Just a quickie before I skidaddle and watch Al Murray ....
I needed beer last night, and to acquire beer one needs folding, some green. To the cashpoint I went, in collar and all-blacks.
At said cashpoint were two chappies, one pissed as a fart the other pissed as several farts. The very drunk man was trying to punch-in, nay remember, his pin number. So far gone was tiddly Tom that he rotated on the spot as he tried to get his hands and fingers to work in a some sort of co-ordinated way. The less drunk, but none-the-less well past it one was with the other man, waiting his turn in some good humour. He wasn't rotating on the spot as he stood, so I felt comfortable that he wasn't apt to blow chunks on my best M&S right there and then.
The second guy clocked me, clocked how I was dressed - and a kernal of an amusing thought entered his be-fogged mind.
"Ere, Bill, I've heard that if you get too f*cking p*ssed, then God will come down and tell you off, mate", said tiddly man, not awaiting cash. This was said so that I could hear it, but not in my direction. Bill didn't look round.
"Well God can f*uck right off, mate. I don't even believe in f*cking God - it's all a load of b*llocks" retorted the rotating man of alcohol.
"No mate, seriously, someone said that God will come down an b*llock you for getting too p*issed"
"You're talking out of you ar*e, pal - there's not such fing as God .... F*cking cashpoint won't give me my f*cking money"
"You're in deep sh*t now, Bill"
"Oh f*ck off, winding me up"
....then the rotating drunk of the cashpoint turned around and saw all 6' of me, in full clericals, and screamed like a girl.
Never have I laughed, or indeed the other chap, so hard for so long - Bill on the other hand, cursed quite a lot and walked off all the while questioning the paternity of the japist.
This is a true story, and one of the many shades of ministry that I can now claim to have witnessed.