One ordinary day in Saint Luke's church, in the sleepy town of Ridley Feltham, the young Reverend Simon Smith was clearing cobwebs from members of his regular congregation who visited him on Wednesdays for this specific purpose. Mrs Smethwick, the elderly organist, was the last of these visitors, and indeed she looked as though she'd been caught in an industrial fisherman's net before the Reverend set about her with his duster.
After removing the cobwebs, the Reverend shared a complicated 'street' style handshake with Mrs Smethwick, a new procedure adopted in an attempt to entice some younger parishioners to the congregation, before heading off to the shop to buy a pasty. The Reverend wasn't sure whether there was any mention of eating pasties from the shop in the scriptures, so it was with no little amount of guilt that he went to sit in the park to enjoy it.
He ate the pasty like a squirrel, with his head down, darting quick glances all around to see if anyone was watching him. He was seen by a couple of older members of the church who audibly gasped at the sight of the pasty eating vicar before hurrying away in the opposite direction. The younger members of the congregation, of which there were none, just smiled amiably at the Reverend and waved.
After finishing his lunch the Reverend brushed the pasty crumbs from his Reverend outfit and headed back to Saint Luke's to do some weekday afternoon church shit, like drinking tea and that. However, as he approached the church he spotted a be-shirted youth vomiting all over the south wall and his previously clean shoes. He seemed to be suffering from the effects of alcohol, and the Reverend was about to go over and make some polite enquiries when he noticed an even more startling revelation.
It appeared that whilst the Reverend was out, Saint Luke's had been turned into a lap-dancing club. He looked up with bewilderment at the newly installed red neon sign bearing the church's new name, 'Holy Fuck!', and a flashing outline of a lady shaking her parts. The old building was shaking with the sound of loud, modern music.
The youth, who was propping himself up against the wall with his arm, looked up and noticed the vicar gaping at his new-look church.
'Reeeeevvveeereeennnd!' he leered suggestively, wiping bits of sick from his mouth with his sleeve. 'You're a fucking genius mate! I never knew you had it in you!'
'Er, well, no, I mean....thank you.' mumbled the Reverend. 'But please don't swear,' he added timidly, feeling completely out of his depth.
'Ah shit, sorry Rev. I'm a motherfucker for swearing. Fuck, I've done it again! Bollocks. Sorry. Anyway, nice one on the tit...sorry, I mean the breasts. They're ace. You'll be seeing me in church a lot more often from now on, that's for sure.'
The young man stumbled back inside, leaving the Reverend to contemplate the scriptures once again. Although not completely certain, he couldn't recall a reference to lap-dancing in the Bible, be it good or bad. However his gut instinct as a good man, and that quite apart from his vocation, was that the situation he was confronted with was a bad one. He also felt it was an altogether higher level of seriousness than eating a pasty from the shop. Having come to this conclusion, he marched into his church determined to turn everyone out and reclaim it. It would be like that time when Jesus threw some folks out of the temple. At last, he had something to go on!
But as soon as he had stepped inside, his determination was crushed by the astounding sight that confronted him. The church had been stripped bare of all the pews and other furniture that had previously occupied it and replaced with a new, modern decor, which remained faithful to the old traditions in its own peculiar way. The centrepiece of the new look was a huge marble statue of the Virgin Mary, looking up to the heavens, her hands clasped in prayer, which was situated in the central nave area facing the entrance that the Reverend had just come through. Leading away from the Virgin were four raised walkways on which girls in a state of undress were parading. One walkway was behind Mary, running up in the direction of the chancel at the back of the church, two others were leading away to the sides and the fourth, a longer one, was leading directly towards where the vicar was standing. All four combined to create the effect of a cross. Two extremely long poles protruded from each walkway, reaching high up to the roof of the church and were used by the girls to swing on alluringly. Both sides of each walkway were lined with chairs filled with men of all ages waving bank notes, their faces contorted into lustful grimaces, which they would have found shocking had they been able to see themselves.
The horrifying scene was completed by a bar in the far left corner, emblazoned with another red neon sign bearing the name 'The Font' in a joined-up-writing style, and the new stained glass window on the north side showing the outline of a voluptuous woman with devil horns and tail. The glass was tinted red so that the dark room was bathed in a hellish glow as the afternoon sun shone through the window.
As the Reverend stood there, at a loss as to what to do next, the girl who was 'dancing' on the longest walkway spotted him and began making her way down towards him. She glided in time to the heavy beat of the song that was currently playing, with her right hand on one of her swaying hips and the other swinging at her side, as if propelling her towards the vicar. She wore nothing but her underwear and a pair of unfeasibly high heels. Upon reaching the end of the platform, the girl crouched down on her haunches, her legs apart and beckoned the Reverend with her index finger.
