“Lerruz gerruz imbuks.” or translated, “Let us get our hymn books.”
Mam and Dad were not ‘God botherers,’ they never went to church and didn’t much care which one we went to either. I’m sure they thought they were all the same. The first one we went to was Bridge End Congregational Chapel. Where we were taught; ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.’ (Leviticus. Chapter 19, Verse 18.) Which of course is much easier to do if you have a very low opinion of yourself. We stopped going there when the older boys started throwing darts the full length of the Sunday school hall. I think they were trying to re-enact the martyrdom of St Sebastian using us as moving targets.

The trauma of this incident led me later to design a tee shirt for the,
‘St Sebastian Masochist Dart Club.’

"The rich masochist demands menaces with money.
The poor sadist takes the money and just walks away."

St John’s was our next port of call. We were reprimanded for calling people, ‘Sods,’ which we thought was a clod of earth. It was explained ‘Sod,’ was short for Sodomite. We were told the Old Testament story of God destroying the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah and turning Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt. (Genesis. Chapter 18,verse 16.) Furthermore that sodomy was a rude act between men, very popular in Sodom but not with God. He punished Sodom because of it. The Sunday school teacher didn’t even hint at what they got up to in Gomorrah it was so bad. Even today I don’t know what the act of ‘Gomorrahy,’ is and how one got ‘Gomorrahed.’

The 'Saint Sebastian Masochist Dart Club' T Shirt

Reliquary Cycle, with relic of Saint Salio
the hopping Saint of amputees.
N.B. The single pedal in deference to the Saint.

One kid asked if God could do anything. The teacher said he could. Whereupon the kid said;
“Can he make a stone so big he can’t lift it?” The teacher was stumped.
But God was listening and so as not to be caught out by this Zen conundrum.
God made black holes not heard or dreamt of in the 50’s. If that kid had kept his mouth shut who knows.
The last time I went to a church service was at St Martin’s Brighouse. A fellow stood up in the pulpit and announced, in a very loud pompous voice,
“Welcome to the land of pomegranates.” (Deuteronomy Chapter 8, Verses 7 to8.)?

I don’t know what he said next because for some reason I was overcome with uncontrollable laughter and was escorted from the premises by a stern faced elder who was completely baffled by my laughter, which of course made it a lot worse.
It never crossed their minds I could have been laughing in tongues or more fittingly inebriated. Saint Martin is after all the patron saint of drunks and winos.

Wilf's new book 'My Best Cellar' (his autobiography up to the age of eleven) can now be ordered online. £ 9.99   download book sample here

ORDER NOW