"Tell us again," James or John would beg, "about Satan's faulty logic, pansy haircut and the fake forked tail he wore taped to his fleece devil suit. And don't forget to mention the gold lamé cape everyone knows is completely overstated for an afternoon temptation." "...and please go into vivid detail about the cape ripping on the pinnacle during one of his most hilarious temptation lines. We thrill especially to the part where he dangled by the ripped cape 700 feet over the Kidron Valley."
Sometimes these anachronisms are more subtle.
To the Celts, life was a rowdy adventure full of talking too loud, interrupting people, and making fun of pointless religions. Thankfully, there were no editors of the National Geographic around at the time to be scandalized by such politically-incorrect zeal.
We also get an interesting version of St. Columba's antics.
"Round up the catechumens!" he'd shout to his assistants, "We'll illumine a few right now under this blessed, lightening-scarred oak tree." At this everyone would tremble, for all present knew that Broichan, the local druid wizard, had already reserved that tree for morning incantations and a rhubarb pie-eating contest. "Fiddle-dee-dee!" St. Columba would chortle merrily, and go right on with the baptisms.
Presumably St. Columba was the medieval version of the Internet troll.