Religion

Dave Allen

BBC 2. Home of Top Gear and Never Mind the Buzzcocks. Showed something awesome tonight, very good. If you missed it or have not heard of it’s subject matter. Stop reading this, go seek it out now. BBC 2 showed, Dave Allen: God’s Own Comedian.

Dave Allen is without a doubt my favourite comedian, yes I will talk of Hicks (who even has the honour of adorning this page) I will talk of the genius of Pryor. But Dave Allen, the first TV comic to make a young Sudo laugh. In 1990 I was 10, my Mum (she of Ed McBain influence) would tell me about Dave Allen. I was allowed to sit up late, probably about 10:30pm and watch. The Classic theme tune would start and a grey haired man, aged to a 10 yr old, would walk past a backed bar stool to the microphone. He would then begin to talk in a captivating irish tone.

I always wondered why he never sat on the stool. Only later thanks to the wonders of VHS would I find out that Dave used the stool on his earlier shows. I remember my whole family laughing at the stories this one man on his own on stage would tell. Exposing the absurdities of life long before the likes of Michael McIntyre, doing it in such a subtle nature that is nowhere in comedy these days. The pauses, the timing. The anger, the vitriol.

The show the BBC showed tonight was great because I have made every attempt to learn about the work of Dave before I was even a twinkle in my Dad’s eye. Dave hated repeats, so nothing is ever shown. This documentary showed footage of his early break in Australia, which I had never seen. Also featured was Dave’s documentary making which had past me by.

What however prompted me to write this blog piece was this there is a very small segment of this around 52 mins where Dave is being interviewed by Clive James where he says that language (swearing) is emphasis. I have always used this to explain when challenged on my own filthy fucking language, not sure where I got it from. It surprised me, how much of the wisdom of Dave Allen I picked up.

Allen like Hicks, I feel is needed in todays world. In the 8 years since he died the world, religion, politics and every aspect of life needs someone to poke away at it more than ever. Make the common helpless man feel sane for at least half an hour a week.

Thanks for reading and…. may your god go with you.

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(28DW) Faith.. the Inspiration

For the past few days I have bored most of you with my fiction. Here is why I did it. Back to rants.. sorry opinion pieces tomorrow.

I’ve written about this guy before. It frustrates me we live in a world where people like this are able to prey on people during their weakest moments and get super rich. Even after being discredited previously.


Please check out the work of my 28DW friends at The Resident Weeble and A Piece of Pandemonium or I’ll send you some more miracle water.

(28 DW) Fiction: Faith Part 4

This is the final part of my short(ish) story Faith. Enjoy. The following are links to the previous parts Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3.


Steve looked down from the balcony. Radio scanner in hand, all clear. His title of head of Security was a joke. All Bovoff cared about was radio scanners, hardly the security role that was portrayed in the action movies. No beating up the bad guys, throwing yourself in front of the bullet. Just check people as they come in for radio equipment and then stand around for 2 hours and scan for other radio scanners. Joy.

Not that Steve would have thrown himself anywhere to protect Bovoff, for Steve thought Bovoff was an asshole. Still the money was good, and it’s not like Steve was ever gonna be a rocket scientist anytime soon. He was bored though.

Even he had to admit that initially this asshole, was a good showman. But when you have seen it a few hundred times and you factor in amount of deception involved. It gets old, fast. Steve was increasingly having difficulty looking himself in the mirror these days. Every handsome paycheck felt dirty.

This was no life. He was touring the country with a bunch of people he couldn’t stand. He never saw anyone he liked. None of his friends would be seen dead at a show like this.

Thats why Steve nearly dropped his radio scanner when he saw Rachel climb onto the stage.

* *

“Rachel Larsen,” Bovoff spoke softly. “I have a message here from your father, He is up in heaven with God. Isn’t that right my child?”

“Yes.” Rachel murmured, nervously fumbling around with her handbag. Stood centre stage. The lights dazzling her blue eyes.

“He loves you very much, he wants you to share in the power of God. I want to show everyone here the love and the power. Can I have a A-Men.”

The crowd screamed “Amen” and watched with eager anticipation. (more…)

(28DW) Fiction: Faith Part 3

Please find Part 1 here and Part 2 here

Peter Bovoff emerged onto the stage. Lance followed him and stood patiently microphone in hand as Bovoff worked the crowd, holding his hands aloft in an almost Nixon-like pose, before pausing to look skyward, for a second in prayer at each side of the huge platform Gospel music played and 3 highly accomplished singers provided a shrill and altogether joyful song of praise to Jesus. Those present in the crowd who could, stood hands aloft swaying to the rhythm of the music.

