demons
We went to Christmas lighting-up day in Brentwood. ‘Enjoy living in Brentwood’, commanded the banners; others wished us, or condemned us to, ‘a Brentwood Christmas’. Depressed reindeer paced in a small enclosure on the High Street, inspiring Amanda to buy venison sausages. ‘Crazy bears’ were advertised, a terrifying prospect apparently aimed at small children. Struck by the title of a pamphlet on the Christian stall - ‘How Can I Resist Evil?’ - I helped myself to one, only to discover a price label on the back. Too late to do anything about it by that stage - I’d already been glared at - and in any case, the pamphlet offered me a readymade excuse: I just couldn’t resist.
Well, after you’ve seen psychotic grizzlies ripping the heads off four-year olds, nothing seems to matter anymore.
Still, the least I could do was read the thing. It was disappointing. I’d expected the titular question to be rhetorical (‘How can I resist evil? It’s so much fun!’) and instead here I was being told that the devil is real. The closest the pamphlet gets to identifying him is when, describing Christians being transferred from ‘the dominion of darkness’ into ‘the kingdom of light’, the author uses the curious analogy of Gazza’s £5.5 million transfer from Tottenham Hotspur to Lazio in 1992. Thus equating the Prince of Darkness with Terry Venables. Now I know very little about football, but that seems unfair.
Jimmy Carr, who we went to see that very evening in Southend, would make a far better candidate. Horns would work well with his weird wax mask of a face, plus his act features some Christian-baiting and a lot of what you might call morally questionable material. On the other hand, his initials are J.C. and, like God, he's omnipresent, at least on post-watershed TV. I remain as confused as ever. Still, he made us laugh, though the best joke of the evening by far was the poster advertising an upcoming appearance at the Cliffs Pavilion by Steven Seagal ‘with his band Thunderbox’. ‘Thunderbox’ is apparently a slang term for the toilet in some households, though presumably not Seagal’s. Of course, no-one would dare tell him. Although if they did, perhaps he could incorporate the concept further into his act by changing his name to Brick Shithouse. It's just a thought.
Well, after you’ve seen psychotic grizzlies ripping the heads off four-year olds, nothing seems to matter anymore.
Still, the least I could do was read the thing. It was disappointing. I’d expected the titular question to be rhetorical (‘How can I resist evil? It’s so much fun!’) and instead here I was being told that the devil is real. The closest the pamphlet gets to identifying him is when, describing Christians being transferred from ‘the dominion of darkness’ into ‘the kingdom of light’, the author uses the curious analogy of Gazza’s £5.5 million transfer from Tottenham Hotspur to Lazio in 1992. Thus equating the Prince of Darkness with Terry Venables. Now I know very little about football, but that seems unfair.
Jimmy Carr, who we went to see that very evening in Southend, would make a far better candidate. Horns would work well with his weird wax mask of a face, plus his act features some Christian-baiting and a lot of what you might call morally questionable material. On the other hand, his initials are J.C. and, like God, he's omnipresent, at least on post-watershed TV. I remain as confused as ever. Still, he made us laugh, though the best joke of the evening by far was the poster advertising an upcoming appearance at the Cliffs Pavilion by Steven Seagal ‘with his band Thunderbox’. ‘Thunderbox’ is apparently a slang term for the toilet in some households, though presumably not Seagal’s. Of course, no-one would dare tell him. Although if they did, perhaps he could incorporate the concept further into his act by changing his name to Brick Shithouse. It's just a thought.
posted by martin at 6:48 AM
1 Comments:
I just looked it up, it's australian slang.
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