B: Dear Fools and Unbelievers

Dear Fools and Unbelievers,

Fear not! Your lives can now have a purpose. For I, Clifford Spab, have
been chosen by a voice to spread the word of truth to the people. Let
your ears dine upon my teachings; let my words provide sustenance to
the blighted pastures of your minds.

The voice came unto me whilst I was engaged in the now sacred practice
of elevenses. In my right hand I clasped a cup of tea (henceforth to be
known as the sacred drink). While in my lifted I held a four-finger
KitKat bar. Little did I know that this was no ordinary source of
sustenance, for enclosing the nourishing milk chocolate coated wafer
was the foil of truth. And as I rubbed the smooth topside of the first
finger the name of the bar's maker did not appear. What! I choked upon
my tea in shock.

To my great astonishment the words. 'RUB ME HARD' appeared before me.
Pushing back memories of a forceful teenage girlfriend, I dutifully
obeyed the foil. Listen reader, to the knowledge that was bestowed upon
me after a few simple rubs:

SPAB, OH CLIFFORD SPAB, HE WHO IS BLESSED WITH TRUTH FINDING FINGER.
READ WISELY WITH THOSE WHORE HUNGRY EYES, AND YOU SHALL BE BLESSED WITH
ENLIGHTENMENT TO RINSE AWAY THE DIRT OF YOUR SINS THAT HAS CLAMPED ITS
ODIOUS SMELL TO YOUR BODY.

RUB HARD, RUB JUST CLIFFORD. AND I SHALL GRANT YOU SUCH KNOWLEDGE THAT
WILL MAKE YOU KING OF KINGS. WISDOM, SO ALL THROUGHOUT THE LAND SHALL
LISTEN WHEN YOU SPEAK.

FOR YOU, MY DEAR SPAB, ARE MY SERVANT UPON THE EARTH, AND SHALL BRING
TRUTH TO THE FAITHLESS MASSES. ENDING THE MIND POLLUTING IGNORANCE THAT
HAS LONG CURSED HUMANITY.

CLIFFORD, REPEAT MY WORDS UNTO TO THE PEOPLE. PROVE MY EXISTENCE WITH
MEANING OF LIFE, WHICH I SHALL NOW DISCLOSE&;#8230;.

At this moment I felt a burning sensation in my finger. Upon inspection
I recognised a reddened swelling, the dreaded portent of a blister.
This coupled with the softening consistency of my savoured chocolate
bar and the rumbling demands of my stomach forced me to tear open the
chocolate bar and gorge upon the chocolate.

Then I immediately undertook the required anti-blister precautions of
applying ice then Savlon to the injured finger. I went back to the foil
and eagerly rubbed for the return of the voice. But No! The blank face
of the foil stared back at me as testament to my filthy greed.

Damned KitKat. Eve's Apple of the third millenia! Oh evil gluttony. An
empty heart is a poor exchange for a full stomach.
For weeks I starved myself of chocolate, not even a solitary smartie
passed between my sinful lips. Day after day I rubbed at the foil, but
nothing. I rinsed the finger of truth in Holy Water to purge it for its
part in the foil tearing sin. Yet no words ever rose from the silvery
surface.

One day maddened by desperation I ripped the foil consigning the
chocolate covering to the dustbin and with it my days as a prophet. But
even as the oracle became another piece of litter in a world engulfed
in rubbish, my finger retained some of it magic. For when a being with
is touched by its soft end it opens a window to their soul. I can see
what lies in a man's heart, whether good or rotten to the core.

So my dear readers don't be afraid to eat chocolate, one day it may
grant you powers seldom known by humans.

Clifford Spab

If you would like to be touched by Clifford Spab's finger of truth and
discover your fate, please send a cheque for ?49.99 made payable to
Clifford Spab.

Send to: Clifford Spab
39, Spabbinger Lane
Spabsville
London