Maybe that's why he doesn't answer Jesus with "yes", or "no", but with a complaint. "I never get in the water in time because nobody helps me." Maybe he doesn't realise this is an offer from Jesus. Maybe he thinks it's just a general enquiry. Maybe he thinks Jesus is suggesting he doesn't try hard enough - so he has to explain himself.
Saturday, 21 May 2022
Do You Want to be Healed?
Maybe that's why he doesn't answer Jesus with "yes", or "no", but with a complaint. "I never get in the water in time because nobody helps me." Maybe he doesn't realise this is an offer from Jesus. Maybe he thinks it's just a general enquiry. Maybe he thinks Jesus is suggesting he doesn't try hard enough - so he has to explain himself.
Thursday, 19 May 2022
In Memoriam: Vangelis
Theme from Chariots of Fire plays. Beaker Folk fail to jump over hurdles. Mayhem ensues.
Archdruid (drinking glass of champagne): See, Hnaef - I told you not to put them on the hurdles.
Hnaef (drinking glass of champagne): Shall we run around the jolly old court before the clock has finished striking 12 doncherknow doncherknow?
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Definitely not a stereotype |
All: Wasn't that Harold Abrahams did that?
David George Brownlow Cecil, 6th Marquess of Exeter KCMG OLY: No. It was I, David Lord Burghley. As thinly disguised and portrayed by all-round toff, Nigel Havers.
Charlii: Oh - I thought that was Hugh Boneville?
Nigel Havers: No.
Young Keith: Or Stephen Mangham?
Stephen Mangham: Don't be silly. I was 12 when it came out.
Hnaef: Or Colin Firth?
Alison Steadman: Oooh! Mr Darcy!
Burton Dasset: Jeremy Irons?
Daphne: I thought he was also Nigel Havers.
Archdruid: Can we get back to Vangelis?
All: Let's
Archdruid: So we say goodbye to Vangelis, and pray that he will always be together in Electric Dreams.
All: That's Giorgio Moroder.
Archdruid: Ah yes. Then let us all pray he finds his way home.
A time of speaking in far-ancient tongues
Archdruid: As it is written in the Book of Jon and Vangelis, if you're asking me when, I'll say it starts at the end.
All: We drift to heaven bringing in the morning light
Archdruid: And after all is said and done
All: There's only us we can make it right
Archdruid: So, our love will carry on and on
All: Now, our love will be free, be free
Archdruid: And so we set pray Vangelis will be set free to know Divine Nature
All: Super Nature
Archdruid: The supreme gift of knowledge and space
All: In this cacophony of life
The Peace
Archdruid: Peace will come
All: Peace will come
Archdruid: Peace will come
All: Peace will come
Archdruid: Peace will come
All: Peace will come
Archdruid: And we hope Vangelis will see the light of..
All: A true horizon
Archdruid: Do you reckon this is a bit niche?
All: Dunno. Best ask the Friends of Mr Cairo.
Archdrduid: Do you know where they are?
All: Last seen on the Mayflower.
Archdruid: Mayflower, do you copy?
Blessing of the Mayflower
We sailing pass the moment of time
Saturday, 14 May 2022
"A New Commandment"
How would you describe the history of the Christian faith? A small group of believers, who were convinced that - against all logic, science and sense - their leader was alive, whose conviction was so great that they were prepared to die themselves for this claim. And even though the forces of an empire were against them - and even though you were better off socially and economically if you stuck with the established religion - yet the power with which they told people about their leader was such that they spread like cow parsley in an ornamental border. After 2,000 years of persecution - by others, of others, and of each other - the followers of Jesus eventually reached the point where they could hold church meetings that could spend hours discussing what power replacement light bulbs they should use in the church toilets.
Something gets lost, and has to be rediscovered over and over again.
And it's not the structures and attitude of the early Church. We have Paul to let us know that the early Church was as prone to argument, selfishness, and sheer silliness as we are. When church groups claim they are trying to reproduce the early Church - which early Church are they considering recovering? Galatia or Corinth? That's why the Primitive Beaker Folk sect have such a problem. How can you go back to a Primitive Beaker Christian movement that existed before Jesus himself walked the earth? A lot of imagination, obviously.
And yet we know we have constantly to be called back to our roots. Called back to what we fundamentally know forms the basis of our faith.
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." (John 13:34)
Now, "love one another" is in one very important way not a new commandment at all. When you consider what is called "The Golden Rule", do to others as you would have them do to you - that's all over the world's religions. And that's pretty much the definition of loving one another. The "Second Commandment" as defined by Jesus is there in Leviticus 19:17-18: "Love your neighbour as yourself." So what's new?
