These are the days of Miracle & Wonder!

Is Global Warming Caused By Prayer?

Christians believe that prayer 'works' - ie. that God promises to respond to it:

"Whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith," Matthew 21:22
"Ask, and you shall receive," John 16:24
"I tell you, whatever you ask, believe that you have received it, & it will be yours." Mark 11:24
"Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do," John 14:13
"The prayer of a righteous person has great power," James 5:16

People - me occasionally included - regularly pray for 'good weather' (ie. hot, sunny days).  Whether it's a loved-one's wedding, an open-air evangelistic meeting, or just the annual church fete, climatic intercession is never too far from our thoughts.  Jesus did calm the storm, after all.

So is it too much to wonder whether the Almighty has been granting all these little faith-filled requests, resulting in cumulative global temperature increase over time?  Did God cause global warming by granting our prayers?

Conclusion:
No, it's because we fill the air with carbon dioxide, methane, and ozone.
Nice try though.

Jesus explains Lent to the disciples

He knows the score.

"So what," I hear you ask, "is the Shahid-Rowe household doing for Lent?"

Well (replied Mr Rowe), we've effectively been fasting for 3 weeks already, due to our Paleo Month, which explains the lack of pancakes yesterday.  Therefore, the idea of giving up even more than grains, sugars, pulses and other non-hunter-gatherer-type* foods is not exactly on our radar, especially since Maria is barely getting enough into her to stay alive anyway.

But I like Lent, and I want to 'do it'.

So what we've decided is to give up the 'giving up' side of the Fast, to sidestep it and instead use this period of the Church calendar to instil certain otherwise-lacking disciplines into our lives.  I won't give you the whole list, but for example, every day until Easter I am going to be spending 20 minutes sitting in silence.  Something I've always planned/wanted to have a go at, but never got round to.

And may God use the season to transform our hearts and lives.  Amen.

*TRIPLE HYPHENED WORD - I WIN!!!

DIETS: the cause of all war & suffering on Earth

Maria & I are going Paleo for a month - see here.

Which gives me the perfect excuse for a gratuitous PG Wodehouse quote:

It has sometimes seemed to me (said Mr Mulliner, thoughtfully sipping his hot Scotch and lemon) that to the modern craze for dieting may be attributed all the unhappiness which is afflicting the world today.

Women, of course, are chiefly responsible.  They go in for these slimming systems, their sunny natures become warped, and they work off the resultant venom on their men-folk.  These, looking about them for someone thay can take it out on, pick on the males of the neighbouring country, who themselves are spoiling for a fight because their own wives are on a diet.

Before you know where you are, war has broken out with all its attendant horrors.

[from 'The Juice of an Orange' in Blandings Castle]

I Like Big Props and I Cannot Lie

[click the title below to listen]

Props

I like big props and I cannot lie
You rugger-lovers can't deny
That when you see the fat boys scrumming down
With a 'crouch-touch-pause-engage'
You feel chuffed
With a proud chest out-puffed
Cos you know those props look tough

Deep in the mud at Twickers
You'll find a dumb ox like Vickers
Or maybe, it's a swampy fixture
Like Fran Cotton in that picture

Some League fans tried to recruit me
But with scrums like that - please!
Someone shoot me!
Ooh, God Almighty
I like to see them feisty
So scrummage, boys, scrummage
Use that epic tonnage

We've all seen them playing
Stuck in, with no complaining
They sweat, threat, keep going in dry or wet

I tire of old Australia
With a front row that's a failure
It's an average team, easy to stop
If you don't believe in props

So fellas, fellas - does that front row make you proud?
Then praise them, raise them; sing their names out loud.
Rugby needs props

[eighteen stone with a face like coleslaw]

I like them round and big
Ugly like a pig
I would not love this game if the scrum was dropped
And we lost our props
Those cauliflower ears
Say no - double up - no fears
Not talking about half-breaks
When a prop sidesteps, the Earth shakes!

I like them real thick like a brick
Ruck over
If you want that ball quick
On my perfect rugby canvas
Is a front-row hand-off
In the face of a stand-off

With legs like Os du Randt
Big and wide like an African elephant
Solid in the rear
Like that Tongan, Soane Tonga'uiha

Why not?
A blood-clot mug-shot
Fat and squat like Gareth Chilcott
Pretty-boy face like Graham Roundtree
And harder than an iron foundry
Running wild in a strop
Like a triceritops
We need to love our props

So ladies, ladies - how d'you feel about having more babies?
If you feed them lard and beer by the yard
They'll be madder than dogs with rabies
Rugby needs props.

