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

Hullo,

        

Justin here and, you know, in the aftermath of a dramatic General Election, my thoughts go out to those whose wishes were dashed, whose hopes came to nothing, and who tasted the bitterness of defeat so publicly. It would not surprise me to discover that many are presently being treated for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

      

My high office prevents me from taking sides in political contests which, let’s face it, deal in the main with things secular, whereas as Archbishop, my concerns must be spiritual.

     

I am sure that when the victor, Mr David Cameron visited Her Majesty, the occasion was especially cordial. So often my window on the world, the young man with the wire in his ear, tells me that he is reliably informed that the Monarch is in fact a Tory. This small detail alone must have lubricated the cogs of conversation no end.

    

But Christian charity has to turn her face towards the losers. I have decided to invite Mr Miliband and Mr Clegg to the Palace so that I might offer what solace I can in this difficult time. Mr Balls too may feel the need for spiritual guidance after losing his seat to a young lady who, I believe, is just twelve and three-quarters. And possibly adding insult to injury, there will now follow leadership contests for the main three parties. What some may regard as the fourth – UKIP – has already done this with its leader, Mr Farage, stepping down then up again within hours. Hearing this on the news, my lady wife, always one for the bon mot, the joke, the play on words, remarked, “Ah, Mr Fromage – The Big Cheese – he’s back!” Oh, how we laughed! I confess I very nearly choked on my macaroon.

         

More difficult to grasp, for an apolitical creature like myself, is the sudden influx of MPs from north of the border. Frankly, I do not understand this. I had thought that the Scots had their own Parliament. Are their any English MPs in the Scots Parliament? This formidable group is led by an especially shrill young lady. A Scots Nationalist, no less.

           

So there you have it; my - some would say - inadequate impressions of what has been a turbulent time. But I look forward now to a short period of peace and quiet before the Opening of Parliament – a time when I can pop down to Lord’s or the Oval and drink in the pleasures of leather on willow. As Our Lord said, “Where two or three are gathered together...”

Pip, pip,

Justin.

Trending - latest from GLOSSOP GUARDIAN

NO GLOSSOPIANS HURT reports Angela Pinkthing

No-one from Glossop was hurt when a chip-pan blaze ripped through the kitchen of 47 Chimney Parade, Bradford last night. Said Glossop Fire Chief Norman Cramp, "It's just sheer good luck that no-one from Glossop was in that part of Bradford yesterday."

ROAD SUBSIDES reports Ralph Gonad

Emergency Services were in attendance at the junction of Abattoir Drive and Pie Street on Monday when a large hole appeared in the road. Interviewed at the scene, Police Chief Superintendant Ronald Hitler said, "Well, there are two Ford Fiestas and an ice-cream van down there at the moment."

Fortunately, these vehicles were unoccupied at the time.

Later, a Pie Street resident, who cannot be named for legal reasons, called Maurice Arthur Mole went voluntarily to Glossop Police Station. Commented CI Hitler, "Mr Mole, a keen amateur tunneller, is helping us with our enquiries."

Maurice Arthur Mole

Nellie Whelk (87). Photo courtesy http://www.afcent.af.mil/

SPORTS NEWS from Judi Blebby  

Glossop Athletic FC Avoid Relegation

In a dramatic 12-All draw against Stokely Town, Glossop Athletic secured their next season’s place in the Frobisher’s Birdseed League. After the match, manager Terry Parrot said, "The lads done tremendous. It was a gritty performance. I know Stokely had nine players sent off, but they still done good."

Glossop FC's Kevin Groper being guided towards the goal whilst balancing extra-long piece of spaghetti

Local pensioner Nellie Whelk (87, Mrs) said, "He’s a proper nuisance, that Mole bloke. He’s been in and out of our cellar four times."

Baby Mix-up at GRI Resolved!

A spokesperson for Glossop Royal Infirmary confirmed this morning that baby Coleen Crisp and baby Kyle Fishwick, accidentally given to the wrong parents upon their mothers’ discharge from GRI’s Maternity Unit [GRIMU], have now been reunited with the right mums and dads.

Our pictures show (top) Steve and Angelique Fishwick cradling what in fact is baby Coleen Crisp, whilst below they are holding their very own baby Kyle.

Said Angelique, “We knew as soon as we got her home that there was something not quite right.” Added hubby Steve, “It was the nose what done it for me. Nobody in our families has such a long nose.”

Tom and Leonora Crisp refused to comment but did release the following statement through their solicitor Mr Ambrose Pewting, “We are going to sue the pips out of GRIMU, then take Coleen to Disneyland.”

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

Hullo,

        

Justin here. Soon, all our futures will be decided, for good or ill, by the results of the imminent General Election. My position dictates that I must remain neutral in terms of political fealty – something I try very hard to do – seeking instead to care for the spiritual well-being of our great country. But, you know, the spiritual and secular are so often inextricably bound in our complicated lives, it is hard to see boundaries. When I discussed this theme with the young man with the wire in his ear, I was heartened by his response. “Go for it Archie!” he said, adding, “Remember Wonga!” 

Now, I must admit that the name still makes my pulse race. You may remember, dear reader, that some time ago I condemned that company’s disgraceful moneylending activities (shortly before I discovered that my own Church of England paid some of its employees below the living wage – but that’s another story).

Significantly, new moneylending regulations are now in place and Wonga is presently facing deep financial trouble  They are even thinking of changing their name, so anxious are they to rid themselves of any association with the idea of extortion. So yes, I think that I may count that as a spiritual victory. 

But presently I am being asked my opinion about the various political parties contesting the upcoming election; something I find very difficult to do. I have in fact met them all. Mr Cameron needs no introduction of course. He is very pleasant, affable, articulate and remarkably shiny. His Deputy, Mr Clegg, is more puzzling. He appears young and slightly tousled. I am no political guru, but during our short meeting I got the distinct impression that he hadn’t got a clue what he was talking about. But at the same time I felt that he wanted me to like him. 

I don’t think Mr Miliband cared about my personal preferences. He, poor man, has been mocked unmercifully in the media, from his facial similarity to a cartoon character to his difficulties with a rogue bacon sandwich. Our Lord Jesus Christ suffered mockery from all quarters, but eventually triumphed most gloriously. Consequently I must admit that my heart went out to Ed.

Most curious were my few minutes with Mr Nigel Farage. The young man with the wire in his ear had suggested that I “watch this one, Archie, he’s slippery”. Truth to tell, we had hardly shaken hands when my lady wife appeared. Her greeting was fulsome – she’s very keen on UKIP – and she ushered a smiling Mr Farage away to our private apartment. Loud laughter and the clinking of bottles were reported for hours afterwards.

But now I must deal with a barrage of letters and emails I have received from the UK Bridge Union who seek my support in their attempts to have bridge recognised as a sport. As I often do with things vexatious, I asked the young man with the wire in his ear for his opinion. His reply was brief and to the point. “What a load of cock,"he said.

Pip, pip,

Justin