"As I have loved you".
How has he loved us?
All the way from heaven to earth. Because Jesus's love is not just like our love. It's the love of God the Son giving up all rights to become one of us. A human like us. Not a god in disguise - the actual God who is actually a human.
All the way to a cross. Because "love one another as I have loved you" is not just about being nice. Jesus's love for us is in the end a total sacrifice. And I struggle to define how that love as sacrifice works. There are so many models for it, and yet not one can capture the sheer depth of what Paul called "a stumbling block to the Jews and foolishness to the Greeks." But the idea that things can only be made right when a god dies is written deep into our human condition, I believe - scattered across so many religions in fragments of truth as gods die. And this God dies with our names carved in his hands - the death he did not deserve, the love we did not deserve.
All the way from the cross to the dead. Not just dead as in a human body devoid of life. Beyond that. When the Apostles' Creed declares, "he descended into Hell", I take that to mean - the completion of that cry on the cross, "My God, my God - why have you forsaken me?" The separation from the Father - the loss of that relationship that Jesus had known naturally his whole life, a life lives as the man who was also God. And so "he dscended into Hell."
But as the Roman soldiers took the cross down ready for its next victim, and the demons crowed in victory, the discovery was made in Hell. Jesus had smuggled God in even there, hadn't he?
Now, I know some people believe that every word of the Bible is literally true. But when King Hezekiah said "Those who go down to the grave can no longer hope in your faithfulness", as quoted in Isaiah - he didn't know everything, did he? Would have been better off listening to King David:"even if I go down to the depths, you are there."
How has Jesus loved us? All the way to an empty grave. Beyond all hope, as the bravest of women weep as they approach their teacher's tomb - and they find there is nothing there. In the midst of death, Mary Magdalene finds life.
So we are called - as we always are with Jesus - to an impossible standard. How can we ever love one another as he has loved us? Well, then in that case we know how to love - as if others are our neighbours, knowing that Jesus's love is measured in its costliness, its generosity, and its power. And knowing that what love we give comes from God. If we love one another, simple as that is, then we are sharing in the love that the Father has for the Son. Sharing it out as the Spirit uses us. Being remade in the image of our three-in-one God who loves us, has always loved us, and will always love us. That other book with John's name on it says, we love because he first loved us. So we we are called to love other people with a love that is a reflection of Christ's love, as moonlight is the reflection of sunlight.
That's all a long way from most of what our behaviour as Christians tends to be about. So if we are to love as Christ has loved us, we always need to start with repentance - with turning from what we'd often rather do - bitch about each other, score points - and look again and again at how Christ has loved us. To love is not - as CS Lewis said in the Four Loves - a safe place. To love makes us vulnerable. Well, see Jesus on a Cross. To love means to care for the good of those we don't like - well, Jesus died for people who hated him. To love means to be caught up in the love God gives, and to share the love God gives. Well, that's a taste of the immortal. If we are sharing God's love, we are preparing ourselves and others for heaven.
"As I have loved you, so you must love one another." It's an impossible command. But it's the one to live.
Saturday, 7 May 2022
The Diary of a Mocker
who gnashed upon me with their teeth. (Psalm 35:16)
Monday, 2 May 2022
The Broken Ground of Being
Archdruid: And so, as we relight the Eternal Flame after Saturday's intervention by the Buckinghamshire Fire Brigade, we know the depths of the light of the universe that enlightens the human mind...
Young Keith: Mum, can I ask you something?
Archdruid: You have to call me "Archdruid". We're on duty.
Young Keith: OK, Archdrduid - can I ask you something?
Archdruid: Course you can. I'm your mum.
Young Keith: It's just... you know how everything we do is a metaphor and about lifting us up or expanding our vision or increasing our knowledge of creation or something?
Archdruid: Of course. We're a religion.
Young Keith: Well, what if there's something behind it?
Archdruid: How d'you mean?
Young Keith: I mean, suppose God - and I use this word itself in a metaphorical way because after all, how can we use the word "exist" in relation to the very ground of existence? I mean, to say God exists is kind of meaningless because if God exists all existence derives its very existence from God such that you cannot meaningfully say God exists...
Archdruid: Cut to the chase, Keith.
Young Keith: Suppose God actually exists?
Archdruid: Exists?
Young Keith: Is actually there. Not as a hypothetical that forms a kind of language we can use to imbue our universe with meaning, but as the actual Meaning that imbues our universe in the first place.
Archdruid: You mean, exists?
Young Keith. Yes. In such a way that asking whether we say "he", or "she", or "they", or "God" for God is in itself meaningless because God is beyond our concepts of existence and even to try to apply objective terms to God is to break the mystery down to the mundane?