The Divine Jeeves

We all love Jeeves.

Obviously, no one is legally permitted to fail to admire someone publicly approved of by Stephen Fry, but this is more than that: we love him.  Jeeves is the superhero without an ego; the unfailing saviour of the situation; the grown-up we all long to have hovering thoughtfully in the background, so that we can continue being children-in-adult-form, a la Bertie.

"You'd better consult Jeeves," I said.
"A hot and by not means unripe idea! Where is he?"
"Gone back to the kitchen, I suppose."
"I'll smite the good old bell, shall I? Yes? No?"
"Right-o."
Jeeves poured silently in.
"Oh I say, Jeeves," began Cyril, "I just wanted to have a syllable or two with you. It's this way..."

It should have been obvious to me long ago, but I'm afraid I've only just realised:
Jeeves is Jesus.

Think about it!  He is the king of servants - the Servant King; he is the selfless righter of wrongs; he is the all-knowing encyclopaedia; he arrives when needed, saves the day, then shimmers off to do something we don't need to know about behind the scenes.  'Jeeves,' as Bertie often remarked, 'You stand alone!'

But let me correct myself.  When I say Jeeves is Jesus, I'm not saying that he is actually the Real Jesus or even a allegorical reflection of Him.  No.  Jeeves is the fake Jesus - the one the Christians believe in.

This is the Jesus who will find me a parking space but not step in to provide food for starving refugees; the Jesus who will grace my job application with a supernatural anointing but doesn't care too much what I do with the salary.  This is the Jesus whose world revolves around me: answering my pleas, sorting out my problems, then bringing me a whisky-and-soda.

Christians have been very attached to this Jesus for such a long while because that's what we wish He was like - the fairy godmother, the genie in the lamp, Father Christmas - and it's often the process of discovering that He's not really like that which makes us lose our faith.  Rather than the long, often-lonely pilgrimage to wherever-it-is that the Real Jesus has got to, we prefer to stick to our domesticated God, who will fetch and carry and recommend the correct tweed sports jacket for the occasion.

How many of my prayers are really requests for a butler to come along and do it for me?  How much of my worship is in response to the times when He has?  How much of my life is lived as if God Almighty is my employee, rather than I his?

Jeeves has been my Jesus for too long.

a small contribution to the SNP's cause

Things I Heard Today

Girl 1 [dragging friend round Boots]:  I just need something to make my lips go all fat.
Girl 2:  A punch?

Old Lady:  Oh look, there's the opticians!
Husband:  Where?

Alan Bennett's got nothing on me.

The Apocalypse most feared by Christians

beating Australia brings us together

Sometimes being English can be hard, especially when living abroad (cos there's always someone to apologise to).  But occasionally, the sons of Albion can stick out their chests (and stiff upper lips and beer-bellies) in pride without guilt.  That's the joy of beating Australia at cricket.

To illustrate, here are some messages from delirious Englishmen spread around the nations, as found on various ball-by-ball commentaries:

John Smith: I am an Englishman living in China.... oh what joy, what bliss just to hear the deafening silence and to read the front page of the Aussie papers in the coming days………

Rod: I'm following the action from Sabah in Malaysia, thats the former British North Borneo for those who don't know. I keep updating every 5 minutes on my phone, so its hard to get much work done.

Dale from Billericay, living in Austin Texas: Well, I don't know which demolition job was more thorough - the English bowling attack or the thirteen family members that we had round for Christmas Dinner!

Geoff Purdy: I am sitting on an oil rig in the Arabian gulf and until this morning bemoaning my lot about having to fly out here on the 23rd of Dec and missing Xmas. Don't care now. 

Dave Foster: I'm an Englishman in Jakarta. Just waiting til we get the lead and then go and meet some of my Oz friends(?) down the pub and give them some stick.

Chris West: Spending Christmas in Maui where 99.99% of the population doesn't have a clue what's going on just 3 time zones away at MCG. Come on England!

