Wednesday, 29 August 2012


I was recently ‘kettled’ by a group of people outside the Co-oP in the North End Road, Fulham. They were surprised when I asked were they Jehovah’s Witnesses.

“How did you know..?” the leader asked, a middle aged woman in a fake fur jacket.

“From the way you jostled me, it was either that or Romanian pickpockets – but they'd be better dressed” I answered.

Anyway they launched into a diatribe about our lord and his single minded determination to save me.

“Sorry, don’t do God, don’t need him,” I said, “I’m a grown-up and so take full responsibilities for my actions,” (bit of a wild claim, the grown up bit).

There was a moments silence and then one of them came back, “Do you have a family bible?”

When I conceded there was one, they looked at each other in wild surmise – well, mild satisfaction anyway.

“There you are,” said their leader, the lady in the coat. “You wouldn’t have one if it wasn’t useful” She ended on a high note and they all nodded to each other as if some clever point had been made.

I had to agree. “My mother beat my father to death with it!” (if only!).

I remain unshaved and unsaved.

This meeting actually happened.

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