Teach or Preach?

Hello dear things, how the devil are you this fine day?

I have a quiz for you all and I expect you to give it your fullest attention and no cheating by reading down the blog to get the answers!

What connects the following and where do the words come from?

1. The sword of my youth
2. Strong hands skilled at the plane and the lathe
3. The cold wind in the winter
4. The verge of Jordan
5. My table
6. A mighty army
7. Toil and tribulation

Whilst you think about the answer let me tell you that this morning I was once again called upon to bring order to the universe by adding just a smidgeon of common sense and wisdom to a radio debate about god in school.

The question posed was, should god be allowed in school and my initial thought was that he should only be allowed in if he has a current Police check.

Only jesting my little lemmings, he might pass a Police check but as for his son, well that's another question. He asked for little children to come unto him and I don't think head teachers should allow that in school. (Catholics might take exception here).

The real point of this drivel is to explore the relevance of a collective act of worship in school, which is set down in law as something that should take place although a survey discovered that it doesn't - well not much.

Back to the radio where the argument for worship, and specifically Christian worship, was advanced by a lady vicar - not many of them in the Christian bible! The case against was delivered by a very grumpy member of the Secular Society who blames religion for all the worlds wrongs.

There were others who added their own thoughts, 'normal people' whose opinions should not be allowed on the BBC. The majority seemed to suggest that singing hymns and saying prayers in school prevented this country turning into a moral desert. Balderdash!

My few well chosen words of wisdom suggested that most people are moderate in their approach to this argument, but that the elevation of a Christian ethos as being more significant than any other was arrogant - that was the word I used my children; arrogant.

I suggested that a 'teach not preach' stance was probably what most people would find acceptable. Teach young people about various philosophies and religions and allow them to make up their mind - don't confuse the issue by saying there are many different ways to live but in this school we pray to Jesus because if you don't you're not British nor law abiding!

Some with a strong anti-religious view point will often say that children are born atheist and that enforced acts of worship are child abuse. That devalues the damage of real abuse so I don't subscribe to that argument.

It also strikes me as too simplistic and I don't really see how a baby can make the decision not to believe in something they are not yet aware of!

It's like saying I don't like the taste of marmite without ever having it in your mouth. If you like it you can swallow it, as some swallow religion.

Some would say we are all born with the love of god in our soul - and it would seem from recent scientific research that mankind as a species has developed a sense of common humanity and decency in that we want to support each other. But goodness does not lie solely within the purview of god - the Christian god that is.

We are all born with the capacity to think and learn and again, for me, this makes 'teach not preach' a good way forward. Give young people information and let them make a reasoned decision.

In America, religion is not allowed in school. The law states that actions in schools should  'neither advance nor inhibit religion'. Religion is still quite big in America, so keeping it out of the classroom doesn't seem to affect it adversely.

Let us drift back in time, to that little village where I raised. When I was a tiny little guru I went to a C of E school and we sang hymns to Jesus and we said prayers and the local vicar, Basil Spencer, came into the classroom and spoke to us about the bible. Singing those hymns and saying those prayers did not stop me in later life from making a decision to live without god, so I suppose you could argue that I am living proof that collective acts of worship might not be totally harmful?

But at school we were never taught about Hinduism, Buddhism, Shintoism, Sikhism, Islam, Judaism or Humanism - we were given no choice and again this is why I have an issue with the arrogance and power of an established church in England.

What I can never know is what might have happened in my life if I was told at ten or twelve that it was OK to think about living a life without god.

What I was unable to discover until much later in life is that  life without god can be a life of value.

I believe my life is an equally moral life when compared to some of the  hypocrites who drag their sorry arses to church each Sunday.

Ranting about moral deserts and how Hitler never sang Away In A Manger and that's what made him evil - well that doesn't really do anyone any good.

By the way, I'm really fed up with being compared with Hitler and Stalin just because I don't believe in god - yes they were not the nicest of men but let me offer for your consideration the actions of some real god fearing fellows, from history we have Torquemada and then a more recent addition to the Christians who kill brigade - Anders Behring Breivik.



