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You know what the Cumming bloke in this picture (from The Scottish Tartans, Edinburgh, 1945) is saying? 'Oh, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus! HNNNGGG!!!'
Do have a sense of humour.
Recovering in a Catholic hospital the other day, I was obliged to attend 'chapel,' of a sort. In said hospital, in my unit, at least, the only permitted reading materials were religious ones. Fine. But I was going to be damned (figuratively) if I had to read their Revised Standard Version rubbish. To me, that bloody thing might as well have been written in NuEnglish, and it sounds the way flat fizzy drinks do when they try and try and try to fizz. I managed to charm a sympathetic sister (Sister Frances), whom I must have somehow convinced that I really am a scholar-poet, to slyly grub up a copy of King James for me. You know, a proper, grubby, Anglican book for the hazy free hours.
And what passage did I first open to when I got my prize? 1 Thessalonians 5:5–8. It's about the coming Judgement: 'Ye are all the children of light, and the children of the day: we are not of the night, nor of darkness. Therefore let us not sleep, as do others; but let us watch and be sober. For they that sleep sleep in the night; and they that be drunken are drunken in the night. But let us, who are of the day, be sober, putting on the breastplate of faith and love; and for an helmet, the hope of salvation.'