What a relief, now that the Election is over, that we can forget about politics for a few years and get back to some serious religion!
It's a hard life for many people. Lots have to depend on food banks. And they're not all providing the social services it's claimed. I gave our local one a cake last year. But when I called round yesterday to check my account, they said I'd not got any interest. I know rates are low, but surely I must've earned at least a doughnut by now.
Anyway. With the need, misery and general hardship in this Vale of Tears, I figured we needed something spiritual but uplifting. So the Festival of Kittens came about.
Obviously we projected images of hundreds of kittens on the Wonderwall of Worship. Obviously.
But it was during the singing of "If I were a Butterfly" that we really turned on the worship. We released two dozen kittens into the Moot House. All specially-btef delightful colours, with sparkles in their ears. Young Keith has spent six years genetically modifying to get a lime green kitten. Unfortunately, they're ferocious and all that when they grow up, and we have to set them loose in Woburn. But they look lovely when they are young.
And then the angel kittens dropping from the ceiling! It took Branwen ages to glue those wings on. So she had to miss the service as she was awaiting her tetanus jab. Nasty business. But worth it for the rest of us.
So we were singing "Build your Kitten Here", and everyone was throwing catnip balls around for the kittens to chase. And I realised that this is what religion is all about. Having nice thoughts in a kitten-filled environment. In many ways, if you want to enter the Kingdom, you've got to be like a kitten. Fluffy, inoffensive, simple-minded. And, underneath it all, a ferocious predator after the taste of blood.