“When was your last confession?”
“Er, dunno. I only confess when I think I’m not going to get away with it.”
“Fair enough. What is your confession?”
“Well, I coveted my wife.”
“That’s allowed. It’s your neighbour’s wife you can’t covet.”
“Oh, got you. What about the guy three doors down; can I covet his wife?”
“No. Just your own. Now what’s your confession?”
“I kind of haven’t watched any movies for a couple of days.”
“Get the fuck out of my confessional!”
“But, blog, I was reading. And … and … I was working on a short story.”
“Hmmmmm. But I’m going to get some reviews out of you pretty damn soon, right?”
“Yeah, blog, sure thing, whatever you say.”
“And you’ll do me a nice little Hammer horror mini-season, won’t you? Between the 29th and 31st of this month. To tie in with this.”
“I sure will, blog, wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Good. Now get out of my confessional.”
“But what’s my penance?”
“Say five Hail Marys, ten Take Him To The Trees, and post something film-related this evening. Even if it just a blatant plug for the new Shane Briant book.”
“Consider it done.”
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