Sunday, 12 July 2015

Surreptitiously Slapping Electrodes on the Minister's Head

What goes on in a religious minister's head, during the Sunday afternoon siesta?

It's a phenomenon recognised in ministerial manses country wide. After one, two or even three Sunday services, the minister returns home. According to character and denomination, they'll have dinner and maybe a drink of wine, beer or tea.

And then they'll wander off for a nap in the conservatory, study or front room.

The suspicion is that a minister after Sunday lunch is more tired than a grizzly bear in November. But what happens in the ministerial mind, in those vital couple of hours between snoozing off in the reclining chair and waking up ready for a shot of espresso before the hike back down for the evening service?

I snuck into the Beaker Conservatory, surreptitiously slapped a couple of electrodes on Eileen's temples.... And this is what I found.

Eileen woke up screaming "Please! Not If I were a Butterfly again!" 

I think she needs help.

1 comment :

  1. She needs help. Yes, like a curate or assistant priest!

    I need help after googling the words to If I were a butterfly. Dorothy Parker, writing a book review as Constant Reader, once expressed her opinion of a work by AA Milne as following:
    "Tonstant Weader fwowed up." Can't better that.


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