Well that’s Easter over and done with. But what is the relevance of an egg? I thought Easter was about Jesus getting nailed to a big cross then dying? I can’t see the egg connection myself. Still, I guess that somewhere there is one.

Staying with the whole church/religion theme, let me tell you about something that has somewhat annoyed me recently. A friend of mine came up to Birkenhead this past weekend with his wife and on Sunday she went to a local ‘church’ she used to attend which I’ll call the ‘We’re all Christian Centre’ so as to protect its identity.

On its own this isn’t the most eventful bit of news, but here’s where it relates to me. While there some religiously brain washed follower approached my friends wife and told her that I had written something on my website about her that was “not very nice.” There seemed little point in making this claim as it wasn’t difficult to prove this to be without even the smallest grain of truth. The person who made this claim, who I’ll call Steven Prickly, was obviously either lying or guilty of listening to some other gossip rubish dreamed up by someone else.

This incident on its own would have perhaps just seemed humorous to me if it wasn’t for the fact that this person who made the claim has never once met me, doesn’t know me, and has obviously just listened to gossip he’s heard about me.

I am puzzled as to why Mr Prickly, his sidekick who I shall call Karen Inner-Man, and all the other ‘centroids’ who attend this ‘church’ have such a strange fascination with the goings on of my life. What possible motivation lies behind making up such a easily dispelled claim? Sadly this would seem to be typical of the kind of behavior one can expect from many of the people who attend the ‘We’re all Christian Centre.’

I suppose though it’s the price of my infamy within the ‘We’re all Christian Centre.’ After all, I was once a member of that place myself. Some four years ago (1994) the preacher, who I’ll call Rev. Paul Epsom, took exception to the fact that his hormonally-charged daughter, who I’ll call Natasha, visited to my flat on many occasions to get something a little more than merely spiritual input! Apparently this was somehow all my fault and Daddy decided that he’d…. [Click here to continue reading this article at 'Meanwhile']