Rapture in Syston

Once again I was out on my missionary travels today, choosing the biggish village or, for those of a less metropolitan aspect, small town of Syston.

And my day was brightened by the appearance of the sun. Surely the blessings of heaven were poured out on me today.

So taking up my position down by the brook, with my new sandwich board and extra-powerful amplification system, I broadcast the Good News to the people coming out of the butcher's and the chip shop.

Now the front of the sandwich board says "Where will you be after the Rapture?"
I like to spell things out clearly in modern English, and what could be plainer and more meaningful to the man, woman or other in the street than that?  But maybe due to a higher level of dyslexia in the town, or maybe to wilful sin, people kept coming up to me asking if I was selling surgical supports. It took a while each time that I wasn't selling solutions to a "Rupture" - that I wasn't warning them against the pain of muscle tears and hernias but against the angry and vengeful appearance of a loving and gracious God. They mostly went away remarking that they'd rather have a rupture than join my church, but a few of them did say they would be investing in hard hats, in case they were raptured indoors and needed to go up to the sky through the roof.

And a few took away copies of the new evangelistic leaflet I received from "Rapturist Trust" the other day. Entitled "Fly on the clouds while your enemies fry on the devastated wasteland where the Earth used to be", its approach is based on two sound principles. People like good news, and people like bad things happening to their enemies.  I'm not going to claim that the latter is necessarily scriptural, but then a good case could be made for claiming it is.