The Gospel According To Tommy T

　
The sun beat down hard on the parasol of the small cafe. The table was only meant to seat 4 people so over half the group were exposed to heat. To be honest it wasn't that hot but with the amount they had drunk and ate over the course of the day dehydration was iminent. It was made all the worse by the fact that many of them had to wear hats to hide their famous faces from the public meaning their heads were literally stewing. It had been a long day and the starting party of 20 (plus Tag-a-longs) had now been whittled down to scarcely 10 and only 50% of them still had all their bodily functions intact.

Jesus made a substantial effort to remove his sunglasses and take a look around the table trying to look as drunk as the rest of them. 'Thats the trouble with being immortal' he thought. 'Doesn't matter how much fun I have at the start of the night I'm still left hanging around with a bunch of paraletic losers at the end. And I always have to pay for the cab fare home'. It had actually been quite a successful birthday considering how poor the last few had been (poor at least compared to the great Amsterdam trip of 1732). He'd had the brilliant idea of going to London in the 21st century; A time when no-one even batted an eyelid to his sandals, long hair and the bleeding holes in his arms and legs. In fact he seemed to be more normal than half the people they'd met that day. They'd started off in Camden where most of the inhabitants seemed to have huge bits of metal hanging from their faces, had weirder hair than most of his group and were wearing entirely black even though he'd picked a reasonably hot day for it (the hottest of the whole decade infact). They'd started off in the closest pub to where they had materialised and there had been problems already.

The plan had been to get breakfast to line their stomachs for the days drinking ahead. However Jesus had forgotten that some of the party were vegetarians and so wouldn't eat the full English he had ordered 24 portions of. This didn't bother the likes of Elvis and Sinatra but it meant that after two pints of Guiness Ghandi was absolutely plastered and had to be taken back early my mother Teresa. (Jesus was secretly pleased about this. He hadn't wanted any girls here in the first place but had a sneaky feeling his dad was trying to set him up with Teresa when she 'accidentally' happened to be stopping off in London on the same day as them.)

After the Ghandi problem was taken care of the plan had been the usual; find a Karaoke bar and freak out the locals. Elvis had done his standard Jailhouse Rock before being outshone by an Elvis impersonator, Sinatra had disappeared by this point and didn't turn up till after lunch wacked out of his mind. It was left to Lennon, Hendrix and Cobain to have a go together. As usual Jesus took the drums (he secretly always made sure that no drummers came so he could do this. One terrible year Bing Cosby had admitted to knowing how to play and was still burning in hell to this very day). At the time Jesus remembered thinking how good things were going. He used to hate having his birthday on the same day as Christmas as it meant no pubs were open and no women were around. However he had soon realised by the 16th century that he could get round this by transporting himself and whoever he wished from existence to the time period of their choosing and celebrate it whenever. June always seemed to be a good pick. He'd even experimented trying it with living people and then wiping their memories after they got back. However after seeing what happened to Winehouse and Docherty after meeting 15 ghosts and Jesus Christ he'd decided against it.

The next few pubs in the afternoon was when it had started to get messy. As the only girls present were Marylin and Di (who Jesus was hoping to impress with some water walking later on) no-one had wanted him to do his traditional birthday trick of ordering 8 jugs of tapwater and promptly turning them into wine. However he soon found out that doing the same trick with jagerbombs was a much harder task and had only resulted in every liquid inside Winston Churchills body to turn into Jagermeister thus rendering him instantly shitfaced and unable to continue. They made their excuses and left. It was at this point that someone (Jesus thought it was St Peter as he always suggested the boring things) said they should take a trip to the London Eye. This turned out to be more problematic than they had thought as none of them had bought a train ticket so Jesus waltzed through on his own with his Oyster card expecting them all to be following and had ended up sitting alone on the Northern line. He went straight back after he realised his mistake only to find Abe Lincoln smashing an empty bottle of Newcastle Brown over the head of a man on a bike who turned out to be the current major of London. Jesus had hastily teleported them away but now Abe and several of the others were wanted men in the city they had no choice but to stick to the backstreets of London instead of going to their usual haunts.

This led to many awkward situation as they didn't know what each place they went into would be like (Well Jesus did, but you trying explaining that to 15 drunk celebrities who each think they're more famous and more important than the next). An accidental visit to a gay bar had led to Pope John Paul and Charlie Chaplin being sent back to heaven for fighting. Diana had stormed off after someone had dragged them into a strip joint (Jesus remembered thinking not for the first time how the girls in hell were much more fun) and a random visit to Madam Tussauds had led to Hendrix being sent home for trying to sexually assault the Marylin Monroe waxwork believing it to be the real thing.

And so it had come to this. Only half past 8, still daylight and the only person left in the group who Jesus actually liked was Heath Ledger (whose joker impression was starting to run a little bit thin now). He thought about just fucking off and spending the rest of the night at the Pyramids or on Neptune (they really knew how to party there). But he'd organised this. Somehow he always kept coming back to this small city on this self destructive planet. At that point Michael Jackson vomited over his sandal and the sick dripped between his toes. He sighed. Next year he was definitely going to Euro Disney.