People – most often religious people with glaucoma or people who really, really want to appear on local news broadcasts – frequently find Jesus in the strangest of places: on areas of concrete walls popular with tramps as public urinals, wherever damp has seeped onto the ceiling because of dodgy roof tiles, on bread left too long in the toaster, et cetera. You know: all the places the son of an omnipotent, omniscient creator of everything in the universe and then some would appear.
Now, I’m not religious and feel that anyone who is is merely worthy of nothing but my unending contempt yet I too have not been immune to occasional appearances in my life by the fictional character of Jesus. Unlike others who have gone before me I’ve no expectation or intention of appearing in pictorial form in my local free paper pointing at a smudge while mouthing the word "ooh!" But that won’t stop me uploading my evidence here. And mouthing "ooh!"
Jesus In The Sky
I remember the day well: it was a Wednesday or a Saturday. Probably a Saturday actually because the orthodox Jews would have been unable to Twitter the appearance of Jesus. That’s the mysterious way of the Lord at work right there. Yes, so it was most likely a Saturday. I remember it well: I was outside because you can’t see the sky from my living room. We don’t open the curtains because the plasma TV’s in the bay window and most of the time we can’t be arsed reaching over the back of to try to drag the curtains around. And there’s a moth that lives on the curtains which I don’t like disturbing. Although when he flies around at night bumping into the TV when we’re trying to watch a DVD I could happily strangle him. I’d need really small hands though. No, but I wouldn’t really strangle him. Or her. How do you sex a moth? Anyway, why am I talking about the curtain moth? So, yes, I was outside. Looked up. Saw Jesus. I remember it well.
Jesus In Vomit
That Christian messiah really appears in some unpleasant places. So, this one time I was out walking, minding my own business, whistling in my mind so as not to annoy anybody else. Suddenly – bam! – from out of nowhere I heard someone speaking in tongues. Turned out it was me and the voices were saying things like "bleurgh!" and "ohgahohgah" which didn’t make any sense. But inside me there was a another voice, really quite similar to my own which was translating these strange utterances and I knew that the words that sounded so alien meant "for the last time, you may like duck but duck clearly doesn’t like you, it was greasy and fatty, that pint of lager hasn’t helped matters, I don’t know if the pub’s pipes had been cleaned recently, that tasted a bit coppery come to think of it, open mouth and prepare to expel contents." Clearly it was the lord of a religion tweaked by Italians to control their citizens who had dug up some old fairy story by Middle Eastern goat herders talking through me. Up I chucked Jesus. Some people claim Jesus is inside us all. Well, mine must have snuck in somewhere when I wasn’t looking if he’s there now because last time I checked he was on the pavement having his features rearranged by a couple of pigeons.
Jesus In Cereal
If there’s one place that Jesus likes making an appearance more than anywhere else then that place is netball teams’ locker rooms disguised as an air vent. After the perverted air vent Jesus just loves to turn up in food. Any food. Imagine, then, my surprise one morning when I discovered the aforementioned religious icon in my bowl of cereal. "What are you doing there?" I asked Jesus. "The backstroke," he replied. We laughed. Oh, how we both laughed. There then followed an awkward few minutes where I tried unsuccessfully to persuade him to leave because of the unsanitary condition of his sandals. I’m not a fan of sandals at the best of times. He refused, citing deity privileges. I noticed my breakfast was getting soggy which isn’t normally a major problem. A little sog can be quite nice. But this was too much and I was running late. So I used my spoon and started to mash Jesus up. You should have seen the panic on his little face. And then he turned the milk chocolatey. It was a miracle! Then I switched to eating toast in the mornings instead.