Is this interview with God genuine?

The following interview, allegedly with God the Father, appeared on the Diocese of Salford website. According to the Press Officer, Fr John Flynn, "I am sure it is real."

On reflection I think the interview has to be fake, but I am reproducing it on my blog just in case it is a genuine scoop.

Our distinguished guest, creating life.

JOURNALIST: Welcome, God. Er, how should I address You?

GOD: Oh, don't stand on ceremony. Abba, Father, Lord, Sir, Boss - any of those will do. Even "Lord Sugar."

J: Can I assume that You are speaking as God the Father right now?

G: Yes, the doctrine of the Trinity is a little complex, but take it that I'm also speaking as God the Son to Johann Hari at the Independent, and Ruth Gledhill at the Times has booked me as God the Holy Spirit.

J: How do you see Your job? Is it a job for life, or do You think You may retire some time?

G: Oh, definitely for life, which means for ever in My case. After all, who could replace me?

J: Richard Dawkins, maybe?

Richard Dawkins cuddles another fossil for comfort.

G: Oh, poor Richard thinks he's God, but he's not got much of a clue. We converse regularly - well, I speak, and he sticks his fingers in his ears.

J: Tell us what you think of the new Pope, Sir.

G: Oh, a good man, I'm sure. A little different from Pope Benedict, of course. Perhaps it's a shame that he bundled up all his ceremonial robes and sent them to a charity shop.

You too can wear a fanon - modelled here by Pope Paul VI.

J: Many of our readers will be asking whether you are a "Traddie" or a "Liberal," Lord.

G: Ha ha ha, good question. Just think of me as being very orthodox. Can't abide those fools at the Tablet, though.

J: Oh, You read the Tablet?

G: Yes, I skim through it - when you're basically omniscient it's best to keep up with the enemy. Here's an example: TINA BEATTIE CALLS ON VATICAN TO SURRENDER. No, no, she's lost it.

J: These days, the Church seems to spend a lot of time arguing about abortion, same-sex marriage, and so forth. Any comments?

G: Oh get real. I made My views clear on those issues, centuries ago. By now everyone should have understood the basic moral principles of Christianity, and got on to more serious things like loving their neighbour.

Love your neighbour, François Hollande style. Les plods gassing les enfants de la patrie.

J: What do you think of the other burning issue of the day: the decision of the Telegraph to charge for its content?

G: Apparently, they have to pay for Geoffrey Lean to jet off to more conferences on global warming, and the airlines are threatening to charge double the price for fat people. I see their dilemma.

J: Will You pay the £1.99, O Lord?

G: No, for obvious reasons I won't need to do that. Besides, I really only read it for the cartoon and some of the blogs.

J: Do You listen to the radio?

G: Yes, I simply adore Thought for the Day. St Peter and I play this game in which we listen to Giles Fraser and count the number of theological errors, inadvertent blasphemies, and examples of sheer foolishness that he makes. I've seen St Peter rolling on the floor, laughing at some of Giles's blunders.

Giles Fraser has fans in very high places indeed.

J: One final question, Sir. Vatican II - what did you make of it?

G: Oh, it had some good points, but then some of what happened afterwards was simply hilarious. All that stuff about priests standing with their backs to Me, so that I couldn't see what they were up to. Totally clueless. And the hymns they make Me listen to these days - I do wonder why Paul Inwood and his friends hate me so much.

J: God the Father, thank You very much.

G: PAX VOBISCUM, and I'll be seeing you again in - oh, about 38 years from now.

J: Oh, er, right.

Not-very-relevant photo.

Great religious bores of today

You know how it is when you get on the bus and someone comes and sits down next to you, even though there are lots of empty seats...

I'm an atheist you know, I don't believe in any of that "sky-fairy" nonsense, I've been reading a brilliant book by that man Dawkins he's an Oxford professor, he was a very famous biologist you see, discovered genes, or DNA, or memes, or something, so he knows what he's talking about.

Genes, or DNA, or memes, or something.

