Before


It wasn’t really that long ago, that vaguely remembered time that we call “before.” Before the pandemic, before Brexit; before – when we still had a queen. Where has that time gone? How have we arrived to this place we refer to a now, when the Pound is at an all time low, and politicians are rewarding millionaires for the accomplishment with tax cuts that are equivalent to the annual wages of two nurses. Don’t forget this is all in the name of “growth.” If this is growth, I would rather descend back to my “smaller” self, the one I was before.


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A Word From The Broadcast Team

We thank you all – our loyal viewers

Who stand by us despite the reviewers

We might have with the original a few liberties taken

But the author would have approved, if I’m not mistaken

So maybe it doesn’t quite match the lore

But it’s really woke – who could ask for more?

So once again thanks for your subscription

It’s only that – that’s holding back our eviction


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Spiritual Couch Potato

The Americans claim to crown the “world champions” in baseball, basketball, and NFL football. Elsewhere in the world “the beautiful game” captures the hearts of millions. But if we are honest, the biggest spectator sport in the world is judging others. Various “reality” programmes and talent competitions catch our attention, not for the positives, but often for the chance to judge and ridicule those on screen. Gossip columns and TikTok channels abound with “constructive” criticism of the lives, or socio-political views of others. Being “woke” is to be a referee to the views of anyone less awake than one’s self.

This spectator criticism is a spiritual equivalent of being a sporting couch potato. We armchair referees love to show how everyone else is wrong. It is easy to comment on sporting figure’s play when we are in the couch. But do we get up and pick up the ball ourselves. Of course not. Neither do we examine our own spiritual lives and actively fix those.

Jesus said: “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?  How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?  You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye (Matthew 7:3-5).”

Let’s go get some spiritual exercise and lift a few planks.


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The Hedgerow

Pixabay

It would be easy enough to come away from that encounter thinking that some sort of agreement had been made. The truth, however, was far from being so tidy.

At issue was the seven-foot-high hedge that served as the boundary between the Miller’s and the Weaver’s properties. Technically the hedge belonged to the Weavers, but they were on the sun-ward side of the “Great Wall of Hinnington Avenue.” The Miller’s, therefore, had to suffer a near perpetual black-out of natural light in their kitchen.

It had been bad enough when the hedge was at eye-level, but now it was becoming a serious issue; especially with rising energy costs. Eve Miller finally worked up the courage to go confront her neighbour with the issue.

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” Jan Weaver asked in a exaggeratedly friendly tone.

“It wasn’t that bad until this summer,” Eve said feeling a little embarrassed.

“No worries, I will have Roger prune it back on the weekend,” Jan said with a smile.

“Thank you.”

And prune it he did, to exactly six-feet-seven inches.

Jan couldn’t believe that so little effort had been made. She hesitantly made her way next door to say so as well.

“But you said it had been fine until recently,” Jan said matter-of-factly.

“But,” Eve began.

“If you didn’t want it any higher than this, you should have said so long before now.”

And so began the First War of the Hedges.


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Based on actual events. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Leadership?


Mere variation on the theme

Of what we’ve seen before

Promises made and made again

From the stage or hustings floor

While I’m sure they are sincere in their intent

They will soon forget it all if to Number Ten they’re sent

Why should I find myself – so cynical too this degree

Just check the record of the past ten years

And I’m sure that you’ll agree


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The Unthinkable


It is becoming a crisis. Migrants are landing willy-nilly on beaches across the east and southeast of Britain. There also seems to be no concerted effort made to stem the flow of their arrival. In some areas the newcomers are beginning to outnumber and even displace the local population, and you can hear their unfamiliar language being spoken everywhere. I am afraid our culture will soon be changed forever* if we don’t do something about all these Anglo-Saxons.


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*450 AD

A Time to Pretend

When cavemen rode dinos

And cars fit in a briefcase

Be it the streets of Bedrock

Or someplace in space

Childhood was simpler

Our imagination could run free

Without our dreams – being seen as reality

Let kids be kids

Don’t sexualise

Let them pretend

Give them time to realise

They will go soon enough

All on their own

They don’t need us

To tell them they’re all grown


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