"Jesus died for your sins..."

She said. With a totally straight face.

She was collecting for a new church and had inadvertantly stumbled into the lions den.

"Talk about a waste of time." I said, as I was bored and she was annoying me with her constant harping on about the, so called, saviour of humanity. "My sins are what makes me interesting."
"Surely you don't mean that." She said with a look of pity on her face.
I pondered for a second the possible ramifications of offending the god squad again.
This took less than a quarter of a millisecond and I continued.

"Actually I do. My sins, and believe me there are many, seperate me from the herd of waste of space sheep who follow the herd blindly without questioning the reason or the logic of blind faith." I said, smiling.

Her face changed from a pitying look to one of minor offense. I knew I had her on the brink and all I needed was to give her a small shove to push her over the edge.

"Jesus gave his life so that you could live." She said.
"Actually, Jesus died because his own people handed him over to the romans and went "He said he's the son of God, get him." because if they had lynched him for his claims of divine decendency their god would have laid down a shitstorm on them." I challenged.

I could see by her face that there was anger welling up. So I carried on.

"You do know that Jesus, the real one, was nothing like the tall, fair haired deity you worship blindly don't you? When you think about it rationally and take into account his place of birth and the time in history he lived in you'll come to the conclusion that Jesus was a big nosed short guy who was less than five feet tall. Think along the lines of the love child of Tom Cruise and Barry Manilow and you're on the right lines." I ranted.

At this point she left the pub.