We've had words with Mangelino.
I mean, there's the bright side. He's upbeat, he's optimistic. His attitude to life is best summed up in the motto he repeats all the time - "dance like nobody's watching".
Well, enough's enough. We've told him he either draws the curtains in future or we're throwing him out the Community.
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
Sunday, 26 January 2020
God's Calling: A Reflection
This morning, while preaching, I recalled the case of St Giles' Church, Tattenhoe.
When I first lived round here, Tattenhoe was a parish with no village. A tiny church in a clump of trees, with a nearby farm, halfway between Bletchley and Buckingham. The village itself was abandoned in the early modern period.
Somehow St Giles survived despite having essentially no congregation. During the summer months, there was an evening service every other Sunday, led by the clergy from St Mary's Bletchley - so the very select congregation of people who liked said BCP in old churches in a wood could be vaguely warm and have some light. It whiled away the winters of centuries empty, dark and cold.
For hundreds of years, the building repeatedly went into a state of dereliction, and was patched up and kept going. The work of dedicated souls that the modern, efficient church of England would probably tell to pack it in and let it go, it's not worth it.
Today, Tattenhoe is an estate of Milton Keynes. And St Giles, still wrapped in its trees but now in a modern large town, holds services, according to ACNY, every Sunday morning.
Those farmers, church wardens and priests who somehow kept the roof on St Giles through all those centuries probably did so for a variety of reasons. But I bet none of them ever knew one of their real callings. To enable people in the 21st Century to have a beautiful place to worship.
Well done, good and faithful servants.
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
When I first lived round here, Tattenhoe was a parish with no village. A tiny church in a clump of trees, with a nearby farm, halfway between Bletchley and Buckingham. The village itself was abandoned in the early modern period.
Somehow St Giles survived despite having essentially no congregation. During the summer months, there was an evening service every other Sunday, led by the clergy from St Mary's Bletchley - so the very select congregation of people who liked said BCP in old churches in a wood could be vaguely warm and have some light. It whiled away the winters of centuries empty, dark and cold.
For hundreds of years, the building repeatedly went into a state of dereliction, and was patched up and kept going. The work of dedicated souls that the modern, efficient church of England would probably tell to pack it in and let it go, it's not worth it.
Today, Tattenhoe is an estate of Milton Keynes. And St Giles, still wrapped in its trees but now in a modern large town, holds services, according to ACNY, every Sunday morning.
Those farmers, church wardens and priests who somehow kept the roof on St Giles through all those centuries probably did so for a variety of reasons. But I bet none of them ever knew one of their real callings. To enable people in the 21st Century to have a beautiful place to worship.
Well done, good and faithful servants.
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
Hearing God's Call
As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. “Come, follow me,” Jesus said, “and I will send you out to fish for people.” At once they left their nets and followed him. (Matt 4:18-20)I love walking round lakes. The noises of the world are further away. It's easy to see, hear and feel God's wonders - the way the wind stirs up the water, the cries of a skein of geese, the amazing way a swan will seem almost too heavy for its wings as it rises from the surface of the water. The wash of the waves or the rain dripping from the trees round the shore.
 |
| Neither Galilee nor Husborne Crawley but still pretty nice don't you think? |
It's out by a lake that Jesus calls those first few disciples. Simon and Andrew, James and John. To them, no doubt, the Sea of Galilee was a place of wonder. But to them it was also a workplace, and if the storms blew in sometimes a cause of concern or terror.
We live in a world of constant electronic fog, of TV and traffic and social media. Sometimes it's hard to hear God's call, that still small voice of Elijah. We don't give ourselves enough time to be, in between getting outraged and reacting and sympathising and wondering what's going to happen next in a world where every crisis is live streamed into our living rooms.
Sometimes for our good we have to get away. Doesn't have to be a lake. Can be a garden, a quiet room, a conservatory, a jog round the park, a sit in an empty church. But we need to re-set. To listen. To, as the modern jargon has it, "decompress". To hear what God has to say to us.
Though sometimes God's call will come from someone else, from a situation. God's like that. Moves in mysterious ways.
And we also need to consider what that call is. Simon and Andrew were told they would be fishing for people. Evangelists, preachers and church founders. And we can focus on churchy callings, and immediate ones. Great prophets, great church planters, being a priest or a missionary.
