Bedward the Flying Preacher

It’s late at night, early in the morning and i’ve been trolling around the net where i found this sad but true story;

‘Evangalist Drowns while Trying to Walk on Water’

An Evangelist who tried replicating Jesus’ miracle of walking on water has reportadly drowned off the western coast of Africa.

Pastor Franck Kabale, 35, told his congregation he would repeat the biblical miracle, and set out to attempt it from a beach in Gabon’s capital of Libreville.

“He told churchgoers he’d had a revelation that if he had enough faith he could walk on water like Jesus” An eyewitness told the Glasgow Daily Record.

“He took his congregation to the beach saying he would walk across the Komo Estuary, which takes 20 minutes by boat. He walked into the water which soon passed over his head and he never came back.”

Which brings to mind and old favourite of mine, The story of ‘Bedward the Flying Preacher’ so follow this link for a snippit, i’m sure there is a better one out there but this is the best i could do for now.

“Guess What Happen? Bedward fall down and break his kneck.”

in case any of you were wondering

Panic on the Streets of London

Who’ed have thought it but after over a year free from panic attacks i go and have one, out of the blue? Well no i don’t think so, all the indicators have been there that the old triptomatic hyper sensitivity may spring one on me. I’ve probably had a total of 5-6 hours sleep in a week and i suppose all the CBT in the world is going to have a job cutting through that mental chemical soup. I’m just watching the dawn over London, quite a grey sultry affair at the moment, even the dawn chorus sounds like a half arsed effort. I would shout out of the window for the birds to get their fucking act together, C’mon sing you bastards, lets be having you, but im stopping over at a freinds house tonight and i don’t think she’d appreciate vocal insanity issuing forth from her spare room window.

‘Black Square’ from a series, Andrey Chezhin. 1980

Anyway i think i’ll take the old Black Dog out for a walk and see if there’s any decent scavengings to be had from the neighbourhood skips

Panic on the streets of London. Panic on the streets of Birmingham, I wonder to my self. Will life ever be sane again?

Raise Merry Hell

The London Mayoral Elections are upon us once more, May 2nd

An alliance founded of London Anarchists, Syndaclists and Libertarians has called for concerted action to be directed at this years Mayoral Elections to culminate at the GLA Building for the results at 6pm. A draft communique reads;

‘Neither Crook, Toff, Facist or Cop’

‘Everyone knows the politicians are lying, corrupt self serving parasites- it’s time to let them know- This is Our London not theirs, their party’s or their paymasters. On Friday May 2nd at City Hall we will confront our class enemies at the Mayoral election results, reviving a great radical London tradition. – It’s Time to Take to the Streets and Claim Back Our City.’

So tell your nieghbours call a freind and come on down.

Rain Stopped Play

With the best intentions i headed out to Streatham Common last night, equiped to SETI the night away, with my bicycle powered relay incorporating red and white halogen ‘blinkies’ pointing skyward and set to oscillate wildly, accompanied by a cunning array of chromatically tuned self inflating whoopie cushions attached to a plank and fixed perpendicular to the bicycle frame upon the saddle. Strapping my Modular Mood Amplifier (or MMA for short, a simple device constructed from the lenses of an old pair of NHS glasses and a toilet roll tube) to my forehead i headed out into the blustery night, prepared, or so i thought, to commune with the Greys.

At first things seemed to be going to plan as i skirted the Common bouncing the Close Encounters of the Third Kind tune upon my Whoopie Cushion Array whilst i gazed heavenward so as to focus my MMA in the general vacinity of Sirius. I had however not banked on the ferocity of the rain and within half an hour the cardboard toilet tube that formed the housing of my MMA had become waterlogged causing it to loose it’s integrety and droop. This i feared would distort the mood messages i was projecting and be potentially dangerous, For example, whilst i was projecting ‘Hello i’m really happy why don’t you come down for a chat,’ there was a distinct possibility that the drooping housing was now distorting the projection to say ‘Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough.’ Needless to say i would have been extremely foolish to continue my perambulatory endevours in the face of such a risk and so i retired to the veritable comfort of my lodgings.

On reflection there are perhaps a number of considerations (the inclemancy of the weather figuring highly) i had neglected in my haste, and a little research has enlightend me to an article printed in UFO Magazine as follows;

                                                                                           

How To Attract a UFO

by Andrea Pickles

Interest in the UFO phenomena grows daily and more and more sightings are reported all over the world, but for those people who have not had the luck in such a sighting and wish they had here is a guide on how to attract a UFO (no guarantees that it will work).

1. Go into the middle of a field with a very strong flash light and draw triangles in the sky if you have any success keep flashing it may flash back.

2. Be patient, just staying for an hour or two is no guarantee that a UFO will appear in that time it may take up to a week or so.

3. Don’t go by yourself make sure there are a few of you (to lessen the chances of being abducted).

4. If you plan on going on a skywatch don’t forget to take a camera, films a video camera if you have one to be able to take pictures or video footage if you are lucky.

5. If you do go by yourself tell people where you are going etc.

6. Make sure you dress up warmly if you don’t know how long you are going to be there and make sure you take a hot flask of tea or coffee.

If anyone does have a go and is successful I would be really interested about it so email me at andrea@ufomagazine.co.uk.

                                                                                        

Of particular interest to me is article 6. Make sure you take a hot flask of tea or coffee. I should have realised this from the outset, i mean how do you think i would look if i had contacted a brother from another planet and was unable to offer him a cup of tea!

Those bastards at Foxton’s will they stop at nothing

Sleepless in Streatham

Well i’m entering my third successive day errr night of insomnia, what a bastard! I just really would like to go to sleep well not just this minute but you know at reasonable time. I’ed have thought that a symptom of depression would have no place keeping me out of bed, what a bugger and there isn’t even a world darts tournament on tv. Still it does afford me the opportunity to do a bit of a Johnny Kingdom around my neighbourhood and observe the crack fox at play in it’s native enviroment. I sat in the back yard last night and a wee mousey ran right round my foot, had a sniff and buggered off, Awww. Tonight i may construct a ‘close encounters of the third kind’ type array of bicycle lights and chromatically tweeked whoopie cushions, mosey on over to the common and enquire as to whether we are alone. note to self: A response of Blue flashing lights accompanied by a harsh tonal octave in cyclic repetition denotes the aliens to be hostile. Well i’ll see how i get on, now where’s me super glue?

Fallen blog

If you’re reading this then Yippie it’s running, somehow i doubt it. Well thats me though un-tech-head. Thats the arts for you!

Yer Tiz

Ok then here’s my first step into the narcissistic world of the blogger.Lets have a bit of Dylan Thomas to kick things off.

Do not go Gentle into that Good Night.

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rave, rage against the dying of the light.

                                                                                

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

                                                                                

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

                                                                                

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on it’s way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

                                                                                

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

                                                                               

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, i pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.