I want to thank you all for your contributions to St Daryl's mission to Aspatria, which, we are told, is one of the poorest countries in the world. Thanks to your generosity, we have been able to send them a brand new state-of-the-art wheelie bin, so that they may benefit from the rubbish-disposal facilities that we all take for granted in the developed world. The bin (nicknamed "Arthur" by the grateful Aspatrians) is featured on this year's St Daryl's Christmas card.
St Daryl's Christmas card. Well done, we're making a difference!
In return, the Aspatrians, who are very pious Catholics, have sent us a sack of delicious sheeps' eyes as a goodwill present. Help yourselves after the Mass!
We regret that Mr and Mrs Delingpole, formerly regular communicants at St Daryl's, have been excommunicated, and will not be allowed in church again. In my absence last Saturday I delegated the hearing of Confessions to Mrs Thacker, my cleaning lady (and perhaps our future bishop - who knows?) and she discovered that the Delingpole family had admitted to finding a UKIP leaflet "quite interesting, really." Naturally, we notified the police, social services and the drugs squad, but we felt we should set an example too, and so I have provisionally excommunicated the entire Delingpole family, including their late grandmother Doris, whose gravestone has been removed from the cemetery as a precautionary measure.
The Delingpole family home, after a visit from social services.
Highlights of Fr Arthur's sermon:
Today is the Feast of Christ the King. Now what do we think of when we hear the word "King?" A 2-metre statue? No, I said "King," not "Küng," Eamon. Let me help you, we think of someone important, perhaps
Aye, every inch a king!
No, Tina, you still haven't quite got the idea. We are more likely to be thinking of someone who sits on a throne. Perhaps someone like this:
"I do think Boris might have let me sit on his throne. And he's late again."
So when we come into church we should show respect to Christ the King. Cries of "Yo! God!" are helpful (indeed, that's the chorus of a hymn we'll be singing later), but you could also give a little friendly wave in the general direction of the sanctuary. We aren't supposed to genuflect since the days of Vatican II!
Now I want us all to join in this traditional ethnic hymn to Christ the King:
Everybody dance cos we gotta King! Everybody dance cos we gotta King! Clap your hands cos we gotta King! Clap your hands cos we gotta King!
Clap your hand cos we gotta King!
Twist and shout cos we gotta King! Twist and shout cos we gotta King! Roll on the floor cos we gotta King! Roll on the floor cos we gotta King!
Roll on the floor cos we gotta King!
Right, now if you'd like to pick yourselves up off the floor, we'll recite the Creed - or at least the bits we take seriously.
darling eccles, sorry about the poles, but I suppose it is part of their ethnic heritage to be burned - but aren't people usually attached to them at the time? xx Jess
ReplyDelete"… the bits we take seriously."
ReplyDeleteThat won't detain us very long, then. "I. Amen." Brief and to the point.
Surely the sisters will object to 'Amen' and demand 'Aperson'?
DeleteWe are open to the possibility of our parent Gaia, the goddess of the gaps in Mr Dawkins' excellent theory...all other bits that won't get us into trouble at dinner parties with social workers, climate scientists and Islamists, ...and we expect the resurrection of Stalin, and a glorious socialist future, awimmin.
ReplyDeleteHmm, why are all de comments on dis blogg post wittier dan de originnal post?
DeleteIt is your excellent example, daring eccles - dat or the spirit movin us xx Jess
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