Retro Yakking

Today’s guest post is brought to you by the weird Dutch blokes in short sleeved shirts who patrol the streets with backpacks of an afternoon. We salute you, good sirs!

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Hello, fellow person! Are you unhappy with your current prophet? Then join the Happy Frolicking Friends! There are no rules or obligations except for a mandatory supplement of just £30 a week. But that’s a small price to pay for eternal happiness, we’re sure you will agree.

At the Happy Frolicking Friends, which is certainly not a cult, we prance all day long in meadows and dales to the music of Spiritualised and Pink Floyd.

Oh what a gay time we have, dancing without a care in the world, our hay fever and minor ailments forgotten in the cocktail of mind altering substances we consume on an hourly basis. How else would we rope sane people into the group? Oh, did I say that bit out loud?

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Ladies and Gentlemen, on this sacred day, I am here to spread the Good Word of the Lord. Of pasta.

That’s right: this weekend when you’re sitting in Church bored to death because you never wanted to go anyway and would rather be watching the football, consider a conversion to Pastafarianism.

There are no formal rules and there is no big cold place where some old blake blathers on to you about bread and wine and mundane stuff like that, only noodles, and lots of them. Those who have been touched by His Noodly Appendage never look back.

What’s more, there’s a beer fountain waiting for you in heaven, and RAmen to that. Best of all, you get to watch the football! Bloody marvellous.

You know, I feel like spaghetti and meatballs for tea now.