Gove Sans

Exciting news that the British Font-maker's Society has agreed to rename "Comic Sans" as "Gove Sans".

Childish-looking, unprofessional, simplistic, unusable in business and generally disliked, Michael Gove has now had a typeface named after him.

Jeeves and the Crack of Doom

With grateful thanks to the Hon Bertie Wooster, who has allowed us to reproduce the text of his speech to us last night, "There and Back again in Spats"

I don't know about you, but when I've just had to save the whole world, by casting an artifact of great power and intrinsic value into a volcanic fissure, and as a result am sitting on a crumbling ledge over a lava flow, I'm inclined not to be so oojah - cum - spiff as normal. As I suffered from the day's exertions, I felt like the morning after the Drones Club Darts tournament.

"Crikey, Jeeves," I said.  "That was a near miss."

"Indeed, Sir."

"I mean, that time I accidentally got engaged to Arwen Evenstar, and Aragorn son of Arathorn wanted to break my spine in three places, that was close...."

"I believe it was four, Sir."

"Jeeves, we are about to die horribly in the shadow-lands of Mordor, having cast my Uncle Tom's antique cow-creamer into the Crack of Doom - Sir Watkin Bassett having wrenched it from my hand and fallen into the flowing magma with it; just as I had been falling in love with its sconces and gadroon foils and whatnot myself. Is this the time to be overly-precise about the number of breaks in my spine that Strider wanted to inflict on me?"

" Perhaps not, Sir "

"And then there was that time that Eowyn fell in love with me and wanted to mould me."

"A consummation most devoutly to be avoided, Sir. "

(This Eowyn, I should say for the new followers, is one of those muscular, Rohanin girls - never happier than when disembowelling an Uruk-Hai, or sending a Ring-wraith to its eternal doom. Being moulded by her would certainly have been extremely painful, so I made sure I avoided it. Not if I were the only boy in the world, and she were the only Nazgul.)

I realised that Jeeves had shimmered away. When he returned, I was amazed to discover he had managed to mix me up one of his "bracers". I downed it in one.

Now the thing about this pick-me-up of Jeeves is, as the magic works one is apt to reel somewhat. My skull seemed to bounce off the orc helmet I was wearing. But once my eyes had ricocheted off the Misty Mountains and back into my head, I felt much better. Mordor seemed a rosier place.

"Jeeves, " I exclaimed, "you stand alone."

"Thank you, Sir. The egg yolks give much-needed protein. The sherry cushions the nervous system. And the orc blood was an emergency replacement as I could not find any tomato juice in the lair of the Nameless One "

"It's OK,  Jeeves, you can say his name now. Spoderon's power was tied up with the cow-creamer. Now it is broken, his power is no more. See where the armies of Orcs of the Black Shorts return to their foul homeland, the EDL.

"But do you remember Aunt Dahlia's words: Even that loathsome boil, Bassett, may have something yet to do? But for him, Jeeves, I could not have destroyed the Cow-creamer. The Quest would have been in vain, even at the bitter end. So let us forgive him! For the Quest is achieved and now all is over. I am glad you are here with me. Here at the end of all things, Jeeves."

"Yes, Sir "

At that moment I heard what sounded like the words, "Tally ho! Yoiks! Hark forard!" floating over on the vile wind that blew across Mordor. I started, visibly.

"Surely, Jeeves, that's not my Aunt Dahlia?"

"Indeed, Sir. I forgot to inform you that Mrs Travers wished to speak with you."

"But Aunt Dahlia fell into the Pit at Totleigh  Towers while fighting the Balrog."

"Indeed, Sir."

"Bertie, you look like you've been out on the tiles all night," announced the ancestor, from the back of the eagle she'd flown in on.

"Good to see you, aged A," I responded. "The shiny white outfit suits you."

"Never mind that, it's all very well saving the world of men and removing the shadow from the earth. I need you back to scour Brinkley Court. Gussy Fink-Nottle has taken over the place and turned it into a newt farm."

"Delighted to join you, I replied, "will Bingo Little and Tuppy Glossop be there? "

"I doubt it. The last I heard, they were smashing up your Aunt Agatha's place with a bunch of ents."

(This other aunt, I should explain, is the one that eats goblins, and sacrifices elves at the full moon.)

"Well, I shall be glad to assist," I said, as Jeeves and I climbed aboard a handy eagle. "And I shall look forward to enjoying once again Monsieur Anatole's marvellous cooking."

At this, the ancestor gave me the information that turned my heart to ice.

"I'm afraid there won't be any of Anatole's cooking. Elrond Half-Elven won him off your Uncle Tom in a game of cards. He has taken him off across the Sundered Seas to be the chef for the Elder Folk."

