Eventually the urge to turn myself in became just too strong for me. I couldn’t bear it any more, I just couldn’t carry on. Things had gone beyond a joke. As soon as I came to this decision I felt a wave of relief wash over me – as if – at long, long last – I was finally doing the right thing.

I walked into the police station and went right up to the hatch thing, the kind of window thing that they have there. There was a middle-aged policeman there in uniform, looking bored. “I did it officer”, I blurted out, “it was me…”

The officer looked up at me. “You did what exactly?” he said. Sarcastic like. Taking the piss, you could say. “Everything.” I replied, “You name it, I did it… It was all me. I’m responsible for everything, for all the wrong-doing, wickedness and badness throughout the whole of human history.”

This got his attention. “I see,” he said, cautiously, “So you’ve got a lot of form, would I be correct in saying?”

“Yes officer,” I replied, feeling suddenly euphoric. I was feeling the blessed relief of confession – I couldn’t wait to spill the beans. I was eager to sing. “I’ve got a lot of previous. A pretty comprehensive list of offences, you might say. To be taken into consideration. I couldn’t even begin to go into it all – we’d be here for years. No kidding. You wouldn’t even live long enough to hear about all the bad things that I did. I wouldn’t even get half-way through…”

The officer looked at me for while, obviously stuck for words. Then he asked “name?” A peculiar look had come upon his face, like he was starting to put two and two together. Like some awareness was slowly dawning on him.

“I have a number of aliases,” I explained, “you might have heard of me as the Devil, as Satan, as the Dark One, the Evil One, Beelzebub,  Lucifer, Yaldoboath, Shaitan the Tempter, Set the Brother-Slayer, Mara Lord of Illusion, Sutekh the Puppet-Master, Ahriman, Ah Pook the Destroyer…”

“I see,” said the officer, writing something down, “I do believe we have a few warrants out for your arrest. You’re a bit of a bad lad, aren’t you?”

“The worst, officer,” I replied, “I am personally responsible for all the evil and suffering in the universe. I am the Father of Wickedness, the Author of all man’s Woe. And all women’s too.”

The officer looked grim, “We’ve been wanting to catch up with you for a very long time,” he said. “You’re going to go down. You’re looking at serious time, sunshine. Very serious time…”

“I know officer,” I replied, secretly delighted, “I’m pleading guilty. I’m coming clean. I’m not afraid of taking the rap. I’ll do my bird…”