For those who don't quite grasp the irony, you might want to have a look at Wikipedia's entry for the 1936 Summer Olympic Games. There are many good reasons why China shouldn't be hosting the Olympics (which doesn't mean they should be boycotted) but that isn't one of them.

Cory

Via The Drink Soaked Trots

Martin Bauam's updated version of Hamlet reveals: "Dere was somefing minging in de State of Denmark."...

Mr Baum's other titles include Macbeff, Much Ado About Sod All, De 'Appy Bitches of Windsor, De Taming of de Bitch, Two Geezas Of Verona and All's Sweet That Ends Sweet, Innit...

Mr Baum's version of Romeo and Juliet sets the scene for the star-crossed lovers with: "Verona was de turf of de feuding Montagues and de Capulet families.

"And coz they was always brawling and stuff, de prince of Verona told them to cool it or else they was gonna get well mashed if they carried on larging it with each other." '

Maybe Gordon Brown could quote some of this to try and get the 'common touch'.

Cory

"William Blake’s Jerusalem will no longer ring from the spires of Southwark Cathedral after it was banned by the church’s dean on the grounds that it was unchristian and too nationalistic.

Regarded by many as a paean to Englishness, it has over the centuries become an unofficial national anthem, sung at the last night of the Proms and by England rugby and cricket fans...

But the Very Reverend Colin Slee believes it is not “to the glory of God” and as such should not be sung by choirs or congregations at the South Bank cathedral, on of Britain’s foremost churches.

The ban came to light after the dean advised guests at a recent memorial service that it could not be sung due to its lack of religious content."

For those unacquainted with the poem or unaware of its full lyrics, they are here. It is fairly obvious that the Very Reverend Colin Slee is a prize muppet. He is also obviously unaware what a metaphor is.

Not that this is the first time that there has been a problem with singing Jerusalem in churches. From 2001, another vicar said:

"I enjoy it as a mystical poem, but it is not a prayer and it is not about God. Nor is it addressed to God, and nor does it contain any of the themes you would expect of God." He said people tended to interpret the poem in the nationalistic sense that England is best.

"We all want to be patriotic, but in a proper way, and this poem is just not appropriate. What it is actually saying is, `Wouldn't it be nice if Jesus had lived in England?' Yet we all know that he did not, so it is just nonsense. I can understand it being used at an army parade or something like that, but it is not suitable for a wedding."

If this vicar knew anything about history at all, he would be aware that the legend of Jesus visiting Glastonbury abbey dates from at least the time of William of Malmesbury in the twelfth century. Blake used this legend, added in a plea to return to nature, and ended up with a rather rousing lyric. And does this priest not believe that God created "England's green and pleasant land"? Sigh. Another Christian who does not understand what a metaphor is...

Anyway, I don't want to descend into a rant about ignorant clerics, tempting though it may be. Let's look instead at the response of some of the commenters on the Times article. These are people who, presumably, think they are well-informed and politically engaged. They are reading the Times website for a start, which suggests they are better informed than most. And they care enough to post a comment, an indication they think, care and have passionate viewpoints. Bearing this in mind, let's have a look at the comments.

One commenter asks:

Colin Slee are you sure you are a Christian and not a Muslim in disguise? (sic)

A remark that is stupid if meant seriously, and not funny if it is intended to be humourous.

Another brings up that old chestnut, political correctness:

So the PC Zealots have found something else with which to dowse the fire of English customs and Christianity!

In a discussion on British Politics, political correctness can never be too far away. The thought that a politically-correct liberal elite has been going round trampling on Britain's sacred traditions, banning hymns and blackboards, has been a staple theory of lazy right-wing thought for at least two decades. Whenever I talk to an aunt of mine about politics, it usually doesn't take five minutes before she brings up the issue of "political correctness".

Political correctness apparently developed in the mid-1980s, with various "banning-blackboard" type-stories invented by the Daily Express. And the myth took off. As Mark Steel wrote in Reasons to be Cheerful:

Much of the press got addicted from the fix of these stories, and like any addict, when the supply ran dry, they got desparate and made stuff up. The most famous loony left stories of the time - the council workers who couldn't say 'black bin liners' and the kids who had to sing 'Baa Baa Green Sheep' - were entirely fictitious. In any case, how was it that Thatcher had battered the unions, the miners and the Argentinian navy, but was powerless before the unstoppable might of the Haringey council gay and lesbian helpline unit?

Colin Smee is neither a Muslim nor a member of a politically correct elite. He is merely a fool. The notion of an "elite" is absurd anyway - in the same article the Church of England spokesman defended Jerusalem, saying the hymn "has its rightful place in Church of England worship". This is just the work of an isolated individual, not the work of an over-arching elite who wish to replace everything "sacred" about Britain's national heritage (whatever that is). 

The idea of a "politically-correct elite" is just one of a number of topics that continues to blight political discourse (especially discourse found in pubs, which as everyone knows is the only proper place to talk about politics). You just know, sooner or later, that someone will bring up "Iraq", and the chance to talk about things that might actually improve the lives of ordinary people has been postponed, for at least another couple of hours.

Cory

Seeming like a late April Fool but very much the real deal, the exclusive drink is sourced in part from cat droppings... 
 
Kopi Luwak, or Civet coffee, is made from beans eaten, partly digested, and then expelled by the Indonesian civet cat...
 

Civets, who live in the foliage of plantations across south east Asia, are said to pick the best and ripest coffee berries. Enzymes in their digestive system break down the flesh of the fruit before the animals expel the bean.

Workers collect beans from the plantation floor, wash away the dung and roast them."
 

Well, at least it's all for charity. I can't imagine that the taste would be improved by passing through a cat first, but that shows what I know. I am curious to try it, but cannot afford fifty quid a shot. Maybe I should get a group of ten together - that would only be a modest fiver each.

Stand by tomorrow for the story about the gourmet black pudding that costs fifteen grand...

Cory

Norman Geras has 74; Tim Rice (the lucky beggar) has all 145 of them. I have 64, but then the other two have a few years' head start on me.

I am talking about Wisden Cricketer's Almanacs. The 2008 edition has recently been published, and the new editor Scyld Berry appears to want to focus on the threat, as he sees it, posed by the Indian Cricket League. I will probably post something of that in due course, but for this instance I want to focus on Wisdens.

It seems to non-cricketing fanatics that Wisden is typical of the game's curiosities. In a recent chat with my girlfriend, she asked why there was a need for them to come out every year. After all, not much could have changed in a year, could it? Well, yes and no.

But Wisden is more than just a chronicle of statistics. The best bit about last Christmas was just being immersed in Wisden with a glass of wine. Reading Mike Atherton on Shane Warne, and the notes by the editor, the blow-by-blow account of the county season, finding out that Victor Trumper was out for a duck in his first Test in 1899. I'm a freak, it can't be denied. But then, in this crazy world, cricket is the nearest thing I have to a religion. Which means reading a Wisden is an almost spiritual occasion. This is all pretentious bollocks, of course, but finding solace in a cricket book is cheaper, and better for you, than finding solace in whisky. Or Catholicism.

Cory