But consider. Anna and Simeon served quietly, obscurely in the Temple for decades - pottering about and praying and fasting and no doubt doing a bit of tidying up and dusting and carrying things around - before for 15 minutes they saw the Lord and fulfilled their callings as prophets.
And our callings can be to offices; to be those who sit beside the ones who weep; to ensure a church is open or a roof's kept waterproof; to spread a hint of God's joy as you go around your daily round as a mother, a father, a shop worker or a someone who depends on others.
I'm enjoying reading Fergus Butler-Gallie's "A Field Guide to the English Clergy" - a guide to some of the biggest misfits, rogues and eccentrics you ever heard of - and if it tells me anything at all about calling, it tells me that any kind of clerical calling is not necessarily as important or special as any other.
But God is calling each of us to a journey. To walk alongside Jesus, as the first to travel with him did. And it may be that he leads us in green pastures, or through the valley of the shadow of death - to a quiet office or a cross. But we're called to walk alongside. And whatever we're called to, we're not promised it will be easy. But we're promised the infinite love of the Spirit of God, upon us and within us, and the knowledge that Jesus is treading our journey with us.
So whatever we are doing today - whether we're Pope or Archdruid or cat-sitter or farmer - stop and listen, to hear Jesus's call. It's always "follow me". And he will lead us through whatever adventures he has planned for us, until the day it is time to follow him home.
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
Friday, 24 January 2020
Going Contactless
You can't please some people. We went to all the trouble of implementing Gnarwall's very sensible idea. But he's just as grumpy as he was before.
He's a real banger-on about the Church getting into the 21st century. And he's been going on about if we want to be a proper modern religious fellowship, we ought to be going contactless.
So yeah, fair enough. It might confuse some of the older Beaker People. But if contactless is the way forward, that's fine by me. I can certainly see the advantages. Quicker, frictionless, less of all that awkward fumbling around and embarrassment.
So we've banned the Peace.
(late edit) - if you've enjoyed this joke you might like the cartoon we inadvertently stole it from. Or maybe even Dave Walker's book, Revenge of the Flower Arrangers, which contains the cartoon with this joke in it)
He's a real banger-on about the Church getting into the 21st century. And he's been going on about if we want to be a proper modern religious fellowship, we ought to be going contactless.
So yeah, fair enough. It might confuse some of the older Beaker People. But if contactless is the way forward, that's fine by me. I can certainly see the advantages. Quicker, frictionless, less of all that awkward fumbling around and embarrassment.
So we've banned the Peace.
(late edit) - if you've enjoyed this joke you might like the cartoon we inadvertently stole it from. Or maybe even Dave Walker's book, Revenge of the Flower Arrangers, which contains the cartoon with this joke in it)
Thursday, 23 January 2020
The Beaker Folk Issue a Pamphlet About Civil Partnerships
The recent introduction of same-sex Civil Partnerships is such a problem, isn't it?
I mean, when we just had Civil Partnerships for people of the same gender, we had to work out a liturgy of Blessing Something We'd Rather Not Think About. And yes, it was a bit icky. But we got through it.
But now. Now it's Civil Partnerships for people of the opposite, complementary or, if you prefer, asymmetric genders. And that's even trickier. Don't get me wrong. It's not that we of the Beaker Folk - of all people - don't approve of the way that a non-same-sex Civil Partnership apparently rejects patriarchal attitudes. Great idea. Indeed, at our own Beaker Handfastings we have the modified "Giving Away" phase of the service, where the groom's mother pleads to give him away while the bride's family say the bride would be better off without him.
And same-sex Civil Partnership was great for letting people with similar - ahem - apparatus get some of the benefits of being married, while pretending none of them were actually... you know... you're right, let's not think about it too much.
Because you wouldn't actually want to think about people in these partnerships having sex would you? After all, that's what marriage is for. Thinking about sex, obviously, not actually having it. I mean. Take Drayton Parslow's marriage. Marjorie has once again gone off to live in a convent of Fundamental Baptist Nuns. And Drayton's gone back to brisk 15 mile walks to take his mind off things. That's how things are supposed to be in an old-fashioned English marriage. So who needs any kind of Civil Partnership? Except maybe bachelor siblings who think it might be nice to avoid a bit of inheritance tax when one of them dies. And of course they're not allowed to have Civil Partnerships.
