The American Nightmare

"A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed".

The Second Amendment US Constitution

Citizens of the United States are rightly proud of their Constitution and some of the greatest statesmen and thinkers of the age were involved in its conception, but even so it was a difficult birth.

More than 200 years later they are still debating what was intended by the framers of the Constitution and every word in the Second Amendment has been painfully scrutinised at great length and the outcome is that the right to bear arms has not been infringed, well not much.

The people who wish to bear arms do now have to apply for a license but further efforts to limit gun ownership are fiercely resisted.

America is the home of the brave: gun owning, god fearing and proud of their democratic rights which were hard won. The American Dream, although not as bright and shiny as it once was, is still the foundation on which the country builds its hopes and aspirations.

Newtown, Connecticut was described on the news this morning as the sort of community where the American Dream was more likely to be realised, and 'a decent place to raise a family'. I'll be honest, we often joke that an American would be hard pressed to point out the UK on a map of the world, likewise, many non US citizens would be hard pressed to point to Connecticut on a map of the US let alone Newtown, population 27,560 (2010).

Since that census was taken the population has obviously increased but today we are all too well aware that due to the actions of one man, the population of Newtown has been suddenly and savagely depleted. The latest figures seem to be 27 dead including 20 children aged between 5 and 10 years of age.

As I watched President Obama make his emotional statement to a shocked nation and to the wider world, I couldn't help but think that the American Dream is now an American Nightmare.

Since 1982 there have been around 60 mass shootings in America and the vast majority of the perpetrators used weapons that they had acquired legally - the right to bear arms gave them the freedom to kill.

Those who so ardently defend the Second Amendment have already begun to offer their worn out platitudes repeating and repeating ad nauseam that it is not guns that kill people, it's people that kill people. Former Arkansas  Governor, Mike Huckerbee, was interviewed on Fox News after the tragedy and plainly stated that restricting gun ownership would not have prevented this killing, the killer would have found another way of carrying out his murderous spree. He went on to say that a lack of school prayer was, in his opinion, a root cause of violence in schools. The man is a fool.

Surely any sane person who examines the facts can see that restricting the ownership of guns must reduce the opportunity of such events like the one we have seen in Newtown.

A spur of the moment decision following a mental breakdown might well have led to this incident and having access to guns made it so simple to walk into that school and kill innocent people. On the spur of the moment where do you find another way of causing such havoc? Where do you get the bomb that  Mike Huckerbee spoke of in his interview?

We all remember Dunblane, 1996 and 17 deaths (16 being children). We changed our gun laws and I can't prove that these changes have stopped further such events but luckily we have not seen anything on that scale on our doorstep since.

Here in the UK we have seen so called rampage killings, some perpetrated by those who owned their weapons legally, others by criminals. There is an ongoing battle to get as many illegal weapons from our streets as possible and in Nottingham we saw the need for those ongoing efforts reported on our news just last night. (Two men imprisoned for 15 and 11 years respectively for a revenge shooting attack.)


As our own local news proves (and here I can agree with Mike Huckerbee)  it is people that kill people. But people kill people with greater ease and in greater numbers when they have access to guns and they can do much more damage more quickly with a gun than with, for example, a kitchen knife.

I bet that if a man walked into that school yesterday armed with a knife there would not have been so many lives lost.


Looking from the outside, it's hard to understand why a country like America clings on to tenets and rights that were written for a totally different era, an era where the populace really did have to think like a militia.

If American citizens feels so insecure in the modern world why not address those insecurities rather than board up the windows and stock up on ammo?

The more you read the Second Amendment the more it appears flawed in that the right to bear arms should insure freedom and security for the people - how free and secure do those who survived this attack feel? How free and secure are those grieving families?

If America truly believes that it leads the world perhaps the time has come to show that world how Americans love their children more than they love their guns?

Birthday Blog

My birthday message to my loyal followers:

On this auspicious day, I send greetings, love and respect to you all.

My wife and I will be going on a state visit to the hairdressers later, but I wanted to take this opportunity during a hiatus in my hectic schedule to pass on my thanks for all the birthday wishes.

Another year older and a concomitant increase in the wisdom that flows through my manly physique.

I started the day with a lightly poached egg, (free range of course and from a very happy chicken) on brown bread studded with sunflower seeds. I then took my birthday bath. Have you noticed how much wetter you get in the bath than when you shower?

The shower here at the ashram is out of service at the moment, Mrs B noticed that it had sprung a little leak and was spraying water all over her...let's not debate the logic of why you can't take a shower because it's spraying water on you. A part has been ordered and hopefully it will arrive soon and then I will deploy my tool kit, spend several hours swearing at the damn thing before calling a plumber.

As I was reclining in the bath, Mrs B hand delivered some birthday messages that arrived in the post. She reported that one of them was from the corgi people and I immediately thought, at last, a telegram from The Queen and Prince Phil! Sadly, it was just a reminder about getting the boiler serviced.

Anyway, I emerged from the bath looking like a freshly cooked lobster and now Mrs B is finding lots of little jobs for me to do. I will do my utmost to avoid undertaking any of them...well it is my birthday.

I share my birthday with Billy Connelly, Toulouse-Lautrec, Scott Joplin, Russell Watson, Grace Darling, Ian Botham and Ted Bundy. I like to think I have traits from all of these people who share my day...the humour of Connelly, the artistic nature of Lautrec, the musical genius of Joplin, the voice of Watson, the bravery and heroic nature of Darling, the athletic prowess of Botham and the smile of serial killer Ted Bundy. It makes me the perfect specimen I am.



As I get older I do get more miserable and yet more mischievous. This morning I have also spent time teasing an internet troll or cyber bully on a BBC web forum. He's started calling me names so I think I've hit the target. If he pushes too far I'll unleash my full Bundy on his ass!

OK, Mrs B needs another cup of tea so I best be off but once again thank you all for your birthday wishes and I'm sure the presents are in the post along with the bit from the shower.

Blessings

By The Sea

Greetings fellow plebs - oh yes, we are all in this together...

Just back from a pilgrimage to the holy land, or Yorkshire as it's more commonly known. To be exact, the East Riding of Yorkshire and a little village called Hempholme. It's so small that the speed limit signs are in Roman numerals!  Hang on, that's not right is it? The village was so old fashioned the speed limit signs were in Roman numerals...or should it be Viking glyphs?

Mrs B and I were accompanied on our journey of enlightenment by Miss Twillets and her two beagles, Serge and Lottie.

The basic idea of the trip was a chance to recharge our batteries and to visit parts of the country that had remained untouched by the Gurus influence thus far. This meant trips to Bridlington, Scarborough and Flamborough Head to name but a few.

Our base of operations and temporary ashram was a cottage on a farm in the aforementioned hamlet of Hempholme, which for those with map reading skills is four miles north west of Brandesburton. The cottage was called River View and the reason for this became apparent as we stood in our bedroom window looking out at the magnificent view of...drum roll...a grass field.

We did cross over the river en route to the cottage and I guess if we had stood on the roof we might have glimpsed it over the hedge at the end of the grass field.

The accommodation was all we needed, a simple little palace with plenty of room to sacrifice the odd battle of Pinot in the evening.  Mrs B and I were given the bedroom which contained a four poster bed...not at all comfortable but very useful for other purposes. Nothing to do with handcuffs you mucky minded swine...handy for Mrs B to knot her wool around as she laid in bed knitting bed jackets for the elderly and infirm of Filey and environs.

The grounds of the cottage were plagued with rabbits and everywhere you went there were signs of their activity in fact there were so many rabbit droppings it looked there had been an explosion in a current factory. Serge decided that he quite liked to eat them, I suppose to him they were a sort of canine aperitif  - he wolfed them down in the same way Mrs B hoovers up olives.

