I decided to form a comedy cult because a few of my friends said they were bored during ‘lockdown’ and needed to do something. Plus, I was in the mood to exploit people, and what better way than starting a cult?
Call me old-fashioned, but I think that people like to belong to something – a golf club, a society, a group – so why not a cult? In my cult I’ll be getting my followers to work hard to make MY life better. Then, they’ll have the joy of seeing me deliriously happy, living like Vladimir Putin, riding a horse half-naked through my lounge and doing exactly what I want. Sounds pretty good, eh?
My followers will still have to work full time but have their wages paid directly in to my, er, the cult’s account. And that cash will pay for things such as gardening implements, bedsheets etc for my followers, and a massive flat screen TV, a speedboat and a big flash car for me. No cult leader can have credibility if he’s seen driving around in a Fiat Punto. That goes without saying, that does.
Here are the first few rules from my comedy cult manifesto:
1. The cult leader (me) has total control over your finances and any vinyl records you have. Also, ALL chocolate biscuits must be declared AND handed over to me. Additionally, all copies of Health & Efficiency magazine are to be kept under my bed, for my own health-related purposes.
2. Rituals may change at short notice, depending what’s on the telly. (Eg: if there’s a good film on such as Jurassic Park, I can’t be expected to break off to reprimand a follower etc.). Any dancing naked at midnight rituals may be cancelled if there’s a cold snap or heavy frost.
3. ALL members of my cult MUST listen to the new album ‘Together’ by The Vapors EVERY DAY (on vinyl). They sang Turning Japanese in the 80’s you must remember it, for crying out loud. Anyway, failure to do this will mean extreme punishments such as having to watch school choirs performing on BGT or made to join a Morris Dancing group.
Right, got to go now as I’m planning a ‘free-love’ evening with about twenty of my followers. If I don’t blog for a while, please call the emergency services and send them round to my gaff pronto with a defibrillator. Thanks.