Readers, I am in turmoil. These last days, I have done my utmost to withstand the temptation to eat the forbidden crystals of evil and join my dead mother in a life of wickedness, but feel I am losing this battle of wills. I have descended into a paranoid swither.
"Go on, Horton - be a spawn of Satan," my dead mother said. "You'll love being evil. You can eat foie gras and veal and any variety of succulent but unethical foods. No more overpriced free-range eggs! If you become evil, you can save money by buying the cheap, battery-farmed eggs. They taste the same anyway - you know they do!"
Foie Gras: a delight
"You will no longer have to buy Fairtrade coffee," she went on, "And you can stop using public transport and start driving an environmentally-unfriendly SUV. It'll make you look like a big man. And you can make sexist jokes. Give in to temptation, Horton."
And so it went on. Day after day, I was reminded of the many benefits of embracing evilness. In a vain effort to provide myself with some form of counterpoint to these views, I turned to Songs of Praise but found only a boyish Welshman who singularly failed to make goodness seem cool or hip.
I do not think I will last much longer. The pewter scottie dog which houses my mother's soul seems to be smiling as I type this - it surely knows that my resolve is weakening. Alas, I fear I am not strong enough to get through the week without eating one of those crystals...
Dear god - if god ye be - come to the aid of a poor lost sheep.
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