My Raymond thought that it might be easier to do the job if he tied the brush to the end of a snooker cue, so that he didn’t have to climb up a ladder to reach the ceiling, but then he ended up having to climb the ladder any road, every time he wanted to dip it into the paint pot.
I can’t imagine Michelangelo buggering about like that. But I bet his neck was ruddy well throbbing by the time he had finished his ceiling. Unless he was on strong pain killers. If he was, it might explain some of the weird things that he painted. Like in this picture, why is God sat in something that looks like somebody’s hollowed out innards, with his arm around a woman, and a dozen naked people including some that look like little kiddies? There’s one at the front, with curly hair who looks like he is nuzzling up to God very comfotably. And you can see his arse an all. In fact it looks like God is the only one in the picture who has got any clothes on at all.
And there’s Adam laid out like a Dogs dinner, showing all he’s got. Which isn’t very much by the looks of it. You wouldn’t march an army very far on rations of meat that size, and the vegetables are nothing to write home about either. Mind you, it’s cold in them Italian chapels, so maybe it’s all shrivelled up into his belly. That was usually my Raymond’s excuse any road, although I have to say I never noticed much difference even when we had all three bars on the electric fire.
When I looked at this picture properly, I was surprised that there wasn’t a little bit of electrical spark between God and Adam’s fingers. I think I have seen that “South Bank Show” thing on the television too much. Not that I used to watch it properly, I can’t abide that Melvyn Bragg. He sounds like he’s got something stuck up his nose, and a plumb up his arse an’all. Any road, at the beginning of that programme they used to show the hands out of this picture with a little spark passing between them. That sometimes happens on a dry day, particularly if you have been wearing a cardigan with nylon in the material. My Raymond had one of those, he used to rub a balloon up and down it, and then it would stick to him when he let go of it. He could also hold it over kiddie’s heads and make their hair stand on end. In every really understood what he got out of doing things like that though. And neither did their mothers.
Any road, if you reach out to touch someone in a nylon cardigan on a hot day, sometimes you can get a shock in your finger end, sometimes you actually see a flash, and sometimes it ruddy hurts.
I shouldn’t worry though, it there’s not much chance it would have have happened to God. For a start, Adam isn’t wearing a nylon cardigan. And even if it did somehow happen, one of those ruddy cherubs would have kissed his fingers better. You can tell that they are itching to perform such services for his Almightiness.