Kneel at the Church of Fudge: 1 Priest 1 Nun Review

I am by no means a pious man. My church goings have stemmed merely from being skull dragged to primary school functions, or consequential by-products of passing Hare Krishna’s in the street. Does that count? Regardless, my relationship with the man upstairs has not been well kempt. But how often is he dropping by my house for coffee and a chat without wanting something in return? It’s always me, me, me with God; pray to me, bow down before me, on your knees for me. The foundations of any good relationship are based upon equality, and I’m sure there would no suggestion of so much as a reach around with him in the bedroom. It’s all assless chaps, butter and yak appendages, none of the eye to eye and pillow talk I so desire… I guess that’s why I haven’t been able to consign myself to a Church yet; I need one which truly loves me back.

That is, until last night.

I gaze into her big blue eyes, radiant in the moonlit night, encapsulated by skin of porcelain. I know I have finally found my house of worship, to which she is the keeper of the key. I want to reach out and stroke her hair, let her know everything will be ok. “Sister”, I whisper, just so that she may taste my breath. Her reassuring smile tells me I need not speak, she knows what must be done. She descends sanctimoniously to her knees before the priest, and shuffles close.

“In the waste of our fathers we are born”, she reorients herself, shambling behind him, “and in the waste of our fathers we are reborn.” Delving deep into a dark abyss, she entrenches herself for her God, seeing eye to eye as I always imagined. She is reaffirming my desires for that reciprocated love that religion, nay, that LIFE should embody.

“Let the evil pour from you” she murmurs tantric.

With that, the priest’s evil runs from his body, alleviating his iniquity unto my dear nun, her pale skin being stained a wicked brown. An abhorrent task which she dutifully accepts, for in the Church Of Fudge, relationships are based on equality…

So although the man upstairs may not be too keen on sacrificing some of himself for the sake of parity, not all deities are so selfish. Any church where my God is willing to take a steaming load of shit in their mouth for humble apostles is the sort of church I want to be a part of.

But before the pillow talk, could you brush your teeth?