Nice one religion, I hope you’re happy. What am I supposed to do with my Curly Wurly wrappers when I’m in a shopping centre, airport or train station? That’s right, I’ve got to keep them in my pocket until I get home, and all because we can’t trust fanatics not to stuff our bins with dynamite and blow us up.
It’s not just the bins, if it was just the bins I’d let it go. Religion has ruined Sundays as well. Even though most people have grown bored of it and stopped going to Church, for some reason the world nonetheless goes a dull grey colour once a week as supermarkets close early, television becomes shit (see Songs of Praise) and God sits on his big fat arse, ‘resting’.
In days of old, unattended luggage at a train station was a chance to do a good deed; hand it in at lost property and give yourself a pat on the back. Didn’t you do well? In the 21st century a fearsome robotic Tannoy voice repeats the mantra that lone bags will kill you, they’ll fucking kill you. Now get away from there and call the police.
Even if you don’t leave your own home and you turn off the television, religion will try and ruin your day. What’s that sound? A knock at the door! How delightful, perhaps it’s Bill returning the lawnmower. I’ll invite him in for a cup of tea. It’s not Bill, it’s a pair of dweeby, 25-year-old virgins in ill-fitting shirts trying to flog you the Book of Mormon. I tend to keep a picture of two men fornicating in a church by the front door to ward off evangelists.
Religious people, please can you believe in God in the privacy of your own homes and make sure not to harass others on their doorsteps, put explosives in things or produce BBC content that has all the vitality of a vicar’s fart?
Christians, Muslims and Jews can do all the charity work they like, but it won’t make up for the fact that we live in a world where law-abiding citizens can’t dispose of litter, go shopping on a Sunday or answer their own front doors without defensive pornography.
