I spent the morning looking round Lincoln. Lincoln Cathedral is on a hillside and is a very imposing spectacle, particularly at night, when it is all lit up and can be seen for miles around. I particularly wanted to go there as I am writing a sketch for Little Britain set in a church (it's a new character and there's every chance it won't be in the series) and I thought it would be cool to work on it in such a sacred place.
I sat in some wooden chairs in the middle of the church and tried to get on with it, as an elderly woman failed to engage a group of eight year olds with a tour of the Cathedral. They were bored out of their tiny minds and as she pointed at something of supposed interest up in the ceiling I watched the kids, not one of whom was looking up at what she was talking about and who were merrily chatting away to each other or hitting their neighbour (which isn't what Jesus advised if my memory serves me correctly). Yet gamely the woman carried on, perhaps not realising how unengaged her audience was or possibly not caring. Many people might have just broken down and said, "Oh fuck it, children, what's the point? You're not interested in any of this and even if you were you're not going to remember anything of this visit in years to come, unless someone next to you soils their pants in which case that will be the only thing you recall. Both about the day out and about your unfortunate class-mate. Let's all go outside and play in the park and enjoy our lives. Surely that's what God would want if he existed, which he clearly doesn't. But if he did, he'd want you to be having fun in these carefree days, before the reality of the misery and pointlessness of life hits you like an anvil swung from a high ceiling into your stupid face. I hate this cold cathedral, I hate god and I hate you." But this woman was made of stronger, or possibly much weaker stuff and just droned on, failing to control even one tiny aspect of the proceedings.
I shielded my computer screen from the prying eyes of one of the kids, as my sketch involved a vicar swearing. If any official had stopped and asked me why I was working on a computer in such a holy place I was going to lie and say I was writing some prayers and had come here for inspiration.
If God does exist I suspect that I am going to Hell.
Unless I am clever and just repent all my sins at the very last minute on my death bed and a then accepted into his Holy bosom. This is the one drawback with Christianity. It's very easy to abuse this forgiving nature of God. I can even repent for having had this plan in advance and there's nothing he can do to stop me. I'll be up there in Heaven with all the saints and the people who did good getting all the same stuff as them, despite having led a bad life. And also Jeffrey Dahmer and Fred West get those privileges too, cleverly having apologised for their heinous crimes at the last second as well. Which must be annoying for Mother Theresa who put in all that hard graft for the same reward. But Mother Theresa knows that if she dares complain about this injustice she will be sent straight to Hell for her un-Christian attitude and there's no way back after you've gone down there. That's the system. Don't blame me for it if you think it's unfair. That's just the way it is.
