The Bible According To Me

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In the beginning there was the Word, and the Word was Jeff. And Jeff was omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent. Of course, having all those useful attributes, Jeff soon realised there wasn't much to be omnianything about.

So Jeff created the universe, but still couldn't get the subcontractors to work on a Sunday, so the job was done a bit quickly, especially the stuff done on Saturday afternoon. Nonetheless, Jeff looked at the universe, and decided that it weren't half bad.

So Jeff looked around and decided to have a game of snooker. He racked up the planets, and took his first shot. Then he wandered off to try and find someone to play with.

On the planets, meanwhile, funky things were happening. This was especially true of planet Earth, where the break had led to all sorts of interesting chemical reactions.

In short, a miscue by Jeff (not enough spin on the cue ball), led to the creation of life on our planet.

Jeff returned from his aeons long search to find things a little bit different on the snooker table. In some galaxies, planets waged millennia long wars with neighbouring planets. In other galaxies, civil war spread across planets. In some galaxies, peace was discovered, only for wars to break out over who exactly got to copyright it.

Planet Earth hadn't gotten that far, however. The stegosaurs had only just discovered the interesting effects of snacking on a ganja bush, while T-Rex had just discovered the effects of eating a stegosaur who had eaten a ganja bush.

Jeff pulled up a comfortable chair and decided to watch this evolutionary process from the beginning. It involved rewinding the tape a little, and fast forwarding past the boring bits, but when you're Jeff, you can get away with that.

So Jeff watched the ascent of the dinosaurs, but despaired at their small brains. Flicking his cigarette ash into one of Earth's oceans, he wandered off to see whether the Alpha Centaurian's had discovered slood yet.

Time passed. Jeff invented Sunday afternoons so he could explain to people exactly what it was like knowing everything that would ever happen.

60 million years after causing the biggest environmental catastrophe ever to hit our planet, Jeff wandered by the Milky Way again, and paused to check up on whether Deirdre and Ken had gotten back together yet.

He paused when he realised that man had begun to evolve. Inserting a new DNA string into our makeup, to correct the mistaken assumption that we could breathe underwater, Jeff resolved to keep an eye on the planet.

And he did. But when Cro-Magnon man decided he could mix it with saber toothed tigers, Jeff took a more active role in the evolutionary process.

Booting the Cro-Magnons out of Africa, Jeff spent a few days one autumn planting the Garden of Eden. A few years later, he returned to check on it. Deciding the lush paradise was pretty cool, Jeff created the first Homo Sapiens, and decided Matt was a good name.

Matt lived happily in the Garden of Eden for several hours, watching the orangutans swing from tree to tree, seeing the bunny rabbits frolic playfully in the grass, keeping an eye on the fish as they swam in the rivers.

"Well," Matt replied. "Everywhere I look, I see male and female orangutans, male and female fish, male and female rabbits, male and female dogs, ya get what I'm saying?"

"I see," said Jeff, wondering how he'd overlooked that most basic of human needs.

"So, I reckon a simple double bed, top sheet, swan down pillows, and a 12 tog duvet should be perfect," said Matt, who'd been reading the Laura Ashley catalogues.

Soon the people of Matt and Diana's tribe spread far and wide. They populated all of Africa, and the continent was peaceful. Matt passed away at the grand old age of 367, while Diana, having had the last word, passed away five minutes later.

Jeff had long since grown bored with the experiment, and decided to go off and catch up on 'EastEnders' until something actually happened.

Of course, Jeff made one big mistake in his process of evolution. It's understandable, I suppose. Have you any idea how big the universe is? It's big. Imagine how big that spider in the bath is, then double it. That's how big the universe is. Roughly. (This works better, by the way, if you're scared of spiders). It's tricky trying to remember every little biological datum, even when you're omnipotent.

Even so, leaving Matt and Diana's numerous progeny with no-one to breed with but each other was a bit of a balls up, all things considered.

Still, after a few generations of dribbling imbeciles, that little kink began to work itself out. However, the human condition would never quite be perfect, and what this little kink produced was a near uncontrollable desire to make noise. Some of the descendants formed rock bands, and the best of these musicians was Cliff, who got a mean sound out of the deposit of quartz anthracite he discovered one day.

Others created noise by going to war, endlessly ravaging whole tracts of land to hear the satisfying KRUMP!! when a catapulted boulder landed on someone's tent. Of these people, the best warriors were the Middleagians, who had the benefit of the greatest of all warriors, a giant of a man, with a short temper, who went by the name of Timmy.

They lacked an effective PR machine, however, and many peoples were lost merely because someone sniggered when informed of the name of the Middleagians champion..

