‘May I say a few words, Mr Chairperson?’ Saint is all simpers and smiles. Anyway, a hundred years ago, Brutus was killed in a big battle here by Marc Antony and they are both now tourist attractions.ĭraughty hall. Needless to say, Saint decided then and there to put on a show, using as an excuse his lifelong admiration for Brutus, the bastard son of Julius Caesar who helped stab his Dad to death in the theatre of Pompey at Rome where I saw my first Asiatic burlesque show – and I don’t mean Asiatic Minor. There was all the usual tourist-trap stuff except for a meeting of the Brutus Good Name Society in a big hall close to the Ferris wheel. Our first night in Philippi, we visited the old battlefield. Although Moses is credited with the invention of double entry book-keeping, Saint developed so many new wrinkles in accounting that the Roman Internal Revenue service was still trying to untangle them at the time of the fall of same, if that movie with Alec Guinness is to be trusted. Saint also invented the numbered account as well as instalment-paying. By the time we hit Rome Saint had his own bank – of the Holy Ghost, he used to giggle because, like the Ghost, you had to have faith before you could see where the money was. Saint had converts everywhere – donors, too. Saint worked the circuit like there was no tomorrow, preaching, collecting money, and putting together what was, frankly, the greatest mailing list ever assembled by anyone in the Roman world. It’s really and truly a wonderful religion, cash-flow-wise, and I say this now from the heart. For Saint there was only the One God who had sent his only Son to be crucified and resurrected and then while the rest of us hang around waiting for the end of the world (now slightly overdue according to Saint’s original timetable), those who had been associates of our Lord would teach the others how to live in a state of purity – no sex mostly until He comes back and everyone has to appear in court where the good are routed up to Heaven and the rest down to Hell and so on. Naturally, next to godliness, Saint hated cleanliness – in laypersons, that is. In fact, the second I hit town, any town, I was off to the baths not only for fun and frolic but for oil and pumice stone, too. I’m Bishop of Macedonia, as you will know in time if you are not lucky enough to be in time already.Īs a Greek boy, I was spotlessly clean. Claypoole (‘Call me Chet’), arrived one day with a television set which he proceeded to rig up in my bungalow just back of the cathedral.
I’m afraid I’ve become addicted to cable news ever since this complete stranger, Chester W.
The reason I’m taking a break now is the Six o’Clock News is about to go on. Yes, I’m a Saint, after death, of course, which hasn’t taken place at this point in time on the present tape. I have to take a break here in my gospel according to Saint Timothy.
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