ON HOW MARY HAS MORE ‘FOLLOWERS’ ON FACEBOOK THAN JC

JC PRACTISES A BIT OF LEVITATION ON MY AUNTIE MAUD

Judea AD28. JC has been out and about all morning and has now returned home for a spot of lunch only to find Mary sat down in her favourite chair playing with her iPad thing exactly as he left her earlier. The look upon his face reveals that JC is not happy about this in part or at all!

JC: “You’re still sat on your fat arse playing with that bloody iPad I see. I was hoping against hope you might have found the time to prepare food woman. If the truth be told I wish I’d never brought you that iPad you’re addicted to it.”

Mary: “Can’t help it JC, I’ve got 1737 followers on Facebook now and it would be an insult not to commune with them. Anyway, there’s some flat bread and Yak cheese in the fridge…help yourself.”

JC: “Flat bread and cheese, oh that’s bloody brilliant. There’s me working me nadgers off trying to earn a few shekels and all you offer me is flat bread and cheese. This is getting ridiculous, how many ‘f**kwit followers’ did you say you’ve got on Facebook?”

Mary: “1737 at last count.”

JC: “Crikey, I’ve only got 13 and 12 of those are just blokes I know from down the pub and they’re never online hardly anyway. Bloody good that is. There’s me trying to set up an online cult of disciples giving it a load of wellie with all my philosophical updates and what do you do? Yes, I know what you do, you ‘post’ bloody stupid pictures of ‘date & walnut cake’; ‘goat curry’; ‘your bloody sister’s ugly little brat’ and ‘that pointless pet tortoise of yours.’ Hardly works the mind does it?”

Mary: “Who’s the other follower you’ve got then?”

JC: “Oh, some Roman bloke called Pontious Pilot, whoever he is.”

Mary: “Whatever, I enjoy this Facebook thing it’s given me a new lease of life. Anyway you’ve been out for ages. Hope you weren’t harassing that poor old tramp again. You weren’t were you? I know what you’re like when you’re in a mood.”

JC: “Well he lowers the tone of the area. Can’t stand the bloke. He’s always pissed up; laying down in the gutter in a puddle of piss. I must admit I activated a little plot I had planned for him. Even made me chuckle a tad.”

Mary: “Here we go, what did you do to the poor soul?”

JC: “Well I spotted him just around the corner, sat by the kerbside rolling a fag and knowing that he has a particular passion for extra strong Carlsberg Special Brew I offered him a handy can I had upon my person.”

Mary: “That was kind of you dear.”

JC: “No, you don’t get it Mary. Before giving him the can I’d spent a good 30 minutes giving it a bloody good shake. He got in such a state when he opened it. Lager, lager everywhere and not a drop to drink, so to speak. Last thing I saw was him sucking what vestige of lager was still available to him from his loin cloth. My how I laughed. Thought that’ll teach you my friend!”

Mary: “Not so kind after all them! Anyway, how did the morning go? Make a good few shekels?”

JC: “No I bloody didn’t. Tried a few levitations and stuff but I just couldn’t get in the zone today.”

Pause whilst JC reluctantly goes to the fridge to grab flat bread and Yak cheese.

Mary: “Didn’t think to bribg me some did you. You haven’t made diner for me since Salome misplaced the severed head of John the Baptist. Anyhow that’s typical of you. That said, look at this JC. See, on screen here my friend Sandra has just updated saying that in Deuteronomy 25:11-12 it says, ‘When men strive together one with another, and the wife of the one draweth near for to deliver her husband out of the hand of him that smiteth him, and putteth forth her hand, and taketh him by the secrets: Then thou shalt cut off her hand, thine eye shall not pity her.’ If that means what I think it means that’s not very nice!”

JC: “What do you think it means luv?”

Mary: “Well I read it as, ‘If a woman…say me…goes to defend you while you’re having another one of your punch-ups with that Judas bloke and say, for example you’re taking a bit of a beating, and I intervene yet in doing so inadvertently grab his bollocks then the authorities will cut my hands off when all I’m trying to do is save your life.”

JC: “Well, that’s about the strength of it. What’s wrong with that. Everyone knows it’s wrong for you to grab another blokes ‘set.’ Don’t bear thinking about.”

Mary: “Well I think that’s daft. And look, she’s updated again. Blow me down with a feather, look at this. ‘He that is wounded in the stones, or hath his privy member cut off, shall not enter into the congregation of the Lord (Deuteronomy 23:1)’ I take it that means if you haven’t got a knob you can’t go down the synagogue? Is that why Mr Preston up the road never goes to there?”

JC: “What’s wrong with that, we don’t want any freaks attending services now, do we Mary? As for Mr Preston, dunno. Whatever, I’m off to the Fisherman’s Arms and Gastro Inn for a couple of beers. All the boys will be there. Jesus is coming back from his 40 days and nights in the desert so I expect he’s got a raging thirst on. See you later.”

With that Jonathan Cummings departs his home for the pub leaving Mary to her IPad. Who did you think I was talking about anyway?