For 40 years Liam had suffered from a benign but unsightly growth on the back of his scalp, big enough to develop independent intelligence. I affectionately called it Little Liam and had grown quite fond of it. As the years rolled by his hair thinned and Little Liam became more and more prominent, looking like a diminutive Ayers Rock rising above the bush. Big Liam sought the advice of a local doctor who recommended euthanasia, assaulting Little Liam with a scalpel. It was a bit of a tussle as the roots were much deeper than anticipated. What emerged from the butchery resembled a miniature jelly fish. Big Liam returned from the wars bloodied and stitched. All that remains is a scar in the shape of a neat and perfectly formed crucifix (and not the 666 I was expecting). Big Liam is certain that it’s a divine sign. The Virgin Mary has done it again and the Pope has popped his certificate of beatification in the post. Amen.