Anyway he's now become an expert on theology, and he points out just how vile Catholicism is, they brainwash the kids you know. See those children over there, going to St Mary's School? You can see that they're mentally scarred by the prospect of ending up in Hell. Oh well, maybe it's because they've got a French test today, anyway, they're not looking very happy, are they? Dawkins says that's worse than child abuse and he's right. He's written lots of books with long words in them, you must have heard of him he's married to that woman on Dr Who...

That woman on Dr Who.

He got up, and another man sat down next to me...

Hello, I'm a deacon you know, you can tell that because I'm wearing a biretta, I'm just as good as a priest really but you'd be surprised just how many priests look down on us and give us all the dirty jobs to do. I do baptisms you know, they're safe in my hands, you don't see many of my baptisms going wrong.

A baptism gone wrong.

The same goes with funerals, they often give me funerals to do because I never smile, but I read a big book about how to do funerals, and the main thing to remember is to stand well back so that you don't fall in the grave, it upsets the bereaved if the deacon falls in the grave. Note that I am wearing a biretta on my head. My wife ironed it, in fact she irons my head flat every morning so that the biretta will fit on top. I've also got a dalmatic, but I don't wear it on the bus, it's white with black spots, because my wife saw a film "The 101 Dalmatics" and this gave her the idea.

The 101 Dalmatics.

I can do exorcisms as well, even though deacons aren't supposed to. I woke up last night and saw the ghastly demon Ek-al-Byar leering at me, and saying "You're not a proper priest," but I said "Begone!" and turned the light on. It had turned into an old coat hanging on the wardrobe door. You see what powers I have...

Finally, another man wanted to share his grievances with me...

You're interested in religion, are you? Did you know that Pope Paul VI was replaced by a replica in 1967? Look at these photos, it proves it.

  

The real Paul VI (L) and the impostor (R).

Note how the impostor has his ring on the wrong hand. They exploited the confusion caused by Vatican II to smuggle a demon onto the throne of St Peter, so it's been Sede Vacante for the last 45 years. Look at the way Pope John-Paul II behaved - first he murdered John-Paul I, and then he bought himself a bent crucifix. It's clearly evidence that he was a demon.

Shocking behaviour by a Pope.

What's more the Mormons posthumously baptised John-Paul II, so that proves he wasn't a true Catholic. And the present Pope is the same. But I have been reading the prophecies of the end of time, and I can tell you there will be only one more Pope after the present one - probably an Englishman called Vincent - after which there will be Armageddon, and then we'll see the present Catholic church destroyed like it says in the book of Revelation.

The rightful Pope, Pius XIII.

Oh, is this your stop? Well, it's been nice hearing your views...

An audience with Paul Inwood

Having read the startling comment from Paul Inwood, the Prostecnic Vogon Jeltz of Catholic worship, claiming that Pope Benedict - a mere novice in these matters - had made an incorrect statement about liturgy, I hurried down to Portsmouth for an audience with the great man.

Pope Paul VII.

The palace of Pope Paul VII is truly magnificent, as one would expect from a man of his distinction and importance (he told me). I entered and knelt before "the man who put the 'litter' in 'liturgy.'" Paul was sitting on a golden throne, and he graciously allowed me to kiss his ring. In one corner of the room, there stood a choir of mystic monks, intoning a solemn and dignified Gregorian chant. This surprised me, as I had been expecting a choir to be singing "Alleluia Ch-Ch" in one-part harmony, but it was later explained to me by an aide that "round here, Inwoodian chant is business, Gregorian is pleasure."

Hell - one place where you are sure to hear Paul Inwood's music.

So I asked the man they call the Head of the Caterwaul Church about his relations with his great rival in Rome. "Benedict is fundamentally a good man," he said, "although of course he is not an educated man like what I is, and he does not have access to an army of advisers as I do. No wonder he made the blunder of denying that Pope Paul VI had abrogated the EF Mass. Benedict evidently hadn't read the Encyclical De Musica Vulgarissima in which it was specifically asked that all content be removed from the liturgy, and that henceforth we should sing jolly songs involving finger-snaps and animal noises."

