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Sunday 2nd January 2005

As I was running down by the river today, a Jewish man in traditional religious clothing slipped on some steps just in front of me. Luckily he regained his footing or I would begin to suspect that some force was trying to force me to save a person of every faith and denomination from the atheistic force of gravity, and possibly thereby bring about world peace or something.
Coincidental to this Holy Mission, the run took me by St Paul's Cathedral and I decided to have a rest and take a look round, as I wasn't sure I'd ever been inside before. It's a big old place and in an ideal location for a lucrative conversion into flats (or failing that a really giant pub). If it were to be adapted into accommodation I decided I would like to have an open-plan room that took up the entire dome, though I'd probably redecorate as the paint job is a little ostentatious at the moment. I don't think you can go wrong with having everything in white.
The Church could make billions of pounds if it went ahead with this scheme; money which could be given to the poor and infirm. I think that is what Jesus would have wanted, rather than this massive (if impressive) and flamboyant tribute to his life. Jesus was like Lady Diana and more interested in helping other people than having palaces or possessions or stuff like that. They lived a similar humble and simple life, before both being assassinated by the British Royal Family.
I noticed that the pulpit was readily accessible. There were lots of tourists in there and I wondered how long I would last if I ran up there and started giving a sermon. I figured that if I instructed the assembled Americans to kneel and join me in prayer that they would think they were required to do so.
I suspect if I could hire a bishop costume the pretence might last a bit longer, and that if I succumbed to the desire to start being profane and blashphemous that things might be curtailed rather quickly and I'd be dragged out the back by some burly deacons and given the beating I so richly deserved.
Maybe I actually am Dom Joly.
There were some impressive statues and dioramas commemorating the lives of various military figures, who I guess are buried in the Cathedral. Again, not sure how old Jesus would feel about this From my reading of the Bible he was very much like Lady Di and openly opposed to all warfare. Nelson was there, with a figure of him surrounded by a lion and some awe-struck children. Opposite him was some forgotten bloke who was viceroy of India or something who died about the same time. He had an adoring scantily clad woman gazing up at his statue, as if to say, "A lion and some kids, Nelson? Those are the only things that would be impressed by your pathetic antics. Look at me, I commanded the attention of adult, human women and they probably had sex with me too. All you got was that lion. No wonder you lost an arm and an eye."
If I ever do some amazing service for my country that means I am graced with a tomb in St Paul's Cathedral - and it might happen, you never know - then I want a giant statue of my own laughing face (made out of one pound coins), draped in actual dead lions and other rare or endangered species, surrounded by statues of hundreds of scantily clad women, some of whom, slightly predictably by now, are lezzing up. Again, I just like to get this in print now, just in case.
And when the Cathedral is converted into flats, mine should be the only tomb that isn't smashed into dust and there must be a special room where my statue is kept intact.

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