Dear Fat Bird Down the Road,

I'm the first to admit that it would be easier to come and speak to you in person than to draft this letter,
but there is a good reason I have elected to contact you in writing. Put simply, you terrify me.

Actually, perhaps 'terrify' is the wrong word. 'Alarm' might be more appropriate. 'Disturb', maybe.
Whatever the precise definition, the thought of coming within a few feet of you and holding a direct, one to
one conversation chills me to the bone.

That's not to say I can't speak to you. You've heard me say hello to you several times. In fact, I've
probably said hello more times to you than I have to anyone else alive, and it is for this precise reason I
have chosen to write this letter.

I'm going to come right out with it:

Why are you following me?

It was funny the first few occasions I bumped into you in unexpected places, but now - if I'm honest - it's
kind of creeping me out.

Remember that first time - two, maybe three years ago, I forget - when I was out running along a dirt track
several miles from where either one of us lives? I'd covered a fair distance that day, but was still a good
twenty miles from the nearest signs of civilisation.

Imagine my surprise, then, to meet you walking at a leisurely pace in the opposite direction. We greeted each
other with a polite nod and a mumbled 'alright?' and continued on our way, and though I wondered where you could
possibly be walking from, I quickly put it down to one of life's funny little coincidences, and didn't give
the incident another thought.

Until two weeks later, when I met you near the gents' toilets of a Amoreiras Shopping Mall. The gents' toilets
of Amoreiras located one hundred and nine squillion miles from our home town. You were pacing around the main
entrance as I was entering, and though I smiled at our second coincidental meeting in as many weeks, you remained
largely impassive, simply giving me another nod as I stood aside to let you by.

By the time I emerged from the toilets - just two minutes later - you were gone.

In the weeks which followed I became more and more suspicious. It seemed that wherever I went, there you were.

When I went to the petrol station you were there filling your car up. In the supermarket you were at the next
checkout, your trolley groaning under the weight of cakes and chocolate. On my way home from nights out with
friends I'd pass your house and find you standing on the front step, smoking. At 3am! Why were you standing
outside smoking at 3am, you crazy bitch?

On every occasion the salutation was the same: A single nod of your oversized head and - if you were feeling
generous - a curt 'alright?'. One time, during a late night smoking session, you broke with tradition as I
passed and commented on how cold it was. It was three o'clock in the morning in February, of course it was cold.
If you were cold why weren't you inside your house?!

Why? Because you were waiting for me, that's why. That's what I decided at the time, anyway, and you've done
little to convince me otherwise in the weeks and months since then.

I travel 65 miles to the nearest cinema and you're sitting in the row in front, scoffing popcorn by the fistful.
I go swimming and you're standing by the changing room, vigorously drying inbetween your oversized thighs like
your life depends on it. I pass you on my way into town and then meet you in the first shop I go into. How is
that even possible? Do you double back? Is there more than one of you? It just doesn't make sense any more.
Had it not been for the fact that other people have seen you I'd be convinced you existed solely in my head.

I'm sure you haven't forgotten that time I went to visit my ex-girlfriend in hospital, only to find you lying in
the bed I expected her to be in. For a brief moment I felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief. I thought I
had finally reached the end of some twisted, elaborate game, and you were going to be revealed as nothing more
than my ex-girlfriend in a fat suit. But no. My ex-girlfriend had simply been moved to another ward, and you
had been given her old bed, supposedly completely by chance.

Well I don't buy it. There's not enough room in the world for that much coincidence. The Universe just doesn't
work that way.

It's got to the stage now where I'm actively looking for you wherever I go. Will you be sitting in the dentist's
waiting room today? Or at the next table in a coffee shop? Or hiding in my cupboard? I feel like I'm trapped
in some psychologically harrowing version of 'Where's Wally?' with no way of reaching the final page.

It's the apparent lack of motive which scares me the most. Have I done something to you? Is that why you're
pursuing me like some sort of relentless machine? If I have, then I'm sorry. Whatever it was, I'm sorry.
Just please ... please leave me alone!

