Peter was naked.

 Peter was naked, except for a white singlet, a pair of old rugby shorts, some jandals and his glasses.

In his right hand he held a spring, and he was happy.

He'd had the toaster in pieces for hours now, on the kitchen table, and he just couldn't get the pop-up device to work. Now the solution was held tightly in his hand.

The Old Girl thought he was mad, and she was tired of him wreaking things. The kitchen radio sat in the woodshed in a hundred pieces, the fire screen in the lounge now leant on the fireplace framing because its legs had been taken off and put somewhere, and only Robert's god knows what happened to the electric can opener!

"If I can just squeeze this spring under the pop-up device, it'll give more power when the button is pushed." Peter was very pleased with his analytical skills.

Then there was a knock at the back door which led into the kitchen. 

"Answer it matey!" yelled The Old Girl from her office.

"Sheesh!" thought Peter, "Doesn't she know what I'm doing here?"

Peter decided that it wasn't a wise move to cross The Old Girl when she was working, so he put down the spring and moved towards the door. He opened it. There was a nun standing there.

"What you steerin' at old timer?" said the nun in an Irish accent.

"Sorry, but we don't give at the door." said Peter.

The nun pulled out a big ruler and slapped him on the hand.

"I'll not be taken' any of your nonsense, now get out of my way, I'm comin' in!"

"But who are you?"

"I'm Sister Mary and I'm gonna tell you a ting* or two!"

"Sister Mary who?"

Sister Mary whacked Peter around the legs with the ruler. It was a big solid red ruler - made more for hitting legs than measuring things. Peter almost started to cry but managed to control himself.

"Yes Sister." he said and then he sat down on a kitchen chair.

Sister Mary stood above him. It was clear that she meant business. Peter seemed to morph into his long forgotten five year old self.

"Now get your legs under that table and get your book out! Don't ya waste my time by askin' for a pencil!"

Peter was saved because there was a pencil and a note pad nearby.

"Now, you be writin' this down! Quickly now! It is none of my fecking business how nuns are named. Write it! When I offend the names of nuns, I offend God, the maker of Heaven and Earth. Write that!"

Peter was writing furiously. How could he have been so stupid to take on and criticise Catholic nuns? 

Sister Mary hit him again with the big red ruler, just for good measure (no pun intended).

* * *

Let's leave Peter there to think about the mistakes he has made in this life.

Okay, you want some examples?

• 'Choosing' to attend a Catholic primary school.
• Stealing communion hosts while at college.
• Taking Tony's advice on how to pick up women (girls).
• Not seeing the advantage of putting lemonade into sour red wine.
• Getting involved with the delivery crew at Murray Roberts.
• Starting far too many blogs that he can't realistically maintain.

Yes, the list goes on, but let's leave it there for today.

The poor guy needs to get away safely from Sister Mary first.

"I'm watching you Peter and I'm
ready to whack you again. Now
fix that bloody toaster! You have
displeased the creator! Go reread
your Catechism."

* thing