Stuart Cornberg, ex-Brummie in Israel: Woke up, looked over at Jerusalem heard the score and went back to bed. My best dreams were not as good as this, checked all possible ways to ensure that that I was alive.

Melanie Clegg: I'm tired, I'm living in a foreign country, and I'm beginning to lose my grasp of the English language.  Here I sit, nearly as far north as you can get in Norway, diligently following OBO while I repair dog harnesses. Difficult to share either joy or despair with a Norwegian, when they don't have the faintest idea about cricket. Here it's all handball. Why make a sport out of a foul?

John Butler: Christmas day in New Delhi: tried Indian port - absolutely disgusting. Tasted like off Vimto. Crawled to the TV at five holding off the urge to vomit - a few hours later I've made the perfect poached eggs. Deep saucepan, water simmering, splash of vinegar, spin the water, as the vortex slows gently drop the egg in, leave for three minutes then pick it out with a spatula and check white is hard yolk is soft. Slam it on toast cracked pepper, a grating of cheese and a generous helping of Aussie wickets. Absolutely divine.

Ed, Essex: Let's face it cricket fans, the best present at Christmas comes right at the end of the day and is most certainly the Boxing Day Test at the MCG.

Richard: Just finished Christmas dinner here in the Cayman Islands and while the rest of the family are watching some film that I have never heard of, I am following the cricket on TMS but I cant help but wonder if anyone knows of a sports bar open in Grand Cayman that I could sneak off to under the pretence of going for an after-dinner walk.

Gerard Ross, in sunny Yorkshire: Best night shift ever.

Tom: Just taken a helicopter flight up to view the Himalayas in Kathmandu. Logged on and saw something even better - Australia all out for 98! Does it get any better than this?

Brian in Siberia: You've got to hand it to Straussy... what a call to put the Aussies in again after getting hammered doing it in the previous Test!

Lee Westwood [via Twitter]: Will somebody please pinch me! I must wake up soon! I knew I shouldn't have eaten all that cheese! 98 all out? Have there been any calls for a Shane Warne comeback yet? It's about that time!

 

The Best of Times, and the Worst of Times

Most British Christians are aware that the Church in our country isn't exactly in 'all conquering' mode just now - the CofE in particular is rarely more than a figure of public ridicule, as it comes to terms with its fall from power and influence etc.etc.

But that does presume that things used to be better.  Read on:

E. W. Benson, the first Bishop of Truro, spent much time travelling through Cornwall in the 19th century...

The pastors in many of these isolated hamlets were an odd bunch; one 'candidly acknowledged that he had little time for visiting his flock as his garden gave him so much pleasant occupation' while another vicar 'never set foot in his church at all, far less held any kind of service there'.

In his case, other clergy took the services, and the patron's plea that 'for the sake of example couldn't you just go to church yourself sometimes?' was to no avail: 'He preferred to stroll to the garden-gate of the vicarage which adjoined the church clad in a flowered dressing-gown and smoking a hookah, and when his parishioners came out he chatted with them very amiably.'

[from an old speech I read online]

Personally, I think that the first church to introduce hookahs (or arghiles, as we Lebanese call them) as a sacrament, wins.

I go away for a fortnight, and what happens?

 

Moral Fibre? I eat that for breakfast!

A recent message from my ex-flatmate Clare:

David.
I just wanted to let you know that before the news came out about John Terry, I had a dream that you became England captain because you were 'morally trustworthy'.
So there.

Can't really argue with that, can you?

Sleep Talkin' Man, assorted quotes

Just discovered this today: here.  Listen to the audio files on the left.  Amazing amazing amazing - I love humans!  Feels like this guy becomes the Mighty Boosh in his sleep - God bless his girlfriend for sharing it all with us.  Here are some examples:

"I've got a really terrible terrible feeling about this custard tart. Terrible."
"Oompa loompas don't sing in heaven. They tidy up the clouds."
"Don't leave the duck there. It's totally irresponsible. Put it on the swing, it'll have much more fun."
"Look. Look at my left foot. Look at my left foot. Smack you in the face!"
"Enough with the cheese. Enough!"

"You can't be a pirate if you haven't got a beard. I said so. MY boat, MY rules."
"Can you hold my starfish? It doesn't like it when I'm getting excited. Oh look, it likes you!"
"The plumbing doesn't help with the cucumbers anymore."
"I love the fact you're a moose. Yes. So soft, so soft."
"Oh, we're going to be late for the pogo ballet, stop it!"