On our first full day we decided to visit Bridlington as we knew that they had a dog friendly beach. The weather was beautiful and as we set off for what would turn into a ninety minute emotional roller coaster, we were able to let the beagles off their leads and watch as they playfully rolled in the sand.

Sadly Serge decided that all of this rolling and running about was thirsty work and with a stomach full of rabbit droppings he decided he needed a drink so he ran through tidal pools scooping up copious amounts of sea water in the style of a very small blue whale...he then discovered the decaying claw from a dead crab and decided that one more morsel of seafood would finish his meal nicely.

Now, it didn't take too long before Serge had a very sad expression on his face, and then the real fun began. Great steaming gushes of green watery poo were ejaculated from his rear end sending all of us into fits of laughter which only made Serge feel even worse and he decided to throw up too!

The ejaculated liquid from both ends disappeared quite quickly into the sand and all that remained were semi digested rabbit droppings.

After a while the poor dog started to look a little better and Lottie, who had kept well away from all of this mess, decided she should come and give her brother some moral support. Sadly, as she passed by his rear end, he exploded once more and sent a stream of green liquid over her head and back.

At this point Mrs B and Miss Twillets both wet themselves but again the sand was there to mop up any evidence of their incontinence.

During the course of the week we would return to various beaches and each time we did, Serge drank sea water and became very sick. So the old maxim is true, you can take a dog to water but horses don't like New Tricks or perhaps they just don't like Water(man).

I did manage to take a few rather artful photographs during the journey and eventually we managed to visit quite a stretch of coastline from Scarborough down to Withernsea.

I find walking along the seashore very restful and I also enjoy picking up the odd stone which I can put in my beautifully manicured garden here on the hill - on this trip I not only located some nice stones but a few old fossils too. The old fossils were shopping in Morrisons.

Now fully recharged, I am back at work and looking forward to my next mini safari which will see Mrs B and I return to the Norfolk coast in November - I think we shall need long socks and a scarf.

I hope you are all well and looking forward to whatever life holds in store, I suppose you will all be out shopping for Christmas - well it is only eight weeks or so away. I can hardly wait!

Here are some pictures for you to admire...

Intrepid Explorers Lunch in Scarborough

Withernsea

Withernsea - Coastal Erosion

Rock

Fossil - Not Found in Morrison!

Fraisthorpe Beach

Flamborough

Flamborough

Another Rock

Star Trek

The title of todays message from on high gives the Junior Partner ample warning, and for the rest of the universe if you don't like Star Trek you better head elsewhere at warp factor 9.

I have been a fan of Star Trek since I began watching in 1969 and was hooked from the get go.

In those early days as I watched those episodes and was introduced to Captain Kirk, Mr Spock and the rest of the crew, all of whom would become such iconic characters, I didn't give much thought as to why it appealed so much. It was adventures in space, it was exotic aliens, it was escapism.

Over the course of the next 40 years I retained that sense of boyhood exhilaration when it came to Star Trek and followed the development of the series into feature films and then the Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager and Enterprise. In 2009 we saw the latest phase in the Star Trek canon with the movie directed by J.J Abrams. I am eagerly awaiting the next movie.

I can't think of any other tv series that has shared such a longevity or that has won a place in the hearts of so many across the generations.

Trekkies or Trekkers, each loyal to the whole but equally drawn to one facet. For my generation I think there can only be Kirk, Spock, McCoy et al although I did enjoy Picard and Data.

Talking about Trek today seems to be the culmination of a few events this week...the deaths of Biff Elliot and William Windom and the anniversary of the births of Persis Khambatta and of Gene Roddenberry all occurring within a few days of each other.

I know that 99.9% of you will not have heard of Biff Elliot or Persis Khambatta and maybe even William Windom although he was a fine character actor with a cv which includes great movies like To Kill A Mockingbird and he played Doc Hazlitt in Murder, She Wrote.

Roddenberry was the creator of Star Trek, a decorated WW2 pilot and a police officer, he became a writer for tv in the 1950's - the time when television was really taking off.

Don't worry, I'm not going to describe the whole process that led to Star Trek arriving on the screen but the man himself was clever in that he wrote what he described to executives as Wagon Train to the stars but in reality he was writing clever little morality tales all wrapped up in science fiction.

Roddenberry gave us a future with no poverty or famine, he gave us equality in sex and race and he hardly ever mentioned religion. In hindsight I do begin to consider how much of my humanist nature was nurtured by Gene Roddenberry and his idealism?

I will admit to the fact that I have often quoted lines from Star Trek during funerals.

But I digress, Biff Elliot and William Windom guest starred in two of my favourite episodes in the original series, The Devil In The Dark and The Doomsday Machine.

The Devil In The Dark introduced us to the Horta, a silicon based life form desperate to protect the eggs it has laid and is nurturing. Injured, the creature is treated by Doctor McCoy who initially protests "I'm a doctor, not a  bricklayer!" After he successfully completes the operation he turns to Kirk and exclaims "By golly, Jim, I'm beginning to think I can cure a rainy day!"

In The Doomsday Machine, Windom plays Commodore Matt Decker, a man haunted by the loss of his crew and consumed by his Ahab like obsession with finding their killer. It is a superb performance by Windom and it remains a great favourite of mine.

William Windom as Matt Decker

Persis Khambatta was an Indian actress best known for playing Lieutenant Ilia in Star Trek:The Motion Picture. In that film she appears shaven headed, the love interest for Captain Will Decker played by Stephen Collins. Will Decker is the son of Matt Decker.

Persis Khambatta as Lt Ilia

All of these little threads, all of these events but what is the point of drawing them to your attention?

Well, it gives me a chance to say to you all...

"A man either lives life as it happens to him, meets it head-on and licks it, or he turns his back on it and starts to wither away"

Gene Roddenberry (1921 - 1991)

and finally

Casting Stones

Any Guru worth his salt will be ready willing and able to steal from other sources to back up his own position, and as I am very adept at this you will not be surprised to hear me use a phrase from the gospel of John. I don't know his last name, it was probably not Smith, McEnroe or Bon Jovi, perhaps he was just known as John, one of those men who follow that mobile carpenters shop around the middle east.

John wrote in his diary about this other guru whose name escapes me completely...anyway the fellow had the knack of saying the right thing at the right time and John and some of his mates were there to scribble it down and save it for posterity enabling the whole world to know what some fellow was doing all those years ago.

Jesus Christ!

Sorry, I just remembered his name, it was Jesus Christ!

The story I'm talking about is the one where Jesus Christ! was on his way back from the Olympics, which had been staged in Greece that year, when he and his band of merry men called into a drive through felafel stand and spotted a crowd gathering around a young attractive lady. The crowd were all carrying rocks and Jesus Christ! thought to himself I better see if I can do something newsworthy - "come on chaps, get your note books out, this is going to be good" he said as he threw his felafel aside and strode towards to crowd.

You see, Jesus Christ! was a clever man, he knew there were very few reasons for a crowd to gather with rocks, eliminating the possibility of a Cliff Richard concert he decided that the young attractive lady must be the source of the crowds ferment.

He asked what was happening and was told that the young attractive lady was actually a young attractive boy from the Philippines and he had tricked several local men into some hanky panky.

Jesus Christ! walked to the centre of the crowd and held up his hands demanding silence and he said to the gathered masses, "let he who is without sin, cast the first stone."

Nothing happened until suddenly a rock came hurtling out of the crowd and struck the young attractive ladyboy on the temple. "Jesus Christ!" shouted Jesus Christ!..."who threw that rock?"

Cliff Richard put his hand up rather sheepishly and Jesus Christ! said "oh, it's you Cliff, that's OK then."

Another member of the crowd then spoke up and said to Jesus Christ!, "Are you trying to say that we can only throw stones at this person who has committed a sin if we ourselves have never committed a sin because if that is the case no-one would ever be able to throw any stones because there is not any man or woman or ladyboy alive in this village or in the wider world, except Cliff, who has lived a blameless life. To be human is to sin, so basically we should all put our rocks down and go about our business and try not to sin anymore?"