Others made noise by talking non stop about themselves. They were recognised as the scourge of civilization, and were frequently hunted and killed for sport. Timmy was particularly good at this, and one day managed to skewer seven on his sword when sat next to them on the train.

But this story is about Timmy, and his battles. Or, rather battle. His final battle, to be exact. Timmy tended to kick ass when he went to war. He had a longer reach, stronger shield, and bigger sword then any other warrior, which is what happens when you're 18 foot tall and weigh in excess of 60 stone of solid muscle.

The Middleagians had neglected one point in their training of Timmy, however. They forgot to teach him the occasional importance of going "Awibble" when confronted by an implacable foe. As it turns out, it didn't actually matter, because everyone who saw Timmy ran shrieking in terror, but one day it might have counted for something.

I digress. One day, a Middleagian assault squad sent word to High Command (it was on a mountaintop) to ask for Timmy's assistance in subduing an unusually resistant village. So Timmy set off, covering massive amounts of ground with each giant stride, occasionally fording whole oceans with a single bound (he wasn't much of a one for reading maps, was Timmy). Eventually, he reached the village in question. He found the commanding officer, and asked for information. The officer, an implacable man, said:

"Yes," said the commanding officer, his face breaking into a grin. He regained his composure, and added, "The walls have been fortified, and we can't get in."

Timmy went and knocked at the gates, being a polite lad. He announced himself to the gatekeeper, who sniggered. Timmy put his foot through the six inches of seasoned oak that made up the door, and issued a challenge to the village's champion.

The door opened slightly, and a small boy emerged, carrying a sling and a sack of pebbles. Timmy took one look at him, and skewered the precocious little brat on his Lance. (He'd picked him up when a detour via Australia had given him the chance to visit the Neighbours set) Timmy then demanded the village send out it's real champion, before he got really annoyed.

This time the door opened rather wider, and a woman emerged. This was no ordinary woman, however. She was every man's dream. Dusky of skin, husky of voice, and well endowed of curves. Timmy took one look at her, and stabbed her clean through the heart.

Timmy proceeded to smash Awibble into tiny fragments, including every living person inside. Hack, slash went his sword (it was the deluxe model that does sound effects). Eek, ow, went the Awibblerians.

Eventually, it was all over. Timmy, leant on his sword, and surveyed a job well done. Pulling his sword from the ground, he scratched his foot on the blade, but thought nothing of it. Within the week, the wound had turned septic, and Timmy keeled over and died, after he'd discovered slood, but before he could write anything down, or tell anyone. The Middleagians were smashed to bits by everyone they went to war with, and people who talked about themselves constantly were free to breed.

The moral of this story is this: Next time you're stuck with someone who talks only about themselves, wash your hands after killing them.

Time went by, as is it's job. The human race expanded to cover the entire globe, which was a bit of a problem for those who couldn't swim. Jeff wasn't too keen on the way his people were acting, after all, it's all very well to watch one episode of 'Wheel of Fortune', but when you've made an effort to watch them all, you might as well just give up on civilization there and then. Jeff decided the only way to sort things out was to flood the Earth.

Jeff, being a simple minded soul, didn't stop to consider that the Earth was covered in many non 'WoF' watching life forms, like antelope, Yorkshire terriers, and the common or garden remoler. Who knew which of these guiltless species would survive a mass extermination?

Jeff decided that, rather than sit through mankind's evolution again, he'd save a few simple, honest and good folks. He selected Carter, an elderly carpenter, and his family. They were good people, never watched 'Wheel of Fortune' in their lives. That this was because Carter was pants at his job, and couldn't afford a television, didn't matter to Jeff.

Besides, he was throwing a dinner party for Thor, Zeus, and the rest of the gang, and needed somewhere to wash all the dishes afterwards. It was, he felt, an elegant solution. Kill two birds with one stone. And billions of life forms with one flood. If only Jeff had invented Zanussi, history might have been very different.

Carter, it must be said, was a bit put out by his task. Build a huge boat for him, his family, and a boy and girl from every species of animal they could find. Carter left his sons to worry about woodlice, and set aside his attempts to discover slood. He unearthed his woodworking manuals, and set to work.

He banged, and he hammered, he sawed and he chiseled. Eventually, the name plate was done, and he set to work on the rest of the Ark.

The big problem, as Carter saw it, was dung. The more obvious animals, the elephants, rhinos, giraffes and so on, were already fertilising his land. Carter looked at what they could do in a couple of days, and worked out what a flood of many week duration would lead to. Carter decided to put a hole in the bottom of the Ark, so the dung could be pushed out easier. One of Carter's sons spotted the inherent flaw, and set to work redesigning the Ark.

