I bet that's what God was thinking about me all week.
But guess what? God lost. Ho ho.
One day though... God will look down (Or up, or sideways... Who knows what way up in space He sits.) and will decide that my time on this mortal coil is over and I'll drop like a stone.
Possibly of a heart attack.
But that won't be because God wants to see me die from a heart attack, it'll be because the body auditors consider it the easiest way for me to go. All my years of bad living will see to that. No man, or indeed woman, can live for a long time when their staple diet consists of fried food from the nearest take-away. But, selah, so it goes.
I don't think I've ever had what you would call a healthy diet. But that's a Scottish thing. We're an unhealthy bunch who look at vegetables and fruit like they are alien pods that will rot our minds and will turn us into Englishmen. Ask the average Scotsman what a pomegranate is and they'll tell you it's a type of English stone that's been imported into Australia.
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