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

Hullo,

When I showed the rough draft of what you’re about to read below to the young man with the wire in his ear, he threw his hands in the air and said, “Archie (his amusing nickname for me) Archie, you can’t go public with this. They’ll have your guts for garters! Look at the embarrassment you caused for some of Mr Osborne’s friends when you had a pop at Wonga. I’ll tell you Archie, straight up, one or two of them were muttering about getting rid of this turbulent priest. What’s turbulent mean, Archie? So scrap it, eh? Write something nice. Something about flowers and trees and birdies and how grateful we should be to God for them.” 

Then he screwed up the rough draft and ate it.

So here I am, tucked secretly into one of the gardener’s wheelie bins, since my hiding place behind the organ was discovered. Its pretty cramped, so the writing might be a bit wobbly.

Anyway, what I wanted to comment upon is the dire situation in Egypt. What’s going on there is ammunition for those who say that religion causes more conflict than peace, and I have to admit that they’ve got a point. What’s needed in Egypt is a far more relaxed and laid-back approach to Belief. Same goes for Northern Ireland. Being a Catholic or a Protestant does not mean that you are compelled to hurl lumps of concrete at the Police. And if marching about wearing silly bowler hats causes – now what’s the word? Yobs. That’s it. Yobs to hurl lumps of concrete at the Police, stop marching about in silly bowler hats. I mean, its not the coolest of headgear, is it?

The need to be cool in Egypt is even more pressing because there, if voters or yobs feel obliged to hurl concrete at the authorities, namely the army, the army will shoot them and they will become dead. 

That’s what armies do.

I really don’t know where I’m going with this, and it was at this point that the young man with the wire in his ear ate the rough draft earlier today. And I have the most excruciating cramp in my left leg. I’m afraid I am forced to abandon this missive and exit the wheelie bin. If I raise the lid slightly I can see there’s nobody coming… must get this to my carrier pigeon… need to rock the bin a bit to tip it over…am now crashing sideways, covered in mulch and earwigs, whilst thinking desperately, what would Jesus have done?