First impressions count

They say you only get one chance to make a first impression. It is therefore very hard to keep a straight face when the first impression one gets of the "Friends of Jesus" who trumped-up at my door this morning were like the three wise men portrayed in Monty Python's "Life of Brian", only dressed in Primark's best.

There was the immediate temptation to inquire if they were "friends" of Jesus in the biblical sense, that is, they went to the Nazareth High School for Boys with him and shared a deep hatred of the Romans, or whether it was just friends in a Facebooky sort of way. However, that one would have overshot the heads of the front two height-challenged people and hit the tall John Cleese lookalike firmly in the chest.

I was also tempted to point out that the John Cleese lookalike should really obtain trackie bottoms that are a good two to three inches longer, thus lending a little extra gravitas to their appearance, seeing as he was wearing black leatherette slip-ons rather than the requisite trainers.

Neither was it helped by the fact that the young lady of the three looked, sounded and spoke like the Alice Tinker character played by the wonderful Emma Chambers in "The Vicar of Dibley", adding a helpful "Oh, I see" to every reply I made.

They asked what I was doing for Easter, and tempted though I was to tell them I was doing the Stations of The Cross, didn't elucidate further that these would be Kings', Brent and Waltham respectively, opting for admitting to "a quiet weekend in". That is, assuming my neighbour Jimmy doesn't encounter a cold Saturday and need to leave his Harley D turning over for 15 minutes at 8am on Saturday morning prior to heading off on his Easter weekend biker rally.

I did, at my own peril, attempt to delve a little deeper into what precisely these good people did to differentiate themselves from the 4,299 other religions (and the estimated almost 6,000 other minor barnpot cults, followings and laa-laa land inventions) but they seemed a bit short on the knowledge. They were only able to tell me that "Jesus died for my sins", which I thought was rather noble. Plainly he must have caught me walking out of Sainsbury's some 10 or more years ago having genuinely forgotten there was a pack of nine unpaid-for toilet rolls hanging from the back of my shopping trolley.

As the important people with silly-coloured hair and curtain rings through their nose septum would say in television interviews, "he plainly took ownership". Thank you Jesus.

I inquired whether they could shed some light on the conundrum whereby Jesus was born to the tune of Gregorian calendar, not invented until 1582, yet he died 33 years later to the tune of the biblical lunar calendar, hence the reason Easter is never on the same date each year. Worryingly, they hadn't a clue what I meant. This was further cementing my impression that they were only Facebook friends with Jesus.

I did then mention and ask their opinion on the unusual fact that three of the major religious festivals collided this year, namely Easter, Passover and Ramadan, which they not only were unaware of, but asked me what Passover was.

I thought at this stage it was for the best to conclude the conversation and I produced three bottles of Asda's best water (no, I didn't ask them to turn them into wine) and sent them on their way.

As I have been explaining for months to a Narnia Land Wardrobe dresser cultist on Facebook droning on about her rather idiotic and infantile invention "Secular Koranism" for months now, I always feel it makes best sense to have actual facts, figures and more importantly, proof of the claims you make to others.

But for some reason, these types of people don't get that, something I just cannot understand. I can only assume the gullibility of people is in direct proportion to their following of soshul influenzas on the internet, explaining why the Love Island human detritus have so many sheep-like followers.

Now, where did I put that code for the Bank of Da Vinci vault door . . . . . . . . . .