Wall of Jericho – Church Mag July

The last shall come first and the cobbler’s last

Isn’t it wonderful being part of the Anglican communion in Langdon Hills? I don’t take a lot of notice of the evening services as a rule, but a plug for the heeling service made me sit up and listen just the other week. Wow, what a parish! Not only can we have a six thirty sing song if we’re that way inclined, but we can get our shoes mended while we pray.

I wonder if they repair soles too.

The thing with editorial deadlines is you have to meet them in advance. That means you have one eye on the calendar and one eye on your crystal ball. By the time you read this, Engerland will be the proud, deserving winners of the FIFA world cup, Andy Murraymint will be scant days away from his second Wimbledon men’s singles title followed by the Commonwealth Games and I will be climbing the walls in frustration that there is still nothing to watch on TV except wall to wall sport. One of the satellite movie channels is rebranding itself as the WAG channel for the duration and will only be airing chick flicks. Jezebel will still have Escape to my House in the Country Abroad with Phil the Spiv Spencer. Her down the road will not have to forego the pleasures of Flog the Stuff in the Attic (cheap as chips). But what is there for the sport hating male like me, who, owing to being on the receiving end as a three year old of a football in the snitch kicked by an elderly relative in our back garden, has despised all team pursuits other than synchronised pint sinking ever since? 8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown, that’s what. Now granted, that Rachel Riley is a bit of all right, but there’s a commandment against thinking what I assure you I am now way too old to be thinking about her.

What about reading the bible, you ask? Are you kidding? That’s full of Israelites  begatting everything in sight and when they aren’t doing that, they’re hammering tent pegs into people’s ears and murdering their brother.

Paint Along With Nancy hasn’t been shown for years, so all that leaves me is the Horror Channel. Dracula goes into a restaurant. “How would you like your stake, sir?” the waiter asked.

Ai caramba, is it any wonder that I’m the sick, twisted individual I’ve become?

On one of my (these days all too infrequent) trips up to the smoke, I heard a recorded annoincement over the loudspeakers at Laindon station reminding us that skateboarding, rollerblading and cycling were not permitted on c2c platforms in the interests of health and safety.

Presumably pogo sticks are OK as they are without wheels.

I’m Ben Jericho. In the interests of safety, please stand well behind the yellow line.

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