Jesus Christ! stared at the man for a long time and then threw a rock at his head.

Much of these facts didn't end up in the original draft of the bible but I have it on good authority from Cliff that this is what happened.

The moral is clear for all to see I hope, that is if you must open your mouth to speak make sure you don't annoy a guru.

Yesterday several people annoyed the Guru and as I was not near enough to throw rocks I just wrote a few words on Facebook. I would write more about this subject but I have just spotted the news headlines about Ian Brady and all of a sudden I have the temptation to delete all of the above and just join the queue of people who would willingly beat his brains out with anything that came to hand, rocks would be nice though.

The extreme prohibition against judging another without first judging ourselves might have to come second on this occasion to the even older bible lesson - an eye for an eye.

The story about Brady is complicated though because in a way it is a story that should not be printed unless it is really proven to be true. I think this is one time that the only story should have been 'Keith Bennett's body discovered'. That would be a story that would ease the final days of the life of Winnie Johnson, the mother who has fought so hard and so long to be able to lay her son to rest.

I hope this torture for her can have the ending we would hope and that we have not just seen a final cruel chapter written by Brady, aided by the modern day Johns.



Post Script....

Just one day later and the sad news is announced that Winnie Johnson has died. She never got the peace she deserved in life - no matter your belief system surely we can all believe she is at peace now.

Not A Day Goes By

This is exciting isn't it? The master is rediscovering his old touch and is reaching across the void of the internet on a more regular basis, to connect with his minions and acolytes.

It's a modern day resurrection and I feel the need to spread my message because like butter and manure this sort of magic is at its best when spread.

A daily dose - are we up for it?

I'm sure I can find some time in my busy schedule to share with you all, and time is the greatest gift that any man can give to another...but if Mr and Mrs Bayford want to share some of their £148 million with me I would be very grateful.

That must have been one of the best days of anyones life - realising that you would have the resources at your disposal to do all the things you would want to do in life - like buy Spain or Greece.

I buy my lottery tickets online and I love it when you get the email headed 'Good News About Your Ticket'. The last time I received such a notification I discovered the good news came to £2.90p - not quite life changing.

Post Olympic blues have come and gone, the Closing Ceremony (or as I prefer to call it Walking Dead:The Musical) was emotional but didn't have the same resonance as the Opening Ceremony but luckily, now the BBC have nothing live to broadcast, we will have a repeat of the Opening Ceremony on Saturday.

X Factor returns as well as Ant & Dec, Total Wipeout too - the creative teams are really earning their money!

I do wonder how many undiscovered talented singers there can be left in the country now, but I'm sure we will see there is no shortage of undiscovered untalented ones still left to humiliate.

On the subject of humiliation and the Olympics - did you see all the fuss about the report on the Olympics being 3,000 years old?

If you searched the internet or Twitter, you discovered a multitude of people questioning the maths of the claim - people who can turn on a computer but think it impossible for the Olympic Games to be 3,000 years old as it is only 2012!

And who said modern education wasn't up to much?

Some of the idiots were creationists so that sort of explains their lack of common sense.

Creationism isn't really that big a business in the UK but in America there seems to be no shortage of people who all agree the world was created by god but they do have slightly different takes on when and how it happened.

Young Earth creationists believe that the Earth was created within the last ten thousand years, they would say that the biblical account in Genesis is accurate. Some of them also agree with the calculations of Archbishop Ussher (1581 - 1656) who worked out that god started his creation on or about 23rd October, 4004 BC - it was a Sunday of course!

There are Old Earth Creationists too, including Gap Creationists who will tell you that god didn't actually make the planet and then populate it straightaway, he left it 'without form or void'  and then came back to it later, after a gap of indeterminate time, just found it all sort of desolate and decided to do it up - a bit like Grand Designs but this was a really grand design.

They would tell you that any fossils that predate their timeline must have been deposited by the devil.

Anyway, there are millions of these lunatics who have decided that scientific research is also the devils work and we should just give ourselves over to faith and the questionable mathematical skill of an Irish Bishop who basically read the Bible and added up all the ages of the kings and prophets and it came to about 4000 so that must be when the world was created.

(long pause or gap)

Sorry about that but I have a most serendipitous happening to report. The door bell rang and it was Janet and Sandra, otherwise known as the JW's. This months Watchtower is headlined 'Miracles - Do They Really Happen?' Answers on a postcard please to Jehovah, The Watchtower, USA.

Actually as you read the article you realise we have a lot to look forward to - no hunger, the blind restored to sight and wheelchair makers will be going out of business left, right and centre. Hold on, if miracles are bad for the economy I can't see Vince Cable allowing them!

I decided to test the lady messengers from god and I asked when was the Earth created. I took for granted they did believe it was created and did not evolve otherwise they wouldn't be going door to door delivering Jehovah's message.

So, here we have the answer from an actual source in the hierarchy...

First of all we must not get confused with time issues. Although Genesis states that the earth was created in seven days that does not mean they were seven days of 24 hours. Their god could decide how long a day was and Sandra explained that for them this meant creation started 49,000 years ago. So, a day must equal 7,000 years I suppose.

She also said that we are still living through the final day of creation which started around 4000 BC (a touch of the Ussher creeping in here) so until the year 3000 we are still being created.

But hold on I said, I though on the seventh day the master builder rested!

Oh yes, a quick recalculation followed - now apparently man was created at the end of the sixth day. So let me see if I understand, god created man after about 42,000 years...talk about cowboy builders!

Anyway, I think it is clear to see that even those with insight into the miracle of creation are a little confused over the details.

Just one final question - who decided that a day was 7,000 years? No answer.

Well, I have wasted enough of my day on you, I have errands to run and then later this evening a trip to the theatre to see a touring production of Chicago (jazz hands at the ready).

Thank you for taking the time to immerse yourself in my Class and Razzle Dazzle - remember All I Care About is you, and as for the great creator, the ultimate Mr Cellophane - well he is sleeping on the job again so you have a nice day And All That Jazz.

An Act Of Worship

Greetings fellow travellers, bless you all for taking the time to tune your brain into my digital output. I can feel the surge and it makes me feel as full as a pair of rowers shorts.

Today, I joined the throng of faithful and devout worshippers, those who sacrifice their Sunday morning to pay homage at the altar of the one and only god. As I walked down the aisle I heard the strains of that most beautiful hymn - Celebration by Kool and The Gang.

You guessed it, I was in the temple of doom otherwise known as Tesco.

Everywhere you looked the uplifting effects of the Olympic Games were clear to see. Lots of smiling faces, the smell of sweat filled the air and hunky athletic men showed the world what a six pack really should look like as they paraded their majestic beer bellies in skin tight vest tops.

I was wearing a nice linen shirt and a pair of tailored shorts, my powerful white legs (very very white) supported my dash around the shopping synagogue as I secured a nice corn fed free range chicken, some fresh cauliflower (don't worry Miss Twillets, we have cheese sauce) and some carrot batons.

So swift was my journey through the lanes of this palace of purchasing pleasure, that I was on my marks at the checkout in a record time. If Mrs B had been with me, we would still have been looking for stuffing amongst the sauerkraut in the ever expanding Polish section.

Not that I have anything against the Polish having their own section, as a middle class man with some taste I can readily admit the fresh veg section is really only for me and my tribe, the majority of the competitors/worshippers manage to pass it by. And what a treat they missed today - multi coloured cauliflower! (I said don't worry Miss Twillets, it will all look the same when the cheese sauce gets to work).

So, there I was waiting for the starting beep of my final event, the culmination of years of training, this is what I had worked for - the moment of glory was upon me and as the young pasty faced boy reached his hand out for the first item I thought, this is it!

