You take a handful of the decomposing condoms and walk towards the tank. The beast swells with greed at the sight of your approach. As you reach Cathlor, you reach into your pocket and pull out a fountain pen. You race up the short staircase which leads t the top of the tank and plunge it into the one of beast's eyes. It lets out a cry so loud all other sounds drop behind a wall of tinnitus.

Instantly, the coven of hooded figures advance angrily towards you. Using your pen you hack away at former IRA leader Martin McGuinness and star of your box office hit The Passion Of The Christ Jim Caviezel and bolt through the door and up the staircase that leads back to the supermarket's frozen foods aisle. Behind you you hear the panic-stricken commotion as the Catholics attend to Cathlor. You are free.

You pull yourself free from the freezer and collapse onto the floor amid a hail of frozen cheesecake packaging. You allow the sounds and sights to surround you, the suburban normalcy of the supermarket. You feel a wave of relief washing through you. You're free. Not just from Cathlor and the murderous clan beneath your, but also from your faith. You realize, for maybe the first time since you were a child, that you can do and think whatever you choose. You begin to laugh. This must be joy, you think. This must be what happiness feels like.

Something strikes you hard across the back of the head. You turn round and see a large, elderly woman wielding a garlic baguette which she uses to beat you across the face.

'I'm Anne Widdecome, former Conservative Member of Parliament for the British county constituency of Maidstone and fervent convert to Catholicism. I cannot let you live, Mel Gibson.'

She reaches into a chest freezer, brings out a large frozen lasagna and sets about you with it, using the pointy corners to hit you across the head and face. The last thing you see is a family sized frozen Hawaiian pizza as it connects with your nose, sending splintered cartilage into your brain.

You die.