And in six days, God created the earth. He made the sky and the sea and the wind and the rain. He made man and beast, fish and fowl, plus dinosaurs to fuck with the non-believers. And on the seventh day, He had a little rest. And it was, you know, good. Then, he started on the weird bits. Pygmy hippos. Ski-jumping. People who like James Blunt. Oh, and Mariah Carey.
And it was good. Then, after everything else was finished, He made Westlife. And it was bad. And He knew it. "Oh Me, what the holy crap was I thinking??", He asked, and He went to remove his abhoration from the face of the earth. "No!!! Stop!!!" screamed the stoolmakers, and, because blessed are the stoolmakers, God stopped.
And lo, they came to agreement: as long as Westlife continued to sing songs requiring the aid of seating, He wouldn't allow their total lack of talent to prevent them achieving fame and fortune. But then they released a song which pushed His patience too far. And He looked at the stoolmakers, and they shrugged. "Alright", they said, "Even we can't justify this half-arsed N-Sync rip off". And God smiled, and raised a vengeful fist...
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