Agent X's Scientology Exclusive

Those of you who have visited this blog before might remember that back in January I posted some of the alleged 'auditing' questions you get asked if you want to become a Scientologist, you damn fool you.

Understandably, as the questions went from the slightly odd ('Have you ever disfigured a beautiful thing?') to the downright bizarre ('Have you ever given robots a bad name?'), I got a lot of people asking if they were real, or if it was the work of an anti Scientology mafia/hilarious individual.

I have to admit, I don't know.. I really wouldn't put much past a 'religion' that believes we are all descended from aliens, but then I am an atheist who doesn't believe a jewish bloke rose from the dead leaving only a skanky shroud behind him either...

Well anyway you can read my past blog entry HERE and make up your own mind.

Yesterday my friend 'X'* was inspired by my witterings and decided to take an online Scientology test to see what questions they really ask ignorant members of the public (or bored cynical charity workers like X) who log onto their site.

The real questions (well, a choice selection of about fourty) X was asked...

Do you browse through railway timetables, directories, or dictionaries just for pleasure?

It depends.. is the alternative a Tony Parsons 'novel'?

Is your voice monotonous, rather than varied in pitch?

Duuuuuuuuurrrrnuuuuuuuuurrrrr

Would the idea of inflicting pain on game, small animals or fish prevent you from hunting or fishing?

I have to admit I would prefer not to kill small animals, but I could smash up a monopoly set with a live fish any day of the week

Do you get occasional twitches of your muscles, when there is no logical reason for it?

Yes, I really can't think of any logical reason why I would punch Tony Parsons m'lord. It must be me involuntary fist spasms

Is your life a constant struggle for survival?
Why yes, I often compare my daily battle against the forces of boredom, air conditioning and invoices to the struggles of the American settlers on the Oregon Trail in the early1800's

Do you often sing or whistle just for the fun of it?
No, and I find such activities adequate grounds for the London Met's Shoot to Kill policy

Do you enjoy telling people the latest scandal about your associates?I was affronted when X said 'the last one particularly applies to you' - I do do things other than gossip. I once watered the office pot plant.

It's dead now.

*I was going to completely cover her in a shroud of annonymity as the Scientologists are not adverse to hunting down their detractors and faking their suicides, but that would make for rather a dull entry. Therefore I have mastefully hidden her identity, and I just hope they don't instead try and go after S, who dispite sitting next to X on the bus, has never dissed Scientology in her life..which could be why X is giving her a stinkeye. Not that you can see...

A New Found Respect for Jerry O' Connell

Well, okay not really 'respect', but his parody of Tom Cruise's gaga Scientology ramblings makes me laugh, so I guess I would think of him more favorably if he ever happened to flit across my braincells again

Biche Tries to Make Good, part un.

1 of an occasional series of Biche's attempts to Be Good. Chances of it being a very occasional series bordering on one off are pretty high. This time...

Blood Donation

This has not been an easy undertaking, indeed my first attempt at altruism was cruelly snubbed at the last minute. After merrily sitting through fifty questions along the lines of 'have you ever received money or drugs for sex?' and 'have you ever had sexual intercourse with a man who has, or even possibly has, had sex with another man?, I fell at the last hurdle. 'Have you been on holiday recently?' It was said so casually I almost thought I was being chatted up by the jolly bald nurse, were he not the spit of That Gay Guy from Airport in a pair of latex disposable gloves.
'Well not really. I went on a trip with work to Miami a few weeks ago but that was business'....'

That was the end of that. Turns out that Hurricane Katrina, that cruel meteorological mistress of 2005, had unleashed not just death but a consequential load of mosquitoes upon the southern United States. And apparently me, having had a pissup on a golf resort two years later - which could have been in Basildon for all of Miami I actually saw - could have been smoted by one of the nasty little buggers (or great great great relative thereof) and be carrying Yellow Nile Fever.
Pointing out that I hadn't been bitten (not having a limb like a giant meat filled balloon is usually a good sign for me) and felt fit as a fiddle was not enough. I was kicked out the door so quickly it made me wish I had answered questions like 'did you receive growth hormones before 1985' more humerously. ("You have to understand the 1980's were not the place for a toddler with a head the size of a satsuma", incidentally)


Round two. My altruism had been thwarted, but like the spirit of New Orleans (grasping for a connecting simile here..) it was not dead. Diseased, but not dead.
So, right on cue, a month after I had come back from Miami I pootled back to the Donor Centre.
Once again I had to wait while Deal or No Deal blared in the background. Once again I smirked my way through the questionaire, getting distracted by imagining my past conquests getting it on with other men, having sex for drugs and all the various things they didn't do, and then wondering if I would have liked them more if they had.
My nurse this time was a pissed off african woman of about four foot tall, wearing a jesus of about two foot tall around her neck. After replying that I had not been to the southern United States in the last month etc etc, she pootled off to file my answers with the computer.

