My Dearly Beloved Wicked Godless Sinners:
Goodness me I've been through a spot of bother for my righteousness' sake! As you've all been well aware and crying in your ignorance, I've been lately unable to communicate due to the small inconvenience of having been imprisoned and refused bail, but fortunately this glorious Christmas Day now finds me released from my chains and incarcerated no longer.
As is so often the case with such things, it was all the result of a small misunderstanding on the part of apostate liberals. There I was, at our traditional end-of-year children's service distributing gifts of cigarettes, knives, and (for the older ones) ammunition, when a number of servants of the Evil One (also known as "Child Protection Officers") intervened, dragging me away to face their accusations and what the legal system quaintly calls "charges".
Yes, such are the depths to which our reprobate society has plummeted that such playthings are now deemed off-limits to little ones, and distributing the merry baubles which my dear late father referred to as "Darwin's Little Helpers" carries a sentence of twenty years to life. Further, ever since Michael Jackson gave the expression "Jesus Juice" a bad name teaching kiddies to do something as wholesome as how to construct and operate their own still is now a serious offence, and permitting children under ten to enjoy their first sips of absinthe or tequila within the caring context of the Sunday Children's fellowship can leave one sharing a cell with someone named "Bubba" who thinks dropping the soap while the warden hoses us is just as romantic as soft music and a candlelight dinner.
To be fair, Evangelical Eric did try to tell me times had changed, and that we were inviting trouble, but his alternative that we give the kiddies Bibles instead was so manifestly foolish that I must confess he was dismissed out of hand. After all, have any of you seen what's in that thing? Sure parts such as Judges and Leviticus are fine, and Bishop Quinine has experienced some marvellous hallucinations while reading the Revelation to St. John, but how can any of them grow up talking about the thing all the time if they've begun by reading it while just children? And all that stuff about loving one's neighbour - without a single proviso about your neighbour's sexuality, religion or gender? It's all very well for Jesus to generalise, but clearly He didn't find himself living next door to a couple of lesbian Wiccans. Nor did they have key-hole cameras back in those day to capture what such people get up to when they think nobody's watching - do you realise that these alternatives dare to cook and do housework just the same as everyone else unable to afford a ministry team? They don't even have the temerity to live in a non-stop orgy as GAFCON clergy teach they do!! Although I must confess to having kept my fellow inmates entertained these past few weeks by recounting a few fictitious observations - a gift which enabled me to quickly seize control of the prison's entire contraband cigarette economy.
However, just as St. Peter was freed from prison and all good times must come to an end, so too have I now been released, with the charges against me dropped and all paperwork conveniently lost - although sadly I was unable to attain a truly Biblical outcome and achieve my wardens' execution. Nor, unlike St.Peter, can I really claim to have followed an angel to the exit, although in a marvellous example of promotional initiative Consuella and the girls did meet me in their performance costumes, which will do wonders for the takings at our Friday night pole-dancing service: you'd better believe the fellows watching us through the bars will be dreaming about St. Onuphrius every night until they get parole. What's more Brother Richthofen and his friends from seminary have made so many friends while visiting me that they'll be conducting regular chapel services from now on - who'd have thought how popular bible-study could become by incorporating bare chests, weightlifting and just a little bit of steam?
Unfortunately I can't say much more about the circumstances of my release, partly because it's unbecoming to boast of the Lord's goodness to me, but also because the people we've bribed would probably prefer a little discretion on my part. Let's just close the door on this little chapter by saying that if anyone finds me praying at the Presidential Inaugural Invocation then you'll know I really am the most opportunistic clergyman in history, but until then...
I'm Father Christian and I teach the Bible.
(And a very Merry Christmas to each and everyone of you. Don't forget to give you dogs, cats, partners, goldfish, children, axolotls, and tax accountant a big sloppy Christmas kiss from me. Or, as big Pete, Akinola would have us all wish each other: