Dopey About Popey

Pope checks for gas leak at Sydney International Airport.











(Notes from the frontline of a new Crusade)

Papa's in town for those of you who don't live in Sydney. If you don't, you are being spared, and for that you should be thankful. Not get down on your knees, make pointy shapes with your hands, eternally thankful. Just for one temporal electoral period. I am going to reward my supposedly secular government for this gross travesty when it comes time.

Sydney's first question seems to be "why us?" I have heard it from so many people. Why us!? I thought this town was supposed to be Sodom and Gomorrah. I can't see that the Pope's arrival is going to help change anything. They've imported all these smugly righteous idiots, they don't seem to be the local variety. I hope and assume it's not a permanent demographic change.

Some footage from the airport is telling. Crowds of competing happy-clappys, all singing to prove to a not particularly clever god that you have to jam up an international airport's car park, if you want to appear truly faithful. I am absolutely certain I saw a Hare Krishna guy, pushing his way through the throng, rolling his eyes, and saying "I just wanna catch the fuckin' plane you dropkicks."

Still out at the airport, and even though I am reporting from S&G, I'm straight and therefore have not watched enough Sex and the City to be certain about this. But Pope baby, those shoes! They're fabulous. Manolo? Salvatore? Or just bespoke? I gotta know...

Some poor sod was caught by a microphone while being caught in a traffic jam in the CBD, "So what do you think of the visit so far?"

"Oh well, it's for a good cause I suppose," she answers. She's not certain, she's not giving way to anger and it's this sort of saintly like perseverance that shows how unfair Sydney's reputation for rudeness is. I know other parts of the world where they'd respond with rocket launchers to this sort of provocation.

Still it's good to know that when I march my special interest group through the centre of town (Grey Area celebrates the death of Big Brother), that I and my followers, will be met with mindless open-mindedness.

This one is a kicker. There is (I can barely type this for wanting to go and beat someone with a relic) a charity drive on at the moment for all the pilgrims who didn't bring enough clothes to weather a Sydney winter. Thousands upon thousands of these smug, drooling twits, have turned up and assumed that it would be just like home. Now I thought that they would have found it all cosy and warm; having their heads jammed so far up their arses like that.

Don't do it Sydney. You've been patient enough. Let the power of prayer warm them.