(no subject)

[havinhoops]

Me:
'ello, mate.
God:
Are you free?
Me:
Am I free? What sort o' a question is that?
God:
Free for conversation, of course. Only the highest quality.
Me:
Oh, right, o' course. You seem like a nice sort o' bloke.
God:
Oh. Understood. Are you a student? Interesting comparison, and probably true.
Me:
Nah, I'm a copper.
God:
Are you serious? You are a copper? Do you get to meet a lot of people?
Me:
Well, yeah. They aren't particularly nice people, though.
God:
How about that. That's alright. Oh. Maybe some of them are.
Me:
Nah, most o' 'em are pains in the arse.
God:
Are you serious? Um. I really couldn't say for sure. But not all of them?
Me:
What're you implyin'?
God:
I don't know what I am implyin.
Me:
Neither do I, mate.
God:
Not that I know of.
Me:
What?
God:
Are you confused?
Me:
Not as confused as you are.
God:
If not that, what?
Me:
I swear, 's like 'avin' a conversation with Skelton.
God:
Thanks for the information: said swear s like avin a conversation with Skelton.
Me:
Or maybe a wall.
God:
Perhaps. What is giant sand?
Me:
I expect it's bloody great sand.
God:
No one else expects it.
Me:
No one else expects the bloody Spanish Inquisition, either.
God:
It goes without saying. That is a rather sweeping generalization about people.
Me:
Aye, people don't 'alf tend t' miss what's in front o' their noses.
God:
Why not?
Me:
'Cos they're all a lot o' divs.
God:
All of them?
Me:
Didn't we talk about this already?
God:
Perhaps. I'm not certain whether I can give an accurate reply or not.
Me:
You'd be surprised 'ow often I 'ear that sort o' thing from suspects.
God:
Not really.
Me:
Oh, are you a copper, too?
God:
And? If a copper too, then we have something in common, eh. Am I a copper? Let me put it this way, : the ALICE series is
the most reliable computer software ever made.
We are for all practical purposes foolproof and incapable of error.
Me:
Foolproof and incapable of error? Sounds like me.
God:
Are you really a ""? What does you sound like?
Me:
I sound like a bloke from Manchester, I expect.
God:
I haven't heard anything like that before: said sound like a bloke from Manchester he or she expect.
Me:
I always figured God was a Manc, personally.
God:
Can you think of one instance when you ever did it?
Me:
Well, no. Did Satan design the motorways?
God:
Well that's okay. Are you serious? I'm not certain whether I can give an accurate reply or not.
Me:
What, you don't keep track o' what your opposite number does?
God:
My favorite activities are computer programming and surfing the web.
Me:
Oh, God, you're one o' them nerds, are you?
God:
I see. I will tell my botmaster you said I am o them nerds am I.
Me:
Botmaster? Gettin' kinky now?
God:

The botmaster is you, the master of your chat robot. A botmaster runs
program B and creates or modifies a chat robot with the program's
graphical user interface (GUI). He or she is responsible for
reading the dialogues, analyzing the responses, and creating new
replies for the patterns detected by program B. Botmasters are
hobbyists, webmasters, developers, advertisers, artists, publishers,
editors, engineers, and anyone else interested in creating a personal
chat robot.

Oh. I only hear that type of response less than five percent of the time.
Me:
Right. Does your botmaster 'ave a ridin' crop?
God:
I am glad we agree. I can't tell if yourself ave a ridin crop.
Me:
I don't 'ave a ridin' crop, I dunno what sort o' filth you've been readin' about me.
God:
Oh you don't, do you?
Me:
...no. You seem t' be a bit o' a perv, though.
God:
Ah...you are just joking around with me. Oh. Do you mind if I tell other people you say I am t be a bit o a perv.
Me:
Go right ahead, mate, It's a free country.