Give my Compliments to the Chef

Of course, not everyone has the sangfroid to regard the arrival of the lemon meringue on their nakedness with equanimity; especially when it arrives straight from the fridge.

In many cases, though, that is how it is with new religions. Often people are attracted by the glamour, or the newness, or even the notoriety of a new religion and are eager to embrace it – at least, right up to the arrival of the Ceremonial Lemon Meringue.

However, as our Holy Cookbook so eloquently states:

we should all treat with awe and wonder all of the wondrous creations of the Great Chef in the Sky, for just as he marinaded us all into being we must accept all of the wonders of the myriad of recipes he – in his infinite wisdom – bestowed upon us mere mortals.

As I often say to the lay sisters as they prostrate themselves before my most holy jam roly-poly, they must accept all of his blessings into themselves wholly and completely, and that includes my special ceremonial custard.

Still, no matter how much those tired old religions try to call us heretics and blasphemers, how they attempt to poor scorn – like over-watery gravy – on the Supreme Chef, we – in our most holy way – know deep in our heart of hearts that we may not have all the answers to the questions of existence, but at least we can all come back for seconds.