Me, the Mormon God and Taggart

I was filming an episode of Taggart when it happened. I was nothing special, just an extra in the background of a particularly difficult contretemps between Fraser and Reid when suddenly, distracted by a bead of sweat on Blythe Duff's immaculate face, I was kicked in the face by an unbroken Andalusian pony drafted in to play Police Horse Four.

It should never have been allowed on set. To this day I honestly don't  know what the producer was thinking. Thankfully the bloody thing was shot soon after.

I, however, found myself in hospital. Technically for 14 minutes I was dead. It was there that I met Mitt Romney's God. The Mormon one. He was nice. It was a little awkward and uncomfortable. I'm generally not the best at small talk.

I had to explain that I didn't really believe in all that Christian stuff and that actually I was cool with the whole bum willy thing and if people in to the bum willy thing and the fanny fanny thing wanted to go away and be married that should be okay. God was furious.

"Andrew," he thundered. "Up here we call that the cunt. Use the word fanny only if you're a child or talking about the Aunt in the Famous Five but not for anything else".

"Why am I here?" I had already guessed why but I was trying just to make small talk.

"I have something very important for you to do."

"Me,  Mormon God? What?" He had already commented on how lovely and cold my dead hands were. I was pretty sure he was going to get me to do something sexual.

"You need to make sure that Mitt Romney never gets elected."

"But he's one of yours, Mormon God. Surely it's good for you if he gets elected? You know, bigamy and baptising dead atheists will become de rigeur in America."

"I hate the French."

"But still... why not Romney?"

"He's weird."

"I mean in the nicest possible way... aren't all Mormon's a bit weird?"

"No. I think most of them are in on the joke but he actually believes this shit."

I whistled through my teeth. "Wow". That's when God sent me back and my spirit entered my body and I opened my eyes to see I was in a hospital bed that was surrounded by my friends, family and the entire cast of Taggart.

"They cancelled it!" Colin McCredie screamed in my face. "They've fucking cancelled it Andrew!"

And then through the crowd I could see the face of DCI Michael Jardine who hadn't been in the programme since 'Death Trap' which aired in 2002; and that's when I realise that Mormon God was making me have a vision. If only I could work out what it means.

I awake to find myself in hospital but there's no one there. "Nurse?" I shout, "Nurse, what year is it?"

"Mr Learmonth! You've been in a coma for eight years. It's 2012 and the Americans are having an election."

"What? Who are the candidates?"

"Barack Hussein Obama and Mitt Romney"

I scream and stand up out of the bed ripping off the heart monitor. "He must be stopped. We can't let him become leader of the free world."

"Why?" screams the nurse back.

"Because he's weird!"

"But aren't all Mormons a little bit weird?"

"But he actually believes all that shit!"

"Wow," the nurse whistles through her teeth. "How will you stop him?"

"I don't know. All I know is that I have to. I must not fail."