Finally, the Ark was complete. An impressive waste disposal unit had been designed by Carter's youngest son, and the animals were duly coaxed aboard. Then Jeff, whose party was in full swing, turned on the taps, and the rains came.

After thirty eight days, and thirty eight nights, Jeff had finished washing the dishes. He put the out to dry on the moon, and left the taps running to wash the last of the suds out of the sink. A further two days along, and Jeff turned off the taps. Carter and his family emerged from their cabin, and greeted the dawn.

Carter took a small bird, and set it free. Rather lacking in forethought, he hadn't chosen a homing pigeon, so it took several days for the bird to return. In the meantime, Carter and his family did manage to top up their suntans. When the bird returned, it came bearing an olive branch, and Carter and his family rejoiced. "Land," they cried, and dived into the floods to swim in the direction the bird had returned from.

In fact, the olive branch was the tail end of a tooth pick used by Minerva, which had sprouted shortly before she'd dumped it in the water. Carter and his family all drowned, sadly. The animals rather outgrew the Ark in rapid fashion, and the human race began its descent again, this time from a lost tribe of Cro-Magnons who'd taken refuge from the flood in the remnants of the Middleagian's High Command.

The moral of this story is this: If you're throwing a party, keep plenty of bin bags handy.

One day, Sharon woke up feeling a bit queasy. Unwell. Sick. In the morning. She turned over in bed, despite her stomach's objections, and looked out the window. Tried to, anyway.

Standing between her bed and the window was a man in a long white trenchcoat. Sharon looked at him strangely. She wasn't particularly scared, being a tad naive, but strange men appearing in her room was unusual, to say the least.

"You already have, dear girl," replied the man, who was stroking his long white beard. "You have been chosen to bear the child of our Lord, Jeff, and this child will be the greatest of all."

"But, I kinda had plans for the rest of my life," Sharon pointed out. "I really think me and Gus, my fiancé, are fairly close to discovering something important. Something life changing. I mean, any day now."

"Yes," said the man, who knew all about slood. "My apologies, my dear," the man stroked, "but the decision is made. You, Sharon, are to bear the child of the supreme being, indeed you are pregnant right now, and there is to be no arguing."

"Indeed? Well, very well... How could I possibly argue with a beard as stroky as yours?" Sharon said, resignedly.

"Look on the bright side, my dear. For ever more, your name will be associated with those of your race who are chaste, and pure. Sharon's for evermore will live in your image."

It was census time, 39 weeks later on, and Gus and Sharon, now Mr. and Mrs. Sitt, were returning to the region of Gus' birth, specifically a town called Vestite. It was the time of census across the land, and Gus and Sharon had to travel across many miles to reach Vestite. Once their, they learned the census offices were in the West of the city.

As they had approached the town from the East, it meant they had to continue their journey trans-Vestite.

Gus and Sharon got registered, prompting a smoochy session on the steps of the hall, as they were now irrevocably Mr. and Mrs. Gus Sitt. It had become late in the day, and Sharon felt unprepared to begin the journey back towards their own town. Gus sighed, and looked around, to see if there was a Tourist Information office open at that time of day. of course, there wasn't. Gus had to find a place on his own, towing Sharon on the donkey he'd bought for the journey.

"No room," became a slogan which was familiar to Gus and Sharon. One inn had a posh sign declaring "No vacancies." neither Gus nor Sharon knew what Cancies were, but if they were new at that inn, they probably couldn't afford to stay there. Despondently, they trudged on.

At the grottiest, most decrepit inn in Vestite, they found a place to stay. They settled into the stable well, despite the smell. Sharon had, over the course of their marriage to date, become used to the whiff when Gus took off his shoes.

In the course of the night, one of the cows rolled over, and bumped into Sharon. The shock sent her into labour, and Gus sprinted off to boil water. The innkeepers wife, who'd supervised the birth of more than one calf, quickly deciphered Gus' gibberings, and hurried out to help.

Out West, three astronomy students were sharing a joint, and giggling at the patterns in the stars. Suddenly, they saw one truly humungous star, traveling at a walking pace across the sky. They hopped on the camels their father's had bought them for graduating Rich Boy High, and loped off in pursuit.

"A Saviour is born," he said. "If you wish to go where the star leads, take the Saviour signs of fealty."

The students looked at one another, and shrugged, before diving into their dorm to grab stuff a Saviour might need.

As Sharon nursed her new daughter, Gus sat and grinned like an idiot. Though he knew the story of the virgin conception, he still saw the child as his own, to raise as best he could. Maybe she would be a carpet layer, like him? 'Gus and Daughter.' Wouldn't that be something?

