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God Has Spoken To Me. (A tribute to Wirral Leaks)


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All my life I've been in turmoil. Throughout my sixty years I've been wondering, 'what does God have in mind for me'. Jesus must have had the same problem. He must have. For the best part of thirty years, he did buggar all. Not a bloody peep. And then, all of a sudden, he got busy and started doing things and saying things that he hadn't done or said in his previous thirty years. I mean, something must have happened to get him all fired up and co.ck sure of himself. I mean, folk must have thought, 'he's a one. He's said and done buggar all for thirty years and now he's got all busy healing the sick'.

Something happened! One night he got into bed, he was perhaps the most boring man in the world and the next day he got up and off he went changing the world forever. I reckon I know what happened!

He went to bed and all of a sudden, whilst dreaming as I do,about scantily clad women dancing round the bed chanting, 'be ours tonight', God must have intervened into his dream like state and said, 'you are now the Son of Man and I am bestowing upon you super powers'.

And that was that. Next day, he got up and realized that he had incredible gifts. Mind, he couldn't levitate. That never happened. There's no written evidence that he could levitate. Not one person in the bible said, 'And Lo. He began to levitate inside the house of Martha' My view is that had he levitated some bloody fool would have said so. It's not the sort of thing you forget is it. You don't miss that one out. I mean, if I'd been down the Commercial and I began floating around howling, 'look at me lads. I'm levitating' it'd sure to become news around the globe. 'Fat Man From Hereford Levitates'.

Folk would say, 'yes it's true. He'd just supped his tenth pint, nibbled on a piece of pork rind and up he went. There was no pulling him down'.

So what's God got in mind for me. I mean he's bestowed upon me gifts. Many gifts. For staters,women can't keep their hands off me, I can hold an audience like Jesus did and tell a story, I can sup ale until it dribbles out of my ears and I've a fertile imagination which I use frequently, so what does God want of me?

Well last night I got my answer didnt I. All was revealed to me. I crawled upstairs after nearly drowning myself on twenty pints of ale, I knelt beside me bed, said me Lords Prayer and then got into bed ready to dream about women who wanted me because I was the most desirable man on Earth when my wife said, 'you've still got your coat and clothes on'. So, bloody realizing that I'd just wasted a lot of time getting into bed, I got out of the bloody bed, popped on me nightgown and sleeping cap, threw me discarded garments on top of the ferret cage and then it happened. I was suddenly bathed in a white, bright heavenly light. I said to the wife, 'have we paid the bill and been reconnected', to which she replied, 'no and because you are a fat tw.at who's of no use to the world and we've no money, it's unlikely we'll ever get the electricity again'.

Then, pondering why I was getting the electricity when I shouldn't be getting the electricity I was delivered an unearthly jolt. It was like someone belting me over the head with a piece of four by two. I fell to my knees and I heard a voice. I said, 'who's bloody voice is this that's in my head'. Course it was God wasn't it. I said, 'don't ask me to give up the ale, quit smoking and watching The Wirral Housewives on my Web Cam'. He said, 'shut the f.uck up and listen'. So I did!

He said, 'you are one of the runts of your species that I created and for the most part of your life you've been wondering what I have in mind for you'. I said, ' Am I to become the Son of Man. The second coming. If so I'm ready for the power'. Course, God being as God is, says, 'Hell No Fatso. I wouldn't task you with a role like that. Your purpose in life is this!!!!!

And he told me. He didn't pi.ss about. None of this beating about the burning bush. He simply said, 'I want you to keep posting this codswallop until my little Bill Norman, Hereford Council's Chief Legal Officer can explain why he was able to take money from the public purse, why these financial gains were dressed up as Compromise Aggreements, how much money was appropriated and for him to explain why the meek, the mild, the downright stupid and all the other ratepayers should be kept in the dark over the spending of their money.

And so, I now know what my purpose in life is. Sadly for me, it's not to become the Son of Man. Apparently God doesn't think I'm up to that paricular job but he clearly thinks I should keep on writing this shi.te to irritate and mock those that hold power over us. And so it shall be. For as long as I've digits to tap and a brain to string together a coherent thought God has instructed me to lampoon the hierarchy who choose to spend our money in any way that they choose and not give you and I so much as a simple explanation about who gets paid what, why they got it, how much they got and what they did to be able to get it all in the first rotten place.

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Bobby, welcome back to the path of righteousness.

The in-laws are coming round this weekend, thousands of 'em. I've got an opened pack of granary baps and two tins of pink salmon.

Don't suppose you could give us a hand with the catering?

P.S. A word to the wise, don't lose your temper, stay calm, never get cross, especially at Easter, or the bast.ards will nail you!

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Course, since all this, I've undergone a remarkable change. Folk in the battle cruiser see and speak to me differently now don't they. T'other day, they gathered around my feet waiting for my blessed words. Some old wanton strumpet had me socks off bathing me feet in a bucket of Carling until I shouted, 'fu.ck off Nora. Just me feet mind. Stop sliding your hands up toward my groin. Im a holy man'.

And they wanted a story. A story that challenged their everyday thinking. A story that would make them blessed and more bloody righteous than they were before I told them the story.

I said right, 'your neighbour has an Ass and you are beginning to covet your neighbours Ass. You get all bloody angry seeing your neighbour with an Ass that you wished was yours and every time you go to bed you get bloody angrier and angrier wishing that the Ass was yours and not your neighbours.

Course, a lot of the throng were puzzled until one learned scribe shouted, 'don't take the words literally. It's a rhetorical point he's making. The Ass could be anything that was owned by his neighbour'. 'Bloody hell', I said, ' I mean exactly what I said. The neighbour owns a bloody Ass, a mule or a rotten donkey and you bloody want it'.

And then I made my point. 'What you do to stop getting bloody angry over this bloody mule is you pop outside, pick some grass and dandy lions and you feed the beast until it wants no more. That's what you do. And when the neighbour catches you feeding his Ass, he says, 'I'm sick to the back teeth of feeding this Ass. I wish I'd never brought it home. Will you please have it and become its new owner'.

Course, after that, the throng began wailing didn't they. Nora started gulping back the ale she'd been bathing my sore varooka in and they began shouting, 'peace be upon him. This is a man of God and if he says Gagging Payments are wrong, who are we to say otherwise'.

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