Somewhere, A Long Way Away, People Are

It Was A Strange Feeling Going Into A Church I Did Not Know For A Service That I Did Not Really Believe In, But Once Inside I Couldn't Help A Feeling Of Warmth And Security. Outside There Were Wars And Road Accidents And Murders, Striptease Clubs And Battered Babies And Frayed Tempers And Unhappy Marriages And People Contemplating Suicide And Bad Jokes, But Once In St. Martin's There Was Peace. Surely People Go To Church Not To Involve Themselves In The World's Problems But To Escape From Them.

You Don't Ask People About The Immigration Policies Of The U.k. Or Their Country's Agricultural Policy. Instead, You Talk To Them About The Meal They're Eating Or Their Family, And From That You Get The Sense Of Another Human Being, Someone We Can All Relate To.

I Will Die, But Not Retire.

First Shalt Thou Take Out The Holy Pin. Then Shalt Thou Count To Three, No More-no Less. Three Shall Be The Number Thou Shalt Count, And The Number Of The Counting Shall Be Three. Four Shalt Thou Not Count, Neither Count Thou Two, Excepting That Thou Then Proceed To Three. Five Is Right Out. Once The Number Three, Being The Third Number, Be Reached, Then Lobbest Thou Thy Holy Hand Grenade Of Antioch Towards Thy Foe, Who, Being Naughty In My Sight, Shall Snuff It.

You Can't Get A Suit Of Armour And A Rubber Chicken Just Like That. You Have To Plan Ahead.