Now I love modern technology, I think computers are great and make all of our lives easier and more interesting. They give you something to play on when you can't be bothered to talk to your flatmate, and allow you to solve great mysteries of our time, like 'so IS that Marilyn Manson in the Wonder Years?' (no) and 'what are the two white spots by my eye?' (keratin filled cysts called milia) What I don't like however, is the morons that work computers. Like the berk at the Donor Centre who put the date I was allowed to give blood as a month from when I last came into the Centre, not the two weeks earlier event of me going to Deathtrap Miami.
'Ya karn give blood tuh deay'
'Oh, but that date is wrong. I can give blood, it's been a month'
'Thu computah say naah.'
'Yeah but I'm clean! I'm clean!' (sounding like di Caprio in Basketball Diaries)
'Nah. Yuh caaan do it tuh deh.'
'Whaa?'
'Nah.'
Both Jesus and his surly little carrier host were giving me the evil eye by this point, and so that was that Little Britain episode over and I sulked back home again.

I sort of forgot about it after that and got on with my life, farting around doing non altruistic things like buying small microwaveable pots of risotto, debating whether to tip the hairdresser before slinking out, trying to dig milia out my eyelid with tweezers and cleaning the bathroom. That last act is was not even slightly altruistic incidentally, it had got to the stage where catching things far worse than Yellow Nile Fever seemed possible with every shower, and if my flatmate died it would be SO much hassle to find a new one.

Then the letters came. Junk mail on principle annoys me, so I threw it away unread, be it from Windows4U or small African orphans with no teeth. Then the phonecalls. I was a woman hounded, but while I have no compunction with, indeed quite like telling cold callers where to shove it (or that I am dead, either one) I couldn't do it with the Blood People.

So today I went back. I sat. I answered. I successfully passed the anemia test which I feared would be my third-time-lucky sign from God that I was not put on this earth to be altruistic. I waited some more. I was sat in in a reclining chair and was gently patronised by a woman while she merrily tried to find my vein. And then some more when she called over the Head Nurse to find my vein as it was proving a bit elusive.
'My mum said the doctor always found it quite hard to find her veins' I added helpfully.
Then clench, gnrrrrr, sting and the needle was in.
'Hmmm it's not coming out much. Can you wiggle your hand please?' The patronising woman said in a voice of an exasperated babysitter.
'It appears to be bruising. This isn't great as we might only have ten minutes before it clots' she added.
'When I last got a blood test I got a massive bruise so I looked for a junkie for a week...' I said in an overly cheerful voice, cut short by the sight of the po faces on the woman and the Head Nurse.

I was left alone after that. Some jolly bleeder was admitted who was hooked up, squirting away and carrying out an animated conversation about Edmonton within roughly two minutes, while I slowly dripped next to her.

After about eleven minutes of vague discomfort, squashed balls of tissue and far more information about mobile blood units in Edmonton than I ever hoped to overhear again, I was released. Well, not really, as I wasn't trusted to leave my seat until I had drunk an orange drink, seeing how I was new and evidentally a rather literal drip of a human being who couldn't even be trusted not to clot.

So that was that. I was lead to the waiting area, where I was able to watch an episode of Hollyoaks I had already seen twice (shame Jake, you should have known when you lied and said you were Charlie's father that he was blatantly going to get leukemia and need a bone marrow transplant!) and eat some free biscuits. I wasn't allowed tea as I was new - god knows why, they were probably worried I wouldn't know how to use a cup or would try and steal it or something - and then I was off, with only a slightly fuzzy head, two plasters and a nasty bruise as proof of my Good Deed.

Hideous Myspace Graphics of the Day

What better way to 'show love to you page' than a delightful glittery image of a woman rendered incontinent by a massage, given by an angel with a flannel on his head?




Maybe a superhuman paedophile with wings chasing your kids across a rickety rope bridge?

Dip Me in Crazy and Throw me to the Scientologists!

Going on from my earlier post (and last Scientology one for a while I promise) here is a list of some of the questions they apparently ask you during your 'auditing session', which you have to do when you decide to join the Church (you fucking moron, you!) They record all your answers, but for what other reason other than later blackmail, I know not.

Oh, to lighten proceedings and because I am bored, I have included my own hi-larious answers.


Have you ever enslaved a population?
I do own a hamster who is kept in a cage, but there is only one of him and he's always asleep anyway, so it's not exactly slavery per se

• Have you ever debased a nation's currency?

I have some Indian rupees, and it is apparently illegal to take them out the country, but as far as I know that's only lead to the economic downfall of the Jaipour region

• Have you ever killed the wrong person?

No no, I always get my man

• Have you ever torn out someone's tongue?

Only in the heat of the moment

• Have you ever been a professional critic?

Well my heart's not in it, I'm paying the price of living life to the limit. Cauuuught in the Century's anxiety.

• Have you ever wiped out a family?

The Moths, the Flying-Ants...oh god I just thought of a really rude joke involving male bodily fluids which will not be expanded upon.

• Have you ever tried to give sanity a bad name?

