...play accordion, guitar, concertina and tin whistle - All very badly. Hence the need for practice.

Well, Dave (and I speak here ex cathedra, though I have to admit that the "cathedra" in question was once a polytechnic), you are partially redeemed as, uniquely among accordion players, you admit that you are very bad on it. I will console you with the unassailable fact that so is every other bloody accordion player on the planet. At least you didn't have bodhrans on your list. We need every goat we can lay our hands on for sacrifices (virgins cost money) and I'm thinking of making the goat our sacred animal, immune from being skinned, alive or dead. You see? I'm ingeniously combining religious ritual with doing the world a bloody big favour! What other hands-on, modern-minded Messiah do you know who works with such aplomb! Facing the truth about your accordion deficit is half the battle. The other half is to throw the accordion away. There are jokes involving accordion and skips, but as the Messiah I naturally have a bottomless well of original jokes and puns so I won't recycle the one about perfect pitch. Or I suppose you could raise a few quid on eBay with it which means we can buy more bingo cards and custard creams. Let me put it this way: I will be very disappointed with you indeed (and you would be correct, and wise, to read that as a scarily messianic euphemism) if I didn't see you, balls in hand, ready to call at the bingo in less than 24 hours. As I wisely stated before, accordion practice my arse. You copping out for "accordion practice" is one thing, but now Musket has abandoned me to man the bingo almost alone (completely alone if Swollox phones in), and it wasn't even my bloody idea. Musket, at least have the good grace to apprise me of the location of the bingo cards and those stubby pens we nicked from Argos. And the custard creams, fer chrissake. This is a crisis! Where's the key to the cupboard?

And don't think I didn't notice your little swipe at the harmonica. I hope you're not getting messianically jealous. The harmonica is a form of pure pocket entertainment. There is another form, but I expect Wacko'll tell you all about that.