?!! Don’t you know that the devil has all the best tunes?

Might I suggest something more effervescent or at least a little less – well, rubbish?

How about some Damned or Jesus and Mary Chain? Or even Cigarette Machine from God by Enormous – hellfire, that would really liven up proceedings!

Any other suggestions?

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Telling Teenage Fortunes

by Enormous on January 20, 2007

No.1 You will drop the ball.

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Who Do You Go Home To? #4

by Enormous on December 18, 2006

Audrey, Nelson and I were earlier returning from the shops – we’d been to buy Christmas booze and mince pies for the studio – when we met Bernard going in the opposite direction down the hill.

‘Ready for Christmas, Bernard?’ I enquired after him.

‘Will be, I’m just off to buy the ingredients,’ he told us.

‘Ingredients? What for?’ asked Nelson, ready to joke.

‘Ah-ha! For my Christmas treat, boys, Christmas treat!’ The words exploded out of him.

‘Crikey, what’s that then, Bernard?’ we both asked.

Audrey was jumping gleefully at him, her tongue trying to reach his grubby beard, but Bernard stood motionless, as still as a statue. Suddenly his face darkened, his eyes narrowed and he grew surprisingly very grave.

‘Knickerbocker Glory,’ he whispered.
Then he was gone.

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Why I'm Vegetarian

by Enormous on December 8, 2006

I’m not a particularly religious Christian but I do enjoy the happy festivities of the Christmas holiday period. The fascinating family get-togethers, the handsome food and beautiful booze – a truly superior occasion.

Audrey takes great pleasure in it because she gets longer walks than usual, and on our return to the house, she knows that her dinner will be more of a sophisticated affair than it normally is. While enjoying our twilight frolic around the ‘rec, I know that she is enthusiastically anticipating her garlic chicken or turkey or big chunks of honey-roast ham on these dark winter evenings.

I must report to you however that I am slightly confounded by something of a poop-conundrum. It involves other dog owners that Audrey and I often observe. This very morning we watched a rather stout, middle-aged woman retrieve her poodle’s murky deposits using a specially manufactured cellophane poop-bag in the usual manner. I do endorse her actions, of course, and those of other responsible dog owners who daily follow her admirable example.

What I find excruciatingly maddening, frustrating and just plain confusing however, are the people like her who dutifully retrieve their animal’s debris with said poop-bags, but then proceed to launch these lumpy parcels of faeces into a tree or on to a wall.

What on earth are they thinking? Who do they believe will remove these plastic parcels of poo? Me? The person whose wall it is? Didn’t they see the special red bin that says ‘Place Dog Waste Here.’ I mean, really! Their reasoning is so egregious it makes your hair clench.

Last night I dreamed I killed one of them. It was one of the most agreeable dreams I have had in many a long while, I can tell you. I beheaded the docile idiot slowly and painstakingly with my favourite blunt butter knife. I was blissfully out of control as I sawed through his pink, rubbery neck while Audrey barked excitedly and danced in tiny, animated circles around his twitching feet. What a deeply satisfying, sleepy adventure it was.

Ah, Christmas, we do enjoy ourselves, Audrey and I.

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