Anyway, the answer to the questions - they are all lines from hymns I still recall singing at school:

1. When A knight won his spurs
2. Lord of all hopefulness
3. All things bright and beautiful ( which should be banned as it is creationist propaganda)
4. Guide me O thou great redeemer
5. The Lord's my shepherd
6. Onward Christian soldiers
7. The churches one foundation

Off you go now, you well informed rascals. Go out into the world and spread the word of Teach not Preach...if that's what you decide to do!

Soggy Sunday

Greetings my moist minions...the misty rain of despair is falling across the land and the car decided that 7am on a Sunday morning would be a good time to conk out!

Sorry to say that meant letting down the lovely Sarah Julian at BBC Radio Nottingham, but she had a kind word for me broadcasting to the world (or that part of the world that was awake and within the stations broadcast area) that I was a 'lovely Humanist from Mansfield'. That cheered me up for a while, then a second cup of tea tipped me from suicidal to mere melancholia.

I was looking forward to reviewing the papers but instead I sit at home, the chocolate shadow at my feet, pondering my next move.

My mood lifted again when I spread some extra marmalade on my toast and got another cup of tea and sat down to watch Doctor Who. I had recorded it last night, and I must congratulate Mark Gatiss on his witty and scary tale, this really is what Doctor Who should be about, in my opinion.

I did not watch it last night as I was giving Red or Black a chance to impress - it failed. Likewise X Factor is becoming terribly predictable and the lack of real talent is evident.  Half decent singers with a nice back story might give Louis Walsh a lump in his throat, but it won't put money in the bank I fear.

I was beginning to think the evening would be a total wash out when the clock ticked around to 9.15pm and BBC2 came to the rescue with the John Wilson Orchestra and its Hooray For Hollywood concert, recorded at The Royal Albert Hall as part of this years Proms.

Two wonderful hours filled with great movie music, with me trying to sing along.  However, Dave the chocolate shadow did not approve of my singing and tried to sit on my face. Everyone's a critic!

This was middle class heaven, I managed to successfully assault and defeat a bottle of Pinot and whilst listening to the music I pictured the scene later in the year when Mrs B and I will be sitting in the Royal Concert Hall Nottingham, hearing the concert LIVE!

Talking of class, yesterday I got invited to the Chatsworth Country Fair, with a Members badge at my disposal. Some of the Members were straight out of the Country Life book of stereotypes, dressed in tweeds of varying colours, talking very loud about all sorts of rubbish and basically only stopping to draw breath as the Duke and Duchess passed by.

We ignored them as best we could, although their noise made hearing announcements through the loudspeakers impossible.

Dave enjoyed himself, he had an ice cream and we sat in the Members enclosure and watched the Scurry racing, the birds of prey display and then the Parade of Hounds...men in their red jackets with little trumpets tooting out the instructions to a pack of rascally Beagles, some mournful looking Blood Hounds and finally the Fox Hounds themselves.

The main parade ring was well fenced to keep them all in and there were a few gates to allow people access and egress and being a country lad myself I understand what gates are for. You open them, walk through and then close it behind you. Not these toffee nosed, loud mouthed, Rupert Bears - they walked through with champagne flutes in hand saying in a loud voice - 'fetch me a hound, NOW!'

The result, several beagles and hounds made their bid for freedom - they were eventually rounded up and the Rupert's went back to grab some more salmon sandwiches and a drop more champers.

That was yesterday, now for the rest of today -  Sunday stretches ahead of me.

Mrs B is visiting family and I will meet up with her later after a work related visit to Hardy Barn - no, I've never heard of it either!

Dave will want to go to the park at some point but unless the rain buggers off he'll not got me out of the door...it might have to be a marathon Murder, She Wrote day.

Enjoy your Sunday

Is it worth the effort?

Greetings, my ever shrinking band of followers - I am considering whether the end is nigh?

On Tuesday morning I managed to drag my aged bottom into the BBC Radio Nottingham studio, where I sat with local novelist and academic, Nicola Monaghan. We were there to discuss the weekends news stories with our host Mark Dennison, ably supported by his production team of James and Lewis.

