Punk princess turns holy roller

Who'd have thought it? Julie Burchill, the original scribe of punk, the lesbian lit queen and the hatchet hack, has got religion.

One day towards the end of the 20th century, I had an epiphany; a stone-cold sober revelation, coming at that weary time of the day when it is too late for luncheon and too early for cocktails and when the only activity which seems appropriately prosaic is picking up one's dry-cleaning. One moment I was sitting there on my Bloomsbury sofa, flicking through Time Out, idly wondering whose life to ruin next, and the next moment it was as if a mighty hand had broken -painlessly, patiently, purposefully -a huge jar of ointment over my head.

And then I was blessed, saved, born again -except all those words sound wrong.

There isn't a word I know which describes properly how I felt, but I do remember looking up from my magazine and saying eagerly, but calmly: "Oh! I see!" I didn't actually see anything, of course, or hear voices (now that would be mental) but I understood, in a split second, that there was, above and beyond all else, God.

And not just any religion, but Christianity. But still, lest we think that the end times must really be here, don't worry: she goes on to attack the Church in her usual vitriolic fashion. The full article is here.

Hat tip: Relapsed Catholic.