Wednesday, 25 September 2013

Thought for the Day, from Justin Webly, more or less Arch of Cant


Justin here. What a week it has been! And ‘tis only Wednesday, as my dear mother was wont to say, sometimes when it was in fact, Monday.

There were high jinks and excitement on Tuesday when the final of Jesus’s Bake Off was held on the Palace lawn - an event close to my heart and part of my ongoing attempt to popularize the Anglican Church.

We had the Berkhamstead Brownies Kazoo Marching Band, the Reverend “Crazy” Chris Catchpole juggling lit altar candles, and of course, the two finalists, our own dear Mrs Violet Swarm, vestment keeper here at the Palace and Gavin Haythornethwaite, a surprise young finalist from Pigger’s End Young Christians.

The weather was kind to us and our two brave bakers toiled away, making do with tiny paraffin stoves, closely supervised by the Westminster Fire Brigade.

A group of young nuns from nearby the St Gladys and All Miseries Convent provided a very welcome cross-denominational feel. They made the Bouncy Castle their own, amazing the crowd with hitherto unimagined religious athleticism.

There were tense moments at the judging of the Bake Off rock buns when The Right Honourable Mrs Gwendoline Perte-Buttock broke a tooth on what turned out to be a partial denture oddly concealed in one of Gavin Haythornethwaite’s buns. Happily, Mrs Swarm conceded that the denture was in fact hers and that it must have flown from her mouth and into Gavin’s bun mixture whilst she was whistling, “I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate” – a habit developed during long years in the kitchen. 

Admittedly, there was a short fist-fight, but that was expertly broken up by Sister Pauline McCrash of St Gladys and All Miseries on her way back from the Real Ale tent and answering the question, “What would Jesus have done?” rather well, I thought. So a tired, bruised but happy Gavin Haythornethwaite collected his prize (two week’s exemption from Church collection) to loud applause and a triumphant fanfare from the kazoos of the Berkhamsted Brownies. All’s well that ends well!

I had intended to speak about young Edward Miliband’s leader’s speech at the recent Labour Party Conference. Didn’t he do well? But time has beaten me and I must soon hey-ho to a meeting with some representatives of the Anglican Church in Wales who will soon usher in the first Welsh Anglican women bishops. Sioe dda hwyliog!

Which, as everybody knows, is Welsh for Jolly Well Done!

As for Mr Miliband, I really have quite warmed to him. There seems an honesty there which, no matter how he tries, Mr Osborne, the keeper of all our destinies, cannot match. Because he is an independently wealthy, smarmy rat-bag. Can I say that? I just have, so there!

Pip, pip


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