We talked about Libya and housing and school uniforms and other more frivolous matters and I think the whole thing went OK, but in an off-air conversation, Nicola told me that she had read my blog...oh dear.

Someone who makes a living writing, someone who has published several novels and has a new one on the way, someone who leads the creative writing BA course at The University of Nottingham...she read my blog.

I only ever expected a few people, close friends and family members, to actually find time in their day to wade through the rubbish I commit to this blog - but there have been times when I have reached a wider audience.

A blog entry about Mrs B making me clean the cupboards out was a smash hit with hundreds of readers from around the world. I still have not worked out why people were so keen to hear about Mrs B's Marmite or my collection of pepper.

As I make an effort to re-read some of my previous outpourings of wisdom, I note how the blog has changed, with many silly attempts at humour and occasionally a very serious and worthy piece about something that has disturbed the aura of the Guru.

Anyway, Nicola said some quite nice things about the blogs, which in itself unsettled the aura...and you are never quite sure if comments are made out of pure politeness.  That is not to say that for a moment my head swelled ever so slightly, but it did make me re-evaluate whether this was something that I should now put away, having reached a possible zenith in my linguistic meanderings.

Perhaps the time has come for the Guru to drift into retirement and solitude, hermit like to live out the remainder of my days in my little office, typing no more than 140 characters to those Twitterers who I have entranced with my false humility?

Rest on my laurels and reflect on a glorious past in the same way that an ageing Bruce Wayne would eventually have to hang up his cape and recall the echoes of past battles with The Joker and his minions.

But then I thought, NO!

I do not write these blogs just so that they will be read, although I will share them and make them available hoping that someone makes the effort!

The fact is that of my 127 Facebook friends only a a small percentage read the blog, that is a choice they make and I have no problems with anyone choosing what they spend their time doing, but you could read this blog and still have time to look at porn before Blue Peter starts!

I write the blogs for me - and for a small but loyal band of feeble minded muppets who have nothing better to do with their time than read the brain snot of a self styled Guru, who conceals behind that facade, the real face of the author.

Oh yes, the real me peeks out occasionally, but in truth the sarcastic,witless, politically incorrect Guru gives me the cover to be a little outrageous.

This blog is heading nowhere fast, so perhaps I should just say that writing this entry has allowed me to clarify in my own mind that I should continue to write when I have something to say, I will also continue to write when I have nothing to say because I say nothing better than anyone I know!

Yes, be not troubled my faithful followers - even if no one hears this tree falling in the forest, I'm going to keep my chopper in my hand.

Enjoy reading the blog, if you don't read it who cares - and if you read it and you do enjoy it, keep it to yourself otherwise men in white coats might be dispatched!


Phone rings...Hello

BBC Nottingham, Sunday morning, newspaper review,7.50am, don't be late!

The Guru is back in business!

Blue Thursday

Nothing saddens me more than conducting funerals for young people - and when I look back over the last few years I seem to have officiated at far too many.

I recall ceremonies for babies who have died after taking a few short breaths of air, and even sadder are the ceremonies for those that didn’t even make it that far - born asleep.

There are young people who are afflicted with illnesses such as melanoma, leukaemia, meningitis and how sad it is to see their potential for a happy life cut short. The way in which some meet death by battling for every last drop of life can be inspiring and sets us all a true example for how we can deal with adversity of this kind.

There are those who have been killed in traffic accidents, and those who have been the victim of crime and I shall always recall the funeral of a little girl, neglected by her family, who died in awful squalor - their presence at her funeral just felt wrong. They were not there for her in life after all.

This week I conducted a funeral for a young man who had taken his own life - a tragic call for help that had gone a little too far and resulted in his life being lost.

The young man was a very private and proud individual, he was battling some deep personal issues and in the end, for similarly personal reasons, he took the course of action that would lead to his death.

His family are devastated - and they will have to live with those awful questions - was there something we could have done or said? What signs did we miss that this was going to happen? They will tear themselves to shreds in the days ahead trying to answer these unanswerable questions.