But then disaster struck - typical Team Tesco, he dropped the batons!

Oh well, better luck in four days when the next games are to be held in (drum roll)........Sainsbury's.

It has been a great two weeks, the Olympics have delivered on all levels and as I wrote last week, we didn't need to worry about medals and I really could not care less where we finished on the medal table.

For me it will be the memories of the Opening Ceremony, archery, canoe slalom, dancing horses and David Rudisha and Mo and Tom and John Inverdale and...well, it was all great. I cannot remember crying this much since they cancelled CSI Miami.

There was one moment that disturbed me though, a very offensive moment and totally against all that the Olympics stand for - it was when Meseret Defar of Ethiopia won the Women's 5'000 metres and in full view of the worlds media she reached inside her running kit and pulled out a picture of the Virgin Mary and started to pray...it was her faith that helped her win. I don't suppose she did any training then, just lots of praying. I know I'm being nasty and sniping at her faith but you'll get over it and if she is right and god is watching then she will win more races and I will be struck by a lighting bolt. It's a win win situation on so many levels!

The euphoria of the Games has been good for the country, I hope the closing ceremony is of an equal standard to the opening but if what I hear is to be believed and The Spice Girls are back, well that can't be any worse than Paul McCartney. I still think we should have Tom Jones singing Delilah to close the show, I bet everyone joins in.

OK, I have to go now and make cheese sauce and I wish all of you a happy Sunday and continued success as you run your race of life.

No News Is...

Good news? Not any more, it would seem that there is no such thing as 'No News' as anything that now happens anywhere in the world can become news in a matter of moments.

Mrs B and I have taken great pleasure in watching The Newsroom on tv, written by Aaron Sorkin it shows the workings of a US cable newsroom and the drive to simply find the facts and inform the public. Telling the truth about the things that the electorate need to know. How refreshing a thought, that the news would only ever be about the things we need to know, that serve the public interest rather than just offering hours of supposition, titillation and gossip.

This week I got a quick look at the newsroom of our local paper, and as you know I often get invited to the local BBC radio station to spread my pearls of wisdom. I have respect for the men and women who work very hard to provide a good quality of local news coverage but even they sometimes find themselves under added pressure when a local story becomes a national story.

I suppose the recent events in New Addington and the death of Tia Sharp are a good example. As I followed the breaking story a friend on Twitter reported that 'the street is full of press and news teams'.

Reporting on the discovery of a body after such a public search for this poor young girl seems valid, reporting on the disappearance and subsequent arrest of Stuart Hazell is totally newsworthy but then the door knocking starts and we get 'neighbours report' type stories.

In the search for some juicy tidbit they will take anyone who wants to speak at face value and offer their opinions as news. How can they be sure that there is no personal bias? We have seen in the past how a local rumour monger has fuelled the flames after a tragic event and it lead to a innocent man being accused of a crime he did not commit, take for example Christopher Jefferies.

This is one of the areas that The Leveson Inquiry is examining and rightly so.

I have no problem with journalists digging into the private lives of anyone who needs to be exposed as criminal, as they did with the MP's and their expenses, but my own recent experiences show that sometimes they don't know where to draw the line.

I was asked to conduct the funeral of Charlotte Blackman, the young lady tragically killed on holiday with her family. I met with the family and we put together a funeral that reflected the great joy of Charlotte's life. Of course the circumstances of her death made national headlines and I accept that seeing the story on the news seemed appropriate but I learned from the family that many of the stories in the newspapers about the events of the day contained great inaccuracies. The press has literally hounded the family for stories and have spoken to family members, ex work colleagues, trying to get some angle on the story. How is that news? How can that possibly serve the public interest?

As was expected the press and the news were present at the funeral to film the arrival of the hearse, but can you believe that they had the nerve to ask if they could film the whole funeral or if they might have an interview with the parents after the funeral!

Unbelievable - not a modicum of common decency or respect for a grieving family.

Later, I read some of the reports and once again there were obvious factual inaccuracies about what had happened at the funeral and who was attending and I thought, well that proves the old adage...never let the facts stand in the way of a good story.


Of course it is really too easy to just get angry at the reporters or the people who send them to chase these stories, how much of the blame should we take?  The consumers - we who read or watch these non-news, news stories.

Do we get the news we deserve?

I am convinced that this part of journalism is a minor part of news gathering and dissemination, but when you get close to it, it really stinks.

Olympic Update

So here we are faithful followers, Day 5 of the 2012 Olympic Games and apparently the whole country is fretting because we have not won a gold medal...I am here to calm your nerves and put things into perspective.

First of all, do you recall that part of the lavish opening ceremony when a competitor, a  referee and a coach took the Olympic Oath? Well, that little section was really the most important part of the whole ceremony because it sets out what the Olympic ideal is really about...that those taking part simply do their best.

I understand there are about 17000 people taking part in the Games, if they all do their best a very small percentage will win medals but those who do not win medals are no less worthy of recognition.

The media are obsessed with medals tables and each day we have pundits and commentators predicting who will and should win medals for Team GB - I had a little dig at Mike Bushell this morning via Twitter pointing out that such predictions are worthless - what will be will be.

Adding more and more pressure onto athletes by repeating how much we expect of them is something the media do for the sake of news - I don't believe real sports fans wish anything but the best of luck to those men and women who have trained and sacrificed so much just to qualify for the Games.

I will celebrate if Ben Ainslie wins a gold medal but if he doesn't win it might just be because someone was better on the day, the same way that three other teams of divers were better than Daley and Waterfield on the day.

The constant media pressure is also partly to blame for the outpouring of hate towards Tom Daley after he 'failed to secure a gold medal'. We build these people up as unbeatable and we forget they are human.

I do not believe that there is a single competitor in any team that only wants to win because the media are watching - they want to win and give of their best because of their love of the sport...it is taking part that counts. That is why our own Miss Adlington was beaming when she won her bronze medal - she swam better than she could have hoped, she came third and won that medal but why should we think less of her if she had swam a personal best and finished fourth?

So, don't worry - we may well win a gold medal today or we may not, either way I shall enjoy watching the competitors try their best.

Now a message to those badminton players who have not been trying their best - piss off home you cheating bastards! You should be ashamed and if I was the referee I would have disqualified you and I would have kicked your coaches out of the sport for ever! This is the frigging Olympics!!!!!

Sorry, had to get that off my chest.

The Games People Play

Welcome athletes of the world, I know you are all pretty tired after the Opening Ceremony but I'm sure you are all waking up in the Olympic Village, reaching for your probiotic yoghurt and blueberries and saying to yourself in 207 different languages - 'when will the Guru speak unto us'?

Well here I am...bonjour and ey up mi duck!

Those who are regular followers will know that I am a cynical old bugger but last night as I sat and watched the stunning opening ceremony of the London 2012 games, the cynicism was washed away by a tidal wave of pride in my country - (apologies to the Japanese contingent).

The conception and delivery was remarkable - showing the history of our country, showing where we had come from and the things we had built for ourselves and the world but then showing how we can go further and aspire to a future we can be even more proud of.

I know that economically we are in the depths of despair but for four hours last night I forgot deficits and banks and problems and I was reminded that it is possible to reach for something positive. That's the message of sport I suppose, if you want to succeed you have to work very hard and make some sacrifices.

Danny Boyle showed us the past we can be proud of and learn from and he gave us a glimpse of a future that might well be within our grasp.

I don't agree with some of the criticism that the whole thing was too British or too left wing - since when did Mary Poppins become a symbol of the left?  It was Great Britain showing the world why the IOC chose London to stage the games and show them we did!

I'm not sure that some countries watching would grasp the intrinsic Britishness of all the little bits of our culture that Mr Boyle stitched together but that doesn't matter,what they would have seen is a country unafraid in showing the world who we are - multicultural and artistically vibrant.

