with the Rev Kevin Logan, vicar of Christ Church, Accrington

HOW odd a God who's never allowed to talk.

A clockwork deity banned on this planet to walk.

He tried it once and we judged it no good,

And nailed him with jeers and spikes to an old lump of wood.

If honest, we prefer a God who's quite dumb,

Except when there's a Shipman or a horrific Soham.

Then it's God to blame, for whatever his game,

He can't play it well - it's a God almighty shame!

If I ruled the world, says one, I'd do it much better.

I'd make 'em toe the line; be a no-nonsense go-getter.

No namby-pamby Camelot trip for 21st century yobs,

Give 'em t' birch, chop off hands, that'll shut their gobs.

No, no, you've got it all wrong, one rapidly replies,

For if I ruled the world, I'd share, love, democratise.

We'd all own a lump, and then just you wait and see

All'd be pleasant, peaceful, as nice as nice can be.

Rubbish! Codswallop! We need a revolution.

And it's coming quite soon with evolution.

We're for glory, for greatness - if we can just dodge extinction,

Yesterday's amoebas are tomorrow's gods of distinction.

How odd that God, when he is allowed to talk,

Doesn't quite agree with the ways that we walk.

Listen to me, he whispers, 'midst your mad, mad whirl.

I should know thing or two, for I made this funny old world.