“We’re here with pastor Nigel Notapedo-Justacon, to ask him about the recent inquiry into the finances of Last Straw Ministries. Pastor Nigel, can you tell us who drew attention to your ministry in the first place?”

“A disgruntled parishioner. He’d given us three thousand dollars  for Simon Cowell to fall down the stairs. Two days later the money was gone and Simon Cowell was just fine. We did everything – we prayed three times a day and even sent someone to trip him over once. It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Do you always try so hard on a prayer request?”

“Yes, always. We hold an intense group prayer next door. Excuse me, I need to use the toilet.”

“Pastor Nigel had to run urgently, so we’re going to sneak around and do some exploring. It appears parishioners are extremely devout here; over there a man is bowing his head down to the ground in reverence.”

“Don’t mind me; I’ve just lost my contact lenses and I’m about to sign another donation cheque. You really need sharp vision for that one. Sometimes numbers appear out of nowhere.”

“Ssh, we’ve just cracked the door open to witness the extraordinary prayers of Last Straw Ministries for those who write to them. Uh-oh… Looks like they’re just taking the money out and shredding the letters. Here comes pastor Nigel running. He just smacked one of his assistants over the head; it turns out a 50 dollar note was thrown in the shredder by mistake, with one of the envelopes. He’s trying to put it back together, but to no avail. Pastor Nigel, is this how prayers unfold for the sick and needy?”

“Well, yes. We command their diseases to be shredded just like the sheets of paper. It always works, honestly. Shred to bits, arthritis! Disintegrate, gout! Shred in the name of Jesus! Pulverise, fungus! In Jeeesus name, amen!”

“Amen”, mumbles the assistant while rearranging his hair, ruffled by the pastor’s smack. “Please don’t film me.”

“How do you know they’re writing about illnesses if you don’t even read the letters?”

“I can feel it from a distance. Now… What was it you wanted to know?” Pastor Nigel asks.

“Well, we were curious about that private jet you just bought. I understand God directly instructed you to do so?”

“Of course. He doesn’t want to come below 10.000 feet anymore. Birds get tangled in his beard; it’s just such an inconvenience. Remember that thunderstorm last week? He was trying to get his habit out of a wind turbine and let rip a few times. He prefers talking up there, really.”

“What about the fur coat that was brought up during the hearing?”

“God ordered my wife to return to the days of innocence, when people only  wore animal furs. Before all this depravity took over the world. It’s a show of modesty.”

“Weren’t they wearing fig leaves first?”

“Yes, but you might see how that would pose a problem. Oh, no…”

“Looks like pastor Nigel had another bathroom emergency”, the reporter shrugs.

“It was me”, winks an elderly woman. ” He asked for half of my pension last month. Today I spiked his cookies and gave him the runs. Let’s see him pray himself out of that one.”