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

Hullo,

Justin here...

                                                       

Please allow me to confess at the outset that these few words reach you via the good offices of the young man with the wire in his ear who not only typed out my wobbling scrawl, but also climbed on to his powerful motor bike and delivered my Thought for the Day to the Pangolin Offices, for I, dear reader, am hors de combat.

                                                       

I have often heard people say they have a “bad back” and I have thought nothing of it. Not now. It is most unpleasant. My doctor thinks it very unusual for one so wiry and fit to succumb in this way.My lady wife and I regularly engage in somewhat aggressive games of ping pong.

                                                      

My principles prevent me from seeking private treatment, so I and the young man with the wire in his ear caused something of a stir in the waiting room at St Edna’s, our local NHS hospital. I was asked several times if I’d come to perform the last rites and autographed at least six plastered arms and legs.

                                                       

And so, my dear friends, this missive to you is necessarily shorter than normal but I should like to sign off with a thought I had last week. It concerned the reburial of Richard III and the thousands of people who queued round the block to pay their respects. I found it strangely moving and uplifting. 

Richard had a bad back, didn’t he?

Pip, pip,

Justin

Pangolin Obituaries

The death is announced of Lord Tangerine of Plinth at the age of 162. 

A spokesman for the family said, “Lord Tangerine will be sadly missed by his family and friends. Always unconventional and adventurous, the then Aubrey St John Twatter, roamed the Empire working eventually as a string measurer in India for some time where he gained the trust and admiration of local nabobs. 

When he left India for Krakatoa he held the title of Kumquat of Mysore. The explosion of Krakatoa rendered the soon to be Lord dazed and confused and his return to England was marked by several brushes with the law. 

Our picture was used in court proceedings against him when answering a charge of standing like a ponce in a public place".

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

Hullo,

Justin here,

                            
I speak to you today in a quite exhausted condition after Tuesday’s Inter-religious Reconciliation reception here at the Palace. Were it not for the good offices of the young man with the wire in his ear and his 47 colleagues, the whole event may have descended into an unseemly brawl. 

                         
I did notice, whilst rehearsing my speech, that said young man was in fact wearing his shoulder holster. I questioned him about this. He said, “Archie, you can’t be too careful at dos like this. Any one of them religious types could kick off at any time, know what I mean? And they’ll all be bringing their own minders too. Which is why I’ve drafted a few of the lads in.”

                      
My lady wife had worked tirelessly with the caterers [Godfood R Us] to provide a wonderful array of things on sticks and pastries to be offered to our guests at the end of my welcoming speech – which, incidentally, went well despite the presence of Father Brendan McGhastlie, a notoriously argumentative Scots cleric.

                    
Also present was a Mr Eric Pickles, the government minister responsible for Communities etc.Sadly, it was around this substantial gentleman that some sort of inter-religious scrum broke out during my closing remarks.

As the photograph shows, I had met Mr Pickles before my speech and had found him to be a most pleasant and accommodating fellow.

                 
However, no sooner had I finished speaking, than the cry of “Who ate all the pies?” went up (in several languages) near the buffet area. Respectfully forcing my way through a press of Buddhists, Quakers, Muslims and at least three Primitive Baptists, I found Mr Pickles being wrestled to the ground by several young men with wires in their ears. With “Who ate all the pies?” ringing in my ears, whilst thinking, “What would Jesus have done?” I helped these watchful young men usher Mr Pickles into an ante room, where, to my horror, we found at least two dozen savoury pastries hidden about Mr Pickle’s person. Most were squashed beyond recognition.

Mr Pickles’s car was ordered forthwith and he departed, claiming that the pies had been planted on him by his political enemies.

There will have to be an official enquiry, apparently. But that is for another day. Presently, I am thankful and relieved that my lady wife forestalled any further upsets by sending waiters around the excited throng with large jugfuls of her special water and soon inter-religious bonhomie ruled, interspersed with snatches of, “There was a vicar, a priest and a rabbi…..” followed by gales of inter-religious laughter. So all’s well that ends well….

Pip, pip,

Justin