Rachel stood amongst them. Just observing as she had done 20 years previously.

“Hallelujah.” Lance bellowed into the microphone, causing the music to be momentarily drowned out by feedback. “Welcome one and all, I know what Jesus has brought you here for. Do you feel the love?”
“Yes!” replied the crowd.
“Brothers and Sisters, I said Do you feel the love?” retorted Lance throwing his arms out to the crowd.
“Yes!” the crowd responded. At fever pitch.
“And do you feel, The Power..”
“Yes!”
“Hallelujah!” exclaimed Lance, backed by the three singers.
“Hallelujah!” replied the crowd, almost in perfect unison.
“Brothers and Sisters. He’s the man, the man with the love for you direct from Jesus. The man with a gift to heal your very soul.” Lance well into the script giving it a big build up, which the crowd lapped up. “He can talk to your dearly departed. He is the man you have come to see.. Can I have a A-Men?”
“Amen!” the crowd replied on cue.
“Brothers, Sisters. Reverend Bovoff.”

Bovoff at this point sprang forward, taking the microphone from Lance, embracing him rather like a cheap suited bear.
“Thank you my brother.” Bovoff said into the microphone. “Thank you too my brothers and sisters for venturing out into this blessed auditorium. We are here to celebrate the love and power our Lord Jesus has for each and every one of us.”

Bovoff paced around as he spoke like caged tiger. Organ music was piped in through the speakers to add impact to certain words. “Through this love Jesus can help me heal the sinners of this world Smite them.” Bovoff punctuated the word “Smite” with a fist pump into the air.
“But my Brothers and Sisters, the love of Jesus Christ can also heal you. Cleanse your very soul, take out those evil spirits and banish them. So I ask you.. Can you still feel the Love?”
“Yes!” replied a captivated crowd.
“And the holy power?”
“Yes!”
“I feel it..” Bovoff screamed, scrunching up his face. “I feel the power. The power it guides me.
It’s not the power Pete.” Hissed Elizabeth Bovoff through the radio earpiece in Peter’s ear. “Can you hear me? I hope so because if not you are in trouble”
“The power is telling me. I must heal the soul of someone here tonight.” Bovoff continued the show.
To your left. Row 5. Pauline Masterson” Elizabeth guided him.
“The power is here for… Pauline,” Bovoff’s face contorted. “Can I have an A-Men for Pauline Masterson.”
“Amen.” The amazed crowd replied.
Bovoff walked down the steps off the stage, accompanied by one of the his security drones, and a bed of powerful gospel music.
Masterson is the one in the blue headscarf. Almost right in front of you. She has a tumour.”
“Come forward for Jesus, Pauline.” Bovoff commanded. “Get ready for the power.”

Pauline shuffled forwards, hands aloft. Smile as broad as the East River which she’d crossed to visit the show. She’d lived in Brooklyn NY, NY all her 74 years. Doctors had given their diagnosis of pancreatic cancer, in a run down clinic two weeks ago. They gave her a month to live. She was in pain. She wanted comfort. She stood before Bovoff.

Bovoff grabbed her head and pushed it backward. “Be gone devil” he bellowed. Pauline fell to the floor. Healed.
“Halleujah!” screamed Bovoff running away from his latest miracle. “Jesus is giving me a message.”
Petey..” his wife as the earpiece sprung to life “We have a message for… um. Rachel. Rachel Larsson.”

“I have this message.. for.. Rachel.. Rachel Larsson.” Bovoff explained through a mocked pained face. “It’s from her father.”

Rachel was ready.


Please check out the work of my 28DW friends at The Resident Weeble and A Piece of Pandemonium or I’ll not let you see the final part..

(28DW) Fiction: Faith Part 2

Please find Part 1 here.

She had been 8 when her father died. A life long smoker the cancer had caught up with him. She remembered overhearing the doctors tell her Mother that the cancer was able to get such a hold because her Father had refused early treatment.

In the hospital waiting room. Watching the strip lights flicker and buzz. 8 year old Rachel grew up the instant her Mother told her, tears in her eyes, that her Dad had passed away. Rachel did not cry, she sat still in shock as her Mother wept.

