I did the Church of Scientology personality test

And my graph looked like a willy

Before I visited the Church of Scientology, I didn’t know much about the religion.

I mean, I knew that many LA celebrities – Tom Cruise, John Travolta, and Priscilla Presley – had tried it out, a bit like one of those fad diets.

But I didn’t really have any idea what it stood for or what you had to do.

So, when I saw that the Nicholson Street church was offering free personality tests, I thought I’d go take part and find out more about the cultish belief system.

Oh, if I must…

The main reason I went was because I never turn down a personality test. I’m PlayBuzz’s most frequent visitor.

And, ultimately, it would give me a chance to talk about myself for a good 45 minutes.

So off I went to answer 200 questions on myself to see how I could become a better person through Scientologist thought.

And I responded to 200 bloody weird questions.

I was unsure how answering whether I was a fast eater would help me reach Scientologist nirvana.

And when it asked me whether I enjoy sharing scandalous news with others, I couldn’t help but snigger.

Tabman by name, Tabman by nature.

But I gave it a chance, did as I was told and handed it into an octogenarian receptionist.

As she struggled to process our results on the aged computer, I browsed the various leaflets and books scattered amongst the room.

On the desk was a hefty booklet – some form of contract –in which you would have to make a religious pledge. Always read the small print, I thought. Who knows what I could be signing myself up to…?

After waiting a few minutes, a short French lady came over to me with a printed graph off my results.

She told me that it was a dramatic looking graph.

Personally, I thought it just looked phallic.

DON’T EVEN TRY to pretend that you didn’t giggle.

But, after being led to a little interrogation room, I soon found out that this was not a laughing matter.

According to my graph, I’m dangerously hyper-active, self-involved and am horrendously depressed.

Staring deep into my eyes, she asked me how I thought I could deal with my empirically-proven depression.

I responded: “Erm… I dunno. Meds?”

She looked shocked.

And she informed me that Ritalin and anti-depressants are frowned upon by the Scientologist community.

And that they are practically the same as recreational drugs.

Try telling that to a bouncer, eh?

I took my anti-depressants in a dark and dingy alleyway, to avoid being judged by the Scientologists.

She proceeded to tell me: “No, you must engage in the process of removing your negative thoughts and replace them with positive ones”.



She drew me a very scientific looking graph and I couldn’t help but think why this lady hadn’t yet received a Nobel Prize.

Science. Lolz.

After another 10 minute spiel about how I should deal with my emotions by reminding myself of the death of my pets, talking about every traumatic childhood experience and through imagining myself as a fish in a salty pond, she told me the final way in which I could better myself as a person.

After all, my graph showed that I really needed it.

All I had to do was buy a book for £17.

I’d been duped.

Sure, a lot of books have changed my perspective on life.

‘The Bell Jar’.

‘Catcher in the Rye’.

And, don’t forget, ‘Everybody Poops’.

But somehow, I didn’t think I was ready to give up 5 pints worth of dollar so that I could imagine myself as a fish.

After all, I already drink like one.