I really did think the whole thing was superb and the final surprise, the literal handing on of the torch to the next generation, well that was inspired.

As Paul McCartney started to sing I retired to my bed - couldn't we have found a younger singer?

A small criticism of what was otherwise a great show.

By the way, if you live in Cannock and you voted for the Tory MP Aidan Burley, I hope you feel ashamed of yourself. The man needs to be kicked smartly in the testicles by all of his constituents but that might have to wait until Mr Cameron and Boris have finished with him. Silly man.

He wrote on Twitter during the ceremony:

"The most leftie opening ceremony I have ever seen - more than Beijing, the capital of a communist state! Welfare tribute next?"

and

"Thank God the athletes have arrived! Now we can move on from leftie multi-cultural crap. Bring back red arrows, Shakespeare and the Stones!"

This morning after being roundly criticised for his comments he wrote:

"Seems my tweet has been misunderstood. I was talking about the way it was handled in the show, not multiculturalism itself".

You judge for yourself, but I think the man is a prize twat and I apologise if he takes offence at me calling him a donkey faced, addled brained, right wing Nazi loving tosser...but why should I apologise, he will only be misunderstanding my words!

OK teams - get your kit together, we have games to play....what do you mean you don't have your kit?

Right, you'll just have compete in your pants!

Park Life

It's raining...nothing new.

As far as I can tell this is a great test for creationism and evolution because one of two things will have to happen in the coming weeks. As the rain continues to fall either a man in a large wooden boat will start collecting animals or my toes will start to develop webbing and gills will start to grow on the side of my neck. Mrs B is hoping I turn into Patrick Duffy in his Man From Atlantis days.

If a modern day Noah is collecting animals can I suggest he leaves things like rats and mosquitos to fend for themselves but if he needs some foxes, well there is a family of them in the park behind the ashram here on the hill.

As you may well know, the palace of wisdom in which I keep my two thrones sits high on a hill overlooking Mansfield. This lofty position has many advantages, not least being that we will be the last to get flooded. Other advantages are that in the height of summer the smell of death and the flies that buzz around the decaying corpses of kebabs and vomit, don't reach this high. There is some noise pollution through the winter months, especially if the wind is in the wrong direction, as we can here the animals howling from the nearby Field Mill Endangered Species Park.

The main joy of living in the clouds is that we back onto a park, a lovely open space in which can be seen all sorts of wildlife and nature. There are the aforementioned foxes, the odd rabbit or two and then there are the tits.

Yes, in the summer the park is filled with tits but not so many recently after the park was invaded by Stags. It would appear the Stags have escaped from the Field Mill Endangered Species Park!

You know the problem with Stags is they are so territorial and they spend all day rutting and bellowing about how fantastic they are. Even Stags that would have no chance of being given a second glance if they were in a bigger arena try and put on a great display in the park at the back of my house.

Sadly, Stag hunting is not allowed and the Mayor of Mansfield has declared them to be a protected species and he has even given them a nice shiny security fence to keep danger at bay.

They are now free to run up and down and roll on the grass pretending to be hurt without the fear of a local peasant out walking his dog, getting in their way. It's a shame really because for many years that is what the Stag enclosure was used for - local people would take their dogs, or their kids and a picnic, and spend a nice quiet day in the park.

There are some cynics who will tell you that the Mayor and the head Stag keeper are in cahoots and that some cash may have changed hands, but that would just be a cynical allegation with no proof behind it whatsoever at all! I'm sure that the Mayor just decided to allow the Stags to take over the park because it might make him look like an animal lover.

Well, I'm an animal lover too - I like stags, especially cooked in red wine!

All of this tomfoolery will come to a head, the peasants are revolting and have even desecrated the Stags territorial markings...what next I wonder? Watch this space.

The Guru Rises

I have been quite remiss in not communicating with my devoted yet shrinking band of followers lately - let's put that right shall we?

Mrs B and I have had a very full diary of late with work and family issues plus we managed to squeeze in a weekend away in the Forest of Dean - these are not excuses for my absence as I'm sure you have not really missed me.

Whilst in the Forest of Dean, we took the time to wander through Puzzle Wood which is where they film some scenes for Merlin - I did search for the boy wizard and Mrs B later admitted she was hoping to bump into King Arthur - charming! I didn't know he was on the list of chaps she would leave me for. I think Michael Ball is no longer at the top of the list - she seems to have developed a thing for Neil Grayston (Douglas Fargo in Eureka).

Mrs B's new crush

Mrs B and I celebrated our 28th wedding anniversary whilst we were away and I think that makes ours one of the longest celebrity marriages in history. With all the stress and strain of fame, we have found a way to rise above it all - it's called humility.

This is why we continue to shop in Tesco when by rights we should have our groceries delivered by Ocado - it's because we want to stay grounded and not forget our humble beginnings. You would find it hard to believe that as a little baby Guru I was raised in very humble surroundings, my bed was a straw filled manger and I could never get any sleep because all these wise men kept popping in with useless presents. It begs the question, how wise could they have been if they thought a curious little Guru would not try and eat the frankincense? Hang on, I could be getting my childhood confused with someone else's again. Anyway, humble humble...

We could shop at our new Sainsbury store but it's very dangerous getting across the car park as the old folks battle it out for the disabled spaces nearest the entrance. They don't care if the car gets a dent or two, it's probably on Motobility anyway.

Whilst we are on the subject of celebrity marriage, the news has just broken that Katie Holmes is filing for divorce...a real shock!

Tom Cruise seemed to have everything going for him - good looks, health, more money than he could ever hope to spend in one lifetime, dazzling white teeth, the moral compass of his faith...what on earth does Katie think she is doing? Just because he believes in all that Scientology drivel and hangs about with John Travolta does not make him a bad person. It makes him something else.

Does the Church of Scientology believe in forgiveness I wonder? We will see.

The Church of England does believe in forgiveness as we witnessed the artist formerly known as Mrs Windsor shaking hands with the artist formerly known as a murdering cowardly scumbag.

The Queen personified grace and Martin McGuinness personifies progress I suppose - that handshake might move the peace process on a little further so it should be applauded. I recall having to write an essay about the threat of terrorism, this was in 1978 and so the bulk of the essay was concerned with Northern Ireland. Imagine if you were sitting down to write about terrorism today -  Ireland would not even get a mention I suppose.

The world has changed a lot in the 28 years that Mrs B and I have been married, for one thing she is now officially the cleverest member of the family as her first class honours degree out classes my 50m breast stroke badge. She continues to impress me and her latest piece of work is a 3000 word essay on mental health issues in young people and the co morbidity of other factors such as autism. She asked me to read it and I pretended to understand it but there is no doubt that Mrs B knows her stuff when it comes to dealing with mental instability - that's why she's managed to put up with me for 28 years!

So what else is happening in the world? Nothing new - bankers are wankers, the England football team didn't win anything, Wimbledon is here so it's raining lots, Wimbledon is here so Andy Murray will get beaten by Djokovic, Wimbledon is here so the Wombles have gone on holiday to Hampstead Heath.

Nothing changes - MP's still can't answer a question, the Pope is still Catholic and bears continue to defecate in the woods although Mrs B and I didn't spot any evidence of that in the Forest of Dean.

I suppose that French chap had it just about right when he wrote that the more things change the more they stay the same...

Oh well, the chocolate shadow is visiting and he has just indicated his desire to go for a walk and as this is a democracy and there are only two of us voting, he obviously wins. That's positive discrimination in action.

Enjoy the weekend and I may be back in the near future to report on Andy Murray winning Wimbledon...actually there is more chance of me becoming a Scientologist!

