ARTHUR comes home in the early afternoon, cheerful and content. EDITH looks a bit awry, the buttons on her blouse fastened hastily and improperly, her hair a bit out of place. She is smoothing herself down and, flustered, greets her husband. Off to the side stands GOD not-terribly-cleverly hidden under a blanket. There is a sofa conveniently placed towards the front of the stage, and near it, a table.

ARTHUR: Hello, dear!

EDITH: [tidying her hair breathlessly] Arthur! What a surprise. You’re home very early. Yes, very early indeed. Yes. Very.

ARTHUR: [hanging up his hat] I’m celebrating. We signed a contract today for the Ghostwood housing estate. Christ and Company will supply every brick for the entire project, can you believe it? Every single brick! Do you know how many bricks that is? [stares off into space, misty-eyed with wonder] Why, thousands and thousands of them, firm, manly bricks, resolute and upstanding, never flagging in their brickish duty...

EDITH: Ooooh, how nice. Shall I put the kettle on? [moves towards one edge of the stage, in whichever direction the kitchen ought to be, tugging her skirt into place and adjusting her bra]

ARTHUR: Bricks like that are what made this country great!

EDITH: I’ll just go and...

ARTHUR: Wait a minute...

EDITH: [freezes] Eek!

ARTHUR: Have we just got the bagged tea today? I was thinking, as it’s such a special occasion, we might break out the strainers and make that loose kind you like so much.

EDITH: [relaxing] Oh! Yes, dear. There’s some in the panty--ah, pantry. Why don’t I go fetch it?

ARTHUR: Speaking of which, are you having an affair?

EDITH: Not in the pantry, dear. That would be silly. [giggles girlishly]

ARTHUR: In the living room, perhaps?

EDITH: [in feigned surprise] Why, whatever gave you an idea like that?

ARTHUR: You’ve got a drop of what looks distinctly like seminal fluid on your chin.

EDITH: [frantically rubs at her chin, finding nothing] I can explain-—

ARTHUR: Aha! You fell for my little ruse! The game is up, adulteress.

EDITH: Oh heck. [flees into the kitchen]

ARTHUR: [looking about the room imperiously] Where is he? Where have you hidden him, you monstrous slut?

TREVOR: [entering] He’s under the blanket. [exits]

ARTHUR: Aha! And again, aha! [marches up to GOD and whips the blanket off. GOD is looking sheepish and benevolent]

GOD: Hallo, Arthur. Fancy seeing you here.

ARTHUR: Wait a minute...[examines GOD closely, noting the dove on his head] Are you the Lord God Jehovah?

GOD: Bless you, my son.

[There is a long and awkward pause.]

ARTHUR: Have you been sleeping with my wife, o Lord?

GOD: Um...Yes.

EDITH: [entering with a tray of tea and biscuits] Here we are, everyone. A nice cup of tea will set you all to rights. Nothing defuses an awkward social situation like a nice hot beverage and a little sugar.

GOD: [sitting down on the sofa] Lovely. I’m parched.

ARTHUR: [also sitting, and shouting] Adultery is thirsty work, eh, you foul lech?

EDITH: [chiding] Now, now, Arthur Holly Christ, where are your manners? Jehovah is a guest in our house. Now keep a civil tongue in your head and offer him a biscuit, dear. Maybe that will break the ice. You and he might get on just splendidly if only you'd make the effort.

ARTHUR: [somewhat abashed, politely] O Lord of Hosts, Creator of Light, Teleological First Cause...would you like a post-fornicatory biscuit? Or were your hungers all sated upon my wife's treacherous mound?

GOD: A biscuit would be lovely, please. [nibbles a biscuit] EDITH: [placing her tray on a table] There. Now, isn’t this nicer than all that horrid shouting? [sipping tea] How did you know I was having an affair, dear?

ARTHUR: I’m not blind, you know, Edith. I’m not all bricks and boards. I knew through the concatenation of your illicit smiles, your strange glances, the way your body lay in our bed at night, its tensions and flexes and the frantic light in your eyes...Oh, and Trevor told me.

EDITH: Oh, that little sneak! [shouting] Trevor! Trevor, you come in here right this instant.

ARTHUR: Shouting, dear.

EDITH: O meddle, I'm forgetting myself. [calmly and pleasantly] Come here, Trevor, you little arsepot.

TREVOR: [enters] Yes, Mum?

EDITH: What did I tell you about exposing my affairs to your father?

TREVOR: [looks at his shoes] You said not to.

EDITH: That's right, angel. You'll have to try a little harder to remember that next time, won't you?

TREVOR: [angrily] I don’t care what you said! I’m a self-aware free-willed autonomous entity capable of subjective experience; you’re not the boss of me now.

ARTHUR: [shaking a finger] Now, steady on, young man, that’s no way to talk to your mother. You know we don't allow the philosophy of mind in this house.

TREVOR: Don’t you want to know how long their affair has been going on?

EDITH: Trevor, go to your room! Your father and I are trying to have a civilised talk with Mr Jehovah here. Please have some respect.

ARTHUR: I say, Edith, how long has this been going on? [putting two and two together...] My god—-sorry, Mr Jehovah-—it’s been going on for years, hasn’t it?

TREVOR: It has! For years and years and years!

EDITH: [sharply] Trevor! Go to your room immediately!

ARTHUR: Jehovah is the father of my child, isn't he? This explains everything!

EDITH: It...was a visitation from the Holy Spirit!

GOD: [under his breath, snickering] Holy Spurt, perhaps.

TREVOR: [in tears] Don’t you see that the spirit of universal love and human fellowship can never flourish in the shadow of deception?

ARTHUR: It does, it explains everything! The walking on water, the loaves and fishes, the raising the dead and healing the sick...Trevor certainly didn’t get it from my side of the family. We Christs have always been Church of England.

GOD: Actually, now that you mention it...There's something I should tell you.

ARTHUR: Not right now, please. I'm ranting. I must have been blind, to have missed it for so long...

TREVOR: I don’t care; you’ll always be my real father. [runs and hugs ARTHUR tightly]

ARTHUR: [patting TREVOR’s shoulder] There, there, son. There, there. You’ve a good eye for bricks. I don’t care if you raise the dead, you’re still my son.

GOD: [coughs nervously] Ah, yes, while we’re on the subject...[Everyone looks at him.] Arthur, I am your great-great-great-great-great-great- great-great-great-great-great-great- great-great-great-great-great-great- great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather.

ARTHUR: Goodness. You mean, I'm a Christ as in the Christ? And I always thought my last name was just a funny coincidence. What a world!

EDITH: [to GOD, looking at the birds on everyone else’s heads] You never told me any of that! Though I can see the resemblance...Why, you cad, having an affair with your extremely-great-grandson’s wife! How could you?

ARTHUR: [to GOD] How dare you offend my filthy trollop of a wife like that! Have you no shame?

TREVOR: [to GOD] Do you have any idea how much therapy I'll need?

ARTHUR: [to GOD] This is an outrage. What have you got to say for yourself, you cad?

[GOD shrugs, gives everyone the finger and then runs out of the room laughing hysterically.]

TREVOR: Don’t worry, Mum, Dad. At least Brahma still loves us.

[EDITH winces, and puts a hand to her mouth. There is a knock on the door...]

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