Introduction:

I remember the moment I ceased to believe in god. I must have been 9 years old and Janet tried to explain to me the workings of Santa Claus. Something bout it just didn't make sense. How could this man in a white beard wield such magical powers? And even with those powers, how could he defy all the laws of nature that I had been learning in primary school?

Well as they say: when it rains, it pours. And once ol' Chris Kringle was out of the picture, so went everything else that didn't make sense in my mind.

Easter bunny? Gone.

Cupid? No need for that rubbish anymore.

Monsters under the bed trying to convince me that Janet in class is smarter than me at arithmetic? Well now I knew these were merely monsters in my mind. And lets be clear, I was smarter than her.

And finally, G. O. D.

Well, when you stop believing in an old man with a white beard that gives gifts once a year, it's not hard to stop believing in an old man with a white beard giving you judgments every day.

And thats about how it went. My path went from one direction to another and I think I was better for it. Now here I am: Richard Dawkins, aged 17 years old, ready to finish my final year at secondary school and move on to better things.

What I wasn't ready for though, was him. The man I would grow to love and hate: Chirstopher Hitchens.