"Fluffy bunny + twitchy nose + big ears = great stew."
"I haven't put on weight. Your eyes are fat."
"Big pig. Massive oink. Little curly tail."
"Look at the size of your bath. I can pee in it and you'd never notice."
"I can't control the kittens. Too many whiskers! Too many whiskers!"

"Butter... nut... squash. I like those words."
"Yah, I can't believe in God when I'm THIS good."
"I want to be a cowboy. I don't want to be a panda. Pandas are boring, stupid & boring. Bad panda!"
"Robots making sweets? But they've got no taste buds! Metal smarties."
"Awesome. Teddy bears bungie jumping."

"Vampire penguins? Zombie guinea pigs? We're done for.... done for." 
"Vegetarians will be the first to go. Vegans haven't got a hope. 'I eat air, I'm so healthy...' Bollocks!"
"This fish has got big floppy lips. Fishy kissy fishy kissy. Oops, took one on the mouth! Not nice."
"Give me back my hands! Limb thief!"
"I demand compensation in cola bottles. Lots of fizzy cola bottles. In one lump sum."

You know where you can stick your over-exuberant Christmas Lights, don't you?

Important Questions!

One of the advantages of living in such an exciting, joined-up world community is that find ng out what everyone else is doing/thinking/saying is pretty easy.  For example, type 'what is' into Google and allow it to suggest a completed questions, and you instantly discover what is most commonly on other people's lips/keyboards.

So here are a selection.  I've put the actual question in bold, the rest is what Google suggests.  Welcome to a world of important questions demanding to be answered.  It's comfortingly peculiar:

Why doesn't glue stick to the inside of the bottle?
Which is the only king in a modern standard pack of cards that doesn't have a moustache?
What are these strawberries doing on my nipples I need them for the fruit salad?
Why can’t I own a Canadian?
Why is there a dead Pakistani on my couch?
Why won't my parakeet eat my diarrhoea?
Who isn't your sister and isn't your brother but is still a child of your mother and father?
Why should you never weigh a hot object?
Will your grandchildren be Jewish?
How could you separate tellurium dioxide from silicon dioxide?
What do snails eat?
Why do Indians smell?
Where is Chuck Norris?
What won't Meatloaf do for love?
Who moved my cheese?

I used to presume that the funny guys at Google put these suggestions in as a joke, but now I'm not so sure.  I think life is weird enough to engender these kind of results.

The Marvellous Mr Chesterton

[Quotations from the great GK, helpfully arranged into categories to make it easier.]

Religion

If I had only one sermon to preach it would be a sermon against pride.

It is the test of a good religion whether you can joke about it.

The Bible tells us to love our neighbours, and also to love our enemies; probably because generally they are the same people.

To love means loving the unlovable. To forgive means pardoning the unpardonable. Faith means believing the unbelievable. Hope means hoping when everything seems hopeless.

Philosophy

Do not free a camel of the burden of his hump; you may be freeing him from being a camel. 

An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered.

I've searched all the parks in all the cities and found no statues of committees.

Love means to love that which is unlovable; or it is no virtue at all.

No man who worships education has got the best out of education... Without a gentle contempt for education no man's education is complete.

There is no such thing on earth as an uninteresting subject; the only thing that can exist is an uninterested person.

Being Human

The trouble with always trying to preserve the health of the body is that it is so difficult to do without destroying the health of the mind.

The true object of all human life is play. Earth is a task garden; heaven is a playground.

To be clever enough to get all that money, one must be stupid enough to want it.

It is not funny that anything else should fall down; only that a man should fall down. Why do we laugh? Because it is a gravely religious matter: it is the Fall of Man. Only man can be absurd: for only man can be dignified.

Man is an exception, whatever else he is. If he is not the image of God, then he is a disease of the dust. If it is not true that a divine being fell, then we can only say that one of the animals went entirely off its head.

Being Silly

Lying in bed would be an altogether perfect and supreme experience if only one had a coloured pencil long enough to draw on the ceiling.

Man does not live by soap alone; and hygiene, or even health, is not much good unless you can take a healthy view of it or, better still, feel a healthy indifference to it.

