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

Hullo, Justin here…

                                   

What a week it has been! First and foremost on my To Do list was finalising arrangements for our Spring Fayre, including the first public appearance of a local beat combo called “God is Dead”. I must admit that I found their name something of a problem, but happily, after a swift private conversation with Mr Hassan and the young man with the wire in his ear, they agreed to appear on the programme as “God is Quite Possibly Not Dead”, which for me at least was something of a relief. 

When I later enquired of Mr Hassan how so swift a solution had been found, he replied somewhat archly, that he had threatened to cut their amp jacks off. Whatever that might mean. 

My lady wife’s organizing of the Lambeth Speed-knitting teams was faultless. It was a close-run thing with Palace Purls just edging out late entries Westminster Cast-Offs with an utterly splendid 37 metres of Fairisle scarf. 

The following morning I woke early, to be briefed by the young man with the wire in his ear about our breakfast guest – none other than President Barak Obama! The young man with the wire in his ear was terribly excited. After insisting that I wore an anti-stab vest, he, my lady wife and I stood and watched The President and The First Lady and their entourage enter. The young man with the wire in his ear kept nudging me whilst surreptitiously pointing at various members of Mr Obama’s group, and whispering things like, “Glock 19, Smith and Wesson 44, Browning Hi-power". I am pleased to say that no weapons of any sort were seen during our simple repast. Mr Obama put us all at our ease and even cracked jokes, likening the offered Shredded Wheat to roof insulation.

   

Then, of course, he and Mrs Obama had to leave the Palace and travel to another royal residence, there to congratulate our Queen upon her 90th birthday. I am of course sworn to secrecy with regard to what happened during that momentous coming together although I can confirm that whilst a dog bite was suffered by the bearer of the Glock 19, no animals were shot. Apparently, he missed. So, in the words of The Bard – all’s well that ends well!

Pip! Pip!

Justin.