It’s all to do with Satan and all that kind of stuff, I said knowledgeably, ‘it’s all to do with the Wickedness of Satan and how he tries to make us all do all that bad stuff and how we have to fight against him as hard as we can. It’s all about how we should only do the stuff that God wants us to do. Thank God for Satan, that’s all I can say. If it wasn’t for him then we’d have to take the blame for all that bad old stuff ourselves and no one wants that. No Sir – no one wants that. That’s heavy shit.
Satan’s got a lot to answer for, in my book. He’s got an awful lot to answer for. He’s a real scumbag. It’s no wonder we all love to hate him so much. He is the Author of all our Woes. Thinking thus, I became full of righteous wrath – perhaps I should become a street preacher, I mused to myself. Laying down the law. Maybe even a prophet. Everyone likes a prophet, after all. Being a prophet is instant kudos. You’re a cut above the average gobshyte then.
Thinking in this way, I took to banging my fist vigorously on the table and roaring, ‘Down with the Evil One! Let’s all go and teach him a lesson…’ Before long I had the crowd whipped up into a frenzy. You know what crowds are like, after all – it doesn’t take much. They’re just waiting for someone to come along and whip them up into a frenzy. That’s when the crowd comes into its own you see – otherwise they would just be a collection of people standing around looking stupid, looking like a lot of dopes, looking like a bunch of aimless gorms…
The crowd wasn’t really there, however. The crowd was only in my head. The crowd is always only in my head. The filthy dirty crowd. ‘Yeah – the devil really is a bad egg’, I told myself, ‘he’s the worst person in the world so someone really ought to take him out. Someone ought to put on the Armour of Righteousness and then go out there and stomp him. Someone ought to stomp him good and proper. Teach him a lesson that he won’t forget. Put the big hurt on him…’
It wasn’t going to be me though, I decided. I wasn’t going to take on this role – I’d had second thoughts about it. I’d lost my appetite for the job, you see. Prophets often tend to get hurt, after all. That’s just the way it works – you stick your head out and then someone comes along and knocks it off. Someone comes along and takes the head clean off you. What else would you expect – you’re kind of asking for it really, aren’t you? You’re bloody asking for it. The thing to do is keep your head down, therefore. Keep your head down and make sure you don’t stand out. Merge with the crowd. Merge with the crowd as hard as you possibly can. Merge as you’ve never merged before…
