Allan had spent the evening at the Swinging Arms in Wallan and was Brahms and Listz to the extent he couldn't remember where his car was or where he lived. He was wandering around, lost, when a tall, bearded, distinguished looking man approached who said, "My son, let me help you."

"Impossible," said Allan. "I don't remember where I live or who I am."

"My son, let me take you home."

"How can you?' asked Allan.

'My son, I know all these things."

The stranger took Allan home, found the door key and put him to bed.

"I've got to thank you." said Allan. "You've been wonderful. Tell me, what is your name?"

"My name is St Paul," said the stranger.

"That's a nice name," said Allan. "The same as the guy in the Bible."

"The same," said the stranger, "For I am St Paul."

Allan sat up. "You are St Paul? That's amazing. I've always wanted to meet you because I have a question I want to ask you. May I ask you a personal question?"

"Certainly, my son."

"Tell me, did those bloody Corinthians ever answer your letters?"