No! Yes! No! What did Tom Cruise put for this one? Is it a dealbreaker if I say no?

• Have you ever consistently practiced sex in some unnatural fashion?

No. I got rid of that heedious Ikea flowered duvet ages ago

• Have you ever made a planet, or nation, radioactive?

Yes. Pluto. Damn. You got me, you and you trip-me-up questions

• Have you ever made love to a dead body?

A lady never tells.

• Have you ever engaged in piracy?

I once tried to watch a pirate copy of Texas Chainsaw Massacre II, but the camcorder fell off the cinema seat at one point and a piece of popcorn on the arm rest loomed large like a dead fly in every shot so I gave up.

• Have you ever been a pimp?

Yes, but it was not a successful venture. There is not a large market for dead girls, as I bet you can attest to, looking back at people's answers to the question before last.

• Have you ever eaten a human body?

Only by accident. Steve gave me this hotdog and was like 'Man you gotta try this hotdog. It's amazing!' so I was like 'okay sure.' so I tried the hotdog and Steve is there grinning at me the whole time so I'm like 'Hey Steve? What's up with you bro?' and he's like 'Dude! That wasn't a hotdog, that was my finger in a bun! Psyche!' And then he like holds up his hand and there's this bloody stump where his middle finger should be and I'm like 'Aww dude! You totally got me that time bro!

• Have you ever disfigured a beautiful thing?

Well I constantly pick my fingers, which is the equivalent of Kate Moss compulsively scratching her face if you ask me.

• Have you given robots a bad name?

Love? Yes. Robots? No. Not unless you count my phone which I call a 'stupid piece of crap' every so often

• Have you ever set a booby trap?

Yes, I'm using new bait and these extra fine wires, so I expect a bumper haul of boobies this season

• Have you driven anyone insane?

No, as I am unable to park I have not been able to pass my driving test, and so the chance to go to france and plunge myself, my friends and a rental car into a river has not arisen.

• Is anybody looking for you?

Lionel Ritchie. Oh no wait, it's him I'm looking for. You can see it in my eyes.

• Have you ever made a practice of confusing people?

Potato.

• Have you ever sought to persuade someone of your insanity?

Potato

• Have you ever smothered a baby?

In a delicious honey and soy marinade, overnight before barbequeing. Mwah!

• Have you ever castrated anyone?

No, but I like to think that after the glory of me, a man could never ever get aroused by anyone else, which is really the same thing. If it were true.

• Do you deserve to be enslaved?

I deserve this chance more than anybody. I've come on such a personal journey during this survey, ever since my nan stubbed her toe last year I have been in a turmoil, and it has taken this opportunity, this survey, to make me realise that I want this more than anything I've wanted ever before.

• Is there any question on this list I had better not ask you again?

If you asked me, I'd do it all again.. je regrette rien!

• Have you ever zapped anyone?

Define 'zap'. Is it a synonym for 'slowly but repeatedly poked in the eye with a tube of Pringles'? Then no.

"That's great Tom, now fuck off while I watch some good sci fi"

Now I have always hated Tom Cruise for many reasons; the shiteating grin, the vast sense of self importance that seems to radiate from him like a fart smell and the utterly creepy way he has turned Katie Holmes from a slappedarseface teenager in a overrated tv show into an automated Wifebot who looks anywhere between 25 and 60.

But the Scientology? That just took it to a whole new level of contempt. I am not a fan of religion any day, but it doesn't bother me if other people want to faff around kneeling down, chanting and building nice buildings because they think it will make death any less final. That's their problem. I do however care when people try to force their religions on others, and threaten anyone who dares question them. Particularly when their religion is utter bullshit made up by a mad sci fi writer and is not so much 'questionable' as straight out and out 'What. The. Fuck?'

Aaanyway, watching the recent videos of Tom Cruise blabbering on about Scientology with his fart smell of self importance so noxious it's a miracle it didn't knock out the entire production crew, I almost felt sorry for him.
It reminded me of when you babysit a child and instead of playing with their stupid little brother they want to hang out with you and talk about grown up stuff, like how to solve the war in Iraq, when all you want them to do is fuck off so you can watch Heroes.
The furrowed brow and staring eyes, the passionate speech of big words what they heard the man in the suit on the telly say earlier on today. The fact that none of it makes any sense whatsoever and is just a series of repetitive cliches said in different orders, much like :

"It is the time now. Now is the time... Being a Scientologist, people are turning to you, so you better know it, you better know it and if you don’t, go and learn it, but don’t pretend you know it. It’s like we’re here to help."

Twatface.

I would post the video, but the cultish nutbags are pulling them down, left right and centre, and I do so hate it when there is a video or photo on this blog that is no longer available.


The people at this website HERE appear to have a massive axe to grind about Scientology. I can't be bothered to read it all and it seems a bit militant, but they did hilariously point out how much the Scientology salute is reminiscent of Red Dwarf's Arnold Rimmer. So I like.