For me the joy of Good Omens is not thinking about Aziraphale and Crowley's special-boy roles in the Great Ineffable (and ultimately stupid) Plan, but thinking about all the absent-mindedly placed snacks Crowley has accidentally sat on while throwing himself into various chairs in the bookshop.
I like stupid. I love stupid. I just think stupid has its proper place, like stuck to the back of a pair of ridiculously tight trousers.















