Nativity of Thomas Hardy (1840)

1st Yokel: I see it's that there Thomas Hardy's birthday again.

2nd Yokel: Aye. That it be.

1st Yokel: I wonder how 'e'll be spending it?

2nd Yokel: I believe he divides 'is time between London and Dorset*.

1st Yokel: But 'e'm dead though?

2nd Yokel: Oy, aye. As we all shall be.

1st Yokel: Shall us go to Peter's Finger for a drap of somethin' afore nammet-time? My kex is as dry as an old shoe.

2nd Yokel: Peter's Finger has closed for good. It's a luxury block of them new-fangled appartments.

1st Yokel: So the Dree Mariners? 

2nd Yokel: Mariners is a prestigious housing development.

1st Yokel: Kings Arms?

2nd Yokel: Nay, they won't have such as we. Ye'd have to be the Mayor to be allowed to drink in there.

1st Yokel: Then shall us along to the brewery?

2nd Yokel: Brewery's now retirement homes, Premier Inn, mid-market food chains and a cinema.

1st Yokel: And a cocktail bar?

2nd Yokel: Oh ay. A cocktail bar.

1st Yokel: Or we could just go to Wetherspoons?

2nd Yokel: We are in Wetherspoons.

1st Yokel: In that case I'll have a Ruddles Best.

* Quite literally. His ashes are in Westminster Abbey but his heart is in Stinsford graveyard.

Liturgy in Memory of Andy Rourke of the Smiths (1964-2023)

Archdruid:  There is a light and it never goes out

All: There is a light and it never goes out

Archdruid:  There is a light and it never goes out

All: There is a light and it never goes out

Archdruid:  There is a light and it never goes out

All: There is a light and it never goes out

Archdruid:  There is a light and it never goes out

All: There is a light and it never goes out

Archdruid:  There is a light and it never goes out

All: There is a light and it never goes out

Archdruid:  There is a light and it never goes out

All: There is a light and it never goes out

Internet Ghoul: But was he jabbed?

All: Bigmouth strikes again.

So Hard to Know what not to Believe

Feeling sorry for Drayton Parslow.

You remember Drayton? Pastor of the Bogwulf Baptist Chapel.

First up Drayton preached that Covid was the pestilence foretold in Rev 9.

Then when a third of people didn’t die, he decided the barcodes on packs of vaccines are the Number of the Beast.

Then he decided lockdowns were a Government control device.

Then he started monitoring “sudden deaths” and “excess deaths” and blaming those on the vaccine. Before reflecting that maybe the excess deaths have another cause. Like the after-effects of Covid on people and health services. And that celebrities have always had a habit of dying suddenly. 

So poor Drayton really doesn’t know which conspiracy theorist to believe. You could say he’s fallen between the cranks.

 

A Late Beltane

Well that was a May Eve wash out.

Not the weather.

Brixforth had objected to our burning the gender-neutral Wicker Person on the grounds that the prevailing winds might carry evil particulates over Luton. I wasn't convinced anything could make Luton any less appealing. But we are nothing if not an environmentally-aware religious collective. So I went with it.

So Brixworth's "better" Wicker Person had LED flame effects that would virtually lick up and down the pallet-wood "wicker" of the frame, giving the impression that the Person was burning. I mean - what could be better - not just a spiritual thrill, but also a Wicker Person that would, while appearing to burn, never be consumed. You could just pick your own sermon out of that one.

And so it was that at 11 pm, we pressed the button on the controls. And nothing happened.

And Brixforth pointed out that, because he is environmentally-friendly, the LEDs were solar powered.

Anyway, they finally squeezed enough charge for a moderately-entertaining flare of light ten minutes ago. And then ran out.

I've found the solution, though. A gallon of petrol and a match.

It looks great. Happy May Day.

Beaker Healing Bowels

I can only offer profound apologies for yesterday's disastrous Healing Beaker-making Workshop.

The instructions were supposed to assist our pilgrims in constructing singing cellular healing beakers along the lines of Himalayan Singing Bowls, that resonated at 432 Hz. The frequency of cellular body healing on the cellular level.

And the beakers did look lovely. Nice knotty knotwork. Some excellent glazing.