Ironically, I don't even know your name, despite knowing your face better than I know my own. It has reached
the stage now when I can identify your slow, lumbering walk at anything up to five hundred yards, though I've
learned long ago that taking evasive action even at this early stage is pointless. You'll find me. Wherever
I go, whichever way I turn, you'll find me. You'll hunt me down, and for what? To nod at me and say 'alright?'
in a low voice? It seems like such a waste of both your time and mine.

I'd like us to wipe the slate clean and start again. If it takes some kind of rota system in which only one
of us can leave our respective houses at any given time, that's fine by me. I can work with that if it means
not having to constantly be on the lookout for your bulging frame.

As I explained earlier, I don't know your name. Nor do I know the exact number of the house you live at, as I
usually fix my gaze firmly on the pavement when I pass. This would make addressing this letter difficult,
however I am reasonably confident that when I finish writing and turn around I will find you standing a short
distance behind me, so I foresee no difficulty in getting my message to you.

Thank you for taking the time to read this letter, and for the five minutes of relative freedom you have
afforded me by doing so. I look forward to never seeing you again for the remainder of my natural life.

Regards,


Feral

A Letter to God

Sent: 8th April 2008 •
To: The Lord God Almighty •
Subject: A Quick Word

Dear Father Who Art in Heaven,

Apologies for writing this letter to you on the day of the Pope's funeral, but as you're omnipotent I thought
you could probably still manage to show him around and read this at the same time. Regardless, I'll try to
keep this brief as I know you're very busy being utterly indifferent to the suffering of mankind:


What the fuck are you playing at?

Okay, perhaps that's a little too brief. If you'll avoid turning me into a pillar of salt or having a plague
of locusts descend on my house for the next five minutes I'll explain my concerns in a little more detail.
You may want to have a seat before continuing, assuming for one second that someone who is both everywhere
and nowhere at the same time is capable of sitting down.

That's a point - if you made man in your own image how come I'm not an unfeasibly large invisible giant too?
Actually there are one or two questions I have regarding your existence and the contents of the Bible which
I'll throw into this letter, and which I hope you can answer should you take the time to reply. That's not
my main reason for writing, however. Oh my goodness no.

I'll admit I haven't been a regular church goer. In fact since leaving primary school I've only ever set foot
inside a church to shoot wedding videos, and even this was solely motivated by profit. On the other hand,
however, I don't think I've lived my life in sin, or at least in no more sin than the vast majority of your
flock, and in less than the majority of the Catholic church.

In fact, to illustrate how scarcely I sin (other than low key, everyday sins, obviously, because let's face
it, if I was to avoid all sin I'd have to somehow force myself to slip into a coma), let's take a look at
the Ten Commandments:

I. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.

I don't. I'm strictly 100% atheist and worship no gods of any description whatsoever. I've dabbled in Buddhism,
but then Buddhism is not centred round the concept of there being one true god, so I don't think it counts.

In fact when you think of it, this commandment is pretty stupid. What other gods are there these days? I
don't really expect there's a large following for Thor the God of Thunder any more, at least not outside
of Marvel Comics. If you ever get round to having the Bible updated (and if you do I'm more than willing
to help with the rewrite) I think you can safely drop this commandment.


Have I broken this commandment?: No.


II. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image.

I don't even know what this means, so I don't reckon I've done it. Was this the thing about all the folk at the
bottom of the mountain having made a cow out of gold and started worshipping it while Moses was up getting these
commandments carved in stone? How bored do you have to be to decide to build a cow out of solid gold??

In fact if it only took you a week to create the Earth and everything in it how come it took you like a month
to write the ten commandments? If it was writer's block I can relate to that. Or did you come up with loads of
other commandments that had to be whittled down to the final ten? "Though shalt not throw toads at a wall"
and the like?

Whatever, how pissed off were you when Moses smashed them to smithereens when he got to the bottom of the
mountain? Way to go with the temper losing Moses. Man I bet he was sheepish when he came back up to ask for
another copy.


