I heard a rumour that St. Peter quit his day job

All because some atheist had opened his gob.

He walked past the pearly gates waving his hands in the air

Whilst Jesus blubbed and wept with despair.

God by his side, shook his head and chewed on his cigar

Mumbling, “With that attitude he won’t get far.”

Jesus shouted, “What do I do when someone arrives?

Is it as simple as taking stock of their mortal lives?”

Peter (no longer a saint, he had handed his title back.)

Said, “I don’t care man, I don’t need this flack.

I saw the Ark was sinking fast,

I knew this religious game wouldn’t last.”

“By the way I’ve let in people who shouldn’t be here,

And none of you noticed as I shed no tear.

For there are men up here with deviant souls

Whilst I have sent beggars downstairs with their bowls.

And God, as a surprise, I have let in a Humanist,

I think he’s drinking your vodka and getting pissed.”

The Cherubs, on hearing the news, organised a strike.

“Bring back Peter”, one union member screamed down the mike.

“And whilst you’re at it, better working conditions

For all us angels, sent to Earth on secret missions.

We’ve had enough of Peace work and stopping sedition.”

He moaned whilst being interviewed by B.B.C. television.

Peter rang the bell for the express lift downstairs.

Gabriel opened the door and took him to the mortal’s lair

Where shopping was non-stop and credit easy to obtain

And from sex you didn’t have to refrain.

He liked the idea that his beard didn’t make him look too hippy

And he could catch up on kids T.V., rainbow perhaps with zippy.

In his back pocket was his P.45

Just in case he needed a job in some seedy dive.

Serving the beers and teasing the lap dancers

And offering to light cigarettes for well-known gangsters.

He’d go to watch football; he would see every match.

To a mortal life, he could see no catch.

Gabriel opened the back door to his old mate nick

Who most of the time, appeared quite thick.

But today was on the ball, something was wrong in the flat above,

Was it the smell of gas or the lack of brotherly love?

“Jesus, God my old mate, my friendly mucker

Are you going to let Pete turn you into a sucker?”

“I’m waiting for him to blow off steam,” God tried to bellow.

“He needs to get out more, he is such an insecure fellow!”

“That’s all well and bad,” Nick replied.

“But I’ve got a lorry-load of popes downstairs that he supplied,

And they are a faulty batch, no evil at all

Do you want me to show you or will you make a house call?”

The cherubs sniggered over their protest fires

As they enjoyed the banter between God and the Prince of liars.

God stroked his beard for a while

Then reached for his mobile and began to dial.

“Crap,” he said, “err…Nick old mate make me a loan

I haven’t enough credit for this blasted phone.”

“If it gets Pete back up here to sort out the mess,

You can borrow a tenner or even a pony I don’t care less.

But if it’s not sorted by Sunday at the most

I’ll be having words with your father, you know the Holy Ghost.”

And with that Nick disappeared in a puff of red smoke

And Leaving God chuckling at the lame joke.

With credit installed, he rang the forwarding number

But the answer machine told him, “Bugger off, I’m a slumber.”

“Right that’s it, son pack my duffel bags

With all my tools you can find and don’t forget my duty-free fags.

I’m off to sort out that pillock Pete

I’m going to give him a kick up the celestial seat.”

It took a while but God found his address.

He sighed when Peter answered the door and he saw the mess.

“By Saints what have you done?…”Is that a naked woman?”

“No”, Pete replied, “It’s two, they both gave me the come on.”

God stepped over the doorway to mortal heaven,

Otherwise known as Acacia Avenue, number seven.

“I won’t beat about the bush, I’ve done that trick already,

Don’t look at me like that, I know it made Moses’ mind unsteady

But I want you back by my side old mate

As I can’t leave the front door open, it’s tempting fate.

And to be honest Paul’s getting on my tits

He’s talking about his conversion again, you know that it’s bull shit.”

Peter laughed as he remembered how God had converted Saul

By convincing him to try tequila once and for all.

“That pub outside Damascus was a real class act.

They had Guinness on tap you know, that’s a fact!

But I’m sorry pal, the party tricks and illusions are over

I’ve had enough of human squabbles, once and for all tell them, Allah or Jehovah.”

God sighed deeply and burst into tears

And continued crying whilst Peter got in the beers.

“There is one way I’ll come back to work.”

And God listened, dried his face and started to smirk.

“Shall we shake on it then, supreme being to right hand man?”

Peter agreed, said goodbye to the girls and went off to carry out the plan.

On the way up in the slower goods lift, Peter added two extra clauses.

God pressed a button and exclaimed, “Oh, is this how this thing pauses.”

Pete said, “I’ve had enough of everything being sickly white.

I told you when we moved in, it didn’t need to be so bright

And I want to move my bedroom away from yours,

I’m fed up with hearing the way Mary snores!”

With Heaven turned upside down

And Jesus ordered to change out of his dressing gown

There’s plenty more fun going on upstairs.

St. Peter, (he got his title back) has no more cares.

God smokes happily on his cigar, all order restored

And all because they moved house to a place with a pub next door!

Ian D. Hall  

 First performed for The Dead Good Poets Society, Liverpool.