Sunday In The Reign with Liz

Let's get the Jubilee business out of the way - well done Mrs Queen for lasting 60 years. There will be all sorts of parties celebrating your longevity this weekend and I understand that they are planning to send you down the river in a viking long ship which they will then set on fire, whilst they flambé you in liqueur and serve you with ice cream, very tasty.

All over the country other people, who had their names drawn in a lottery, will be flambéed too - making a chain of beacons as far as the eye can see. What a celebration. And best of all, those who get chosen for this task will be the lucky ones who don't have to watch the concert outside Buckingham Palace!


I know, I'm miserable...in fact I have been defending the Queen of late, some upstarts have been saying that we should get rid of the Royal Family and replace them, as Russia and France did. I pointed out that a fairly benign monarchy is much better than a politically minded, money grabbing criminal being in charge.

Anyhoo, I'm not here to talk about celebrating sixty years on the throne - and I have avoided all toilet jokes on purpose - I want to talk about one aspect of Mrs Queens job description...Fidei Defensor.

As head of the Church of England, our beloved Queen legitimises a state religion and no doubt over the course of this weekend she will be in and out of cathedrals and abbeys being blessed by bearded men in long robes (not Gandalf).

You see not only do we have to celebrate her long reign, we have to thank god for this gift to the nation - well some of us don't believe in god, and it gets a little irritating when we are told that all good and great things come from up above. The mighty and beneficent god that is creator of all things and whose word should be obeyed without question...resistance is futile.

The gap between faith and fact is wide and filled with bitterness as those who stand on the opposite banks shout their opposing views at each other. I don't deny the right of anyone to believe but there should be an equal right of not believing.  I do believe in some things, like pointing out what I see as inconsistencies in blind faith and belief and if any of the faithful want to point out any shortcomings in my own values - please feel free.

I was browsing Twitter yesterday and came across a post from one of those rabid religionists in the USA. For someone who is supposed to be bathed in the love of god, they displayed a great deal of hatred. They hate everything that isn't godly, saving special venom for liberals, homosexuals and President Obama. This one was also having a go at the Queen and the British, describing the whole nation as 'vile'.

The lady in question then posted about her son being diagnosed with an illness and she asked everyone to pray for his recovery - it transpired that she did not believe in medical aid as all the lad needed was the power of prayer to cure his diabetes...I would have taken the young lad into care at this point but that's just me.

I asked what was the problem with medicine and got no reply - well I didn't expect she would speak to a godless heathen from a 'vile' country.

But why do the ultra religious sometimes spurn medical aid?

As far as I can tell there is nothing in the bible that prevents the use of medicine, in fact there are passages which talk about taking the leaves from trees to use as medicine.

If they believe that god created all life, including germs and viruses, then why can't they believe that he would have created cures?

If they believe that prayer is the answer how can they not believe that the answer might be whispered by god into the ear of a scientist who then discovers a treatment for diabetes?

These are logical questions and most sensible folk, even the faithful, will have rationalised the possibility that a god who created man might have given him the wherewithal to make his own way in the world without always having to bother the creator.

You cannot get answers to these questions though, because if you question faith you are in the queue for hell. It's a bit like the queue at Tesco but you don't get club card points when you check out!

The concept of just accepting things as they are, to never question anything, well it just seems atypical of what I understand humanity to be about. We question and we search for answers and we make progress and as we look back over the course of the last sixty years, we can see that in the UK we have made great leaps forward. Mrs Queen has overseen a nation that has grown up in many ways, but I suspect that we will never shake the link between church and state, that's one thing that we all have to live with.

The number of people who go to church is falling all the time (and I think people who are so hateful in the name of god are helping the cause of the logical much more than I ever can) but the pomp and pageantry of the big state occasions, with all the religious trappings, probably secures the Church of England for a bit longer.

I suspect that the 'vile' British don't really mind if Mrs Queen goes to church or not, as long as she smiles and waves and continues to exemplify that best of all British qualities - dignity.

God bless her little cotton socks.

Sadly, the rain is blighting the celebration of the reign and the country will have to rein in its enthusiasm or perhaps not!

The 'vile' British will always come out on top because we will just....

1977 - 1978

Greetings fellow travellers, hope the sunshine isn't too much of a shock for you all?

The title of our lesson today is pretty much self explanatory, it is a reflection of one year in the life of the Guru, and that year is a period that ran from mid 1977 to mid 1978.

Don't fret pet, I'm not going to go through the whole year - it is just that recent events have had me recalling those years when I was a teenage Guru and this period was quite an important time in many ways.

It was a little over a week ago that I attended the concert that I reported in my last blog and of course one of the main attractions of that concert was the music of John Williams, specifically the music of Star Wars.

Star Wars was released across the US in May 1977, here in the UK we had to wait until December but in the meantime Meco released the Star Wars theme as a disco track and I must admit it was played an awful lot in our 5th Form Common Room during breaks and the lunch hour.

I can't recall how many times I actually went to see the film after it was released but it was enough to qualify me as a fan, and as I was already a Trekkie this only added to my geek status.

I will never tire of watching the films (Episodes 4-6 of course) and the music is never off my playlist - both the disco version and the original soundtrack version.

1977 was a great year, not only did we have Star Wars and Close Encounters Of The Third Kind, there was also Saturday Night Fever, A Bridge Too Far and The Spy Who Loved Me.

The music of that era was to my liking - never really understood why the music of the 1970's is thought so bad. OK, we had David Soul and Leo Sayer but then we also had Fleetwood Mac, Abba, Stevie Wonder, and all the great dance tracks from the likes of Thelma Houston, The Village People and Donna Summer.

Punk was really getting started - I didn't join that party because I was not angry at anything - I was living a very contented life and so my musical taste reflected that.

Although the film of Saturday Night Fever didn't appear in the UK until the beginning of 1978, we had been hearing the soundtrack on the radio for sometime and I really did love that soundtrack because again it fitted my mood...I should admit that eventually I even bought a pair of white shoes which were proudly worn on the dance floor at various venues including Cinderella Rockerfella's in Lincoln.

Luckily Mrs B was not present at these occasions and I do wonder what she would have thought as I danced myself dizzy.

These were great times to be a teenager, and I suppose the death of Donna Summer and Robin Gibb have brought these memories to the forefront of my mind - adding to the great memories of the films we queued, and queued to see.

I'm glad I was born when I was and where I was, I had a very happy childhood and I was exposed to some great cultural influences - and how wonderful that the brightness of those times is captured forever in film and on disc and in our hearts.

Meco - Star Wars

Donna Summer - I Feel Love

Night Fever - The Bee Gees

Where's The Orchestra?

Forgive me, my children, for I have sinned. It has been some time since my last confession.

I was politely informed yesterday that I was neglecting my little flock so I return to the keyboard in the hope that I have not lost my touch.

A mixed bag of thoughts today held together by a tenuous link which you will have to try and spot for yourself.

I have been living the bachelor life for a few days as Mrs B is required elsewhere, and as yet I have not resorted to fish finger sandwiches as my only source of sustenance. Although tonight I will be savouring the delights of a Sainsbury's own brand Balti curry with a smattering of samosas as an aperitif.

You will please take note that the curry is not from Tesco - well I tend to avoid the place if not accompanied by Mrs B, as I am liable to say something politically incorrect to the staff...and the troglodytes.

The terror of Tesco aside, it was still bad enough standing in a short queue at Sainsbury's and hearing the checkout girl go through the checklist of statements that they are trained to deliver - the first being "sorry to keep you waiting".

"I've not been waiting, I've been queueing and there is a difference" came my rather barbed reply.

The girl looked up and almost swallowed her chewing gum. She then said, without the slightest hint of irony whatsoever, "sorry you've had to queue".

I decided to carry on being mean and said, "but I love to queue, it's why I come to supermarkets and may I say the quality of your queue is first class at the side of some I have been in".

