I Interviewed the Son of God About a Potential Return to Earth

He's just a normal guy like us

Mauricio Pochetino just got fired for getting into Europe.

And I’m sitting there thinking about How the Special One might return to Chelsea—either him or De Zerbi.

And the words ‘special one’ and ‘return’ get me thinkin’ hard about when I ran into Jesus during my vision of hell. In case you didn’t watch that episode, Jesus was working as a tour guide in hell for various reasons which I won’t go into here.

I Had a Lucid Vision of Hell While Meditating

And I just couldn’t get that cool bastard out of my mind.

I had more questions for that son of a bitch.

So I went to see the mountain-dwelling yogi Shanshek.

He said,

“Frank, if you want to visit hell again, all you have to do is perform the circle of rites while meditating on the fourteenth chakra in the primary wheel of your azure heart jewel.”

And honestly, if I knew it was gonna be that easy, I wouldn’t have bothered trecking five hundred miles like those specky Scottish twats to see the old fuck.

So that night before bed, I ate two crumpets to settle the inner winds and I masturbated twice, first standing up straight in the posture of the talking pencil, then once in a crouched position while doing a shit in the middle of my bed. Finally, I smeared faeces in my eyes and wrote the magical symbols on my chest in a mixture of semen and the blood of the midnight badger, as per Shanshek’s instructions.

And just like that, I was standing back in the reception area of hell where I had first been introduced to the son of God as my tour guide.

“Yes, I’m here to see Jesus,” I said to the pointy scarlet secretary.

“He’ll be right out, Mr Bird,” she said.

I sat on the human skin couch as usual and browsed the latest edition of The Hot Anus Journal. I was examining the inside of Rishi Sunak’s delightful anus when the door swung open.

“Well, if it isn’t the Busty Bird,” said Jesus, stomping across the room and holding out his well-moisturised hand for the shake. He’d made a point of hassling me about my man titties in our emails since the first visit.

We did our special handshake we had worked out over Zoom which was a grip, a slide, a fist bump, an explosion, rain, a grabbing of the crotch, two and a half pelvic thrusts, a butt flex and a loud ejaculation (In the Arthur Conan Doyle sense) of the Sanskrit syllable HUM at which the poor secretary nearly left her body with fright.

Jesus apologised immediately and we took one of the side rooms which were reserved for such meetings.

The mystical yogi Shanshek

We each sat down on a goat’s head stool and I pressed play on my mini disc recorder.