Doing a better job than God

LOOK, I don’t want to sound churlish, or even blasphemous, but you have to admit that the idea of human beings being designed by an omnipotent creator is, well… silly.

I could have done better in my shed with bits of wire and some baling twine.

Take heads. If heads had been designed by anyone with half a brain they’d have been retractable. They can do it for tortoises, why not for us!

I am carrying the scars from a weekend that provided incontrovertible evidence that heads should be the size of walnuts, and just as tough to crack.

My wife says they got it half right. She says it’s my brain that’s the size of a walnut.

I walked into a tin roof, which was shaped like a can opener. My head is not shaped like a can, but the bloody roof opened it anyway.

How hard would it have been for our Omnipotent Creator to have added some radar. I mean, even human beings can make radar!

I am not looking for something spooky, like extrasensory perception that can identify auras at 30 miles. I just want plain old-fashioned radar that can detect ferrous metal from a distance of 10 centimetres, in time to prevent it performing a crude lobotomy.

It just doesn’t stack up. An Omnipotent Creator would have provided us with the means to float over any surface, like a hovercraft, instead of making us walk. Or drown. A hovercraft isn’t even that technologically advanced. It’s just an internal combustion engine creating an intense downdraft of air. Invented by people.

True, I do have an internal combustion engine that creates intense downdrafts of air, but all they do is empty the pub.

And I don’t even want to begin on bodily functions or sex. What was He (or She) thinking of!

How come waste doesn’t exit our bodies as a dry powder hermetically sealed in triple-wrapped plastic bags?

I know a factory in Germany where they do that with their waste. Not their personal waste, you understand, but the waste from their manufacturing process. True, this factory covers three blocks of an industrial area of Hamburg, but I wouldn’t mind being as big as three blocks if it meant I never had to go to the lavatory again.

And then there’s reproduction. That’s a joke, surely?

Who in their right mind would invent a method of turning out people that involved sweat, groaning, body fluids, shrieking, the back seats of cars, socks, and a complete lack of self control.

I’m not speaking from personal experience here (except for the complete lack of self control), but I know a lot. I have observed stuff. Sometimes it’s been too close for comfort. They say a climax is when you can’t stop, even when your father walks into the room.

But why can’t we just touch fingers and bingo… offspring!

Why can’t we grow our young in a saucer on the windowsill, like mustard and cress? Keeping it covered with a flannel until it’s matured?

Do we seriously believe that He/She made human beings in His/Her own image?

You think gods sleep in the wet patch!

You think intelligent design involves slicing your brains off on the garden shed!

You think Omnipotent Creators go to the lavatory!

My wife agrees with me. She says that if you ever had any doubts about the flawed abilities of an all-powerful deity, you only have to read this column…