Like test cricket, Babalas can go for days with no positive result

I was very naughty. On Saturday, I had a little party with some friends and, unfortunately, someone decided to drag Bacchus along.

As some of you (privately, but never in good company) will attest, he is a very persuasive character, twisting our rubber arms every which way.

Enough said. So the next morning, I found myself on holy ground with a splitting headache at what felt like the crack of dawn.

I was broken. Two mugs of coffee, a shower, half a tube of toothpaste, and an envelope of powder (of the pain-relieving kind) had little effect.

Babalas is like test cricket. It can go on for days with no positive result. But back to Sunday morning.

While the band were putting an extra beat to the sound of salvation, I couldn’t get a single note out of my parched throat.

My tongue was hugging the bottom of my mouth very much like I hugged the little bathroom mat just hours before.

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But like the rest of the congregation, I was upstanding. Every single bone, muscle, sinew, tendon, ligament and organ in my body shouted praise be when we finally took our seats.

I was more than willing to empty my wallet when our offerings were gathered.

I had sinned and I was ready to buy forgiveness and physical restoration at any price. Then I got a curveball: Communion.

The piece of bread sucked the very last iota of moisture from my mouth and stuck to my palate like a hair to a bar of soap.

I slapped my tongue into action, but he was unwilling and unable to assist.

Come hell or high water, I wasn’t going to dig it out with my finger, so I decided to stay with the programme and swallow it down with the…

Oh dear.

My fingers trembled like a mouse in a trap when I was handed the little shooter glass.

I could feel my left eye twitching. Small sips… small sips, I repeated over and over in my mind.

Then the aroma hit my nostrils. Why don’t they put little paper bags in the seats like they do on planes, I wondered?

In case of an emergency. Long story short: Babalas belongs at home.