Bad Bishop, Nwosu.

My Great-aunt Jezebel Troll died while I was still an infant, but she was in her day renowned as a trainer of canines. More dog-shrieker than a dog-whisperer, Great-aunt Jezebel’s technique revolved around treating her charges with extreme and gratuitous cruelty, and had she survived after her own animals managed to catch her unawares there’s no doubt the name of Jezebel Troll would today be on everyone’s lips, instead of just upon those of the noble beasts whom devoured her vital organs.

As my mother had recently been convicted of practicing medicine without a licence (how much training does a person really need to transplant monkey glands?) and was facing a substantial prison sentence (it was the third time she'd been caught, and the judge couldn't understand that nobody can expect every patient to survive), along with the fact that most people who’d seen Great-aunt Jezebel in action felt the dogs probably deserved a chance to get their own back, it was decided by my family to keep the circumstances of her demise a secret (people were told she’d been sold to a band of white-slave traders) so as to prevent the authorities from acting against the innocent creatures responsible. This also solved the problem of who would care for me, the family's nascent Doctrinal Warrior, since I was then tossed to the pack to be raised in the wilds of our missionary compound.

It was indeed a marvellous childhood, even if it was not until my mid-teens that I felt truly comfortable not walking on all fours. Suckled by the Malamute-Dachshund cross alleged to have consumed Great-aunt Jezebel’s liver, I soon learned the ways of a mistreated and psychotic pack – knowledge that continues to stand me in good stead as Spiritual Leader of the global movement that is GAFCON.

That's is why I think everyone’s just being a little too hasty in condemning Bishop Ikechi Nwosu for his outrageous menacing of Father Colin Coward from Changing Attitude. Firstly, unlike any canines, felines, or most other members of the animal kingdom lacking six legs and an exoskeleton, the Nigerian Prelate was obviously not blessed at birth with qualities such as intelligence, perception, or integrity (technically speaking it’s probably not even accurate to describe him as “sentient”), and it’s hardly fair to expect much from anyone who considers “rat-cunning” a primary Christian virtue.

More important than this, however, is that like the four-legged family by whom I was raised, Bishop Nwosu has undoubtedly endured years of mistreatment and punishment at the hands of his trainer, in this case the one and only Big Pete Akinola – in comparison to whom Great-aunt Jezebel Troll was a beacon of sweetness and light. Stop and contemplate for one moment, my dear sinners, the misery, bullying, and torment endured by Big Pete’s underlings on their shaky path to the top. The endless threats and intimidation, the years of fear and insecurity, the constant worry that the next day might be your kneecaps’ last. Alright, so it's nothing like being a homosexual in Lagos, but you'd better believe it's a far from pleasant.

None of which excuses anything, of course, but it does help one understand the apparent irrationality of little Nwosu’s outburst. After a lifetime of nothing but the whip and a steel-capped boot, along came Canon Sugden with a pocket full of treats, a clicker-trainer, and a firm-but-gentle voice: of course the battered Bishop was eating out of Sugger’s hands only minutes into their first session.

Father Colin’s photograph shows the relationship for what it is: a paternal and patient (but oh-so exacting) master towering over his slow-but-desperate-to-please charge, who is desperately struggling to learn his lines for a bit-part in the much larger performance being choreographed by another important foreigner with a cellphone. Nwosu has every right to feel embarrassed by what is revealed, and it’s hardly surprising he so desperately wanted the photograph destroyed. Unlike Great-aunt Jezebel’s dogs he’s not bright enough to find a real solution to his problem.

I’m Father Christian and I teach the Bible.