Johann Hari's Divinterview

I've never liked Johann Hari. I saw him once on a BBC current affairs programme shouting at George Galloway because he thought the Iraq invasion was morally necessary. His pudgy child's face was all red and puffy as he jabbed a finger towards Gorgeous George who had a smirk on his face. 8 years later and despite being absolutely right in EVERYTHING he said George inspires little but ire and consternation (an acquaintance recently described him as "an arsehole spouting shit", whilst another shared a joke about shooting him. It's fair enough. Once you put your head above the parapet you're fair game for anything really), whilst Mr Hari is now the darling of the "Left".

Unfortunately, Mr Hari has been caught plagiarising other journalist's articles and existing quotes from his interviewees to flesh out his articles. Hardly the appropriate actions of an award winning journalist. Anyway, below is his recent interview with Jesus Christ which should restore his reputation.

Jesus Christ. Rebel. Freedom Fighter. Icon. That he chose me to be the first interviewer since his recent resurrection is, undoubtedly, a burden, but one my coolly cynical shoulders are more than happy to bear.

The first thing I notice is that the door to Jesus' abode doesn't seem to exist. It's merely a collection of abstractions and concepts rather than anything solid one would find in aisle seven at, say, B&Q or Wickes: the weekend altars of worship de nos jours. I asked him about this as we finally sat opposite each other. He folded his arms and regarded me slightly askance. "You see, Johann," he began, all charm and easy, if vague, erudition, “ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you.” His eyes are vast with benevolence as a laugh barks from his throat, the light dancing on his burnished skin.

But what relevance the House of God as the struggle between the 'Haves' and the 'Have nots' rages? "My position hasn't changed, Joey, but not due to intransigence," he clarifies. He's more relaxed now as he warms to my softly softly questioning. "Years of detached observation, derived from my fundamental divinity, have led me to this simple truth." He pauses, leans in conpiratorially and says softly: enunciating in a breathless whisper, "It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven."

As I look about the room - a testament to distinguished Oak and Mahogony bathed in an avuncular incandescence - I'm reminded of appearing on BBC's 'The Sharp End' with George Galloway in 2003. I was wrong about the Iraq War. So very wrong. Vociferously so. David Aaronovitch and I - ekeing out a very comfortable living in a resolutely mediocre UK media with no fear of reprisal - will have to live with that for the rest of our lives, but instead of giving me the slap about the ears I plainly deserved for spouting Blair's propaganda George merely smiled at me. An expression imbued with such sympathy and pity I interpreted it as mockery. JC - as he insists I call him - is grinning at me in exactly the same way now. He knows something. Or at least he thinks he does.

Gabriel, his PA, appears from nowhere like a Mr Benn shopkeeper and whispers something in his ear. JC nods slowly and fixes me with an ambivalent gaze. Our time is up. "Everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted," he pronounces as he rises to show me to the door. "All I ask, Joey, is that when you write this up it is not just an essayistic representation of what I think; but a report on an encounter between the interviewer and the interviewee. Will you do that for me?" He sounds a little like Claire Rayner.

"Whatever you say, Lord," I reply.

I walk down the short road to the tube and everything is the same; shiny shopfronts on either side of the street; people chained to their ipods, their eyes cast groundwards. But I am different.