Image generated via craiyon.com

But what Young Keith had forgotten is that the shape of a bowl is not the same as that of a beaker. Produces a difference frequency. Which unfortunately seems to have resulted in a set of beakers that "sang" at 8 Hz, the frequency of brown noise.

Which resulted in a whole lot of resonance on a cellular level that nobody really needed.

Still, Dooreen's happy. Saved her a fortune in syrup of figs. 

My Defence Against the Bullying Claims

It is with regret that I find I have to resign as Archdruid.

When I appointed Burton Dasset to investigate allegations that I had bullied members of the Druidic staff, I wasn't expecting the woke little creep to actually find a backbone, and conclude that I had bullied members of staff. Especially after I said I'd break his ankles if he did.

It is true that Burton has found two specific occasions over the last few years when I bullied or intimidated people, or threatened to staple them to the boules court with croquet hoops. But in my defence, nobody has ever actually admitted I really did staple them to the boules court with croquet hoops. And this is not just because they didn't want it to happen again.

All I can say is, if stapling someone's tie to the desk and then hitting them over the back of the neck with a plastic ruler counts as bullying, then the bar for bullying is set pretty low.

And bear in mind all those occasions when I managed to get through a whole day without bullying or intimidating anyone. Sometimes a week at a time.

However. I said that if Burton found I was guilty of any of the bullying allegations, I would resign.

I therefore resign.

I will look forward to letting the dust settle, and this whole affair blow over, before taking my role as Archdruid up again in the morning.

In the meantime, if anyone wants me or Burton, we'll be on the boules court. Just as soon as I've found out the croquet hoops.

Presbyopia Impacts Presbyters

Bit of a mistake at Tesco. I went to buy some revitalising shampoo. Accidentally bought some revitalicising shampoo. 

Now all the local vicars are much slimmer, but leaning over.

Undertakers to Wear Hi-Viz

In yet another slap in the face to the freedom of the British people, more EU law has been smuggled into Britain under cover of the Northern Ireland Protocol.

The "Undertakers (PPE)" regulation will be implemented from 1 July 2023. This stipulates that two traditional roles of undertakers at funerals must be undertaken - as it were - while wearing fully functional hi-viz outfits.

"It makes sense when you think about it," said a pencil-necked pen-pusher at Milton Keynes City Council. "The Funeral Director has to spend a period of time walking at a dignified pace in front of the hearse, on the way to the church, cemetery, and/or crematorium. And you wouldn't expect a traffic police officer to do this while dressed in a sober morning suit. So the European regulation demands that Funeral Directors wear hi viz at all times that they are on or near the road. We don't want a rash of quietly and respectably dressed undertakers ending up under the wheels of their own hearses. Ideally they'd wear hi-viz top hats, but let's be honest that's just getting silly."

EU-approved Funeral Director Outfit

But the rules don't stop there. They continue when the hearse has arrived at its destination.

The coffin has to be carried by a team of pall bearers, and potentially rolled on an item of Material Handling Equipment (the little trolley with sticking-out arms). And the grave-digger may be using a mechanical device in the graveyard. Therefore at all times that there is physical handling of the coffin, trestles, or photograph of the late loved ones, the pall bearers must also wear personal protective equipment. This will include hi viz suits, steel toe-capped boots, and safety gloves.

The dayglo future of pall-bearing

 

The Conservative European Research Group are so angry they are eating their own Axminster carpets with rage.  Mark Francois, Official Brexit Weeble, said "This is pure sausage-munching woke-ism. We will never be free from the jackboots of The Hague until British undertakers are free to conduct funerals wearing Union Jack waistcoats and Viking horned helmets on their heads. Just like I did when I fought in two World Wars to free us from Belgium."

The Government has promised to bring in emergency regulation. But, if it is held up by Labour do-gooders in the Lords, and lefty liberal lawyers, Funeral Directors may be facing £1,000 fines just for dressing in a appropriately respectful way for work. Even in the midst of life, we are subject to the dead hand of Brussels.

The Unbearable Heaviness of Bryan

Many people don’t appreciate the fine details of the planning we have to do before our “occasional” services.

Tomorrow's being a really good example.

We've been doing some really careful calculations. And we reckon it’s going to take six men to carry Bryan into the Moot House. It’s been worrying me as the badgers have been tunnelling, and the ground may have been weakened.

In future I’m going to suggest people organise their stag do's further in advance of the wedding. Erin’s livid.