Mum: Do you remember any Old Testament stories apart from Adam and Eve and Noah’s Ark?
Me: Well, there’s that one about Abraham taking his son up the mountain and God telling him to murder him to prove his love for him, and then the angel leaping out and saying: ‘Spoofed you!’ just as he was going to plunge his knife in, and Abraham probably running around the mountain hitting him with a flip flop while shouting: ‘You bastard’. Basically in this story God is Jeremy Beadle.
Mum: Yes. Great. Ooh, and David and Goliath. Any more?
Me: Erm, something about Ruth in the alien corn, and someone turning into a pillar of salt?
(p.s. It took me ages to work out that alien corn wasn’t actually corn made by your genuine, bona fide aliens. Such a disappointment.)
Mum: Lot! Yes.
Me: What about Jael and Sisera? I think she stoves his head in with a tent peg after shagging him blind. Probably not good for small children that story.
Mum: No. Sadly not.
Me: Ooh! The walls of Jericho and the trumpeter! And Joseph!
Mum: Yes, and his technicolour dream coat and lots of sheep! Wasn’t there a burning bush?
Me: That’s Moses, wandering about in the desert, with his tablets (10 commandments written on two Nurofen to stop him going mad from all the nagging from the twelve tribes of Israel banging on about their sore feet).
Mum: Yes and his lovely plagues. We love a good plague.
Me: Locusts. Mmmm.
Me: Isn’t there one about twelve virgins and their oil lamps?
Mum: Came down from Inverness?
Me: Yes! And the twelve virgins had twelve sacks…
Mum: And in the sacks were twelve torches…
Mum and Me: So how many of them were going to St. Ives?