Or the Beardy One...
The reviews have been brutal:
Brigadier William Dobbie, a former Synod member, described the Archbishop as "a disaster, a tragic mistake".
The politicians are lining up to take shots at him. The Times has accused him of devaluing the faith.
In many ways this is a personal as well as an institutional tragedy....For if this Archbishop of Canterbury once was a half crown in a parade of old pennies, today he stands devalued.
And the British tabloid the Sun .....that ran a front page picture of Williams under the heading "What a Burka" (Cockney for cunt).....now has a game where you can throw a wet sponge at him.
Now as an atheist I normally wouldn't care what any ridiculous man in a dress and a cockroach hat has to say about ANYTHING. Except that my Mum is an Anglican. A REAL Christian who believes in helping people and being kind to them...instead of judging them.
And the Archbishop's failure to stand up for the rights of gay people has greatly disappointed her. Especially since she knows that although I'm not a saint , I'm not a bad person. And neither is Sebastien who she thinks IS a saint ....and has always treated like a member of the family from the moment I fell in love with him.
So the refusal of her church to acknowledge our humanity troubles her. Which makes ME mad.
Except that thanks to the way she raised me..... I can't stay mad at the Mufti for long. Because he's also not a bad man... just such a ridiculous figure.
Only a person who has completely lost touch with reality would suggest introducing Sharia law into a secular society at this time in British history. So I almost feel sorry for him for being so incredibly naive.
Except that I can't. Because his bumbling leadership of the church has hurt a lot of good people. And words have consequences.
And because his latest dance of the seven veils is so absurd I can't help confusing one Rowan with another one....
Coming soon .... the Mufti moon dance... the one-handed waltz ...and the one-foot hop and jig.
Or more likely a LONG holiday in a small cottage by the seaside where the Beardy One can collect shells....and hopefully never be heard from again. Except for an occasional sermon and ritual flogging at The Islamic Anglican Mosque Church.
Where instead of taking communion....you get to wash your feet with wine. And eat a fig instead of a wafer.
Sorry Mum. If I laugh at your church....and its leaders
It's only because they don't deserve you...
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