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Wednesday, 18 January 2017

Large Hadron Collider Goes Back To the Point of Creation

Great excitement mingled with terror at Cern, as they manage to recreate the conditions immediately at the creation of the Universe.

Anyone know what to do with a giant turtle of unspecified gender? Or, for that matter, the four elephants currently running round the LHD at sub-light-speeds?

Great A'Tuin and his/her friends from the Sky One programme.

Tuesday, 17 January 2017

A Poem for the Inauguration of Donald Trump

Our friend Mrs Melissa Sparrow has kindly sent in a poem for this auspicious occasion.

'Twas in the year two thousand and sixteen
When an election happened nobody thought would be seen
For the world thought Donald Trump would be a failure 
For boasting about grabbing women's genitalia
A thing done by no previous president
Except in the Oval Office, with mutual consent.

A man of endless sentences unordered
He promised to ensure his nation was bordered
With a majestic wall from sea to sea
Such as was mightier e'en than that structure fabled in poetry
(I refer of course to the dooméd bridge of Tay
Of which the great McGonagall had so much to say).

And so in January two thousand and seventeen
Obama with his family quit the scene
Knowing his life would be filled with many lucrative lecture tours
And lending his name and Michelle's to many a good cause
For who can doubt that his future will be full of good deeds for people poor and needy
And will not plunge into a life that's seedy.

Then Trump strode forwards to dominate the stage
The orangest president of this or any age.
The leftist artists and Charlotte Church would not share the day
For this most unlikely leader of the US of A.
Instead they hunkered down with Guardian leaders earnest
And wondered when Americans ever learnest.

And so my friends, I must conclude my lay.
Perhaps most appropriately, in my regular way.

Death death death
Death death death
Death death death
Death death death.

Monday, 16 January 2017

Liturgy for Blue Monday

Hymn: Grey Day

Archdruid: All the Celebs are dead, and the skies are gray.

All: California dreamin' on such a winter's day.

Archdruid: I'd be scared of Trump, if I were in L.A.

All: Yeah, it's not much fun over there either.

Hymn: Rainy night in Georgia

Archdruid: And now, in a moment of silence, let us untangle our earphone cables.

All may untangle their cables. iPhone users may look smug until they realise they don't remember where they've left their buds.

All: Oh wow, how few are my assets. The credit companies gnash their teeth at me. The rain it raineth every day. And it's three months till the next bank holiday. Let us sit on the floor and sing sad songs.

Archdruid: I wouldn't in this weather. You'll add a case of the Farmer's to your woes.

Hymn: Blue Monday

Archdruid: Trump's in the White House. Britain's in the red. It's raining through the fog. But on this Bluest of Blue Mondays, let's remember one happy thing.

All: At least we don't use Southern Rail.

Sunday, 15 January 2017

The Ground Will Produce Thorns and Weeds for You

Mixed news on the Doily Shed.

Marston Moretaine was out on gardening detail today, and given the job of clearing the brambles that had grown over the shed over the last couple of years.  I mean, it was a proper state - blackberries miles up in the air.

So Marston's reckoning if he takes it on with his gloved hands and loppers, it's gonna hurt. But he don't want to use herbicides as he's heard how bad they are for the wildlife.

So yeah. Petrol. Brilliant.

On the bright side, that's a load of souvenir "Euro 96" Doilies that I've not been able to mark down for two decades. Finally I can make an insurance claim. I've checked the policy and the "gross stupidity" clause is definitely in there confirming we're in the clear.

Also the burnt-out brick has a certain charm.  I think I might claim it's the remains of a Beaker Temple, destroyed by the evil Celts. Should be worth a few extra pilgrims in years to come.

Saturday, 14 January 2017

Situations Vacant: Parish of St Paradigm's

The parish of St Paradigm's is looking for a new priest.

We are a vibrant, diverse parish committed to inclusiveness. Over the last ten years, attendance has increased steadily, and we meet our parish share every year, with enough money left over to put some towards good causes.
Has it ever occurred to you the tower would be better at the other end?

Could you be our ideal priest? You will be committed to a state of constant change and reorganisation. You will realise that, whatever we are doing, it needs improvement. By changing all the committee structures, introducing a new form of leadership group and swapping the house groups around, you will make things slightly different to how they are now.

You will start slowly, by changing the way you face during communion. We won't  understand why, but we'll leave you to it. You will replace the music group (introduced 5 years ago) with an organist and choir because it's more respectful than the old happy-clappy ways of doing things. Probably the same organist that was sacked 5 years ago,

After two years or so you will realise that what we really need is a building project.  This will be the case whether there is anything needing changing or not. You will commit the church's energy into replacing the church kitchen with a new set of accessible toilets.  And replacing the accessible toilets with a meeting room. And replacing the current meeting room with a new kitchen.

When you leave after five years you will be convinced you have radically changed the parish. Just like our last vicar was.

Friday, 13 January 2017

Tonight We're Gonna Party Like It's 1983

Can't disclose too much yet. But we've got three Labour MPs applied for our vacancy for "Head of Tea Lights."

If you think your job prospects are better in a futile role in an imaginary religious community than being a moderate Labour MP.... you're probably right.

Wednesday, 11 January 2017

Praying for Parking Spaces

Went over to Kingston Tescos, as you do. Gin supplies getting dangerously low after Xmas.

The car park was really busy. Not a parking space to be seen. But I'd heard of people praying for parking spaces so thought I'd give it a go.

Sure enough - right up the front-  as near as you can get to the walkthrough to the little shops as you can get with a standard space.

If I'd not ridden over on my Pashley cycle it would have been really handy. Still, it seems the concept works.

Still I'm worried now. If my prayers brought those unneeded spaces, is there currently a Pentecostal in Michigan circling a Wal-Mart in their pickup, wondering why there's no spaces? Balance must be maintained.

Tuesday, 10 January 2017

Beaker Quire to Play at Trump Inauguration?

Well the Beaker Quire don't know what to do.

The invitation to perform at President Trump's inauguration came completely out of the blue. And I'm sure it was on merit, and not because the four million more accomplished bands in the Western hemisphere all said no.

But should they play? I pointed out they'd be playing for an irrational power-crazed demagogue and they said what's new?

But still. The current line up is acoustic bass, violin, guitar and pan pipes. If Trump thinks they're Mexicans he might build a wall round them

Monday, 9 January 2017

Corbyn Cake

Sure, Jeremy Corbyn's sudden claim that we're better out of the EU and managing immigration looks like a desperate attempt to stop Labour voters defecting to UKIP.

And his suggestion we could do that while maintaining access to the Single Market suggests he wants to have his fromage and eat it.

But it was the lack of a comma in the Guardian article scared me most.

"After comparing the prime minister’s refusal to offer MPs a vote on the final Brexit deal to the behaviour of Henry VIII in a Guardian interview, Corbyn will say: “Not since the second world war has Britain’s ruling elite so recklessly put the country in such an exposed position without a plan.”"

I have no idea when Henry VIII did this Guardian interview. But I'd like to know why they didn't question him on his attitude to women's rights.