The 33rd Sunday

It has been a vile, cold, wet and windy day. Proper shite.
I thought, sod it! It’s winter and I lit the fire.

There were baptisms at Mass this morning, screaming kids galore.
I try my hardest to miss services involving kids but it appears Depeche Mode were right, G-d does have a sick sense of humour.
A man who sounded exactly like Sean Connery read, ‘Shaint Paul’sh Epishtle to the Theshiloniansh’.
That got my grin on straight away!

I had the ’shouter out-er’ in front.
A lady with quite severe Down’s Syndrome and three minders.
‘Pairs!’ was a particularly loud and favourite one, but I think she was trying for ‘prayers’.
There was no doubt about the next one.
“Holy, Holy, Holy….”
“TITS! TITS! TITS!”
The two Polish lads next to me almost lost the plot.
The three of us dropped to our knees, foreheads on arms and shook the pew in front with laughter.

Behind me, I had the ‘speed freak’.
All congregations of all denominations must have this person.
The one who has to get the responses out first.
‘The Lord be with you’
‘AndAlsoWithYou’.
‘Lift up your hearts to the Lord’
‘WeLiftThemUpToTheLord’.
As though, somehow, G-d will deal with them first.
It’s verbal pushing in and it’s bloody rude.
The mob usually falls into a rhythm when doing the answering bits.
These people fuck all that up.
Well, they do for me anyway!
This is something we are supposed to be doing ‘together’, go on Saturday night if you want the speedy version.

Today’s hymns were chosen from the ‘Universal Book of Hymns No One Fecking Knows’ as opposed to the ‘Book of 100 Hymns Sung Too High’.