I’m God. This is my throne, see. All around are the cherubim, seraphim, continually crying holy, holy, holy. The angels, archangels, that sort of thing. Now, you be me, Lucifer. The loveliest angel of them all.
What do I do?
Well, sort of dance around, praising me mainly.
What sort of things do I say?
Anything that comes into your head that’s nice. How beautiful I am, how handsome I am, how wise, that sort of thing. Come on, start dancing.
You’re wise, you’re beautiful, you’re handsome.
Thank you very much.
The universe – what a wonderful idea. Take my hat off to you.
Thank you.
Trees – terrific. Water, another good one.
Yes, that was a good one.
Sex, top marks.
Okay, now, make it more personal. A bit more fulsome please. Come on.
The immortal, the invisible. You’re handsome, you’re glorious.
Thank you.
You’re the most beautiful person in the world. ‘Ere, I’m getting a bit bored of this. Can’t we change places?
That’s exactly what I said.
( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Sun 17 Nov 2013, 16:57, 1 reply)

I've often wondered about this idea of "worship". So god needs his ego massaged?
Just what we need - an omnipotent being with insecurity issues and low self-esteem.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Mon 18 Nov 2013, 9:07, closed)

I'm more concerned by the lack of smiting.

( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Mon 18 Nov 2013, 9:45, closed)