Rachel family were from a religious background. In attendance every Sunday come rain or shine at their local church. Her father even played the organ at times, although Rachel heard him say he much preferred playing the blues to playing the hymns. He enjoyed the belonging and took great comfort in his beliefs. Rachel had attended Sunday school since was 6. A bright child who picked up the words of the scripture with relative ease.

She even found herself enjoying the upbeat nature of the services. The empowering patter of the preacher. Strengthening her emerging faith. The church represented an extension of her family, her friends were other church goers and the pastor was a regular visitor to the house for Sunday lunch.

Occasionally there was a guest preacher, often a big name in church circles. Rachel remembered her Father being excited to see this one particular preacher, who had a foreign sounding name. This excitement turned to disappointment when the pastor announced that because of heavy snow the visiting preacher was stuck on a runway in Chicago. The pastor had said that the preacher would soon be heading their way and they should all attend his show at the local college which had a huge auditorium.

Rachel had just turned seven when the day of the show came. She went along with her family and the Pattersons the family from two doors down. Rachel would always remember the vast auditorium, there was a huge amount of energy in the room even before the show began. Upbeat gospel music pumped from massive speakers. There were a large number of people wandering about handing out leaflets and envelopes. Rachel and the Pattersons youngest Richard were annoyed that they didn’t get a envelope. As her father wrote upon his leaflet Rachel tried to look and see what it was. It was quickly taken away and placed in a envelope that was then passed to end of their row.

The show started with a bang. The preacher had a remarkable talent for showmanship, that wasn’t lost on Rachel. He had the congregation eating out of the palm of his hand. Contacting the “Holy Spirit” and the “Spirits of the worthy” contacting those “In Heaven” who wished to contact the lucky few that were called to the stage. Rachel looked on as the hysteria grew as the preacher plucked from God information about the conditions of the people before him. Rachel was amazed when he healed the sick, or passed on messages from the deceased relatives.

The excitement was such that Rachel was unable to get to sleep that night. The miracles from the show running around her young mind. She never felt so safe.

That safety disappeared exactly two weeks later. Rachels father told her he was sick. She was upset and she wept, but her father told her everything would be OK because he had contacted Peter Bovoff “You know sweetie.. the man from the show, he’ll heal me.”

Now 20 years later, Rachel took her seat at Bovoff’s show. She was here to make contact.


Please check out the work of my 28DW friends at The Resident Weeble and A Piece of Pandemonium or I’ll not let you see part 3.

(28DW) Pope on a Rope

OK the title of this doesn’t really have much to do with the content, but what the hell it’s got a nice ring to it. Pope Benedict XVI has today announced his intention to resign as Pope at the end of the month. He is the first Pope to do this in over 600 years. He says he is too frail to do the job. Whilst he is probably right, it does raise several religious questions for me the atheist.

Forgive me if I’m wrong but isn’t the Pope supposed to be the direct line into the thoughts and wishes of God. Defender of the catholic faith. I dunno about you religious types but doesn’t that bring into question the healing power of God, I mean the Pope was chosen by men acting in the best interests of God. So for him to give up saying “I’m a bit knackered” is to me a bit worrying, after all if there was anyone sure to be looked out for by God, then it’s his right hand man The Pope.

Also now Pope Ben has resigned, does that mean that he can no longer use the God hotline. What if God actually prefers talking to him over the new guy. He tells him different things and makes the new guy look silly. Additionally as Pope Ben was appointed to do God’s work wouldn’t he be slightly concerned at this point as he hasn’t actually done what God asked. “Do the job until you die, theres a good chap”. I dunno whats worse in God’s eyes a man being in a committed and loving relationship with lets say…. another man or asking one man to do a job…. and then him giving up half way through. I know which I’d be more pissed off at.

As I say I do think Pope Benedict has made the right choice, because Pope John Paul (George and Ringo) carried on ’til the bitter end and to listen to him talk was rather like listening to Rowley Birkin QC. Cardinals had to poke him to keep him awake. They need to appoint a new younger Pope, someone to take Catholicism forwards, someone to have the bollocks to rid the church of all the Nonces and outdated prejudices people hold in the name of organised religion.

Religion can be a good thing, it can bring out the best features of human nature, however it can also protect those who project humanity in it’s worst possible light. I hope the new Pope is able to do something about this. Until then..


