Listen, we’ve already spoken out on the Twitter Elite Death Krew, but I like to retain the vague semblance that we might’ve moved on since 1902. I like to believe that Social Media, such as it is, has at least changed the identity of the people that comprise the rulers of it’s own lands. I don’t need to still feel like I’m being oppressed by the church. Least of all when it’s figurehead closely resembles Martin O’Neill. We are though, because firmly ensconced within the Ivory suite at Twitterati Towers is the trendy vicar himself, Richard Coles.
Now, I’ve called out enough atheists on here to make it plain that I’m not rolling with the Dawkins schtick of pointing out the obviously fucking stupid nature of all organised religion. I was raised atheist, not raised a cunt with it. Even, to paraphrase the old joke, raised with the firm belief that it was definitely the Protestant god I didn’t believe in. Wouldn’t even grace the Catholic church with sufficient interest to consider it bullshit. Despite that, I can’t find anything to identify with here.
All the proper religions (Presbyterianism, Judaism, Islam) are supposed to have the same basic schtick. Feel guilt either inherently or via a sense of deriliction of duty, indulge in sectarianism whenever you get the chance, smite the unbelievers. I can respect the guy screaming outside Brixton tube that I’m going to hell because I’m a sodomite a fuck of a lot more than a guy who chooses to spread the word of the lord via the medium of retweeting Graham Linehan and posting pictures of cats. Imagine the church at the time of the Western Schism, except the pope is Graham Linehan, the antipope is the guy who runs Arena Flowers, and they actually quite like each other and get along really well. That’s what Christianity would be like if it was shaped by Richard Coles.
I mean, if you believed in an almighty and judgemental celestial being controlling all our fate, what would you do? Yeah, that’s right. You’d worship the fuck out of it, you’d devote every second of your life to sucking up to it for the vague promise of not having the infernal flames of Dis finally solve that image problem you’ve been having about your lower-body hair. I can get behind that idea. I can’t get behind this twee bullshit. I can’t get behind this idea that we should suck up to pseudocelebs and tweet about how great Leonard Cohen is. I was born into the wrong religion. I’m going Hindu, and when I attain Moksha, I’m gonna come back as a 15th-century Catholic and inquisit the fuck outta y’all, and Richard Coles is gonna get the first taste of the Judas Chair.
“I was once served at Chatsworth Farm Shop by the (now) dowager Duchess of Devonshire who as (then) Debo Mitford had tea with Hitler in 1937.”
“It is the feast of St Fanourios. He suffered twelve unspeakable tortures and will reveal where you left your car keys if you bake him a cake”
“Those new Mini Coopers - they want to say Terence Stamp but they really say Peter Andre.”