Should we pray in public?

There's recently been a fascinating - no, not fascinating, what's the word? - ah yes, mindless debate on Twitter, over the question "Should we pray in public?"

Ignore him, he just wants attention.

Those who are a little weak on understanding wheel out Matthew 23 at this point, and start mumbling about phylacteries and Pharisees (which are two distinct things, as it happens). There is a subtle point here, athough their fuddled minds rather miss it. It is obviously wrong to feel that you are somehow better than others because you call yourself "A miserable sinner" or "On the side of the angels"; however, joining in public prayers is not quite the same thing.

We mustn't pray the Angelus - there's a painter watching!

The Angelus itself is basically a Catholic prayer (although used by some other denominations) and all to do with the angel greeting the Blessed Virgin Mary. This is generally regarded as an important event, and no decent person of any faith would mock it, or even mock a prayer that commemorates it. Of course, it is a fine Twitter tradition to mock Christianity, and if you do so, you need to use lots of swear words and insults, as otherwise people won't take you seriously.

Personally, I find this whole "praying in public" business very distasteful, don't you? When the intercessions begin in church, I generally ignore them, and just turn to the Tablet cryptic crossword puzzle instead. Hmm - Nice debt rearranged - how we hate him! (8). Any ideas, there? Anyway, I don't like people to know I'm praying, so I do it privately at home. Well, of course I don't usually bother. Life's too busy, know what I mean?

A nasty traddy cat, praying.

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To finish off, we have a guest post from Sister Wendy Beckett. This was posted as a comment on Damian Thompson's blog, and immediately deleted by the muddlerators.

Custard for David Cameron.

In this charming 21st century painting by Adams of the Telegraph school, we see an updating of the Belshazzar's Feast story, in which a ruthless dictator lets his gluttonous instincts get the better of him, shortly before his inevitable downfall. The use of custard in this context, traditionally presented in a "rainbow" tin, is an astute reference to the dictator's obsession with same-sex marriage, which was one of the causes of his downfall.

There is a message in this painting for all of us, I think: namely, that custard, although one of the staple foods of life, can be misused and misapplied. St Paul warns us that someone who has turned to the dark side will feed on custard to his own destruction. Incidentally, the painting is one of a pair, as Adams later went on to depict the cupcakes of Clegg.

As we gaze on this beautiful painting, shall we meditate on the fate of Cameron, and say a prayer, possibly one involving custard? I think so.