‘Kierkegaard is absolutely wrong,’ Paul pulls down his pants, ‘these last two thousand years should not be lifted.’ I hear a squeak.
‘That is a fundamental misunderstanding, it is not inconsequential whether Jesus had blonde hair, parted it to one side, tucked in his belt.’
Paul lifts his pants. ‘Whether I was on the road to Damascus or here in the bathroom.’
‘He is a realist,’ Paul stands back in the mirror, ‘he is a realist.’ Paul blows a kiss and winks. ‘Now, you tell me, what doesn’t God care about?’