Archdruid: You mean, exists?
Young Keith. Yes. And cares about what we are up to.
Archdruid: Seems a bit unlikely, doesn't it?
Young Keith: But suppose.
Archdruid: Think I'd better light some more tea lights.
Young Keith: I'll go and lay some pebbles out. Sandstone or limestone?
Archdruid: Sandstone. Gotta be authentic.
Sunday, 1 May 2022
The Scorching Bards of May
OK that was quite a Beltane celebration.
In keeping with the Beaker tradition, the Wicker Person was built on the Upper Meadow. But yeah, a bit close to the Orchard. Some would say. And given the oil price crisis, it was agreed we would use all the Maundy Holy Oils we've been "recycling" for the last few years.
I don't really know how it started. But it comes about because of the annual Anglican oil-blessing that happens at their Maundy Thursday services. The bishops bless three lots of oil - healing, chrism, and the other one. And then they dish it out to the clergy in little vials. And the little vials have little labels on them so the clergy know which is which - "H", "C" and the other one. And then the sticky labels fall off. So the clergy can't tell which is which. And can't remember which smells nice. So they stick them all in the same bottle and use it for everything for the rest of the year.
And 12 months later, they've got half a dose of mixed oils and it's Maundy Thursday again and they tell themselves that this time they'll definitely get it right and put the stickers on better. But they don't know what to do with the left-over oils: which have been blessed by the bishops - so they started giving it to us. And we just put it in a big barrel, on the basis - much-loved by 80-year-old blokes - that it would come in handy one day.
And so last night, we decided it was time to use it. As an accelerant on the Wicker Person.
Well, it was quite a lot of oil.
And it consumed the Wicker Person in no time. Then headed for the trees in the Orchard. And before we knew it, we were battling the latest Beaker conflagration. Chucking water on the situation, of course, would only make matters worse. As we remembered as the ducks got off the pond in short order, and Duckhenge was razed to the ground. Again.
Anyway, there's nothing like singing "summer is ikumen in" while fire
takes out your favourite apple trees. It was like being back at Oxford,
except without the posh kids breaking their backs jumping in the
Cherwell. What made it worse was the Bardic Brotherhood were in the orchard, tuning their lyres at the time. We had to roll them in the Astroturf round the Moot House.
So anyway. Eventually, it went out. The Moot House is still intact. But with all that incinerated scented oil, everyone slept for hours. We were going to get up for a thoroughly woo moment watching Jupiter and Venus at dawn. But I guess it will have to keep till next time they get together in the sky.
Happy May Day.
Sunday, 17 April 2022
"Mary"
Jesus said to her, “Mary.”
She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”). (John 20:16)
So the Resurrection is the new Nativity. The pyrotechnics happen away from the main action - angels brought the good news to shepherds in the hills, an earthquake has happened early in the morning, bringing the good news to soldiers who would really rather not have known about it.
The earth which received Jesus has given him up, as if from the womb.
And as the dust settles from the quake, and the angels sneak off and the soldiers sculk round to await the anger and bemusement of the high priests, what's left among the birdsong, the dew, and the smell of unrequired spices? Just the loving humanity of a woman and the teacher she now knows is so much more.
This is beyond expectations - because for all of Jesus's promises before, who would have believed he really could rise on the third day? It wasn't that the disciples were too slow - it was that the truth was too rich.
And the exchange is simple and profound - this man who has conquered death, calls her just by her name. The response - respectful and yet still familiar, still what she has always known him as - "Teacher." Mary stands before the God who has conquered death and hell. Yet he is also the man she knows and loves as her teacher and friend.
But she cannot cling to him now. She has a job to do. She is the first evangelist - the apostle to the apostles - the first witness to the news that the Resurrection starts here, in the man she sees standing before her. The news must go into the world. And it must start with her.
And we celebrate with her, each of us who have known what it is to know our living and saving Teacher, Master, and Friend. Each of us whom he knows by name. Each of us who have received glimpses of the hope for us, and for our world. All who cannot physically cling to him, but yet know he is alive.
If the Blessed Virgin was blessed in receiving the first news from an angel, how blessed is Mary Magdalene in receiving the Resurrection news from our risen God himself? Alleluia - Christ is Risen!
Saturday, 16 April 2022
The Easter Egg Hunt Revisited
The Guardian carries the news that the incoming food merchandising laws from this definitely-not-nanny-state Goverment means that in future shoppers will have to go on an Easter Egg hunt to find their chocolatey Paschal comestibles.
Of course, the Beaker Folk are way ahead of the game. Which is why the Little Pebbles have today been enjoying their first-ever Easter Carrot Hunt.
