The UK's first, last and only Church of the Anarchist, is closing its doors after being open for just one month.
"We were meant to be the Church of the Antichrist," sighed founder, Bill Garcon. "The sign-writer couldn't read my handwriting though. It's my own fault for writing it in goat's blood."
After getting the name of the church incorrect, Garcon should have had the sign redone, but figured that anarchist was close enough, and that the followers of the Antichrist would be similar to anarchists anyway. Sadly, he was wrong.
"We had a grand opening last month," said Garcon. "There were pentagrams, rams heads and copious amounts of blood soaked black linen. However, except for myself and a couple of my familiars, Janice and Maureen, the place was empty. We had to eat all of the cupcakes ourselves."
Whilst the outlook of life between anarchists and followers of the Antichrist is roughly parallel, they differ in one important regard that Garcon had overlooked.
"It turns out that anarchists don't like any kind of organised gathering," said Garcon. "Especially those with rules and stuff."
"We did see the sign," said Cyril Disobedience, a local anarchist, and the closest thing to a leader the local anarchists have. "I talked about it with some of the other anarchists in the borough, but we couldn't be bothered going. I became an anarchist so that nobody could tell me what to do. I didn't even realise it was supposed to be a church for the Antichrist."
Disobedience, who changed his name by deed-poll (he was previously Peter Disobedience), admits that he definitely wouldn't have gone had he known it was a church of the antichrist. "I can't be doing with all that chanting, blood and sheep's eyeball malarkey. Far too structured for me."
Garcon admits, in hindsight, he'd have been better off spending his redundancy from BT on something else. "My wife suggested we buy a caravan, but no, I had to go and try and worship the Prince of Darkness. I guess there's a moral in there somewhere."