So, yes, I have been discussing this forum with the next Archbishop of Canterbury, Marcus Aurelius Rashford, and he said, I know, why don't you spend the week travelling around Britain on a Covid free horse to teach and feed the uneducated paupers and then we shall sit down together, break bread and discuss theosophy. So a week on Dobbin took me from Mevagissey to Nairn which is pronounced Nurn and I flung books and jammy dodgers to all of the Conservative voters as they ran out of their hovels wailing "oh yea, oh yea, he has come" before returning from the wilderness to discuss real life with the chosen one on bended knee. It's all a bit Minneapolis for me but, hey, we live in the most delightful global empire.
And where we were, just the two of us on the centre spot at Old Trafford, he said verily it is fine to be doing the effs and the blinding and the handicaps and the inevitable demise and the Roy Chubby Browns and even the fantasists' football stickers from The Sun but do not thou spake of bodily functioning. Or dysfunction. Or anything between the two like not scoring enough goals while also striving to be the new Prime Minister in a Labour Government like what I does. It's just too liquid and where the sun rarely tends to shine. Tell you what. Why don't you get out the unique Bible wot you penned and select a suitable number of verses for these times. I said "Young Marcus, You may just be right". So here they are:
Deutophesolicians 1
23. And then Japhrek who was the son of Bodleming, the great nephew of Aubameyang and the unfeasible father of Diagana came down from the Mount of Oxfam on his oxen, the great grandfather of Mount. 24. Lo, he stretched his small arms toward the heavens so that they became longer and longer and longer and longer and longer and even longer than words can do so they were above the clouds while the quarantined were on their bellies six feet distant so that only their toe nails touched his toe nails. Rather alluringly.
25. And as the bush of Lampard was all aflame, those small arms reached ever higher until they were touching the sun after which the moon and in turn each one of the stars. 26. Over 40 days and 27 nights, his hands clasped each one and to each he spake I have chosen thou. 27. And so first the sun in his hands was drawn ever closer to him as his arms shortened and shortened and shortened and shortened even to a point where no words were relevant as they were just their normal length again. 28. Then he put the sun into his mouth and ate it so that he enunciated "it is all that has gone before me ever since the pools".
29. Next , he did this with the moon too, reaching out into the light beyond light and then with each planet to Uranus and the great dog Pluto, pulling them towards him as his mind became flaccid, ingesting, as he did with every one of the stars. 30. And then to the crossroads on which he was slaughtered by disbelieving everyday speeding motorists, though suddenly there arose a hologram of Roy Hodgson standing ethereally next a bath. 31. Hodgson was singing E lucevan le stelle from Tosca to Malcolm Allison and a bunch of page 3 models, all wearing fedoras as Simon Jordan was playing modestly on a harp, not talking money.
32. And then a god said "Japhek, I shall comfort thou. You may think you are a guardian of your teddy bear and the petals of the flowers are without aphids and the solar system is in the command of your digestive tract and you can sell your story to 19th Century philanthropists and you alone can comprehend the new penalty rules. 33. I think you shall find that you are surrounded by populations whose guts are pouring bloodily into the soil and whose hearts are being devoured by two headed monsters. The ice caps are collapsing onto their heads through the bogs of their last remaining aeroplanes and all the contrails.
34. The effluent invades their veins and it comes from a tiny olive which is a mere virus. 35. It rips families asunder and hides the genitals, male and female, under bubble bath at Crystal Palace. 36. Everyone's arteries shall burst on the A303 under a cloud of nuclear armageddon. No delicate baby or the maimed or the despairing shall be saved. This is the truth and I am the only vaccine. 37. No walk above a cliff to a cornish pasty shop shall ever make your plate of the universe more digestible. 38. Turn only to me or forever wear the hat of a football manager in more babe-licious times who knew his Puccini from his Verdi and worked a cigar to ever lasting life. 39. So it was maiden aunts returned to knitting their bigger picture.
Yes?
Sorry....I am on 1471......I am a very busy person but will ring back later. 
