I was driving my schoolfriend Chris to Chippenham station this afternoon. Mis-guideldly, I suggested to my kids that they sing to Chris a song I'd taught them as infants, beginning 'God is a cheeky monkey...' Louie, one of Pieter's friends, was also in the car and he responded with 'Our God is a great big God (see here). Chris, sandwiched in the back seat betweeen Pieter and Louie, extemporised and suggested the alternative lyrics, Our God is a great big God, and he spends a lot of time on the bog.'
This suggestion was well received and resulted in much discussion of whether God is too fat to fit down the chimney at Christmas. We wondered, collectively, whether, if God farted continuously for the whole month of November, he might be slim enough by December 25th. In the end, we decided it'd be safer to rely on FC to deliver presents and let God take care of the hymns.
I wondered whether God the Father might have been a tragic mis-translation of God the Farter and his accomplices The Bum and the Wholly Shit but the kids had no opinion on this subject. Goodness, it's hard work undoing the damage we pay other people to do unto our kids.