Merv was standing behind the bar. He looked immaculate in his beautiful white shirt and black trousers and polished black shoes. He looked up and noticed a stranger walking into the bar.

Merv said. “Hey mate. Would you like a beer?”

The stranger looked at Merv and said. “You know. The main reason I’m here on Earth is to drink beer.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place”, says Merv. “The Pigs Arms has the best beer on Earth. But we don’t play Hank Williams.”

“I’ll have Trotter’s Ale”, says the stranger and he is privately relieved that there are no Hank Williams tunes going to be played.

The stranger goes to pay for the beer. Merv tells the stranger that no one pays here at the Pigs Arms. It’s all paid for by Gordon, the creator of the universe.

“So what’s your name, mate?” asks Merv.

“Well, most people call me God but I prefer mate.”

Merv is Shocked. Shocked, I tell ya. Thinking to himself, not another one of these fruitcakes that think they’re actually God but actually hates Hank Williams. “So, what sort of God are you?” Merv asks.

“Well”, says the stranger. “I guess you could call me the common garden variety type God.”

Merv is in a quandary. We already have Gordon. Who created the universe. Now we have a stranger in the pub that’s telling us that he is God however, thankfully he doesn’t like Hank Williams.

“So God, did you create the universe Or did Gordon? “

“Well, think of it like this, Gordon created this universe,” said God. “But I created Gordon.”

“So God, just to clarify the issue, who created you? “

“Me, mum and Dad,” says God.

Well, Merv doesn’t know what to do now. He’s in a real state. Fancy someone saying that they created Gordon after all this time? When everybody here knew that Gordon was the creator of the universe yet he hates Hank Williams.

Merv attempts to break the ice. “So God, what actually brings you to these parts anyway, besides the beer?”

“Well. Now you asked. I’m actually looking for a sharp barrister to present me in the Supreme Court in a defamation case against Satan”

Merv ponders the statement. “Well, God, we do have a barrister here by the name of Foodge”

Foodge is sitting at the other side of the bar with a pint and 13 shots of whisky in front of him while studying the racing guide.

Merv walks over to Foodge. “Hey, Foodge, That guy over there says he’s God and, thankfully hates Hank Williams, says he wants you to represent him in the Supreme Court.”

“Tell him to f*** o**” says Foodge. Feel free to count the asterisks.

“He says there’s a fiver in it, mate.”

Suddenly, Foodge takes an interest, a fiver. Well, maybe we can even negotiate a bigger fee. Foodge understands that a fiver could be really helpful at this point in time. I mean, he’s only got 13 scotches left, but with a fiver, he could probably buy a few more. Well, let’s see what happens.

“OK then,” says Foodge. “that’s alright with me as long as isn’t fine defaulters. “Is he a shirt lifter? asks Foodge.

“Nah,” says Merv “just a control freak.”

Foodge walks over to God and introduces himself. “The name is Foodge. Highly qualified barrister at law. More than happy to represent you in the court but please, no Hank Williams” Foodge cuts straight to the chase. “I believe there might be a fiver in it for me.”

“Several fivers,” replies God. Foodge is becoming more and more interesting in this case as it goes along, and he doesn’t even know yet what it’s about, but he doesn’t care as long as there are some fivers in it for him.

“So what’s the issue?” Says Foodge He personally couldn’t give a s**t. He was just in for the fivers and no Hank Williams. Basically just like all barristers.

“Satan. Well, Satan. says I’m not real, yet here I am, standing in front of you, living proof. Here’s an article from the Inner Cyberian Times that shows just exactly what he said about me” replies God.

Foodge studies the article. He skips through it with little interest. The case itself couldn’t care less. Just wants the money. Just like all barristers that don’t like Hank Williams, well, sort of.

“So how can we tell that you really are God?” asks Foodge.

God looks over to where Foodge was sitting at the bar and sees a racing guide. He points at the guide and makes it come to him just like magic. He scrolls through the list of races. And says. OK. It’s the 5th day of the 5th month. Race 5 Number 5. Race time is 5pm. Is paying $55. I’ll guarantee it will win.

God asks Merv. “Do you have a phone around here? I need to make a quick phone call..’ Merv points to the mobile phone in the carpark for the public.

It wins. The patrons are ecstatic. Everyone has lots of cash in their pockets. God is real. Three cheers for God. Hip hip Hooray, Hip hip, Hooray. Hip, hip, Hooray.

Some authors notes, This has taken me a long time to write. I’m not sure if it’s really funny but I hope you like it. My aim with all of my stories was to give the reader a 10 minute break from life to have some fun. The horse race gag is about the phone number 555-5555, When I was a kid and watched TV shows, the prefix phone number always started with 555. Algernon and I have joked about it since. Me, now traveling the best I have ever been in 20 years. Anyone that has taken offence at me in the past, I’m sorry. I now have great mental health. The correct diagnosis and medication has turned my life around. I will have at least 2 more episodes coming. Hope you read and enjoy them all. Even I am amazed at the outcome following my research.