I waited for the flash of inspiration to brighten her glazed eyes, but she simply lowered them back to her duties and intoned "do you need a bag today". (It was so deadpan it didn't even deserve a question mark).

I just gave up - "yes please" was all I could muster.

I packed my things and walked away thinking about how lonely and isolated she seemed to be, sat there in a huge building full of people and yet disconnected from it all. The corporate beatings in the back room as they drilled the statements like 'have a nice day' into her, had left her a very sad sight indeed.

I have also this week performed a funeral ceremony for a man who chose to live away from the rest of humanity, or distance himself as far as he could from the rest of us. He died alone under the wide and starry sky and was not missed for quite some time.

Now this would at first glance strike you as a sad tale but then you must remember that he lived this way by choice.

As I stood waiting to conduct his funeral I watched the wind blowing through the trees in the grounds of the crematorium and a thought came into my head. I included this thought in the ceremony and it passed over the heads of the few who had gathered to pay their respects, pretty much without effect.

The thought was this - when we are most alone we realise that we can never be totally alone because at that point we realise we are connected to everything.

Hearing the wind in the trees made me understand how a man on his own might hear god whispering to him, if he had that sort of mindset. Others may stand and hear the wind in the trees and tune into that more natural conversation that takes place between a man and his environment. I suppose it's a sort of pantheism or a spiritual humanism as we realise that although we may place ourselves at the top of the food chain, but we are still part of the food chain.

Is this too deep? Sorry, but I feel the need to press on - very much like a sanitary towel.

On Saturday I was lucky enough to go and see the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, perhaps I should say I was lucky enough to go and hear the CBSO. It was a brilliant concert in which they played the music of John Williams, with excerpts from Jaws, Star Wars, Harry Potter, Saving Private Ryan and Schindler's List.

An orchestra is made up of about 100 players and each of them bring their individual skills to the event and as they play you can see how lost they are in their part of the process of making music.  But it only works because the sum of all the parts is greater than their individual efforts. And yet, take one of them away and what happens?

Let us consider the case of the man who plays the triangle. It always amazes me that above the swell of the strings and the strident notes of the horns you can hear that 'ting' of the triangle so clearly.

The man who lived apart, the girl on the checkout, me without Mrs B, we all have our part to play in the orchestration of the music of life and I'm going to make sure my triangle is heard.

The battle to be who we are and who we want to be - what a challenge it can be on occasion.

In a world that is trying to beat us all into submission and sit us all at the checkout of life intoning bland statements by rote, we should never miss a chance to listen to the wind in the trees. You might just hear the wind, you might hear something that only you can hear but I bet the next time you do stand and watch the trees dance to the music of life, you will hear the triangle...because that will be you.

An Innocent Man

Just when you thought I would never bother you again, here I am.

Life has been very busy here on the Hill, it is starting to calm down a little now and hopefully later this week we will return to normality - or a new state of normality at the very least.

It doesn't take much to throw the normal routine of life into chaos does it? A family illness, a mechanical issue with your car, a dispute with a large corporation over £60 being nabbed from your bank account - it all makes day to day life a little less cheery.

Then there was the weather of course, bucket loads of rain falling all over the country adding to the misery levels.

I sometimes think that if we didn't have the weather to moan about, some folk would never have a conversation!

Perhaps we should move to the substantive part of todays communiqué or Bull as I would like it to be known.

A Papal Bull is a letter from the Pope and most of them are just that....bull!

Collective muttering - 'Here we go, another swing at the Catholic Church'.

I sat and watched Darragh MacIntyre's documentary about child sex abuse in the Catholic Church last night, it made disturbing viewing.  Much of what he reported had been in the public domain for a while but the really shocking thing was the revelation that Cardinal Sean Brady, the leader of the church in Ireland, had been involved in an alleged cover up of abuse.

He had been a priest at the time, charged with investigating allegations into the conduct of Father Brendan Smyth and he took a statement from a very brave boy who outlined the levels of abuse he and others had suffered. The young boy, Brendan Boland, even provided names and addresses of other victims he was aware of, before being sworn to secrecy by Brady.

The information was never passed on nor acted upon and the abuse of the other children continued for many years.

Brady had formerly stated that if he thought any action or inaction of his had led to young people being victimised, then he would resign and yet faced with this allegation he steadfastly hangs onto power and uses weasel words to justify himself.

He claims he is an innocent man - well thank goodness his innocence is important to him, because the innocence of the children his church was supposed to care for was obviously not important at all.

Father Brendan Smyth died in prison, does that make his victims sleep easier? I doubt it.

The Catholic Church should just come out and apologise totally and without any caveats, there can be no excuse for the perpetuating of abuse by hiding the facts.

There we have it then, my little Bull. And if any of you are thinking of Tommy Steele, you must be as old as me!

Old Friends

I'm not sure about all of you but I am pretty much fed up with the rain on the roof as it goes pit-pitty-pat and if I had a kitty cat I would tell it to sit. (If you get this reference well done).

Life is very full at the minute my dears, filled with the very real ups and downs of life and so taking time to escape for a coupe of hours is even more welcome which is why last evening we ventured to the Theatre Royal in Nottingham to see a performance of Save The Last Dance.

One of Mrs B's work colleagues commented that we seem to go to the theatre an awful lot - and perhaps we do. What is wrong with that I ask?

I have a pile of tickets next to me that will see us visit local theatres for six forthcoming events as well as The Royal Albert Hall in a few weeks for The Night of 1000 Voices.

I suppose I still hanker after the thrill of appearing on stage, I did so love it. Perhaps I will find my way back again but in the meantime we invest our well earned pennies in that pile of tickets that open up the magical world of theatre and an escape from reality for a little while.

Save The Last Dance is what they might call a jukebox musical in that it is peppered with songs that were very familiar, most from the pen of Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman. Now these were names that I could not say I had heard before but you will know the songs of that I am sure: Sweets For My Sweet, Teenager In Love, Suspicion, His Latest Flame and Viva Las Vegas to cite just a few.

The show was written by Laurence Marks and Maurice Gran and has been produced by Bill Kenwright and Laurie Mansfield.

Lord Sir Bill of Kenwright is a very wise man and he has put together a show that will leave the audience with a huge grin on their face and a song on their lips as they trip through the discarded toffee wrappers and empty ice cream tubs back out into the rain.

The story is a simple one and initially I thought too simple but in the end you realise that the simplicity of girl meets boy works really well. A white girl from Luton meets a black USAF airmen whilst on holiday in Lowestoft, what follows is a sweet love story which deftly looks at the racism of an era. The events are  set in the 1960's thereby allowing the backdrop of some wonderfully evocative music.

The actors are what you might call unknowns but they deliver a fine ensemble performance with many doubling up as members of a brilliant band. The longer the show went on the louder the response from an almost packed house, singing along with all of the songs we recalled so easily. This was an audience of a certain age whose connection to the music was evident, not least displayed in the fact that the family sat in front of us had come decked out in 1960's period costume.

Not everything was perfect with the show, one of the lead actresses needs to work on her diction when singing but even worse was a character called Carlo, an ice cream seller whose father was from Naples which meant he could try out a nice cod Italian accent but then we discovered he was really from Wolverhampton.

Not to blow my own trumpet, but I have experience of being on stage and deploying the lethal comedy weapon that is a Wolverhampton accent - the actor playing Carlo, Graham Weaver, could not contain the might of this weapon and his accent drifted badly until it landed just south of Liverpool! It was horrendous but...let me try that again...BUT, when Graham Weaver sang Hushabye all was forgiven. The most beautiful singing voice - clear, strong and pitch perfect.

It was a great night in the theatre and everyone had a good singalong and we did all go home very much brighter in spite of the rhythm of the pouring rain and the vicissitudes of life.

If the show comes anywhere near you I recommend you buy a ticket.