We've developed quite a nice back-story. That the Easter Bunny has been dropping carrots around the Lower Meadow, and the children have to go around with their wicker carrot baskets, collecting the tasty treats. Meanwhile Hnaef, Burton Dassett and Yardley Hastings had the job of pulling the Magical Carrot Cart around the community grounds, dispensing additional carrots.
OK. The Magical Carrot Cart idea went west when Hnaef had the idea of using it as a go cart. Smashed to pieces. The carrot, that is. Weirdly, it crash-landed next to an old man and much younger woman, who insisted they hardly knew each other.
But I was so looking forward to the children, relishing their natural and healthy snacks.
They've been crying for three hours now. If the little gets don't come to terms with this new tradition quickly, I'll have to send Young Keith to Tesco.
Thursday, 14 April 2022
Traditions of Maundy Thursday
Today is Maundy Thursday. When overworked clergy at their wits' ends travel to far-off cathedrals for an extra service. And think next year maybe someone will organise next-day delivery for holy oils instead.
When they return to be told that in Parson Marson's day, the churches would have queues outside of people wanting to join the post-communion Watch until 6am on Good Friday. In fact, some years so many people were on the rota for the Watch that they had to put Easter back a week.
In a new tradition, the parish Covid expert (Arthur, who provides the coffee whitener) will insist that the priest cleanses people's feet with anti-bacterial gel, to guard against the risk of the Plague being passed through hand-to-ankle contact. Priests will be told to wear splash visors against the danger of inhaling Athlete's Foot.
The tradition of Shoe-Shining Bishops has had to be scaled-down to only two or three per town, for safety reasons and to avoid overwhelming the NHS. Asking elderly people to spend several hours in an unnatural crouching position has been associated with seasonal clusters of sciatica. In 2018 at least one bishop, unable to straighten up, had to process down the aisle at the Chrism Mass so bent over, they had to stand his mitre on his back.
There is news that people planning tomorrow's Walks of Witness have been told that, in line with risk assessments, only one person can carry the eight foot long cross at any one time. Crosses of more than 20 feet in length can safely be carried by four people, as long as they wear hazmat suits.
Today is also the one of the Days of Drivel, when traditionally someone who knows less history, religion, and philology than a mung bean will trot out the whole ludicrous "Easter is Really a Pagan Festival" trope. In years gone by, they would be driven far out into the Fens, to improve the average intelligence of the parish.
On Maundy Thursday in Fakenham, nothing happens. The same as the rest of the year.
Wednesday, 13 April 2022
The Ghost of Advent Past
Funny thing. For this evening's "Judas wasn't such a bad chap and probably just went to the wrong public school Wednesday" Tenebrae service, I went to look to see if we had some previously-used Advent Candles.
The Beaker Tenebrae, like all our services, tries to be upbeat. Holy Week can be so serious if you're not careful. So I thought we'd mix in some of the pink "You've lit it the wrong week - pink stands for Mary because she's a girl" candles, as well as the purple ones which are maybe more fitting the occasion. And I figured we'd have a few left over in the cupboard at the back of the Liturgical Paraphenalia Everyone Has Forgotten About Room.
Oh boy. Let me just say that I was glad I asked Burton to go in there and have a look, as he was crushed with the remains of the Advent Candles of years gone by. Clearly every year since time immemorial, as the Advent Wreath is put away on the day after Candlemas, someone has figured "there's some wear in them candles. I'll put them away in case they come in useful." Some of us would say that burying Burton is "useful", so fair enough.
We've sent in a team from Wessex Archaeology, and after carbon dating they reckon the oldest candles come from the 17th Century. This appears to be confirmed by a Christmas Card with the inscription, "A Merry England Christmas From King Charles II."
Which is all a bit strange, as the Moot House has only been in existence since 2003, and has blown up, collapsed or been blown away many times since. Still, strange things happen in the cupboard at the back of the Liturgical Paraphenalia Everyone Has Forgotten About Room. We found Boris Johnson's moral integrity there once, but we put it back since nobody thought it would be of much use.
Sunday, 10 April 2022
A Triumph of Palms
Friday, 8 April 2022
I Have Measured Out My Life in Hallelujahs
It should be Evening Prayer, but nobody has joined you in church since last October. And that was someone who was hoping to steal the lectern. So you figure you'll say it in your study. So you go home and put the kettle on. Throw the pasty - warm from the sun - in the bin. Your spouse - back home from work - asks which of you will make dinner. You suggest, given the day you've both had, that you order takeaway. Again. You give thanks that your spouse earns enough to be able to afford to buy takeaways. You put the kettle on, to boil while you say Evening Prayer. You need the time and space - your Hallelujah levels are running low. The Grilsby-on-the-Hill Facebook page, you notice from your phone, is full of uproar about the badger invasion.