A modern congregation appreciates the music of Paul Inwood.

Knowing that Paul Inwood's pronouncements are generally believed to be infallible, I decided that here was a case of Pompeius locutus est, causa finita est.

"So how are you getting on with the new Bishop of Portsmouth, Philip Egan?" I asked. "I hear that he's something of a traditionalist."

"We get on very well," said his Howler-ness. "He is very concerned that I may be tired through overwork. The Bishop sends me all sorts of interesting literature about retirement schemes, and he suggests that a holiday home in Beirut would suit me down to the ground. It's good to be appreciated."

Before I left the holy presence, I persuaded Pope Paul VII to give me his blessing. "Bless you, bless you, bless you, Ch-Ch-Ch! Snap-Snap! Here a Moo, there a Moo, everywhere a Moo-Moo," he sang, making me feel at one with the beasts of the field with these simple but well-chosen words. Yes, I had been in the presence of a great man, or at least, "a man who grates."

Where ever you go, the music of Paul Inwood is to be heard

The Divine Comedy: Inferno

So the poet Virgil came to Eccles, who is a saved person, and said "Perhaps you'd like to take a look at Hell, Purgatory and Heaven, to see how they've been getting on since I gave Dante a conducted tour? You could write about them on your lovely blog."

Abandon Hope, all ye who enter here

So they travelled to the gates of Hell itself, and began their descent into the abyss from which no man returns.

"This could be interesting," said Eccles. "Will we see Hitler, Stalin, Bin Laden, and people like that?"

"We do have them down here of course," said Virgil, "but frankly you don't want to see the dreadful torments they suffer. When you see someone who is forced to read the Guardian all day long, you even start to feel a nagging sympathy for them."

Ted Heath

They came to a darkened room in which a big fat man was groaning pitifully as he declaimed in a booming voice: "Ohhh... notwithstanding directive LU/267/JRQ/1637, paragraph 208, on the regulations for the design of teaspoons permitted in coffee shops not exceeding 250 square metres in area, it will be necessary for the managers of such shops to buy carbon credits to the value of EUR 50 for each customer who wishes to blow on his coffee to cool it, on pain of having their toenails pulled out by a registered inspector..."

"This is one of his lucky days," said Virgil. "He's just got to read out pointless EU directives. On a bad day they get him to read out all his old speeches."

"I see you try to make the punishment fit the crime," remarked Eccles. "Do you have any interesting atheists?"

Christopher Hitchens

They came to a room in which a rather stout man was writing a book. Eccles looked at the chapter heading, which said How Mother Teresa murdered a nanny and framed Lord Lucan for it, on the instructions of Pope Paul VI. In the corner of the room was a fire, and Virgil explained that Hitchens's punishment (apart from being eternally deprived of alcohol and cigarettes) was to write books which, when completed, were thrown directly into the flames. "This happened when he was alive too, usually, but now we can cut out all the trouble of getting a customer to buy them first," explained Virgil.

"I was right, I was right, there is no God, and he hates me!" screamed Hitchens, and resumed his writing.

"How about Catholics?" asked Eccles. "Do you have any down here?"

"Lots," said Virgil. "Since the 1960s, there's been no shortage of Catholics wanting to sign up to a liberal agenda. Abortion, euthanasia, divorce, homosexual practices... so much simpler than traditional morality, it seems."

Will nobody come for a drive with me?

A fat dissolute man came past, driving a taxi. "Taxi, guv?" he asked. "A little drive to the island?"

"Heard the legend of the Flying Dutchman?" asked Virgil. "Condemned for ever to sail the seas? It's been updated - Ted here is condemned for ever to drive his taxi, unable to pick up passengers."

"He was a Catholic, wasn't he?" asked Eccles.

"When there were votes in it," replied Virgil. "But mostly he was just a fat drunken slob."

"So, where next?" asked Eccles.

"Well, you've seen some dead souls currently in torment. Next, I shall show you a vision of the future. We'll see some of the living people whom we're expecting down here in the next few years..."

Let's go and do something really evil.