Nan has a post up titled What say you? about the banning of religious symbols.
Here is my take.
The Agony Aunt Column.
Dear Aunty Jane:
Topic. Religious Symbols and their effects on my sensitivity.
As a young lad, growing up in a village in England, part of my paper round (route) took me past a church cemetery where the display of numerous crosses and statues of angels in various poses of angst or severe constipation (I’ve never been able to work out the difference) has, I believe, scarred me for life.
Years later, after I had left home, the church closed because most of the community gave up believing in Christianity. Eventually, the local county council bought the land, bulldozed the church, and erected a crematorium.
Yet hardly had the first few ashes been scattered did the council run into serious trouble and were forced to cease operations. They found themselves on the receiving end of a huge public outcry.
Records show that the church was deemed a British Heritage Trust site, being the very first church in history to hold a National Bingo Championship and for a short while during the mid 13th Century was used as a brothel for returning Crusaders.
What tipped the scales, however, were the three letters of complaint in Braille from blind 103 year old holocaust survivor, Hymie Bernstein, who lived in the retirement village next door.
Mister Bernstein cited emotional distress due to religious sensitivity as the reason for his complaint. Namely, his 14 year old incontinent cocker spaniel, called Jesus Aitch, crapped on the carpet every time a funeral procession passed the entrance of the retirement village on it’s way to the crematorium.
After remaining empty for nearly two years, the owners of the retirement village purchased the crematorium from the council for 10 pence and converted it into a hospice.
In a sense it was fitting, or ironic that, the first occupant – albeit temporary – was Hymie Bernstein. After undergoing a *religious conversion he had married his 68 year old Christian fundamentalist nurse, Ethel Leakwell. Sadly, Hymie died on the night of their honeymoon after suffering a heart attack, leaving his not inconsiderable fortune to Ethel.
Within 12 months of Hymie’s death most of the residents of the retirement village had made use of the services of the hospice and the village was all but empty, save for Ethel’s 86 year old mother, Gladys, who took up with a 72 year old bi-sexual Muslim paediatrician, Mohammed Fatwah.
Mister Fatwah was severely assaulted by a group of Manchester United football supporters who were convinced that a paediatrician was a pervert who preyed on young children.
It was because of this intolerance that Mohammed and Gladys, along with a travelling companion, famous wedding planner, baker and Christian Buddhist LGBT activist South African, Everhardt Koch, decided to move to Tibet.
Once her mother had left, Ethel purchased the retirement village, bulldozed it and converted it to a cemetery, the first two small daffodil covered plots being earmarked for herself and Hymie, whose remains are currently in an old tin tea caddy on the mantelpiece above the fireplace and have definitely not been snorted by Hymie’s great grandson who had recently popped around for a visit.
By the way,all the angel statues in the cemetery are winged representations of Elvis. Some say they too look severely constipated.
*Hymie’s religious conversion had occurred after he became convinced his foreskin had regrown while reliving himself at a public urinal.
However, according to Italian Catholic priest, Willy Notalotti, who was standing in the adjacent stall when Hymie had his miraculous revelation, Hymie had forgotten to unzip his pants and instead held the priest’s penis while his own had remained in his trousers, where he peed down his leg.
My question, Aunty Jane, is:
At this somewhat late stage of my life, do you think I should move back to my old village and enquire about doing another paper round as a way of confronting my childhood religious sensitivity issues?