Putting a + before your name

The act of signing your first name with a + used to be a sign of spiritual authority within the Church of England; now, thanks to the launch of a certain new social network which also writes your name this way, it can mean one of two things.

Either you are a person of influence among those around you, someone who has both a deep and profound sense of the value and importance of the traditions of the years, and the boldness and courage to challenge entrenched behaviour and societal norms, gently leading others to an understanding of what is truer, richer and more satisfying than what they already know for themselves…

… or you are a bishop. Which of course is the same thing, only different.

[Note: Names have been chosen at random for this cartoon.]

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Guide to Facebook: Profile Pictures

I’ve been inspired to draw a new series of cartoons. And here they are! Well, here the first one is, anyway. My ‘Guide to Facebook’ begins with this: profile pictures.

One of the first things any virgin Facebooker has to do is add a beautiful picture of themselves to their profile page. It’s an easy first step. Any picture will do, really, as long as it helps potential friends to find you on the site, and old friends to see what you look like these days.

New girlfriend? Go on, put one of the two of you up so we can all see her.

Kid’s birthday? All right, one of you in a silly hat.

Turned into a French monument, mutated into a cat, or lost thirty years of age in a freak accident with Olay? Put a picture of that up too — now there is a supernatural marvel that we just have to see!

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A Wimbledon win-win

Well, the world number 1 won Wimbledon. The world number 1 as of tomorrow, anyway. Well done Novak!

Of course, if he had lost the final, the world number 1 would have won Wimbledon. It’s a win-win for the papers, but what about me? I love to cheer on an underdog, and this match had no underdog. Yeah, they played good tennis, but when I watch sport, I don’t watch it in order to get a masterclass in playing that sport — I watch it in the hope of seeing something interesting happen. When I watch F1 I want to see a crash. When I watch the defending champions play their opening World Cup match I want to see them go out without a goal (like France did in 2002 to much merriment). I like to see unexpected people win, and the normal order of things turned on its head.

So I don’t think I’ll be talking about this final much. Maybe next year’s will be exciting enough to go and watch in glorious 3D. Andy Murray, I’m looking at you!

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The Lord be with you

Let me tell you a story. I think it’s a true story, but then I never can be completely sure about these things.

A vicar was once about to start the service in a traditional Anglican church. The congregation knew what the first words and the response would be; it had been this way every week for years. This wasn’t a bad thing — in fact, the liturgy had found its way so deep into their hearts that few things could now shake their belief in the core essentials of their faith.

However on one particular morning there were issues with the microphone. Failing to make it operate as it should, the vicar said, with the sort of pastoral and reverential concern that clergy finely hone over their years in ministry: “There’s something wrong with this.”

No one could hear his exact words, but it didn’t matter — the congregation knew the response anyway. With one accord, they dutifully responded:

“And also with you.”

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It’s not the end of the world

What can I say to Harold Camping after his 21 May non-apocalypse?

I could say “told you so” or “look, we’re all still here,” or “there goes another crackpot”, but plenty of people have said that already.

I could be extra pious and say nothing, because Paul tells us in 1 Thessalonians 5:20 not to scoff at prophets. But then again, Camping’s predictions have failed to materialise so we can fairly conclude he isn’t a prophet, and allow ourselves a little ‘tee hee’.

Either way, Harold joins an illustrious list of false prophets. Pope Innocent III plumped for 1284 as the Final Day, while Christopher Columbus bet on 1658. Dr. Malachi Z. York claimed in Time Magazine in July 1999 to be the incarnation of God and a native of the planet Rizq, but his 5 May 2003 Judgement Day also passed without incident.

I don’t know what to say to any of these people. But since they do suffer quite a big disappointment when ‘The End’ fails to scroll across the sky accompanied by earthquakes and a dramatic soundtrack, maybe it’s best to console them as we would any disappointed person:

“Don’t cry — it’s not the end of the world.”

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