Not even God takes this long to get back

Interior: A cross between a telemarketing call center and a military war room, complete with futuristic screens showing maps and data and shit. Camera pulls back to reveal an irritated Scouser working the phones.

Scouser [to caller] : Yes, Mrs. Tingle. I understand, Mrs. Tingle. Mrs. Tingle I’ve told you, I’ve already given Him your complaint. [Exasperated] Mrs. Tingle of course He knows about it — He’s God! He knows everything! He even knew you were going to call today! Look, it’s right here in my agenda for this morning: ‘Placate Mrs. Tingle, 10.15 a.m. Remind her that prayer is sufficient and that the phones are for dire cases only.’ No, Mrs. Tingle, I’m not saying your case isn’t serious, this is Himself talking here. Mrs. Tingle, you’re bordering on blasphemy! Look Mrs. Tingle there’s a jingle on the other ringle and I can’t afford a bingle, I’ll have to let you go. Goodbye now Mrs. Tingle.

Scouser [typing angrily on an Amiga 4000 keyboard] : Mrs. Tingle, 108 Briarcliff Road, Durham NC 27707 USA. Accelerate rash. Send.

Scouser is approached by a Peter Gibbons type.

Scouser: Ah, Mr. Bright Eyes and Bushy Tails, learning the ropes are we then?

Gibbons: Oh yeah, this place is incredible! I can’t believe you can look up your own files! I also can’t believe –

Scouser: What a wanker you were, and how many times?

Gibbons: Well yeah, that. But just reading through some of the other records — so many lives, so many amazing stories.

Scouser [bored]: Mmmmmm.

Gibbons: In fact this one guy really caught my eye. Can I ask you about him, or are you busy, or –

Scouser: I’m just sittin’ here watchin’ the wheels go round. Let me guess, Elvis Presley? Jimi Hendrix? Wot?

Gibbons: Um, actually it’s just some guy, David Simmons?

Scouser: Oh dear, we’re not really meant to look at the files if they’re still alive.

Gibbons: Yeah, but, let’s pretend we’re having this conversation a week from now.

Scouser: Ah, no bother then. What you need to know?

Gibbons: I’m just looking at everything We threw at this guy after 9/11. I mean, the thing with his mother-in-law, then the thing with his father-in-law, then making him live in North Carolina…

Scouser: Now that was harsh.

Gibbons: And then We send him cancer – in his ass! And then We get that freak of a surgeon to butcher him, then the permanent colostomy bag, then We let him think he’s in the clear for a while and then We spread lesions all over everywhere,

Scouser [bored]: Mmmmmm.

Gibbons: I mean, what did he do to piss off the big guy so much?

Scouser: Did you even read the file? Look, first he gets born a child of privilege — his father has more money than Jesus. We give him brains the size you wouldn’t believe. Naturally he turns out to be a massive nerd, and you’d expect as far as sex he’d be a hundred percent handy-shandy. But We set him up with a honey of a bird. I mean I had my share down there but this one tops anyone I’d ever pulled.

Gibbons: Wow, hotter than Yoko?

Scouser: Listen you cheeky git do you want to hear this story or do you just want me to keep talking in cockney rhyming slang and made-up British tree stalk?

Gibbons: Talk.

Scouser: Right then, you see this chap has basically won the pools, he’s got all the advantages, and what does he do? Fuck all! After waiting through the feller’s twenties and early thirties with nothing to show for His investment, He decided to light a fire under his ass.

Gibbons: The cancer.

Scouser [as if to an infant] : Ay, the penny’s dropped, has it?

Gibbons: Okay but then he beats it, and then it comes back — why?

Scouser: Well, it’s obvious innit! He wanted more material for the blog!

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