Monday, 4 April 2022
Liturgy for the Death of June Brown (Dot Cotton / Branning)
Introit: Eastenders Theme Tune
Archdruid: Oh I say.
All: I ain't one ter gossip.
Archdruid: I ain't one ter gossip.
All: Oh I say.
Filling-up of washing machines
Young Keith: 'Ello Ma.
Archdruid: Young Keef! Yer've come back!
Young Keith: I'd only been to Tesco's.
Archdruid: Well, you know me.
All: I ain't one ter gossip.
Stubbing out of fags
A time to live and a time to die.
A time to call the boss Poppydoppyloss and a time to call the boss Poopydropoliss.
A time to do 30 minute episodes on your own and a time to have a fag.
Sunday, 3 April 2022
Pouring Money Down the Drain
Thursday, 24 March 2022
Very Mild Commination on Someone Who Stole the Sachet of Seeds from a Poundland Grow-Your-Own Chilli Pot
Woe is me, for I am as a woman bereft of chilli seeds - but not many.
Slightly saddened am I, and a bit bemused.
For behold, the pot in which I was to grow my chilli plants,
which I bought for just a quid from Poundland
is empty of chilli seeds
and the contents are incomplete.
There are the little pads of coir compost on which I was to scatter the seeds
Behold the little plastic dish in which to place the compost
But there are no seeds
The sachet is not there
The pot is bereft
and life is not in it.
I am the victim of the world's most low-value crime
and also quite a long-term one.
For who thieves a small sachet of chilli seeds thinking to fence it on the black market?
Where is the cut-price shop selling tiny sachets containing few seeds?
Woe unto they who cannot put their hands into their pockets for a pound to buy a packet of seeds
And would rather source their greenhouse comestibles by thievery and deceit.
May wrath burn against them
but only mildly
Like unto an chipotle or an jalapeño
and not like unto the Scotch Bonnet
or the Carolina Reaper, which scorcheth the nether regions the day after consumption like the very fires of Gehenna.
May those who steal very small sachets of chilli seeds stub their toes very slightly when they go to bed at night.
May they have forget where they have lain their glasses
remembering not that they are on top of their heads.
May their remote controller run out of batteries
just when Pointless is on the other channel.
May they wake up five minutes before their alarm goes off
and then fall asleep again, only to be awakened shortly afterwards.
May Windows install updates two minutes before their important Zoom meeting.
May their hair dye be just one shade out of what they expected.
Or - if male - may they go bald two weeks earlier than they would otherwise expect.
May the door bell ring when they are in the bath
and the Yodel delivery agent throw their package over the fence
But the box not be too badly damaged
and the goods inside basically OK.
So may they have minor frets
and lesser inconveniences
all the days of their lives.
Or at least for a couple of weeks.
Tuesday, 22 March 2022
What Nazanin Should Have Said
I would like to start by saying how grateful I am. To Liz Truss, who manages to look so inspiring on Instagram, and to Boris Johnson. It is true to say that having Boris Johnson as Prime Minister has truly righted the situation after all those previous Foreign Secretaries, who weren't as good as Liz Truss, failed.
As an Iranian-born dual national, I am especially duly grateful that the United Kingdom has gone to all the trouble of paying a decades-old debt, just so I can come to what I can regard - until Priti Patel revokes my citizenship - as home.
I would like to thank all the people with Twitter accounts featuring Union Jacks and words like "Brexiteer" in their profiles. If they had not been referring to "mad mullahs" for all these years, the Iranian government would never have caved in and released me in the way they did.
I should especially add my husband Richard. Not only has he repeatedly gone on hunger strike to support me - but more importantly, he was grateful to Liz Truss. Whose taste in hats is arguably second only to Boris Johnson's stylish wearing of hi vis. I am very grateful. And, as his wife, I know he is right.
And I would like to make it clear that, with my dual nationality, I have really no right to be British at all - as you can see by looking at my skin tone. And so I am so grateful that people are prepared to consider me a bit British by marriage.
Finally, I would like to thank Vladimir Putin. Without the oil crisis he generated by invading Ukraine, which meant Boris Johnson needed to find alternative sources, I might still be under house arrest in Iran. So, like so many of the people with Union Jacks and "Brexiteer" in their profiles on Twitter, I owe so much to him.
I am very grateful.
