THIS week, Clive said I'd get a free haircut if I mentioned him in my column, which is remarkable because, although my barber's not Scottish in his ancestry he tends to be in his cash registry.

Jesus never had this trouble. What with the then Jewish hair laws, the Lord wouldn't have bothered with Clive, though Jesus wouldn't mind at all if Clive bothered with him today, I occasionally hint.

However, Clive implies that he doesn't mind digesting the odd weekly column but, hey, come on; Sunday morning rest for stressed tress merchants is a wee bit holy. I mention how therapeutic my sermons are. Many wake up afterwards totally relaxed, but he's not persuaded.

I think my old barber has a funny notion of my day job and Christianity in general. He's a bit like the old Jews, thinking God-bothering is full of rules and regulations, the modern equivalent of obeying the no-cut hair law, and 6,000 other Jewish edicts.

Maybe he thinks, as do many, that Christianity is really called Don't-do-this-and-don't-do-that'. It's full of kill-joy commandments from a God out to exterminate all fun.

Yet the thing Jesus stressed was that he'd come to give abundant life, to be a shepherd and protector. Religion, he inferred, equalled rules.

What he offered was a loving relationship.

Which leaves one vital point.

Clive, that's the fifth mention. So, that's 2008 taken care of?