Have I broken this commandment?: No.


III. Thou shalt not take the name of the LORD thy God in vain.

Okay, I've done this, but Christ, who hasn't? I'll give you this one though, since I've actually been pulled
up for saying "for God's sake" by an old woman in the past, so there must be people out there who strictly
adhere to it.


Have I broken this commandment?: Yes.


IV. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.

I'm unsure on this one. I like to think I've kept the sabbath day holy in a relaxed, informal sense. A sitting
about watching telly in my pants kind of sense. Do I go to church every Sunday? No, I don't, I'll give you
that, but then in order to keep the sabbath day holy in the way intended in the Bible no-one should be going
to the shops or drinking alcohol or driving cars or anything, and I don't believe there's more than a handful
of people in the world who can say that.

Except maybe the Amish.

And no, I'm aware it doesn't mention anything about driving cars in the Bible, but it does say you're supposed
to walk everywhere on the sabbath, so the driving cars bit is definitely inferred.

So on balance then I reckon I've kept the sabbath just about as holy as everyone else has, so assuming you're
not going to have everyone but the Amish cast into the fiery pits of Hell for breaking this one, I'm going to
assume it remains relatively unbroken by me.


Have I broken this commandment?: No (ish).


V. Honour thy father and thy mother.

Oh, I do. They may get on my nerves from time to time, but everyone gets on my nerves from time to time, so
it's no reflection on them. I'll admit I'm struggling to recall specific incidents of me honouring them, but
there's a vague kind of generic honouring going on most of the time.


Have I broken this commandment?: No.

VI. Thou shalt not kill.

I'm definitely in the clear on this one! Even the police said that guy was just a tragic accident and that
I'd tried my best to grab him before he stepped in front of that train.

Have I broken this commandment?: No, and I dare any fucker to say different.


VII. Thou shalt not commit adultery.

Hmm. Again this is a tricky one. Depends how you class adultery. If it has to involve relations of a physical
nature, then no, I haven't. If it also includes spending time with another woman on the sly while in a
relationship with someone else, then yes, I have.

I'll put me down as a "don't know".

Have I broken this commandment?: Maybe.


VIII. Thou shalt not steal.

Once when I was about seven I absent-mindedly walked out of a shop without paying for the newspapers I had been
sent to buy for my parents (see how I honour them?), but I realised about half way home and went back in to pay
for them. Does that count? If so I reckon you're being a little bit harsh.

I'm going to assume because I didn't actually steal anything for more than a few minutes that I'm in the clear.

Have I broken this commandment?: No.


IX. Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.

I once told a story about a neighbour who is a pub singer falling off his stool while performing but "magically"
continuing to sing uninterrupted due to him having been miming his way through his entire repertoire, but to the
best of my knowledge that's true, so it doesn't count as false witness.

Have I broken this commandment?: No.

X. Thou shalt not covet any thing that is thy neighbour's.

When I was a student the guy in the flat above had an eighteen year old daughter who would come to visit who I
found very attractive. I wouldn't say I "coveted" her as such, more just quite liked the idea of seeing her naked.
Never did though. Shame.

Have I broken this commandment?: No.


So there you have it. Of the ten commandments I've broken one, been a bit iffy on two and adhered to the rest. I
haven't been a bad person all things considered.

So what's with the grudge you appear to have against me? Why have you singled me out for special treatment?
Don't try to deny it, the facts speak for themselves. I'm not going to go into great detail on all the things
you've inflicted upon me over the years because you know them all too well. In fact I wouldn't be at all
surprised if you have a spreadsheet of them printed out and pinned to your office wall, just below an A3 sized
artist's impression of my crying face.

It may strike you as odd that I, a self-confessed atheist, am writing to you to question your motives, but the
answer is very simple. Either I accept that you do exist and that for reasons unknown you fucking hate me, or
I assume all blame for everything that has gone wrong in my life and actively do something to improve the
situation. Though it has taken a radical shift in my thinking, I've decided to go for the former, simply
because I don't fancy facing up to the crushing realisation that I am the captain of my own destiny and that
the majority of my woes have been caused solely by my own actions.