Monday, 21 March 2022
Green and AstroTurfed Land
News from my friend Melissa Sparrow, famed for her terrible poems. Over in Grilsby-on-the-Hill where she lives, they've been getting fretful about the regular costs of cutting the grass in the churchyard. And there's been numerous fights over it. Being a traditional farming community, they go out and spray it with all sorts of poisons so as not to have any dandelions, daisies, nettles or primroses in the grass. But there's been an influx of "them woke types from the City what the Express warned us about", and they started to suggest a programme of leaving some uncut, raking up the mowings, building compost heaps and other such left-wing conspiracies.
So at the last PCC they voted to cover the graveyard with artificial grass.
Melissa is sad at the loss of the previously lovely stripy lawns.
And then there's the other downside. The terrifying Grilsby Badgers. Notorious for digging in the graveyard, mugging passing archdeacons, and excavating archaeological sites while nobody is looking.
Artificial turf is no match for badgers, it turns out. There's now two-foot holes dug through the turf all over the place. Some of the badgers have taken to getting under the fabric, then tearing around like soldiers on an assault course. It's causing terror to unsuspecting church visitors who become aware that chunky objects are heading towards them with plans to steal their shoes.
Yes. Grilsby badgers steal shoes. Which they then drag under the plastic grass. So now there's the green outlines of assorted shoes, sticking out of the graveyard.
And the parishioners of Grilsby really think, in retrospect, they should maybe have cut round the gravestones rather than straight over them. Some relatives are starting to complain. Although, to be fair, not too loudly in case they attract the attention of the badgers.
One did. And now there's the green outline, etc etc. The badgers are holding him hostage for more shoes.
If you're thinking of covering your graveyard with artifical turf - I wouldn't.
Saturday, 19 March 2022
If Sting Wrote Hymns for Progressive Liberal Christians
You don't have to light up that tea light
Taize is over
Thursday, 17 March 2022
The Name of the Moon
If Sting Wrote Fundamentalist Evangelical Hymns
Wednesday, 2 March 2022
Dust
Sunday, 20 February 2022
Neil Oliver's Libertarian Road Trip
It's an odd thing. Once upon a time, Neil Oliver was famous for going round Britain on a boat like a watery, druidic Michael Portillo. Or maybe an unfunny Michael Palin. But now he's joined up with the ranks of the never-quite-made it, to become a random shouty libertarian alongside Piers Corbyn, Right Said Fred, and Laurence "Sidekick to a Sidekick Who Never Got His Own Show" Fox.
We follow Neil as he embarks on his libertarian Road Trip.
Driving down the A43. Comes across the sign, "Kettering welcomes careful drivers."
Drives into a lamp-post.
NO: Don't you tell me what to do, Kettering!
On a barge going down the Nene at Northampton. Comes across a sign, "beware of weir".
Ends up clinging to a pallet, as boat is ripped to pieces.
NO: I demand my rights to float to Wellingborough on pieces of watery debris! I am the "Coast" Guy!
On the Grand Union Canal. Signs say "no fishing - overheard lines"
NO: I think I know best what to do with my own fishing rod.
Spends 3 weeks glowing in the dark
A visit to Woburn Abbey. Sign says "Lion Enclosure: do not get out of your vehicle."
NO: Did Magna Carter not give me the right to walk where I like? I defy your liberal cotton-wool mollycoddling.
Series ends
"Brian Cox in the 25th Century"
BC: Hello! And welcome to Brian Cox in the 25th Century! Where, thanks to my eternal youth, I'm still pointing at the sky and saying things like "a million million million stars" while being really enthusiastic! And today I'm joined by Neil Oliver, who by the modern technology of PCR-Plus we've resurrected from just a hair out of his beard, which was preserved in the National Museum of Secular Relics next to Frankie Howerd's wig. Neil - it's good to see you again.
NO: Brian! Last thing I saw was a load of teeth... and now it's you. Where are we?
BC: We're on the edge of the Event Horizon of the black hole at the centre of our universe! And whatever we do, we mustn't go over that line over there...
NO: I suppose that's another thing the Government is trying to control us with. Well, we'll see about that... oooh... my legs are like spaghetti...
Friday, 18 February 2022
Beating The Evil Out With Sticks
The Beaker Folk have been getting increasingly concerned that we will no longer be allowed to beat the evil out of people with sticks.
Beating the evil out with sticks has always been a part of Beaker Culture. Going back 5,000 years, whenever we needed to get evil out of someone we would beat them with sticks.
And we would never beat people with sticks if they didn't want it. All the people being beaten with sticks have made it clear that it is exactly the sort of thing you need to get the evil out.
There is a strong body of evidence that beating people with sticks works. And even when it doesn't, it's the fault of the beatees. Not the beaters. They are doing the best job they can with the tools available to them*.
