What if God were round and a plump and short sighted with two left feet? But dainty steps and a surly smile that at the same time possesses an unusual sweetness. In London the city of untold wealth and poverty, where blind financiers grope their way towards extravagant deals, leaving millions to sell their kidneys to the highest bidders.
I mean, why on earth would anybody think socialism was a good idea. Rather let us continue to have freedom for those of of ever expanding waistlines with money tucked away in some secret location. After all a chap must protect what he has stolen. And whilst once it was stolen it soon becomes a habit to which one is entitled. Those of us who have worked hard* and gained our privileges are entitled to protect and expand our all encompassing greed.
A plump God might be just the thing – even if he is reminiscent of Francois Hollande – we don’t need some austere Ayotolla Khomeini sending us to hell. No, this plump chap is just what we are looking for – he’s fully accepted himself, even delights in, his flaws and imperfections. I am sure you can imagine him dozing in a hammock strung between two apple trees in an ancient orchard on a buzzy warm summer afternoon, with a book of sensual mysticism that many have demanded be banned but, naturally, he has held out against such ignorant knee-jerk reactions, with a, let me think about it, don’t let us be hasty . . .
*The strivers not the skivers of Tory rhetoric