As an aside, if you are in London please go and see Shrek:The Musical as Alastair Natkiel is playing the role of Lord Farquaad from the 27th April for one week. He will be brilliant and as he is the most famous person I know in the West End I felt it my duty to let you all share him a little.

OK, I better go and make some progress work wise but I will be singing as I go, why not join me...


Save The Last Dance

Epiphany

Do you think that telling the truth is important? Do you think honesty and straightforwardness are virtues?

When I stand behind the lectern and deliver a funeral ceremony I have always tried to be guided by the needs of the family and those mourners who have come to support them and pay their respects. My ability to deliver a ceremony is based on the sharing of memories, as I am usually a stranger to the deceased.

I have to maintain a strong belief that what I am told is true and therefore I can repeat it feeling that I am speaking in honest terms about the life lived. I have often mused what I would do if I knew I was being fed a load of rubbish which I was then expected to regurgitate.

Delivering the eulogy is the easiest part of the job for me, creating it after visiting the family is the hard bit...you have to listen and listen carefully, not just with your ears but your eyes too.

In recent days I have delivered tributes for a lady who died at the age 94, and a man who ended his own life at 39.

In meeting with the families it soon became apparent that they both needed a degree of finesse in reaching a final ceremony that would serve their needs. For obvious reason I cannot go into specifics but needless to say I worked hard and prepared two unique ceremonies for two unique lives. The first was delivered without difficulty and the family were very pleased with the result, the second was more problematic because as I tried to deliver the ceremony I had prepared another one popped into my head.

It was for the same man but the words I had on paper did not come out of my mouth - instead I found myself talking about perspective and judgement.

We are very complicated creatures and we show different aspects of that nature to the people we share life with. Some are able to see more than one side of a personality because of the time they spend in that persons company but others might only see one glimpse of a mans life and from that glimpse draw a conclusion of what they are like.

The mourners all knew that the deceased had killed himself, and that had led some of them to reach a certain truth about him and his life - you could see the pity in their faces.

I pointed out that pity was a judgement on the life of the person they must have loved, or else why be at his funeral?

What really gives us the right to judge the life of another because of one choice and one decision that might have been driven by circumstances well beyond his control?

As it happens, I was very well aware of some of the reasons that may have helped this young man decide to end his life and I understood his choice. More than that, I can acknowledge his right to make that choice.

Buzzing around in my head as I spoke was a feeling that he had been truthful in his choice, and although some there believed his choice was indulgent and selfish it was plain that in his mind there was no other choice...and I knew as I looked into the eyes of his sisters that they believed that too. So I told THAT truth to the congregation. I challenged them to judge the choice if they wished but not to judge the man who made it.

Of course you don't have to agree with the choice, you can feel sad that it was made and that a life was ended, that is a valid response - but to judge the man is a different matter altogether.

I can hear you all saying, but Guru, you constantly judge others in your insightful witty way...this is true but of course I am the exception that proves the rule.

How do we sum up a life in words, in twenty five minutes, in a room that is designed to remind us of death? We could tell the story of where someone is born, goes to school, works, talk about their hobbies and retell a few funny tales or perhaps we should just acknowledge that a life is more than words and a list of things.

My closing words to the family and friends of the young man who died were something like:

...it's about the connection, that's the reason he sticks in your mind and in your heart and you know you'll never be rid of that feeling. It's because of all the choices he made with you, for you, because of you and of all the choices you made in return. It's because above all else he was who he was - and he could never be anything other than true to his nature. He was honest about that and he remained honest about that to the very end. Don't we applaud honesty in this country? Don't we hold honesty in high regard? Here lies an honest man...

Perspective and truth. I don't claim to be right all of the time and I know that some went away from that funeral a little lost but I also know that those who knew and loved that man best of all gave me the biggest hug and walked away with a renewed respect for the honesty of life and death.

The God-Why-Don't-You-Love-Me Blues

It's Good Friday and it is a day with special significance - I get my hair cut.

Only joshing, but you expected some little jest didn't you? That's why you follow me on this journey of discovery and I wanted to share with you this thought, that as you follow so shall you lead.

I was invited to speak on the radio this morning and to answer the question posed by the presenter Frances Finn, in a modern world is there still a need for and space for god?

In her preamble to the discussion Ms Finn described atheists and non believers as sceptics, likening us all to Dawkins as extremist secularists. She also stated that those without faith consider those with faith as weak minded. She went on to suggest that in our attitude we might be condescending and dismissive to those who believe in their god.

The first speaker who contributed was a vicar and he claimed that true believers in his faith helped their fellow man to make positive contributions to life, that being a man of faith meant that you reflected on your actions and that you were full of humility and open to the possibility of what god could do for you.

He did accept that some good was done in the world that was not motivated by faith nor delivered by people with faith - I thought that was magnanimous (I don't mean that in a condescending way).

I would challenge his view that only the religious are open to reflection and self examination, I'm sure many atheists are deeply introspective.

There were other callers who revealed their personal stories of how they had found faith or been supported by faith through very difficult times and these stories were quite moving and illustrated how some people really do find a lot of support in their faith and through their church.

So, now it was my turn and I first of all suggested that not all Humanists and atheists are exactly alike - we are not all Dawkins and it's a little tedious to be compared with him all the time - although it makes a change from Hitler and Stalin!

I was then asked if I looked down on people with faith and thought of them as foolish and weak minded and I responded that I may well have done at one time but I now think it a foolish thing to argue about.

It seems very clear that some people will always have faith in god, in whatever form that happens to be and I accept their right to believe in god. I believe their faith is real and all I ask is that they allow me to not have the same faith.

I was joined in this discussion by another vicar, a very pleasant lady vicar and she told me that she felt that each of us had a god shaped hole in our body that we need to fill. I answered that I filled it with living, with being the best person I could be and that for me it was as simple as you are born, you live, you die.

I reiterated my belief that we should all follow our own path and be happy in our choices and that arguing about it was pointless.

The vast majority of those who contributed did so to illustrate the strength of their faith but I was heartened that there was some acknowledgement that not all good deeds in our lives are gifts from god.

Later, as I was driving to have my ears lowered, it suddenly dawned on me that there are two real issues here - one is a right to believe and to have faith and a separate issue is does god exist?

In fact there is a further point that arises in my mind as I write this scripture - those who have faith believe that god exists and those who choose to live without god do not have to decide if he exists or not, but can simply choose to live without him influencing their day to day lives.

But this is where it gets complicated and the real arguments starts because many secularists believe that the belief in god influences so much of our daily life that we are forced to defend the alternate view with as much vigour as those who claim he exists.


Does this make sense?



A child puts a tooth under their pillow, they have been told that a fairy will replace the tooth with some money. When the child awakes in the morning and finds the money they will accept that a tooth fairy exists - they will have faith in that belief.

A child hangs a stocking on the end of their bed because they have been told Santa will fill it with presents and when they awake and find a DS Lite and a banana, they accept that Santa exists and have faith in that belief.

But of course the fact that children believe that the tooth fairy and Santa exist does not make it true and yet their faith in these stories brings them great happiness, joy and comfort.

In the same way that we do not rob our children of their faith in the magic of fairies and Father Christmas, we are asked not to rob the faithful of their belief in god and I have decided that this is a sensible way to proceed. Your right to believe is important.

But as children grow up they use their brains and they ask questions and they eventually come to a conclusion that tooth fairies and Santa might not be exactly what they were led to believe. Some of us go a little further and decide that not only do we not need a tooth fairy, but we don't need a god - in any form.


So that is my easter message this year, not as long as the Pope and not as pious (hopefully) but a simple heartfelt plea....please allow me to have no faith.

Right off you all go and make your choice about what you will fill your god shaped hole with...Mrs B suggests chocolate for her, well it is easter and that bunny will soon be here with all those eggs!



In hindsight - I may come across as a little condescending during this blog, that's just my human weakness...forgive me.