Shopping With Mel

Frank Skinner opens the door for you. You enter and find yourself in a large, candle-lit room. You are surrounded by hooded, chanting figures. Silence falls as they become aware of your presence and turn to look at you.

One of the figures approaches you. As they pull their hood down, you see it's a woman and feel sure you've seen them before.

'Hello,' she says. 'My name is Cherie Blair, wife of the former Prime Minister of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, Tony Blair. And these are my friends,' she indicates to other figures who have gathered around you, all similarly pulling down their hods to reveal a familiar coterie of faces. 'This is Antonio Banderas. This is Celine Dion. This gentleman with the ear-muffs is Joseph Ratzinger, the Pope. And I believe you may have already met Cyndi Lauper...'

You silence Cherie Blair with a gesture and ask what all these celebrities are doing in a cavernous secret room, dressed in burlap cowls and chanting together.

'Isn't it obvious?' asks Cyndi Lauper, her yellow hair seeming to glow amid the surrounding gloom. 'In fact, you've guessed it already. There is indeed as shadowy kabal of high-profile individuals influencing much of the world's machinery, causing wars, dominating the media and so forth. However, it's not a Jewish conspiracy as you and others seem to think, but a Catholic one.'

Dumbfounded, you ask why? Why are they doing this?

Cyndi Lauper shrugs and says 'Girls just wanna have fun.'

Another woman comes forward. You're pretty sure she's Christy Turlington, the supermodel.

'You don't know the truth about Catholicism, Mel,' she says, pacing about with her long supermodel's legs. 'Few do. The real truth is so horrific, so evil, so mind-bogglingly terrible that few who counter it survive the shock. The truth is... Catholicism is secretly a religion founded by Cathlor, a giant octopus beast from space who feasts on chemicals given off by perishing condoms.'

As she says this, electric lights flicker into life at the back of the dark room bringing an enormous tank into view. Inside there is indeed a giant octopus, its tentacles curling slowly over the top of the tank, its furious one-eyed face pressed against the glass, its monstrous girth too big for the container.

It lets out a chilling, alien roar - 'Ruuuurrrrghhh!' - which dissipates into a splutter.

'Surely you wondered why us Catholics were so opposed to condoms, Mel!'
says Anne Rice, the author or Interview With A Vampire, 'It makes no sense. Do not fear him! Cathlor is benevolent! All hail Cathlor! Praise Cathlor! Praise him!'

'Praise him!' the congregation chant.

'We have an offer, Mel,' says
the former bodybuilder and Governor of California Arnold Schwarzenegger, presenting you with a basket of past-their-use-by-date condoms. 'You are offered to right to feed Cathlor. You must choose. Either you are with us or against us. If you choose not to feed Cathlor, not to kneel before him, you will leave us with little option but to kill you. Wait, let me say that bit again. You will leave us with little option but to TERMINATE YOU.'

You take a handful of the rotting prophylactics.

Do you want to

feed Cathlor?
kill Cathlor?