Yes, I said stigmata.

I've long expected a bolt of lightning or a trio of sixes, so no-one was more surprised than me when a couple of crucifixion style nail holes casually appeared on my wrists this morning.

And yet it happened.
A miracle!

I went to bed a self-defined atheist, yet awoke with a heavy burden indeed.

To be attractive to Christians is surely my worst nightmare.
In fact, I could never have imagined such perversity or evil.

We always think it'll happen to someone else, don't we?

Pretty soon, all manner of desperate weirdos will be arriving by the bus load, trying to worship me, stealing leaves from my garden and queuing for hours to purchase exquisitely over priced and cheesy souvenirs.

I like the souvenirs bit.

So, before my lifestyle is overcome with the kind of people I generally go out of my way to avoid, I'm going to have to have a little word with Francine, my Acupuncturist.

Maybe I'll even vent my spleen.