Ever since I was Verger at Selby Abbey I’ve had a rather special relationship with God.  He knew, of course, about the many and various sins I’d racked up prior to trying to put back a bit into the world, too numerous and shameful for me to confess to you all here.  But he cut me a lot of slack and elevated me to a rung just one down from the fucking angels.

Only He knows why, but He seemed to take quite a shine to me, endowing me with reasonable health, sufficient wealth and, above all, the love of a good family.

But I couldn’t believe my good fortune when He suggested a deal for when we should meet.  So I thought I’d outlive Methuselah when, like the kindly father He is, He told me,  “I shan’t send for you until Tottenham Hotspur become Premier League Champions”.

Getting a bit nervous now.