Please check out the work of my 28DW reprobates  at The Resident Weeble and A Piece of Pandemonium  or gnomes will be touched inappropriately.

It’s Beginning to feel it’s not like Christmas

I know I’m not 8 years old anymore, waiting for an old man to empty his sack nearby, but enough about my appearance on Jim’ll Fix It. Yes back in the day I awaited the arrival of old saint nick at Christmas time, just like any other child.

As I passed through to adulthood my interest in Christmas waned. But come the week of the big day I snuggled in, and felt the festive warmth. Albeit less warmth than most but some was there. This year I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Why? A number of reasons.

Due to financial stuff I have turned down every offer of a Christmas drink, with my real friends, not the people I mentioned in my previous post. The offers were thin on the ground too. Everyone has just that little bit less cash to go around. Even if I had been a “work friend” kinda guy the work Christmas party tickets were £20. Up from £2.50! Hardly festive.

It’s mild here.5 degrees C as I write this. Nothing could be deep and crisp and even in this balmy warmth. I don’t like snow, but the cold is something I associate with Christmas, warming drinks, warming food, cold weather. Thats why I think Australia would mess me up. Christmas barbecue. No thanks.

I am not religious in the slightest, nor am I seeking salvation. So I am not gonna toss on about the commercialisation of Christmas, because it has always been there. I do think it’s worse now than ever. People visiting the Coca-Cola truck as it tours the country as if it is some kind of pilgrimage, or visiting the John Lewis snowman. The marketing circle is complete.

By Stengaard (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0) or GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html)], via Wikimedia Commons

Holidays… came..

I am not looking forward to the main event at all. But at least the hoopla will be over for at least another 9 months! I am however looking forward to the new episode of Doctor Who.

For what it’s worth. I hope all of you my dear valued readers have an excellent time, doing what you want to do over the festive period. Thanks for dropping by this year and supporting my rambling. That truly is time you will never get back, every page view or like means a lot to me. So a million thanks.

See you all in 2013.

People are Bollocks. Get Over It.

Getting through life is difficult god knows! At least he would if he were real. There they are my cards upon the table. Some of you may disagree with me. Thats good, I mean if we all had the same views it would be a boring world. I’m a reasonable guy as I have stated before on these very pages whatever helps you through the days on this spinning orb is fine by me.

Besides all of the religions mention good stuff, good rules to live by. Not killing, accepting others, helping ones fellow man. Hell if it wasn’t such a bad idea I’d become religious myself. But as with all good intentions and good rules there always someone around to manipulate the situation and it isn’t me a rational atheist. The people who play the idea of God to their own ends are believers and have been since the very start of religion. Kings and Queens, Presidents, Bishops even the everyday church goer can from time to time use religion to control others.

So these good rules suddenly become reasons to kill, persecute and discriminate against those who’s life is different from our own. If it is “God’s Will” it’s ok. As an atheist I think this is pretty unfair on God I mean massacres have been blamed on God, where in reality it was of course a man acting upon his own free will. It’s not just murders that poor old God get blamed for, Football team lost, well he’s on the other teams side, Black, White, Yellow, Gay.. God at any point at any given day hates everyone of every colour creed and background.

In some cases God even advertises his hatred, on buses no less. The advert from religious groups Core Issues Trust and Anglican Mainstream states: “Not gay! Ex-gay, post-gay and proud. Get over it!” There goes God gay bashing, surprising that because if God created everyone, he must have made the gay ones too. These moron’s from the Core Issues Trust and Anglican Mainstream believe however that being Gay is an affliction something that can be cured. They have been stuffing people back in the closet for a long time now. But it’s God’s work so thats ok.

Thankfully Tfl have decided not to plaster this ridiculous parody of stonewalls “Some People are Gay Get Over It” all over their Buses. I hope they would make the same decision for say a “Don’t Trust Whitey” campaign or a “All disabled men are rapists” slogan. People will always find a reason to hate other people, we are pack animals, but it makes us feel warm inside if we blame something else.

A friend of mine was once offered a religious leaflet at a festival. He turned them down saying “No thanks, religion is bollocks.” Actually he was wrong.

Religion is OK. People are bollocks.

For the Love of God / a Sandwich

Ahhh the blessed Friday lunch break, a time to contemplate another thrill packed weekend and perhaps work out a way of killing whats left of the working week. At the very least a chance to get out of the office and grab a bite to eat.