So I'm putting out an official Beaker Folk Pamphlet on the subject of sex and relationships. Called "Stop doing that, it's beastly." And I hope that will put a end to the matter.
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
I mean, when we just had Civil Partnerships for people of the same gender, we had to work out a liturgy of Blessing Something We'd Rather Not Think About. And yes, it was a bit icky. But we got through it.
But now. Now it's Civil Partnerships for people of the opposite, complementary or, if you prefer, asymmetric genders. And that's even trickier. Don't get me wrong. It's not that we of the Beaker Folk - of all people - don't approve of the way that a non-same-sex Civil Partnership apparently rejects patriarchal attitudes. Great idea. Indeed, at our own Beaker Handfastings we have the modified "Giving Away" phase of the service, where the groom's mother pleads to give him away while the bride's family say the bride would be better off without him.
And same-sex Civil Partnership was great for letting people with similar - ahem - apparatus get some of the benefits of being married, while pretending none of them were actually... you know... you're right, let's not think about it too much.
Because you wouldn't actually want to think about people in these partnerships having sex would you? After all, that's what marriage is for. Thinking about sex, obviously, not actually having it. I mean. Take Drayton Parslow's marriage. Marjorie has once again gone off to live in a convent of Fundamental Baptist Nuns. And Drayton's gone back to brisk 15 mile walks to take his mind off things. That's how things are supposed to be in an old-fashioned English marriage. So who needs any kind of Civil Partnership? Except maybe bachelor siblings who think it might be nice to avoid a bit of inheritance tax when one of them dies. And of course they're not allowed to have Civil Partnerships.
So I'm putting out an official Beaker Folk Pamphlet on the subject of sex and relationships. Called "Stop doing that, it's beastly." And I hope that will put a end to the matter.
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
Monday, 13 January 2020
The Preacher in the Mask
Well done to Charlii, whose suggestion - that we steal a TV show concept and apply it to a preaching contest, in the hope of making ourselves vaguely relevant - worked out really well. And congratulations to all our contestants, who were such good sports. Although obviously I'm not such a needy has-been as to want to do anything so humiliating myself. So all the people that guessed me - even though I was quite clearly sitting there, not wearing a mask - you were wrong.
So the final reveals were as follows:
The China Doll - preaching on "Gods, humans and the world - seeing the divine in all creation"" - Hnaef
The Oak Tree - preaching on "Elven Runes and the Book of Ezekiel" - Young Keith
The Wolf - preaching on "You're all doomed, you miserable sinners" - Drayton Parslow
The Tiger - preaching on "Why Elijah got it wrong about fertility cults" - Stacey Bushes
The Rocking Horse - with "The Parable of the Gold Coins" - Burton Dasset
But the ultimate winner:
The Unicorn - "Jesus is a Snowflake, Vote Republican" - Franklin Graham
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
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| Brilliant costume, just one minor problem with "The Oak" |
So the final reveals were as follows:
The China Doll - preaching on "Gods, humans and the world - seeing the divine in all creation"" - Hnaef
The Oak Tree - preaching on "Elven Runes and the Book of Ezekiel" - Young Keith
The Wolf - preaching on "You're all doomed, you miserable sinners" - Drayton Parslow
The Tiger - preaching on "Why Elijah got it wrong about fertility cults" - Stacey Bushes
The Rocking Horse - with "The Parable of the Gold Coins" - Burton Dasset
But the ultimate winner:
The Unicorn - "Jesus is a Snowflake, Vote Republican" - Franklin Graham
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
Saturday, 11 January 2020
Celebrating Brexit Day
I note that some are calling for church bells throughout the land to ring out to celebrate Brexit Day this month.
Here at the Beaker Folk, we wanted to mark the event. But we don't have any bells. Instead we've got some local supporters of Brexit to come along and give an appropriate Brexit nine-gun salute.
In other words, they're all going to shoot themselves in the foot. Then they can tell us all what a good idea it is, and that hopping around screaming is so much better than walking.
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
Here at the Beaker Folk, we wanted to mark the event. But we don't have any bells. Instead we've got some local supporters of Brexit to come along and give an appropriate Brexit nine-gun salute.
