How To Deal With Missionaries

Sometimes, a missionary will turn up at my door. I'm not religious. But I don't mind religious people. If they act on their beliefs rather than trying to enforce them, perform acts of charity, and make the world a better place, then good luck to them, whatever their faith.

But some religious people just want to make other people feel bad, and use their faith like a big ugly stick to beat you with. Like those evangelicals who insist you're bound for hell. Ever meet one of those? It's not a happy experience for anyone involved.

Or how about missionaries who turn up, unannounced and uninvited, at the most awkward times? They deserve payback for the Sunday dinners of my youth that were randomly interrupted by beautifully suited young men who insisted on showing my family and me illustrated texts while attempting to spark discussion about a faith that was totally alien to us, while my father hid in the parlour, and my mother cooked the beef joint and tried to make gravy. Few things taste worse than the gravy of distraction. And for that, the missionaries must pay.

Do you know people like that?

They're asking for it.

So give it to them...

Make a recording of creepy chanting, and keep it handy, ready to turn on at full volume when missionaries call. How do you know it's missionaries and not some random caller? By the simple expedient of installing one of those little security spyhole jobbies. Or peep through the bay window. Whatever. Have I got to do everything for you? Improvise, for Pete's sake.

Also, hang a monk's robe by the door, so you can throw it on before you open up. And that's also where you should stash a big joke shop knife covered in fake blood.

Open the door wide, then give them a moment to appreciate what they can see and hear - a mad monk with a bloodstained knife, and atonal chanting and unearthly screams echoing behind you - and welcome them with open arms.

If they make it past the door, have some illustrated pamphlets they can take away for later perusal: 'Why Cthulhu Watches From His Prison In The Deep, And What He Plans To Make With The Intestines Of The Unbelievers When He Breaks Free.'

Invite them to stay for the sacrifice. Get your accomplice to wear chains and a ball gag and lie wriggling on the table for this bit.

Just make sure there's no trace of your shenanigans lying about when the police turn up in force. Also, lose the knife and assume the position. Because, you know, Tasers.

Caution: NSFW. Extremely offensive. And pretty funny.

I hope this helps. The alternatives, like pretending to be out, or having a doorstep argument, always seem to be a little on the stressful side. I think throwing yourself into an acting role where you can pretend to be the spawn of Satan for as long as it takes to freak out some self-righteous, sanctimonious, simple minded, ill mannered, thoughtless doomsayers is the most fun you can have with this.

Anyone who claims to have the inside story on the way the universe is run needs to have something better to back them up than a bunch of stories and opinions - which is essentially what every organised religion is. Claiming your own particular story is the only one that matters begins to look a little threadbare when you consider how many religions there are. And besides - God prefers atheists. Just saying.

I know, I know: I'm going to hell. Well, at least it'll be warm. And the company will be good. Because there won't be any missionaries there. They'll all be in missionary heaven. Forever. With no one to annoy but each other...