Take, for example, the old penis in the zip incident back when I was sixteen. You remember that one, don't you
God? Granted it was me and not you who caught the old chap in the fly of my Levis, but I'm not the first to do
it and I'm reasonably confident I won't be the last.

How many others, however, awoke next morning to find themselves literally pissing blood all over their sheets?
How many others had to face the indignation of walking through a crowded doctor's surgery with a plastic bag
apparently designed for just such a purpose held firmly over their genitals? Very few, I'll bet. My I bet Noah
laughed at that one when you told him about it in the bar that evening.

Oh, and as an aside, Noah lived to be how old? Nine hundred and fifty it says in the Bible, but that's got to be
some kind of misprint, right? I mean I thought people were living longer these days, but I don't think anyone
is even close to getting a second telegram from the Queen, let alone their ninth! No wonder his beard was so
huge. Man I bet he bored the arse off everyone for the last few hundred years banging on about that boat he
built. "Yeah, yeah, Noah, big flood, animals went in two by two, we've all heard it". Does he still talk about
it now?

In fact, now I think about it, can you explain this:

Genesis 8:20 Then Noah built an altar to the LORD, and took of every clean animal and of every clean bird and
offered burnt offerings on the altar.

Am I right in thinking that after saving all the animals and birds from the great flood Noah then killed and
burnt one of each of them?? How does that work? Didn't that defeat the entire point? I also couldn't let the
next bit pass without comment:

8:21 And the LORD smelled the soothing aroma; and the LORD said to Himself, "I will never again curse the
ground on account of man, for the intent of man's heart is evil from his youth; and I will never again destroy
every living thing, as I have done.

Yeah, you can't beat that smell of burning giraffe, can you? What's with the talking to yourself, though?
More importantly, how did whoever wrote this know you were talking to yourself? And the intent of man's heart
is evil from his youth? Fuck that's bleak. What's the point in even trying if we're all inherently evil anyway?

Seems to me though that you're regretting the whole flood business. Does that mean you made a mistake? I thought
you were infallible? Isn't that the whole basis for religion, that your word is beyond question?

I really hope you can answer some of these and help clear up the confusion, because I'll be honest, I'm starting
to lose that little nugget of belief again, and I don't want to accept any responsibility for my own life if
at all possible.

Reading back over it, I'm struggling to find the purpose of this letter, but I think it basically boils down to
"stop picking on me". In fact, how about you stop picking on everyone? Enough with the Tsunamis and the
earthquakes and the famine and the wars in your name. Cut that shit out. And don't give me none of that
"free will" nonsense. What, it's man's free will to be sitting on the toilet when a fifty foot tidal wave
smashes his house to rubble? On one level yes, I suppose it is, but on so many other levels it's just plain
nastiness on your part.

Man can only have free will if all the information is presented to him, so perhaps if the Archangel Gabriel
had gone door to door saying "by the way a fuck off great wave is going to kill you next week if you stay here"
then I'd have accepted the free will argument, but to the best of my knowledge no such house call was conducted.

When I was about six a Salvation Army person came to the school and said something which stuck with me forever:
"Every time we see a rainbow it reminds us of God's love".

I took this to mean that you, the aforementioned God, were making the rainbows appear as a little reminder of
how much you love us. Tell you what though, keep the rainbows, and stop randomly killing hundreds of thousands
of people on a whim. Sound fair? Perhaps if you stop heaping the tragedy onto people they won't need your
multi-coloured distractions and can instead happily get on with their lives in peace? Just a thought.

Anyway, sorry I didn't quite pull off the brevity thing, but then being God you probably received this letter
before I was even born or something, so chances are it hasn't interrupted your working day too much.

I look forward to your reply, or that of the thousands of zealots who shall now likely attempt to kill me in
your name. Get them told to ease off with the fatwahs too.

Amen,