I first laid eyes on Ian Paisley in 1988. More precisely, I laid ears on him. He was on the altar of Martyrs Memorial church, on the Ravenhill Road in East Belfast. I was sitting in the last row, close to the door, just in case.
In 10 minutes, Paisley used the word anti-Christ about 20 times. He was a fine speaker. A booming voice. An undeniable presence. He was also completely off the wall. It was like sitting in a Pentecostal church somewhere in the backwoods of Kentucky. The only thing missing was a snake.