As we have established, the Reverend was a good man, but a man nevertheless, and so it was some time before his eyes made their way up the girl's body to her face. Her undoubted beauty was partly hidden behind a mask of heavy make-up and her moderately long, curled blond hair bounced about her shoulders as she moved. The Reverend was transfixed, and without realizing what he was doing he approached the girl, who nodded her head approvingly. When he was near enough, she grabbed his head in both hands and buried his face in her cleavage before pushing him away by the forehead with the palm of her right hand. She then turned and walked away from him, unclasping her bra and removing it in one movement before spinning around to show herself to the vicar. The girl then sprang on to the nearest pole and swung around acrobatically before making her way back to the Reverend and bending down to have a word in his ear.
'That was just a free sample Reverend.' she said. 'You come and see me later after you've been around with the collection plate. Make sure it's full.' She laughed and kissed him on the cheek before making her way back up the walkway towards the other members of the new congregation.
The Reverend stood there with a big lipstick mark on his cheek, his thoughts in complete disarray. His eyes began desperately searching the room for a familiar face. When he eventually found one it wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting. Over on the short walkway to the right, wearing nothing but a thong, was old Mrs Smethwick the organist. Although she didn't appear to be as popular as the other girls, there were still one or two men ogling her, including old Garbutt, the former farrier who'd had a soft spot for Mrs Smethwick ever since they were in primary school together. He was leaning over the side of the platform trying to grab hold of her as she jerkily moved her wrinkly old body in a manner she felt approximated seductiveness. As she turned to avoid old Garbutt, she caught sight of the vicar looking over and gave him a big smile and two thumbs up.
Of all the horrifying things he'd just witnessed this was by far the worst and the Reverend turned away from Mrs Smethwick in shame. She was only doing her best for the church of course, but the vicar felt that she'd gone a little far on this occasion and felt tremendously guilty, as if he himself had pushed her to it in the drive to attract younger church-goers. He covered his face with his hands in despair, but he was given no time to dwell as the vomiting youth approached him with a large glass of brandy.
'Reverend, you dirty cu...customer, I saw you with Cheryl Hole over there! Wheeeeyyy!!'
'I'm sorry,' replied the Reverend in bewilderment, 'I'm not sure I....'
'Don't come the innocent with me Rev; Cheryl Hole, the fucking girl who's stood bollocko over there! Although I don't reckon that's her real name, truth be told. Anyway, here you are Rev, I got you this.' He handed the vicar the brandy and wandered off again, swaying comically from side to side as he tried to stay upright.
The Reverend took a quick look around the room before downing the brandy in one and then coughing violently, almost bringing the whole lot back up again. But he managed to keep it down and headed off to 'The Font' to get himself another one. And that's about the last he could recall of the whole affair.
He awoke the following morning feeling as if he had an axe planted in his skull. With great difficulty, he opened one eye at a time and peeled his tongue from the roof of his extraordinarily dry mouth. He then threw up violently over the side of his bed.
When he rolled back over he noticed that there were dark make-up smudges on the pillow next to his and a strong smell of perfume in the room. He sat bolt upright frantically trying to remember anything that had happened after that second brandy. But nothing came. Then, at the foot of the bed, he noticed the church collection plate. There was a folded up note on it and nothing else. The Reverend grabbed the note and read: 'Great nite Si, come see me again sum time. Kisses, Cheryl xxx.'
'Si' threw himself back on his pillow and wept uncontrollably. What on earth had he done?
Later that day, after he'd cleaned himself and his house up a bit, the Reverend settled down to his Bible to search for guidance, anything to help him respond appropriately to the events of the previous day. He studied long and hard but found nothing, and eventually threw the book away in frustration. The Jesus-throwing-folks-out-of-the-temple revelation had obviously been a one-off, and he hadn't even been able to take any positive action as a result of that. There was nothing else for it, the Reverend Simon Smith would have to resign his position and revert to being simply Simon Smith.
After leaving the church, Simon got himself a job in the local Spar where he still works to this day. It suits him well as he receives a small discount on pasties, brandy and other goods sold in the shop. He keeps a note of the savings he makes whenever he purchases something and puts the equivalent amount on the collection plate which he still has at home. When he's saved enough, he treats himself to a visit to Cheryl and the other girls over at 'Holy Fuck!', which has become as ordinary a sight in Ridley Feltham as the town hall, the public houses, the butcher's shop and the primary school. Indeed, people find it increasingly difficult to remember a time when 'Holy Fuck!' was merely the Parish Church of St Luke, where the Reverend Simon Smith was the minister.
