Ha, ha.

Very funny, guys.

Which one of you smart asses called the bible basher brigade on me after my little blasphemous outburst?

Swear to God, it was like Utah's finest and all their shiny bicycles had been dropped from the sky to carpet bomb my street, and my house had a big bulls-eye painted on it.

I wasn't quick enough like my observant neighbours, who ran inside, shut the doors and curtains, and pretended they weren't home.

I was caught, exposed (well, shirtless), gardening in the front garden.

Faaarrk.

It's always hard to get rid of those feckers, no matter how many Matthew 7:22s you throw at them.

It's not so much that they want to convert you, they just really want you to buy one of their magazines.

I normally end up having to chase them from my street with a big stick, or a brick wrapped in a stocking.

But in the end it was all a big anti-climax.

They took one look at the gardening implement in my hand and made a hasty retreat.

Strange.

How else are you meant to prune roses, if not with a meat cleaver?