A shepherd entered the stable, and seeing Sharon breastfeeding, instantly turned his back in embarrassment. The new born lamb he had with him skipped over to see whether any milk might be coming his way. Gus looked at the lamb, at the shepherd, at the lamb, and snatched the woolly creature up, shoving it under the hem of his robe.

The shepherd peered cautiously over his shoulder, and, seeing that Sharon was done feeding the child, he looked around for his lamb. Not being able to find it, he asked Gus if he had seen it.

"Oh," said Gus, blushing guiltily. "That's a personal problem. I'd be grate-meeehhh-ful if you didn't draw undue attention to it, thank -meeehh- you."

The shepherd stared hard at Gus, who looked guiltily around, then went off to search for his lamb outside. Just then, the students arrived.

"They're dirty, and have holes in them, and why would anyone wear socks with sandals?" replied Sharon.

"Which is also dirty, and looks like it's been used to scrub the toilets," said Gus.

"Well," said the third, with a sharp look at the other two, "I bring a new invention, called slood. It has many uses, chiefly- "

He took the slood, and threw it on the meager fire the couple had managed to make. Soon, a roaring flame was going, and the stable became comfortable, almost pleasant. The students departed, disappointed, and a few days late, the family left, trans-Vestite, to return to their home.

Time passed. It's its job, and it does it well. I'm sure you've noticed it, zooming past you on the outside lane while you're getting on with your life.

Gus, Sharon, and Jessie the Saviour, as well as Gus and Sharon's other children Behd, Buhll, and Hahws, were all invited to a wedding in the nearby town of Caana. They went along, and oohed, and aahed at the bride, for she was beautiful. Sharon, who was now past thirty years of age, felt distinctly dowdy. But then, that is the role of female guests at a wedding.

The wedding went swimmingly, and the party afterwards rocked. Popular group the Dung Beatles were on hand to sing such songs as 'Yellow Fishing Boat', 'Sestertii Way', and 'Octopus' patch of dust at the back of his home'.

The wine went down well. A little too well, in fact. By ten o' clock, all the red was gone, and only a couple of amphoras of white were left. The bridegroom, a guy by the name of Peter, came over to Sharon, and asked her if she had any ideas.

"What do you expect me to do?" Sharon asked. "My husband's an inventor, and I'm a housewife. Believe me, with four kids, I wish could conjure up a couple of jugs of wine when I wanted, but I can't. Why not buy some?"

"We spent all our money on the wedding, and we can't ask our guests to buy their own wine..."

"Let that be a lesson to you. Have a cheap wedding, get everyone really hammered, and they'll think it was great. Remember that next time," Sharon opined, wisely.

Jessie was in the corner, being chatted up by the son of a fishmonger. She was trying her best, but it was difficult to have a conversation with someone when you have to hold your nose all the time.

"Whoops, gotta go," she said to the fishmonger's son. "My dad's calling. Nice to meet you."

"Wait, can I have your..." he began, then remembered telephone's hadn't been invented yet. "Oh... Kippers."

"What is it dad? I mean, It's not that I'm not grateful or anything, but it is a party, you know?"

"Yes you would. In fact, last time I was getting attention from a cute guy, you butted in. You could at least appear, when you do it. I look like a right weirdo when I zone out like that."

"You know you can't do things with boys. We talked about that," said Jeff, with a touch of exasperation in his voice. "And can you please capitalise when you talk to me? It's a little thing, but it means so much to me."

Jessie walked back into the reception, which was beginning to wind down somewhat. She noticed a big amphora in the corner, enough for almost fifty pints. She ordered it filled with water, then looked at it hard for several minutes.

She called the groom over, along with the father of the bride. They each sipped the wine, then glugged merrily on it, for it was flavoursome, rich, and very, very alcoholic. Soon the party was in full flow again.

"Yes, well, nice to see your old man still has it," Jeff said, a touch of pride in his voice.

Indeed, one of the guests, an undertaker, was a little bit miffed that the rich, fine wine they were being served.

"Why not bring it out earlier, eh? You tight bugger. You just wanted to flog it after the wedding."

"Oh my, the bridegroom is on the floor! I have never seen a punch like that! The undertaker just decked, peter, the rock."

The local king looked at the man standing next to him, who went by the name of James the second..

"Something's are more important than money, king. And now we have a young girl jumping into the fight."

"Will you calm down? The least hint of flesh... She can't be much more than sixteen or so!"

"Look, everyone," Jessie said. "I made the wine. It's my gift to the couple getting married. Just calm down, everyone. Have some more wine. Chill out."