In the beginning times were tough. No electricity or running water, and things were scary. Wild animals roamed about and early man was constantly in danger of being killed and eaten. But most scary of all was nature itself – volcanoes, earthquakes, floods, famines, droughts, plagues and thunder and lightning.

Primitive man had no idea what caused these things but he assumed there were mystical forces at play. Perhaps if he acknowledged the forces they would leave him alone, maybe even be kind to him. And so he started pleading with the forces, begging them for mercy, honouring them by bowing down, praising and flattering them to show respect. Gifts of food were left out for the mystical forces – now called gods – even sacrifices of animals and children.

Some men believed they had special powers to communicate with the gods and to demonstrate their connection with the mighty ones they wore the skins and horns of wild animals. These clued-up people were known as priests and if you needed a favour from the gods you first had to approach a horned priest and enlist his help. To keep in with the priest you would probably pay him with some valuable stones or bake him a cake or even donate a daughter or two.

Now whether these holy go-betweens really believed they had special powers or whether they were just crafty con men we'll never know, but prancing around in deerskins topped off with a magnificent set of antlers was certainly a good career move.

Whichever, it was touch and go whether or not the gods would answer your prayers but if they did then the priest was awarded an extra cake or daughter. If your prayers weren't answered you would have to pray again the following Saturday, after footie. It was important to not lose faith, just keep on praying and one day, thanks to your prayers, the flood waters would recede, the famine would end and the thunder and lightning would go away.

Once your prayers had been answered, more or less, that proved that the gods were listening and the priests were effective mediators. You could trust them and you could always go back for more.

This plan worked well for thousands of years but over time the story started to change. Little bits were added here and there. Children would ask their mothers, "Mum, where do babies come from?" and mums would do their best to explain. But then everyone started to wonder, "Where did we all come from in the first place?"

Clearly the answer to that question had to involve the gods and so they figured out that the gods must have created the first man and woman out of dust.

That satisfied most people and the matter was put to rest. People went about their business content that the gods would look after them provided they treated them with respect. By now there were separate gods for every potential problem and they all had names. There was a volcano god called Lava-Lava, a sky god called Boomer, a fertility god called Roger, a sea god called Old Salty and a god of the underworld called Mr Burrows. They even had a god of war to protect them from marauding tribes of bad men, his name was Thumper.

Everything was tickety-boo and despite an occasional attack by sabre toothed tigers during which whole families were eaten alive, people were generally content. They would have liked a plasma television but it hadn't been invented yet. Not to worry, they made do with badger pictures on the walls of their caves. Also they carved images of their gods out of wood or in the case of Roger, cast him in gold.

Life was acceptable but there was a problem, and the problem's name was Moses. Moses was a total misfit, a disruptive influence who had issues with the gods. Due to the fact they failed to provide him with a new bike on his birthday Moses just didn't like them. He was convinced they were rubbish, all accept for Thumper, the god of war. As far as Moses was concerned, Thumper was the only god worth worshiping but his real name wasn't Thumper it was Jehovah.

Moses climbed up a mountain and scribbled some rules on a couple of paving stones. When he had finished he staggered down the mountain twisting his ankle a couple of times but he finally reached base camp. He stood grandly upon a rock, and pounding his chest like Tarzan he shouted to the people below, "There is only one God and his name is Jehovah! Now pay attention! Jehovah has given me these Ten Commandments which explain how you must worship him and put no other God before him."

A collective groan went around the camp and everyone continued playing footie or cooking spaghetti bolognese. "It's that prick Moses again," groaned Fred Flagstone, "always yacking on about his uber-god, Yakamak or whatever it's called."

Moses was ropable. He puffed up his chest and yelled at the top of his voice – "The sixth commandment is "Thou shalt not kill but I'm warning you now, unless you abandon your golden calves and wooden yoyos I'm going to slaughter the whole fucking lot of youse!"

"You and whose army?" joked Fred Flagstone.

"Right, that's it, that does it," yelled Moses, and with that he drew his sword and massacred 3,000 men, women and children. Yep, he just sliced off their heads and bulldozed their bodies into a communal pit.

Jehovah God was well pleased with Moses, "Onya Moses," chuckled Jehovah, "that'll teach those cheeky monkeys. Now go forth and slaughter every man, woman, child and baby, especially those who worship nature gods. Let none survive!"

"Okie dokie" replied Moses, "Let the slaughter begin, and may their blood be upon them." By now Moses had totally flipped his lid. He was convinced Jehovah was talking directly to him and he craved blood, gallons and gallons of blood. Blood was Jehovah's obsession and so mass murder became Moses' religion. He called his religion Judaism and he set about converting the known world. His motto was, "Convert or die" and the only people he spared were the really young virgin girls who were kidnapped by his soldiers and used for dance practice.

Adam and Eve