Sometimes, and I do not know the circumstances of this case, but sometimes part of the blame lies in our society and the fact that we will not accept people for who they are - we judge them and label them lesser than ourselves because what they do with their life is not ‘normal’.

This bigotry and hatred is based in ignorance and may be stoked by religious intolerance and I find it the most unchristian aspect of christianity and likewise the most uncaring and inhuman side of other world religions.

If one person takes their life because they feel that their life is not valued, then it lessens the value of all of us…

I don’t want to conduct funerals for young people but sometimes circumstances we cannot change make that necessary - but it makes me sad and angry that I have to conduct funerals for anyone, of any age, who has taken the choice to end their life because no one understands or accepts them for who they are.

Riotous Laughter

Hello, is anyone left out there or are you all in prison for looting Primark and Dorothy Perkins?

I have resisted the urge to offer a view on the recent disturbances, I did not want anyone to feel that I was making light of the situation, especially as people lost their lives, their livelihoods and their homes.

Then it occurred to me, if I don't carry on then I am letting the lawless thugs rule - so I'm here, with brush in hand, and I intend to carry on being insensitive, witless and sarcastic, because you deserve me!

As I write this modern masterpiece in social exploration, the Prime Minister is on his feet in a recalled parliament basically bollocking the Police for not being tough enough on the ruffians, bollocking parents for not being strict enough with their little lambs and bollocking anyone who isn't sat within a few feet of himself, because no matter what caused the riots it's got nothing to do with politics!

What he wants to see, and what the general public want to see is flogging, water cannons, rubber bullets, more flogging and perhaps the odd execution.  That'll learn the little buggers a serious lesson in how to behave. Just think of all the new jobs created in the Department of Public Correction and Humiliation.

The blame game is well advanced on this one, parents are getting it in the neck because the kids should be at school not roaming the streets - talk about MP's being out of touch...it is the school holidays I think!

Parents do have to take their share of the blame, you see it all starts at home when kids are very young. Let me paint you a word picture...

Little Johnny and little Mary are playing with their toys in the playroom of their humble little five bedroomed home in leafy suburbia. Johnny likes his pretend tool kit and Mary likes her fluffy little pussy cat. Suddenly, Mary grabs hold of the tool in Johnny's hand and snatches it away - obviously Johnny cries out and this noise attracts the attentions of the au pair Ingrid. (Mum and Dad are working in the City).

Ingrid, hearing the noise, asks the plumber with the big droopy moustache to pull his trousers up, and she goes to investigate...she discovers little Johnny sobbing and little Mary trying to insert the tool into her lunchbox. (You thought I was going to say fluffy pussy didn't you? - You disgust me!)

Ingrid turns to little Mary and says, 'would you like to give Johnny his toy please Mary?' and Mary says 'No! Mummy told us both that we should share our toys'.

And there we have it - the whole problem of looting, take what you want because mummy said to share and the au pair accepts the situation because she wants to help a plumber loosen his nuts.

We should come down hard on these awful parents who teach children that they can take what they want, we should really teach them all to be selfish and only play with toys that they have purchased themselves from their trust funds.

Let me pose this question...are all looters really bad people?

Of course they are - why are you even thinking about it! You are going on the list my friend...Eric Pickles will have your guts for garters, and your liver for breakfast.

You see, life is really simple - there are the 'haves' and there are the 'have nots' - I am a 'have not' because I don't have a brand new plasma screen, Nike trainers or a Blackberry.

Do you think I can apply for some benefits to help me go on a training course so that I can learn how to get all of those lovely things? If I do, they wont last long...my next door neighbour is called Little Mary, and she believes in sharing.

Well I hope this has helped you all understand the world a little better, I'm off now to brush up on my back hand, fancy applying for the post of chief flogger in residence, Mansfield District Council.


Just an afterthought - If I have offended anyone with this blog I do apologise - but it's not my fault - it was my parents and my lack of education and a job and that I don't believe in god.