Plastic Jesus

Tanvir Naomi BushVisual Impairment, Writing Leave a Comment

Last night after several pints of ‘Steaming Ale’ (I kid you not) I staggered into my kitchen ravenous and bleary eyed as one is after a glass of ale. A piece of toast and some camembert went down so well I, slightly less woozily, headed back for another round only to realise that the bread I was about to scoff was completely covered in purpley-blue stuff. .. I had just stuffed my face with mouldy mucor encrusted bread….I knew it was mucor having previously grown it ON PURPOSE whilst an o’level biology student wanting to see if I would develop ergotism (St Antony’s Fire..or don’t you remember the 1039 outbreak in France? Oh for goodness sake…!) Luckily the twitching and hallucinatuions were purely down to the Steaming Ale and shock of eating deeply mouldy bread. Now let this incident be a Xmas warning to all of you out there who like a nip of sherry over the holidays! Prepare food with the lights on and always double check the bread!

But as ‘tis the jolly season I cannot leave you thinking of mouldy toast and cheese. No no! Instead I should tell you that I went along to my choir’s Xmas do last week. My choir consists mostly of women over 50 with sensible shoes and 70’s jewellery so imagine my surprise when one of the Secet Santa presents given to a lovely lady of a certain age consisted of three different coloured ping pong balls and a set of instructions about pelvic floor exercises. Need I say more. Someone else got a plastic Jesus to go on the dashboard of a car. This prompted everyone to break into the well known Christmas number ‘Plastic Jesus’ which includes the lyrics

‘Plastic Jesus got to go
He’s messing with my stereo
Sitting on the dashboard of my car
Plastic Jesus gives me hope
He’s there for me to store my dope
Sitting on the dashboard of my car…’ etc.

There are several hundred verses and I sat there open mouthed and with renewed respect for the irreverence of this band of merry wives. It was rather a jolly evening altogether.

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