Once I planned to write a book of poems entirely about the things in my pocket. But I found it would be too long; and the age of the great epics is past.

The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.

A Few Days Late, But Pertinant Nonetheless

there, they drive on the WRONG side of the road

I'm in a country where, at roundabouts, you give way to the left.  Fools!

Dark Red: drive on the wrong side
Light Red: infidels, who left the true path
Purple: infidels, who once were confused, but now are lost
Dark Blue: the chosen people
Light blue: adopted into the chosen people

Now maybe I'm just a soppy old post-colonialist, but I do feel a special affection for 'our team' (especially since Samoa took the brave decision a few months back to join the Blue Army).  It's only Napoleon's fault that anyone outside France drives on the wrong side at all - silly man.

And on the subject of Napoleon, he also famously came acropper trying to hold that European-Asian border, and, as any Risk player knows, that's just asking for trouble: it's Australasia that wins you world dominance - put all your armies on Papua New Guinea ...

A Potted, Illustrated History of World War II, with only a Little Swearing

...............[Click on the image if you can't see all the detail, but be warned: it's a BIG picture]

nice things to make you happy

Sticking Up For Middlesbrough

Just in case you never saw it first time round, a bit on the news this week remembered an old survey declaring Middlesbrough the worst place to live in England.

As voted for by the kind of Londoners who make/watch/value Location Location.

Well, here's the wonderful Jeff Stelling to put them right back in their place ...

Disco Suomi!

If you know anybody who grew up in Finland in the 80s, there is some possibility that these are their parents.  Blackmail has never been so easy ...

The Liffs I Have Lived

Back in the good old days - the 80s - the mighty Douglas Adams (and another guy whose name everyone always forgets but who was called John Lloyd) wrote a dictionary, The Meaning of Liff, highlighting all manner of common experiences/feelings/situations/objects which everyone knows and recognises, but for which no words exist.  In the book, the necessary words were provided; the nomenclature for the task being the place names of Great Britain.  For example:

ABINGER (n.)
One who washes up everything except the frying pan, the cheese grater and the saucepan which the chocolate sauce has been made in.

[Abinger is a village in Surrey]

Employing Mr Adams' (and the other guy's) creative and comic talents (and some cutting and pasting), I can now present to you, the abridged story of my life, in definitions.
 

PLYMOUTH (vb.)
To relate an amusing story to someone without remembering that it was they who told it to you in the first place.

ZEAL MONACHORUM (n.)
(Skiing term.) To ski with 'zeal monachorum' is to descend the top three quarters of the mountain in a quivering blue funk, but on arriving at the gentle bit just in front of the restaurant to whizz to a stop like a victorious slalom-champion.

HATHERSAGE (n.)
The tiny snippets of beard which coat the inside of a washbasin after shaving in it.

HARPENDEN (n.)
The coda to a phone conversion, consisting of about eight exchanges, by which people try gracefully to get off the line.

HODDESDEN (n.)
An 'injured' footballer's limb back into the game which draws applause but doesn't fool anybody.

LUTON (n.)
The horseshoe-shaped rug which goes around a lavatory seat.

ROYSTON (n.)
The man behind you in church who sings with terrific gusto almost tree quarters of a tone off the note.

EXETER (n.)
All light household and electrical goods contain a number of vital components plus at least one exeter. If you've just mended a fuse, changed a bulb or fixed a blender, the exeter is the small, flat or round plastic or bakelite piece left over which means you have to undo everything and start all over again.

CULLOMPTON (n.)
Someone who just cannot do anything quietly.

NEWTON POPPLEFORD (n.)
A crackpot theorist who believes that he will overturn science and the laws of physics as we know them. Since the rise of the Internet, Newton Popplefords have received more public attention than real scientists.

CORSTORPHINE (n.)
A very short peremptory service held in monasteries prior to teatime to offer thanks for the benediction of digestive biscuits.

TOLSTACHAOLAIS (phr.)
What the police in Leith require you to say in order to prove that you are not drunk.

 

[Devon (parents), Sheffieldish (born), Herts (brought up), Devon (moved), Edinburgh (latest)]

If You Can Keep Your Head ...

... when all about you are losing theirs:

A moment from Sunday's CCE Sports Day in the Meadows.
I am King of Egg-and-Spoon :)