Sodom, Gomorrah and Telford

One of the most startling changes parenthood brings is that it completely shifts the focus of your paranoia. Where I once obsessed over mild headaches ("I'm dying!") or tourists carrying rucksacks ("I'm going to be blown to bits!"), I now divert all that neurotic energy into worrying about what might happen to my son.

My transformation was instant. The moment before his birth, I was a self-serving coward who would trample old women to escape a burning train. Within seconds of him squelching into the world I became a selfless hero, not giving a fig for my own safety, as long as my boy is ok.

With my family's safety being my new imperative, I've decided we're going to up sticks and move to Telford. "Why Telford?" Well, this week, Telford was revealed as the least religious town in the UK. So much so that the Church of England is sending a missionary there. I give it a week before he’s thrown into a stewing pot by Telfordian cannibals with bones through their noses, who, after picking his chassis clean, will throw it to the M62.

Anyway, my calculation is that Telford's religious abstention will exempt it from being caught up in the theological mega-war our globe is spiralling towards. Warring Christians, Muslims and Jews will sort out their differences in the nearby battlefields of Birmingham, Coventry and Warwick but will bypass Telford with a shrug and an indulgent tut. The little fella will be out of harms way.

You might argue that, now we've got a sentient being in the White House, the possibility of religion-inspired apocalypse is greatly reduced. True, Obama has received almost universal approval from people of all political, ethnic and religious backgrounds. Even Nick Griffin recently gave him the thumbs up (it later transpired that Griffin thought he was endorsing Irish, Ilford-based funeral director Barry O'Balmer). Despite all this love, Obama worries me slightly. His erudite, rational rhetoric is still peppered with enough references to God to make me think that he may one day - in a fit of religious ecstasy - decide to cleanse the world with fire. While Telford sits back, cross armed watching on apathetically.

The only risk I can see in moving to Telford is that God might come over all Old Testament and decide to raze the heretic hotbed. So, I'm hedging my bets and taking a copy of the King James, cunningly concealed under the covers of Richard Dawkin's latest book. Daddy's got it all worked out, so fear not young lad of mine. It's goodbye multi-faith London, hello secular Telford!