(Well, what would you do?)
| by Lee Gallaher | challenged ‘him upstairs’ to make himself known, to do something, anything, that would serve as proof of his existence, then you’ll identify with Bruce Nolan. Bruce, played by Jim Carrey, is a disgruntled news reporter and wannabe studio anchor man. He’s fed up with his life and wants God to do something about it. Almost before he knows it, Bruce finds himself talking face to face with the supreme being of the universe (and parttime janitor) played by Morgan Freeman. God lays down the gauntlet and hands over the divine reins to Bruce. The sceptical reporter suddenly finds himself endowed with supernatural powers. He is Bruce Almighty! If you want to find out what happens next you’ll have to get hold of a copy of the film when it comes out on general release. It’s worth a watch. In the meantime, what would you do if God said, ‘OK, I’m off on my hols; you’re in charge’? What three things would you do if you could be God for a day? What would top your divine agenda? World peace? Lottery win? Nose job? Miraculous healing? Promotion for your team from division three to the premiership? Time travel? We’d love to hear your answers to this question so we’ve allowed space for you to jot them down on the feedback form on page 33. (See the section: ‘If I were God for a day I would . . .’) Just fill in your answers, tear out the form, and pop it in the post, for free. Then look out for your answers in the next issue.
ou enter the car park at the supermarket. It’s busy. You negotiate the series of chicanes, straggly shrubs and discarded trolleys. Will you find a parking space before sundown? You scour the rows of cars looking for a gap. ‘There’s one!’ No, it’s one of those dratted Smart cars. Eventually you give up looking for empty spaces and begin tracking the movements of shoppers as they return to their vehicles. Creeping down a row you start stalking a woman with a single carrier bag. She spots you waiting as she fumbles with her keys. She flashes you a nervous smile then ducks into the car. Three minutes pass (it seems like ten). ‘What is she doing in there?!’ At last the exhaust pipe shakes and the reversing lights flash on, then off, then on, then off, then on. Hesitantly she edges back. Boiling. Blood boiling. Finally, having almost hit your car twice, she is on her way. You check your mirrors and prepare to manoeuvre into the space. In that split second a young lad comes haring round the corner in a battered Fiesta, swings into the empty bay, your space, and disembarks before you have time to remember which stalk makes the horn work. ‘No! No! No! No! NO!’ Divine retribution. Oh, for a bolt of lightning right now! What would you do if you could be God for a day, a week, a year? Have you ever wondered – if there is a God up there somewhere – why he isn’t doing more to improve your life? Maybe he could whisper something about love and generosity into the ear of your bank manager. Or perhaps he could somehow turn the volume down on those noisy neighbours (or better still, whisk them away to Siberia). If you’ve ever looked heavenward and