God Almighty. It puts the fear in you.
Jesus Christ. Again?
Yes, again. Don’t be a tit.
Oh please.
Jesus.
A hanging silence.
You know William Paley?
No. Go on.
Oh. Paley’s Watch?
Fucking go, James.
Uh, Paley’s Watch is a theory that the universe is too complex to exist by chance, and therefore there must be a creator. I mean, just like the existence of a watch presupposes a watchmaker ‘cause it’s too complex to be there by chance.
And you eat that?
Yes, or something similar. What offends you so fucking much anyway? So I believe-
It’s defeatist. Jesus Christ, the only reason you and anyone else believes this dogshit is ‘cause you’re fucking terrified of dying, and the reason a fucking graveyard puts the fear into your thick skull is ‘cause you want to join them when you croak. That’s what it is, it’s fucking insurance.
Another silence.
Okay. Alright, fine, it’s insurance. But I am playing this insurance, see, into my benefit. I believe in the creator, and if it turns out he’s watching me he’ll put in the good word and I spend my afterlife in eternal sunshine, and if he’s a scam like you say it is I join you in blackness or hellfire. I win either way.
Oh, very faithful, doggy. Arf arf.
Oh, for the love-
*What’s life worth if you’re so sure where you’re going? I reckon I’d rather drink and steal shit and burn in hellfire than piss away my life in the service of some shitbird in the sky who may or may not exist.
Jesus, mother-*
Stop fucking blaspheming.
Fuck you, James.