In other words, they're all going to shoot themselves in the foot. Then they can tell us all what a good idea it is, and that hopping around screaming is so much better than walking.
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
Saturday, 4 January 2020
47th Anniversary of the First of the Last of the Summer Wine
A half-century's nearly gone
since these old chaps first walked upon
the Yorkshire dales, and supped their ales,
and dreamt of summer wine.
Archdruid: Where now are the old lads of olden times?
All: Those who walked the hills with ironic meanderings, and chased women in a manner that would no longer be regarded as amusing?
Norman Clegg: #NotAllOldMen
Archdruid: The Three Wise Men of the West Riding
All: And Electrical Entwistle, who was a Wise Man from the East.*
Archdruid: We remember that they remembered old times.
All: And now they are in their turn but memories.
Archdruid: And the women who chided their childish husbands are but dust.
All: And Howard's and Marina's bicycles but rust.
Archdruid: So now, in a gloomy winter's day
All: When Alan JW Bell would have scattered fake snow around the place for sure.
Archdruid: We remember all those that have passed down the Holm Valley.
All: Or rest in Upper Thong, Dukenfield or scattered abroad.
Archdruid: By pushing Hnaef downhill in a bath tub.
Hnaef: Oh no! Not again.....
The Liturgical Bath Tub containing Hnaef (dressed in comedy safety gear) is pushed downhill, crashing into the brook
Archdruid: Well then. 'Appen I'll get a bit of sausage for me tea.
Hymn:
The last wine of Summer's gone
the golden age of BBC 1
Old blokes and women all passed on
to sip eternal wine.
*Hull
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
Thursday, 2 January 2020
Things to Say to Get People on Your Side
New year, new you. And as church leaders are easing back into their jobs after 3 days off since the Sunday After, the first church committee meetings of the year loom on the horizon.
And you may be thinking this is the year that people accept you're the one that's right about everything. But you may also be aware that nobody agrees with you. And whether you're the pastor, or the wannabe power behind the throne, that's not good news when you're definitely right about starting or stopping whatever it is. So here's the Beaker list of things to put in front of your opinions to make it clear to meanest intelligence or heretic that you're definitely right.
And, to help out during meetings - there's a handy bingo card as well.
"A lot of people are saying..."
"When I wrote to the archdeacon about this, she didn't disagree with me... "
"I feel God is saying - and I'm sure we wouldn't want to ignore God..."
"I ran a poll among the congregation. Though they'd like their names kept anonymous. And will lie if you ask them because they don't like to go against the vicar."
"Revd Howlett - so lovely and wise, and there were 300 in the choir alone in his day - thought..."
"We could do that but a lot of people would leave."
"The mood in the village..."
"At my last parish we always..."
"I met someone last week who said they'd definitely come if we..."
"This service/carpet/tea shop has been part of the fabric of the church since 1892... "
"If we're going to vote on this I think we should ask the whole congregation."
"It worked for Holy Trinity Brompton."
"We've never done it before. And when we did it didn't work."
"All the people on Twitter said... "
"My aunt Thelma would be most upset at this. No, she's buried out by the south wall..."
"In this book about a massively successful church what they did was..."
"...you wouldn't know them; they go to a different church."
"I'm the bloody vicar, so obey, minions." (not always recommended)
"At Spring Harvest..."
Write an anonymous letter. That always works.
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
And you may be thinking this is the year that people accept you're the one that's right about everything. But you may also be aware that nobody agrees with you. And whether you're the pastor, or the wannabe power behind the throne, that's not good news when you're definitely right about starting or stopping whatever it is. So here's the Beaker list of things to put in front of your opinions to make it clear to meanest intelligence or heretic that you're definitely right.
And, to help out during meetings - there's a handy bingo card as well.
"When I wrote to the archdeacon about this, she didn't disagree with me... "
"I feel God is saying - and I'm sure we wouldn't want to ignore God..."
"I ran a poll among the congregation. Though they'd like their names kept anonymous. And will lie if you ask them because they don't like to go against the vicar."
"Revd Howlett - so lovely and wise, and there were 300 in the choir alone in his day - thought..."
"We could do that but a lot of people would leave."
"The mood in the village..."
"At my last parish we always..."
"I met someone last week who said they'd definitely come if we..."