"Jeeves," I said, "when we get back to Brinkley, you can burn my white mess jacket with the golden buttons. And my plus fours you can give to the poor. But you can pack my mithril waist-coat and black tie."

"Do I take it that you are planning another journey, Sir?"

"Indeed I am, Jeeves. If Anatole has gone then there is nothing left in Nether Middle Earth for me. Bring me my banjolele - we're off to the Grey Havens "

"Very good, Sir."

Nativity of Kirsty MacColl (1959)

When a talented, clever, feisty, brilliant woman dies at the age of 41, you gasp at the waste of life. You rejoice in the life, spirit and wit she showed. You celebrate the good stuff and pray for those she left behind.

She had all the cutting edge, sadness and sweetness - like a bitter-sweet cider apple.

An empty bench in Soho Square... no more to say.

View from an empty bench

Except.... "I was 21 years when I wrote this song, I'm 22 now but I won't be for long...."


Still looking for a new England.

On the Eve of St Kirsty

Sad introduction:

Charlii: Your name froze on the winter air

All: An empty bench in Soho Square.

Charlii: Forgotten now, I turn away.

All: Just save me for a rainy day.

Charlii: But don't feel sorry.

All: I don't want to hear it, baby.

A latter-day Lady of the Lamp may wander through the Moot House.

Commination: Don't come the Cowboy with me, Sonny Jim

Diminution: My O my, you're such a big boy, on a Saturday Night 

Sad Reflection: What do Pretty Girls Do?

Recessional: (Feeling) My way Home

God bless you, Kirsty. We hope you felt your way home. 

Final Score: England 2 - Colombia 0. 

Dorking to be renamed after Richard Dawkins

In a shock local-government coup, the small town of Dorking in Surrey has announced that it is to rename itself after the evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins - a move that has attracted concern from the Church, the Plain English Society and the Department of Transport.

"The Council had been looking for something to put the town on the map for ages," explained a spokesman, "well, not literally on the map - because there we are, just below London and above Brighton. But we needed something to make people take notice of us. After all, a lot of people barely know we are here - they just whizz past on the many good road links that make us such a well-connected commuter town, and never stop over to enjoy the many amenities.

"Other towns have been named after people - there's Peter Lee in Durham, Drayton Parslow in Buckinghamshire. But we wanted to associate the town with somebody really famous. And we thought that "Dawkins" was a really good idea. For starters, it sounds much the same - nobody's pronounced the "g" since 1926, and that was a stranger. And Richard Dawkins is an expert in the origins of life - and we've been trying to find some original life in Dorking for ages, so we thought he might be able to give us some advice. Sure, he's a controversial choice. But at least people will know we're a place in our own right - and not just a boring little place near Guildford."

The local faith communities have responded with anger to the idea. The Catholic church has organised a day of prayer, the evangelical faith schools have introduced Creationism onto the curriculum. But the Church of England were more ambivalent. A spokesman for the Diocese of Guildford said, "Of course, we believe Professor Dawkins will suffer in a dreadful place for all eternity - but we're just up the road from Croydon, so we reckon we've got a good idea what it's like already."

But most criticism of the scheme has come from Surrey County Council and the Department of Transport. As the bodies responsible for the roads in and around Dawkins, they will have to replace every single road direction sign in the area. They have made it quite clear that they will be putting the extra costs onto the council tax payers of Dawkins. But the local council isn't worried, as they work to make the entire town an atheism theme park.

Dawkins Town Centre

"We reckon we can tap into a massive revenue stream," said the spokesman. "We have the Dawkins Sea-life Centre, Dawkins Zoo, Dawkins Experimental Ant Farm, the Bertrand Russell Tea Rooms, the Christopher Hitchens Bar, and the "Dawkins Delusion" - a fantastic virtual-reality journey into the mind of Alister McGrath. Which, to be fair, is more interesting than a trip into the mind of Richard Dawkins itself - it has more dimensions, for starters."

And so, nestled in the North Downs, the little town of Dawkins prepares itself for a lucrative future. They have been round the local hotels removing all the Gideon Bibles, anorak shops have opened all the way down the high street, and the local singles' club has doubled its capacity and hopes, one day, to get a woman to join. When the Dawkins fans arrive, Dawkins will be waiting for them.

Days of Wine and Rosaries

The celebration of "Our Lady of the Rosary" has been a great success. Charlii says that we have never sold so many.

Beaker Folk like rosaries. Prayer beads seem so spiritual, and Beaker Folk like spiritual.  I personally have nine or ten sets of rosary beads. One day, I hope to find out what to do with them.

