In Praise of Hypocrisy

Save me, Lord*, from the passionate philippics of the ideologically pure. Let the 2% men in their grey suits make their shady back room deals, and agree a morally corrupt, but workable solution to whatever ethical dilemma is crippling us this week. Whenever I hear someone proclaiming their moral purity it occurs to me that all it would take for them to turn into a minor league fascist dictator, ready for some draconian assault on my freedom to fuck things up my own way, no matter how life threateningly destructive or pointless if may be, is a convincing charlatan who can persuade them that the higher good is best served by preventing petty pedants from muddying the crystal clear stream of historical inevitability. Of course the thing that prevents them from being major league fascist dictators is a total inability to organise a sock drawer, and the charisma of an autistic whelk.

Save me, Lord*, from the true believers as well. Just occasionally, when their sense of self-righteousness isn't matched by an absence of personal hygiene, and naturally staring eyes, those cunts actually manage to change society, and it always involves some kind of fucking prayer meeting.

* By Lord, I am of course referring to Lord Jeffrey Archer, patron saint of the ideologically pure. After all, Sir Jeffrey Archer, MC, PhD, and Nobel Laureate in Literature has always believed absolutely every thing he's ever said, apart from Kane and Abel, obviously.