"This service/carpet/tea shop has been part of the fabric of the church since 1892... "
"If we're going to vote on this I think we should ask the whole congregation."
"It worked for Holy Trinity Brompton."
"We've never done it before. And when we did it didn't work."
"All the people on Twitter said... "
"My aunt Thelma would be most upset at this. No, she's buried out by the south wall..."
"In this book about a massively successful church what they did was..."
"...you wouldn't know them; they go to a different church."
"I'm the bloody vicar, so obey, minions." (not always recommended)
"At Spring Harvest..."
Write an anonymous letter. That always works.
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
Tuesday, 31 December 2019
Drayton Parslow's New Year Message
Hello! Hello! Is this thing working? I know it is important to keep up to date with modern technology, and that we communicate with a new generation with such cutting-edge techniques as Blogs, Myspace and Google Plus. On the other hand, never forget God's warnings to those who went
whoring with their own inventions - surely a prophecy of certain dating apps on mobile phones?
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
whoring with their own inventions - surely a prophecy of certain dating apps on mobile phones?
But nevertheless I am willing, as was Tyndale with the printing press, to make use of new technology to spread God's word. In association with other of the more godly preachers of this land, I developed a dating app for the faithful - "Believr". It matched up different people - of the opposite sexes, of course - on the basis of their agreement on 96 key principles on which the Godly may differ. Adult baptism, for instance, the Rapture, prelapsarianism, the consumption of low-alcohol beer, whether to use wholemeal or white bread at the Lord's Supper, the ideal number of hymns, how large a hat women should wear, the correct hemline height for skirts, and a selection of images of beards with the option to identify them as either "hipster" or prophetic.
We may have been a little too granular in our selection criteria. After a massive 32 downloads from across the world, there were no matches at all. And half of the young ladies that signed up seem to wear clothes that are unsuitable for any Baptist chapel that I know of.
It has been quite a year for Husborne Crawley and the Bogwulf Funambulist Baptists. I think, when I consider the continuing raging heresy of the so-called Archdruid, that we have certainly won the argument. People were broadly in favour of our promises of eternal life, lots of rousing hymns and 2-hour sermons. However, we have to balance this against the way our congregation numbers have halved. And that some people, hearing about our Camp Revival meetings, assumed it was something to do with the B52s tour and started attending worship dressed up as Ru Paul. In other news, we need to raise some money for the tin roof, which is rusted.
Speaking of which, thank you to those who've asked me about my struggles with O'Vienna Syndrome, where you inadvertently use lyrics from 1980s songs in your everyday speech. It has often been the case that in the morning I awake, my arms and legs and body ache. But when the going gets tough, I depend on the power of love and even when I feel I'm better off dead, and so unstable - I remember that this church is like a city on a rock. And we built this city. I am no longer a small-town boy.
But I digress. If our numbers become any smaller we will need to resort to a schism. We will therefore take our arguments to the streets - to be exact by standing in Dunstable town centre, shouting at people that they are Satan's spawn, foul loathsome creatures, who should clear off to the Anglicans. Oddly, despite our encouragement, they never join us.
Wishing all God's elect a peaceful, godly new year and a terrible, gnawing vengeance for the rest of you. We are another year nearer the end, albeit we did have those six false alarms during the last twelve months. I hope those of our fellowship who sold all they had and gave to the poor, are somehow able to rebuild their lives and careers.
Yours in utter confidence for what lies ahead
Revd Drayton Parslow
Want to support this blog? Want a good laugh? (or to shudder at death at any rate? Then here's two ways you can keep the Archdruid in doilies...
If you want someone to share the terrors of death while making you laugh, we have "A Hint of Death in the Morning Air" - 97 poems to make you wonder, laugh or shake your head sadly. At only £1 on Kindle. Or if you want to know what the people in the pews really think, and you prefer your words printed on paper, why not try "Writes of the Church"? The letters to the Church magazine the vicar really didn't need.
Monday, 30 December 2019
Archdruid's Sermon on the Death of Neil Innes
We remember that Neil Innes sang "How Sweet to be an Idiot".
We didn't realise British politics would adopt it as a motto.
You're the Urban Spaceman baby.
Here comes the twist.
We need more intelligent, funny people in the world : not fewer.
(Sorry that didn't rhyme).
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