Revenge of the Earless Rabbit

It was our own fault, and we should never have taken her so lightly.

Today's "Celebration of the Earless Rabbit" ceremony was meant to reflect the heroic way our earless bunny has overcome her earlessness, lived a full live, and doesn't miss her ears at all.

So we let her gambol around during the service, running wherever she wished, as part of celebrating her life.

Big mistake. Letting a vicious, human-hating rabbit run loose in a community where so many people are inclined to wear sandals.

Those that defend her say that she was merely confused - thinking that people's naked toes were actually carrots. But I say that, in fact, she is very annoyed about her lack of ears, wishes she always had ears, and was getting her revenge for us saying - on her behalf - that she is quite happy without them. Maybe we've all been wrong, to pre-judge her view on having ears. But I guess we'll never know.

The Met Office Official Rain Scale

It is a little-known fact that the Met Office has a scale for reporting rainfall, which parallels the Beaufort Scale for wind.  We're glad to inform you ......

1.... Dry
2.... A few spots
3.... Spits and spots
4.... Mizzling
5.... Light Drizzle
6.... Drizzle
7.... Persistent drizzle
8.... Light rain
9.... Nice weather for ducks
10.... Heavy rain
11 .. Cats n Dogs
12... Downpour
13.... Torrential

Inspired by @northantswx

A Better Class of Service Book

It has been a funny recession. Although those in lower-paid jobs have seen pay freezes, and those in the public sector have been working hard to try and keep in their jobs, the better-off have done quite well. Anyone with a large mortgage, for example, has cashed in with low interest rates - especially if they locked into the right rates.

And that is why the Beaker Bazaar is now selling a new worship book. We noticed that the Church of England has a Common Worship, which would fit in with that strange idea that Christianity is for the poor. But since when were the poor the possessors of large amounts of discretionary spending power? So we're going for a plusher version, for upmarket suburban congregations, with high-quality paper and a full-colour liturgy.

We thought of calling it "Not-so-Common Worship". Then we thought about "Upwardly-mobile Worship", then "Workers-not-Shirkers Worship". But we've been inspired by the Tory Conference. We're going to call it "A Worship Book of Opportunity for All".

An Old-School Beaker Act of Worship

The Beaker Folk await without

Charlii: Who waits without?

All: We wait without.

Charlii: Then speak friend and enter.

All: What's the password?

Burton: Oh! I know this!  It's a riddle!

Young Keith: What's the elvish for "friend"?

Stacey: Quenya or wood-elf?

Burton: Sorry, I could have helped if it was Klingon...

Charlii: Forget it. Just come in.

The path to the centre of the Moot House is marked out with lumps of sandstone and tea lights. Beaker Folk may kick the stones and/or set fire to their (well-named) flares.

Charlii: We light a light against the dying of the light

Lights are lit

Charlii: We drop a stone into the Well of Longing

Stones are dropped, causing ripples, that never come back.

Burton: I thought we'd blown up the Moot House?

Charlii: Yes. But we have been blessed richly by the little random gods of poor continuity.

Burton: Right-o. Just thought I'd ask.

Charlii: We strew Mother Nature's beauty liberally.... because we can

Rose petals and hips, eggs, hazel twigs and elderberries are strowed across the floor.

Charlii: Shouldn't that be "strewn"?

Probably. 

Charlii: OK. Ignoring the fact that the rubric has started answering back.....

Sorry

Charlii: What shall we build to mark our joyful meeting forever?

All: An eternal cairn!  An eternal cairn!

The band plays "Waltzing Matilda", as the Beaker Folk build an mighty and permanent cairn as a sign to all ages.

Blessing

Charlii: OK. You're all blessed.  Sling your hooks.

Young Keith: And please take the stones from the eternal cairn with you. Can't leave it there - health 'n' safety.

Godley and Creme Play

We have received some complaints about yesterday's "Godley and Creme Play". Some parents said that re-enacting the plot of "Under your thumb", with its tale of psychological manipulation, suicide and haunting was a bit scary for small children.

But the complaints about  the other story,  "Godley Dreadlock holiday", were twofold. Firstly because a song about mugging and drugs pushing was apparently "not suitable" in some way.  But also because Godley and Creme had left 10cc before the song was made.

I thought that was a real shame. Lines like "Can you see how strangely he's walking, children? That's because he's concentrating on truckin' right" really brought them right into the story.

Next week we will revert to standard "Godly Play". Since we're requested to stick with Bible stories, which are safe and wholesome for the Little Pebbles, Charlii will be leading the story of "David and the mountain of Philistine Foreskins". We hope this is more suitable.