June 25th, 2011 at 10:53 am by Stupid Rubbish


Actual God.

It’s probably quite a big topic and it’s definitely caused quite a bit of sh!t recently – and by recently I mean the entire time we have been wobbling about on two legs pretending that a magic invisible friend exists.

It’s a bit of a conundrum isn’t it?

Here we are all brilliant and monkey-faced-clever because we climbed out of the primordial ooze and began bumming each other senseless up some trees, until one day one of our distant ancestors bummed a fellow tree monkey so hard in the back of it’s arse, that they all fell out onto the floor and turned into hairy humans. Ergo. Thusly. Us. Science.


So how does magic God fit into that?

Years ago I was at University and a militant lesbian vegetarian animal rights person stormed angrily into the bar and began putting up posters of animal experimentation, mostly on monkeys, mostly with large black and white images of monkey faces staring back at us.

You know that slightly greasy, permanently PMT and horribly difficult yogurt-weaving tw@tbint you are imagining?

It was exactly her.


She was so incensed in her angry work that she was sobbing like a dirty nappy as she plastered the bar with images of monkey torture. It was quite annoying. I mean I’m absolutely for animal rights and all that sh!t but some people are just f*cking annoying.

Unfortunately I had a selection of stickers with me at the time that I had got in a set of photographs I had just collected from the Chemist’s. Oh…and young people, f*ck OFF before you start – that’s the way it used to happen.

I can only apologise for what I did next.

I carefully took a large speech bubble message sticker and placed it on a poster right next to the massive face of a particularly tragic looking monkey that appeared to be bolted to a tray full of Meccano.

It wasn’t an offensive message, it had come in a packet of cheerful fun stickers designed for fun and fun after all.

All it said was “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

The yogurt-weaving tw@tbint went apoplectic with rage and threw a full pint of beer at me. It hit me full in the face, precious ale sprayed everywhere and despite the damage my colleagues and I continued to laugh until piss mixed with spilled ale and fury and lo! – we were cavemen once more.


The circle was complete.

She left.

But the real question remains; why do mentally-ill people pretend there is a magic imaginary cloud friend in the happy sky when there are monkeys being f*cked in the bum and eye with Meccano?

I know…


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