Easter - the Chocolate Religion

It is the fairest - and my favouritest - season of them all, which involves four consecutive days where conventional thinking dictates that you will gorge yourself silly on hot cross buns and chocolate eggs, or you're simply not doing it right.

Who the hell knows how an animal with floppy ears and a basket of foiled chocolate eggs came to embody the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It’s one of life's many ambiguities that I don't care to question because I think everyone wins when the upshot is chocolate.

As it turns out, I do think about more than chocolate eggs at Easter time – it just seems like I’m shallow and one-dimensional. Although, if you do break the surface, you’ll find that your original suspicions about me were in fact correct, and there really is no need to delve any further or you’ll hit a sub-zero, infinite pit of nothingness.

So, Easter is also about other stuff apparently. I went to Sunday School when I was a wee bonnie nipper with a bunch of other kids, but I can't say that I ever go to church as an adult. I'd feel like a bit of a fraud; plus I don't understand any of the hymns and churches don't do reverse cycle air-conditioning so well and that doesn't really work for me.

I have my views on God, but you'll never hear me preach about it. It’s not because I’m being considerate of your beliefs; it’s most likely because I think you are beyond redemption, salvation or any sermon on morality. Um, no offence. 

I know a few people who are dedicated church goers, but it's ironic that the only people I know who fanatically preach - and are completely preoccupied - with religion are atheists. They always seem to be enraged about it. Tell someone who cares, atheists. Just let me eat my chocolate in peace.