So we demand our ancient rights to beat people with sticks to drive the evil out.
Beating people with sticks to drive the evil out. You know it makes sense.
* sticks
Saturday, 12 February 2022
The Downing Street Lockdown Get-Together Questionnaire
1. What is your name?
a. Alexander Boris de Pfeffel
b. Boris
c. Bozza
d. My lawyer has advised me not to answer this.
2. What event were you at, on the night in question?
a. A party
b. A business meeting, where we drank a couple of bottles of wine each, as normal in 10 Downing Street when working on major policies
c. A business meeting, where we drank 2 pints of champagne each, because that's what Winston Churchill would have done
d. Without Dom here, I have no intellectual faculties to answer this question.
3. Is Downing Street a unique combination of home and workplace?
a. Yes, obviously
b. Apart from vicarages, of course
c. And people who work from home
d. How dare they work from home? They should be getting into central London and buying wine from Tesco Metro.
4. Which of these is the largest measure of wine?
a. A magnum
b. A Methuselah
c. A Belshazzar
d. A suitcase
5. Did you maintain social distance at all times?
a. Yes
b. No
c. Sometimes
d. Does "tongues" count as social distancing?
6. Who do you blame for the party?
a. Remainers
b. Remainers
c. Remainers
d. Don't you mean "whom"?
7. Is there anything you would like to add?
a. Phwarr! Union Jacks! Boost for Bolton!
b. Carrie doesn't live here anymore
c. I'm the PM and Jacob knows where you live
d. What happened to Cressida?
Walsingham
Monday, 7 February 2022
Introducing the Druid for Dromedaries
I'm intrigued by the (hopefully just) kite-flying news that the Church of England is considering lining some of its bishops up as full-time spokesbishops, rather than mostly being in the current pastoral arrangement.
Especially as I've just finished the line-up of druidic posts as part of my own restructuring programme, as set out in the pamphlet, Beakerism Beyond Brexit.
Obviously, I'm not considering a Druid for Brexit. Ridiculous idea, as we know that Brexit is done. Complete. A massive success. And we will never need to mention it again.
So instead, here's the new generation of speciality druids for the New Normal.
- Druid for Transport
- Druid for Oak Groves
- Druid for Clickbait
- Druid for Mistletoe
- Druid for Liaison betwen the Druid for Oak Groves and the Druid for Mistletoe
- Druid for Dromedaries
- Druid for Camels with Plural Humps whose Species Name We can't Remember
- Druid for People Called Ken
- Druid for Data
- Druids for Gin
- Druid for Gyms
- Druid for Volunteering to Read "Archbishop Cranmer's" Blog
- Druid for Entity Relationship Diagrams
- Druid for Big Business
- Druid for SMEs
- Druid for Health and Public Swimming Pools
- Druid for Diplomacy
- Druid for Risk
- Druid for Dorset
- Druid for Post-It Notes
- Druid for Improved Standards in Tent Design
- Druidfor Writing Articles Countering Peter Hitchens
- Druid for Standing on street corners saying "Camembert" like Wallis from Wallis and Gromit
- Druid for Bacon
- Druid for Snow
- Druid for Cartoons
- Druid for Scuba-Diving
- Druid for Social Media, but not Tik-Tok cos that's never gonna catch on
- Druid for The Archers
- Druid for Snacks
Saturday, 5 February 2022
The Red Kite Chronicles - BTL responses
I was watching the red kites swirling over Top Meadow earlier. Amazing, beautiful birds with that haunting whistle for a call.
You know, I often think that the red kite could be the Beaker Folk equivalent of the Celtic "Wild Goose". Free, beautiful, graceful, signifying the "otherness" of a God that can be both of our world, and yet out of our reach. When we watch a red kite circling beyond our reach - always just out of the shot of a decent photo, as often proven by the Karen Lewis Wildlife Photography Facebook Group - are we not brought out of ourselves?
What sights can the red kite see, we wonder? How must the world look to one that, in its stillness, can yet see the smallness of human beings? What thoughts must pass through the mind of that creature that sees the map of the landscape drawn out below them?
Townmouse 18:53
Roddyrick 18:54
Jeremiah 18:55
VaxIsDeath32323 18:56
ArnoldSame 18:58
Random Ralph 18:59
VaxIsDeath32323 19:02
Roundsmith 19:05
Chavsopolitan 19:06
FluffyBun 19:08
EUSSR Mafia 19:12
Lord Heh Heh 19:17
Wednesday, 2 February 2022
Lament for the Filling-in of Statistics for Mission
My heart sinks within me
and my mind reels at my situation.
