"Hello? Is that But Why? It's God here... I'm just on a train..."

I had a bit of a run-in with The Almighty this morning. There I was, sitting on the train as it made its way out of Woking, minding my own business, reading a book in a content, slightly sleepy, undemanding-of-conversations-with-the-Supreme-Being, atheist kind of way, when my consciousness was stirred by something that didn't quite sound right. I replayed the last string of words I'd heard in my head to work out what was wrong...

"Good morning. This is your God speaking."

Yes, that was definitely what I'd just heard. Every word mapped, in that order, to the memory of the previous communication. If that was so, it appeared my God was speaking to me. I now knew what was wrong - being a committed atheist, this was a little disconcerting. Still, I sat a bit straighter and started paying attention - you never know when it might be useful to adopt a more flexible posture on these matters. I cast a glance at my fellow commuters. They weren't responding, so I assumed it was only me that God was talking to.

It seemed a bit odd that God should choose to have a word in my ear when I was buried in a book - I'm not receptive to The Good News at the best of times, and The Omniscient One should have known that they'd get short shrift interrupting my reading. I was also beginning to regret thinking I could get away with that pair of socks with the holes in the heels which don't show above the shoeline. Still, I could do nothing to change that now. I wondered what God wanted - my book wobbled a little in my hands as I strained for what I hoped would be some more impressive pearls of wisdom. I didn't have to wait long...

"I am currently in Coach 8 of this twelve coach train."

Well, OK. That may be factually correct, but I was hoping for something a little more sage... Still, you are God. You choose to be on a train. That's fine. Whatever floats your boat, though I'd always thought that if I ever made it to the status of a deity, I'd inhabit somewhere a bit more salubrious. Atop a cloud, perhaps, or on a mountain overlooking the ocean. Somewhere with a decent view. Certainly not on the 9:03 to London Waterloo on a Monday morning. And further, I would pick a slightly more polished accent, rather than sounding like I'd just got out of bed and couldn't be bothered to articulate my words. This was beginning to seem a little unlikely, and all rather disappointing for that magical moment of the first time God spoke to me.

I was just running those communications with The Almighty through my head again - after all, they might be important. I was glad I did - the penny dropped:

"Good morning. This is your Guard speaking. I am currently in Coach 8 of this twelve coach train."

Ahhhh, that made more sense. I wasn't having delusions after all. And god certainly hadn't put in a personal appearance on my way to work when I was wearing a pair of holey socks. Good. What a relief...

As if that wasn't disturbing enough, I can report that speech impediments in train guards are spreading. Coming on the back of this morning's misrepresentation of the holy one, when the guard apologised for "the crap conditions on this train", I wondered if I might be hearing things. But no, the other commuteniks had heard it too, and were discussing if he really had apologised for the crap conditions. To make things easier for us, he thoughtfully repeated his message. "On behalf of South West Trains, I would like to apologise for the crap conditions on this train. There are a few seats still available in the rearmost carriage."

I think he was probably saying "cramped"...