How lame.
You know the genius ‘There’s probably no god. Now stop worrying and start enjoying life’ adverts that are peppered across Big London? You know, the one that inspired our own genius-even-if-we-do-say-so-our-dolly-selves ‘Stop reading the Daily Mail and start enjoying life’ campaign? (We will get that off the ground, incidentally. We just got side-tracked by, well, cock if you must know…).
Well, those band-wagon Christians (figures, really. They are, after all, sheep in sensible shoes) have gotten all hot ‘n’ bothered about it, so have retaliated with their own adverts, which will run on buses throughout Londinium over the coming weeks. And fuck they’re a load of bollocks.
Pull up an Eames Recliner, people, open a packet of Cheesy Wotsits, and revel in the window-licking ones in fighting form…
‘There definitely is a God. So join the Christian Party and enjoy your life.’
Ooh, party time. But, you know, apart from the fact it’s not at all snappy, we would like to bring you up on the use of the word ‘definitely’. Erm, proof, please.
Another one? Oh go on, then…:
‘The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God.’
Who you callin’ fools, motherfuckers? Pot, kettle, black, retards…
And for good measure, here’s another:
‘There IS a God, BELIEVE. Don’t worry and enjoy your life.’
Oh, okay then.
*is diagnosed special needs; becomes religious*
Oh but aren’t they silly sausages, ladies and germs?
ps. Thought for the Day (Sir Terry Wogan stylee)… A person who rants about fairies at the bottom of their garden is called mentally unstable; a person who rants about God is called a Christian and given irrational privileges.
pps. Here’s the Guardian’s (sane) take on events.
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Christ alive, these fiction fans are crazy, no? Apparently the ‘no God’ claim cannot be substantiated and is therefore offensive. Can they then substantiate their ‘God’ claim? Because if not, by their own admission, that, too, is offensive. And I never thought I’d say it, but I have a newfound respect for The Grauniad.
through my work i was involved in ‘a bit of business’ with some god bothery types several years back. to cut a long story short, my work [science] helped to disprove some christian bullshit. i got a personal letter of damnation from someone called Brother Bruno in the vatican for my troubles! apparently i’m gonna be smoot or somesuch.
i’d stand well back if i were you. oh, you already were. fine.
Pilar honey, nobody will get that.
anthony- I would very much like to see this work you speak of. And your penis
Ageing yourself there a bit, Pilar, with your Grauniads…
Eugh, I emoticon’d.
Class as always Tequilla. Does anyone remember Consuela, by the way? Whatever happened to dot dot dot?
tequila sweetheart… i’m not at libertay to discuss this work in an open forum i’m afraid. legal stuff.
my penis however is probably appearing in a town near you. right now.
What can I say Peseta, I am one crass, sorry, classy lady. And yes- what the blazes happened to the loverly Consuela- I miss her rants. I’m-a start an online buzz to find her, and bring her back.
Oh anthony- enough with the legaleese, you big tease. And as for you teasing me, you know that I will now be on a whistlestop tour of every town in the uk looking for your penis don’t you? And when I find it, I will happily introduce your penis-his, to my penis-her.
Tequilla, I told you Lulu would get it and I was right. And Lulu honey, I am still the right side of 30. Barely. I just like the story.
I love how me-me-me treats these Christian cunts with just the amount of respect they deserve… ie. None.
I too am just the right side of 30, Pilar. By which I mean 31 (or is it 32? I can never quite remember). I’ve always wanted to be in my 30s, see, ever since I was knee-high to an M&S underwear catalogue…
Oh, well then I am the wrong side of 30, Lulu as I won’t be struck down until later in the year. At which point I will announce that I always wanted to be 30 and will shed not a single tear down my porcelain cheek.
ok. i’ll tell you this much… two words: Turin. And shroud.
*dodges hail of thunderbolts from above*
Can I come, Pilar? (To your birthday or not necessarily…)
Lulu, it wouldn’t be a celebration if you weren’t coming. I was thinking of holding it in a church. And by it, I do mean my meat flute.
And will the after-show be held in your pants, Pilar?