If I’m feeling flush I head to my local non-chain sandwich shop and grab one of their awesome cakes. However as I am trying to economise today I favoured the Sainburys £3 meal deal. Why do I feel the need to put this info on the blog. Well I think you my subscribers need to know I am being well fed.. No.

The lunch time run is carried out the world over. The time away from the office is a little oasis in the day. Why then did someone today feel the need to stop me and offer to pray for me. There I am minding my own business, wandering up the road when:-

“Excuse me, You look like you might need praying for. I’m from the local church, we pray for people in the streets. ”
“No thanks.” I said, quite politely.
“Well I’ll pray for you anyway.”

Yes folks it’s another post about religion. Sit back and relax because it’s about to get messy. As I watched the guy thankfully walk away, still in a slight state of shock, my choice of sandwich dislodged from my mind. I began to slowly simmer, angry at myself for being so polite, angry at him for his unwanted prayer.

Firstly how dare he assume that “I need praying for” thats like walking up to a woman and saying she needs a boob job, (I’ll re-visit the boob theme later) he’s saying I am imperfect in his eyes so I need to prayed for in order to obtain some salvation from a spiritual being who I don’t care about.

Secondly, how dare he impose his religious beliefs onto me. I have spoken before of my opinions and attitude to the beliefs of others. It’s whatever helps you through, if that doesn’t infringe on the lives of others in a detrimental way. The way this prayer was offered was a kin to that of someone trying to sell a timeshare in Tenerife, detrimental to my own personal beliefs, space, and detrimental to the religion itself to be hawked in such an inappropriate setting.

Thirdly it’s just downright embarrassing. It’s the third time in my life that I have been prayed for in a public (not church) space. People wandering by thinking I am partaking in some kind of cultish (maybe I spelt that wrong) procedure, not knowing I am just wanting a sandwich.

In the forth place, I find it extremely rude for him to say that he’d pray for me anyway, despite me saying no. That is the same as me walking up to a girl with great boobs and going:

“Great boobs, can I pleasure myself over them please.”
“No.” says the girl with the rack.
“Well I’m going to anyway.”

It’s inappropriate. I don’t want to think of him “saving me” same as the girl doesn’t want think of me doing the “five knuckle shuffle”

Moral of the story. If you want to be religious and that helps you fine. If you think your religion would help me, fine. If you force your religion upon me or others when we just want a sandwich. Expect to be compared to a wanker.

God’s Bum Note

Ok before we start proper, let me clarify a few things.

I am not religious, however I respect people who are and they have every right to hold whatever belief they wish as long as they don’t impose it upon others.

I am registered disabled.

Ok, clear.. good.

On the bus this very morning I was eavesdropping on the conversation occurring in front of me. In my defense I was traveling alone and I’d forgotten my headphones, anyway I digress. The conversation was brief, between a disabled guy and his carer..

Carer: Do you go to church?

Disabled Guy: Yes every week.

Now as I state above, I have no issues with anyone holding any religious views. However if you subscribe to any of the major belief systems, you believe in one way or another that you are created in God’s image and that God is infallible. Now if I take on those beliefs for just a second and go and take a look and myself in the mirror. I can see several huge mistakes my creator made, and that’s not counting the major personality flaws.

If you ask anyone religious about this they say that the almighty is testing the likes of us. Was this put to a vote? Did I miss a meeting? Apparently you are tested to be a stronger person at the end of it. Well at the end of my “test” I’ll be worm food, so forgive me for missing the benefit there. Am I supposed to be thankful for this?

The way I look at it, through my squinty (or cross-eyed to my US brothers and sisters) eye. For a person with a disablement to go and worship their creator is a bit like sharpening the pins for the guy who is poking your eyes out, or Alf Inge Haaland worshipping Roy Keane or shouting “Yes mistress, may I have another!!” and Mistress Stephanie does not visit until next Thursday so I shouldn’t be saying that yet.

Why would you hold something in such high regard when it clearly has contempt for you? I justify religion by saying “whatever helps people through the day” a good positive thing. How can religion help me? How can I forget that I am god’s bum note, for long enough to draw any kind of positive?

I cannot.

Maybe thats why I can’t buy into religion. I am me, warts and all, no tests, no rewards, just life.