Bloody Jude has promised Vile Richard that she, Shazza, Tom and me will go with him to Alpha evening. Is apparently free dinner "with religious dimension". Vile Richard is now "born again" and Jude in danger of catching similar condition. Jude apparently tasked with infecting me, Shazza and Tom in manner of pyramid selling or timeshare offers. Shazza says we are loyal friends so must go along at least once to "offer unconditional support of their lifestyle decision even though it is not ours".
Brace myself for shepherd's pie and carrots in cavernous, cold and dark hall smelling of drains and mould, like Munster House. 7.30: Just leaving flat. Late due to major clothing choice crisis. Never been to anything with "religious dimension" so v.diff to settle on appropriate outfit. "Dinner" and "Evening" suggest little black dress, but venue makes this inappropriate. Decide on "protective but trendy" sporty outdoor clothing instead: boot-cut trackies, DKNY hoody and my FILAS. 8.00pm: Arrive last. Crash into room which is eerily quiet though full of people. Jude flashes me dark stare. Very good looking man in chinos with broad shoulders, square chin and clean perfect teeth is just saying "Amen" as I say loudly "Sorry I'm late". Smiley girl in flowery dress called Sarah shows me to seat at nearby table. She says not to worry about interrupting Christopher's prayer. It happens all the time with new people.
Was wrong about venue. Is not dark hellish ante-chamber, but large, airy, Feng-shuied room with minimalist decor of chrome and cream, with halogen uplighters and large round beech bistro tables. More Conran/Ikea than Munster.
Hurrah! Am also wrong about shepherd's pie and carrots, and Christopher is on my table! Is very attentive and asks me all sorts of questions over the salad tricolore, sundried tomato pasta and profiteroles (courtesy of Soulfood Inc). Also makes sure I get more than my fair share of the Chablis!
Begin to imagine seduction scene with Christopher as religious superhero. Has probably got excellent genes too and would make v.g parent. Imagine large family home in Islington (like the one Cherie and Tony used to live in before moving to Number 10), with lush garden and me as attentive religious-but-stilltrendy wife maintaining wholesome and fulfilling home life.
But Crooning Christopher (CC as I decide to call him) is vicar. Should not be imagining shagging vicar. 9pm: Aha! Have established that CC is not vicar after all. Vicar is much older and uglier person so doesn't appear much in public. Only comes out for weddings and funerals. Prefers to stay in study in vicarage reading and creating image of mysterious detachment (with wife? No, no wife apparently. He prefers "the celibate life". Is more spiritual). CC is allowed high measure of responsibility because is "lay cohort with exceptional spiritual gifts and leadership qualities".
May 25th: Hurrah! Have finally found meaning and purpose to life. No longer wandering nomad and feckless sinner in manner of very-lucky-andbeautiful-superstars (superslim and good looking with fantastic boyfriends/husbands, eg Jennifer Aniston), who may seem happy but are really suffering greatly from existential angst and high levels of anomie, living empty lives motivated purely by money and a personal popularity which is mere illusion. Apparently.
According to CC. Am no longer like that. No.
May 26th, 9am: Gaaah! Woke up late and missed quiet time AGAIN. Never mind. Perhaps could cultivate inner peace whilst waiting at traffic lights on way to work. Today have to interview New Age crystal mystic, Meganu Subaru, who cures depression through sensuous massage and application of poultice of secret tropical insect, crushed and mixed with fermented goats milk and applied strategically to bits of body according to chakras. So will be spiritually trying day. First major challenge to hegemony of the Lord Jesus as personal friend and saviour (or PFS as we Christians like to call him).
Scales show am 9st 3. But am not perturbed.
Will soon be as fat as thin Vanessa Feltz, but am irenic about possibility. For am loved and valued child of God. No need to diet. Jesus loves me AS I AM! Hurrah! Can eat as many pain au chocolat as fancy. 11am: In café drinking cappuccino. Have emerged unscathed, probably due to newly developed spiritual strength to resist temptation to listen. Meganu Subaru ("Call me Meg") obviously spiritual cowboy of highest order. No sense of sovereignty of God.
May 27th, 8am: Very pleased with self. Managed to wake up, AND make significant spiritual progress by imagining myself locked in close but asexual embrace with Jesus. Phoned CC twice yesterday and he said that's what I should be aiming for. Then imagined self locked in very sexual embrace with CC, which made quiet time go very quickly...
May 31st, 11pm: Nightmare day! Have lost faith, along with new stable and secure spiritual underpinning of life. All Tom's fault. Went to second "Alpha free dinner with religious dimension". Had wonderful conversation with CC, telling him of spiritual progress of first week with Jesus as PFS. He very impressed. Suddenly, heard loud crash on other side of room. Looked up to see Tom's prayer circle mortally wounded: quiet reflective atmosphere obviously broken and Tom is shouting, "If Jesus doesn't love me as a f****** faggot, then he can go f*** himself. And if heaven's going to be full of smugmarrieds, then I don't want to go there, and neither do any of my singleton friends. Do you, Bridge?
Shazza?" Obviously we had to agree with him.
Oh, and he also announced that he had seen CC before: at gay club in Soho. Am not shallow, but have to reassess my spirituality now that major religious mentor shown to lack integrity (and sex potential).
Alison Webster is a Socially Responsible Officer in the Diocese of Worcester and will return to her normal personality in our next issue. Possibly.