For I am filling in a website full of mission statistics
when the world outside is utterly changed.
How can I compare 2021 with 2019?
Or even with 2020?
How can I explain the difference in numbers?
How can I tell the diocese why my heart sinks at my failings
Apart from remembering those that are still scared
those that have lost the habit
and those that are dead.
Is a BCP Communion a Fresh Expression?
What are "young people"?
I weep as I recall those days when I would fill in the stats
Knowing that the church was - to be frank - a quarter full
And rejoicing in the annual Messy Church
Though at the time I thought it was slightly paltry
- in retrospect, what a time to be alive!
But now I enter "Zero" in many columns
and wonder whether singing carols at the pub is a Fresh Expression
or an evening service.
I wonder how many people watch online
And whether it equals those that the post "reached"
Or those that "engaged"
Or those that got to the end
Knowing that in Facebook worship
There is no end.
But this I remember
As I submit my form
The mercies of the Lord are everlasting
That soon men and women will be marrying as in the days of Noah
(but not men and men, or women and women, for that would cause a Schism)
that baptisms will rise up like spring flowers
even like the flowers in the gardens of Babylon
and that though death may not be at an end
at least the weekly funerals might be.Tuesday, 1 February 2022
Nativity of Norman Clegg (Peter Sallis) 1921
Hymn: On Ilkley Moor Baht 'At
Archdruid: 'Ow do.
All: 'Ow do to you too.
Archdruid: It'll be dark by nightfall.
All: Can we push the old bloke down a hill in a bath tub now?
Archdruid: We've got to have some whimsical musings on life first.
All: What's that we hear on the wind?
Archdruid: The sound of little creatures eating other creatures.
All: That's not whimsical.
Archdruid: OK - can we have the incompetent driver to do his incompetent driving display?
All: He drove into the gate.
Archdruid: What about the bloke sitting in a giant wheel, driven on lots of little wheels?
All: Landed in the river.
Archdruid: The three old blokes on bikes joined together for no obvious reason?
All: Flew over the wall.
Archdruid: The old bloke in a boat?
All: Sank.
Archdruid: The shifty-looking bloke with a nervous twitch?
All: Cycled off with the peroxide blonde.
Archdruid: OK. Push the old bloke down the hill in a bathtub.
Old Bloke: Noraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Archdruid: And so let us commend Norman Clegg, I mean Peter Sallis, to the Old Yorkshire gods: Sam and Earnshaw.
All: 'Ow do, Sam! 'Ow do, Earnshaw!
Archdruid: It'll be dark by nightfall.
All: And also with you.
Hymn: Compo has Gone and Lost His Wellies
Saturday, 29 January 2022
GateGate
People are increasingly angry about the event they are now calling "GateGate". Allegedly in April 2020, I was seen standing at the gate in The Orchard, talking to Melissa Sparrow of Little Tremlett for several hours. This claim is apparently backed up by drone footage, CCTV, a sworn affidvait and twenty-three eyewitness accounts.
Obviously this whole event - which never happened - was completely innocent. Melissa was on her permitted once daily exercise. That she had walked 50 miles and still had to go home is testimony to her amazing fitness, caused by her terror of failing health and death.
Death. Death. Death.
Sorry, I don't know what came over me there.
There have been allegations that the evidence of an empty gin bottle with my finger prints on, recovered from under the hedge next to the gate, means this was some kind of party. Nothing could be further from the truth. The debris of a Krispy Kreme doughnuts party pack likewise proves that the non-existent event was in fact a business meeting. Which we had to do in person, outdoors, as we needed to forge a lot of signatures.
Claims that we then repaired to the Archdruidical Suite, where we played 80s funk-soul into the early hours, are clearly rubbish. What happened was that, overcome by the sixth Krispy Kreme which she clearly didn't eat because she wasn't there, Melissa started hallucinating that she was Edward "Ten Pole" Tudor-Pole. I had to bring her back to the 21st Century via the Punk Rock, Grunge, Brit-Pop and Spice Girls eras. Which is why we weren't loudly singing Adele songs by 4 am.
As Beaker Folk will know, I asked Young Keith to investigate these allegations (Charlii being busy selecting wallpaper) and I'm pleased to say that there's definitely nothing to worry about in his report. However, since Young Keith's uncle, the police officer, has now, definitely independently, taken an interest in the non-existent meeting, Young Keith will only publish the outline of his findings for the long time being.
I can now share the report with you here:
"GATEGATE" REPORT
*** REDACTED ***
There is a gate in the hedge around The Orchard.
*** REDACTED ***
I would like to thank my mother, Archdruid Eileen, for all her support.
FIN