Church is only good for one thing, and it comes in a jar...

My nephew was baptised last year.

It was the second time I'd been to church in my life – my family doesn't really dig God.

I was 6 yrs old the first time I went to church and all I remember is that someone gave me a cupcake to keep me quiet. I had to sit through the entire sermon holding this cupcake and wasn’t allowed to eat it until the end. And they say Jesus suffered!

Anyway, nephews baptitty. I rock up – it’s a beautiful church in City Beach, well swanky, but the ceremony was soooo dull. I was so grossly hungover and I had no idea when to stand up, sit down, sing, say ‘Amen’. By the time it all finished I was thinking, ‘What a waste of fucking time’.

Then, on the way out I saw a table. It was covered in jars. And hanging from the table was a sign that read - ‘Holy Water - For Use At Home’.

I couldn’t help myself. I got a jar. I couldn’t resist the gingham covered lids.

I haven’t used it yet. But I keep it hidden in my bedside table. One day, when I’m incredibly hung over, and there’s no Mersyndol in the house, I know I’ll reach for the jar. If there’s one thing that can stop you head from spinning and your bedroom walls getting covered in spew, it’s holy water.