19th June 2017 

So I’m there in my pantry, buffing my spoons, when Satan / The Devil / El Diablo / Horned Kevin comes in dancing a merry jig while playing his fiddle like a grade-A ragamuffin.
        “Christ, Satan, mind my canned gnome legs!” I cried, affronted like that time Buddha stole the largest chip off my plate when we went for that curry and then he told me to not to worry about it.
        Satan? Well, he just tittered like the crimson reprobate he was and danced right back on out again. Back up to the bathroom and my various scented bath lotions, no doubt.
        Keep dancing, Old Scratch. One day, me and you, we’re gonna tangle.