WHAT AMUSES ME

"a personal anthology of words and thoughts

that I have gathered and enjoyed

over many years"

by

Owen Vigeon

I dedicate this anthology to the numberless people who for so many years have put up with my "chuntering on" and have heard too many of my stories too many times.
Particularly of course to Sally who holds the record in that respect .
Note: Over the years people have suggested that I put down on paper all the humorous stories I know. So now I have done this and I think the list is just about complete, though I think one or two more are still hovering at the back of my increasingly geriatric mind. Some are jokes of varying degree of funniness (or un-funniness) that I remember being told. A number are simply anecdotes from my own experiences and perhaps may raise a gentle smile instead. Some are not really funny at all but just "odd". One or two reflect the humour of the funeral culture. This may sound not in good taste - but clergy, doctors and funeral directors all know that there are serious matters which need to be laughed at or we would be ground down by the unrelenting seriousness. Funny things do happen around funerals !
A disproportionate number of tales concern Bishops; but this does not mean that I have got it in for them. It is just that the Church of England has its own peculiar and affectionate sense of humour for which Bishops tend to be the fall guys. I think the Church of England needs to regain that ability to laugh at itself which we possessed in former times - perhaps because we felt rather more secure than we do today.
These items are not really in any particular order and vary radically in time and space. But it does not really matter because nearly every paragraph is a free standing unit. I trust my readers have a sense of proportion and will enjoy what follows.
TWO THEOLOGICAL STORIES

GENESIS MARK TWO

When the final nuclear holocaust died down, there remained in the whole wide world, only a patch of the Amazon jungle where there was any greenery or any life. Eventually, when he thought everything was safe, a little boy monkey came down out of the tree in which he had been hiding. He looked around. Nothing. Silence. He was alone. Deeply depressed he sat down at the foot of a tree with his head in his hands and was quite inconsolable.

Then out of the next tree climbed down a little girl monkey. She saw the boy monkey and tried to make friends. She tried every feminine guile she could conceive of but he remained immune to her charms. Then she noticed a juicy apple hanging from the branch of a neighbouring tree; so she picked it and brought it as a peace offering, sure that this would cure his indifference.

But the little boy monkey opened his eyes, groaned and said

"O God, we don't have to go through all that again do we ?"

THE EXISTENCE OF GOD

Back in the early days of modern computers, IBM produced their latest masterpiece which filled at least two large rooms. Proud of their product, they invited the worlds best intellectuals to a seminar where they could put the new machine to the test. In those days you had to key in the question and the computer would reply on ticker tape.

Every conceivable problem was hurled at the computer and it solved them all instantly. Then a Professor said "Ask the machine the question that men have been asking since they were able to talk. Ask it "Is there a God ?"

The question was typed in and the computer went into overdrive. It was in danger of having a nervous breakdown. After some time the ticker tape sprang into action. Eagerly they scanned the message to find the answer. The answer they found was

"THERE IS – NOW !"

THE PERILS OF PREACHING

The sermons of an elderly Vicar were getting longer and duller. In desperation his church council sent two of their number as a deputation to see him and explain the problem. "What we really need, Vicar, (said one of them ) are sermons that wake us up and make us think. Do you think you could put more of a challenge into them ?" The Vicar humbly accepted the rebuke and promised to do his best.
Next Sunday it was Advent Sunday. The gospel reading was the parable of the Ten Virgins at the Wedding Feast. The Vicar expounded the background and meaning of the parable at some length. Then remembering what had been asked of him, he concluded his sermon like this.
"So my friends this parable challenges every one of us. It puts before us a choice which we cannot avoid. We each have to decide - are we going to keep watch with the wise virgins or sleep with the foolish ones !"
THE CREATION OF PETS

(courtesy of Joan Salmon in the journal of the Franciscan Companions)

Adam said to "Lord when I was in the garden you walked with me every day .But now I do not see you any more. I am lonesome here and it is difficult for me to remember how much you love me."
And God said "No problem ! I will create a companion for you that will be with you for ever and who will be a reflection of my love for you so that you will know I love you even when you cannot see me. Regardless of how selfish and childish and unlovable you may be, this new companion will accept you as you are and will love you as I do in spite of yourself."
And God created a new animal to be a companion for Adam. And behold it was a good animal . And God was very pleased.
And the new animal was pleased to be with Adam, and he wagged his tail. And Adam said "But Lord I have already named all the animals in the kingdom and all the good names are taken and I cannot think of a name for this new animal.
And God said "No problem ! Because I have created this new animal to be a reflection of my love for you, his name will be a reflection of my own name and you will call him D O G."
And Dog lived with Adam and was a companion to him and loved him. And Adam was comforted And God was pleased. And Dog was content and wagged his tail.
After a while it came to pass that Adam’s guardian angel came to the lord and said
"Lord, Adam has become filled with pride. He struts and preens like a peacock and he believes he is worthy of adoration. Dog has indeed taught him that he is loved but no one has taught him humility."
And God said "No Problem !.I will create for him a companion who will be with him for ever and who will see him as he is. The companion will remind him of his limitations so he will know he is not worthy of adoration.
And God created CAT to be a companion to Adam. And Cat would not obey Adam.
And when Adam gazed into Cat’s eyes he was reminded that he was not the supreme being. And Adam learned humility.
And God was pleased.
And Adam was greatly improved.
And the CAT did not care one way or the other.
CHURCHGOING

Jim came down to breakfast one Sunday morning. Over the corn flakes he told his father that he had decided not to go to church that morning.
"Why aren’t you going today ?" asked his Dad.
"Well, for a start the people there are unfriendly, the sermons are boring and the music is terrible . Give me one good reason why I should go in the circumstances !"
"Well" replied his father " You Are the Vicar !"
DIVIDED BY A SINGLE LANGUAGE

Ever since George Bernard Shaw described the UK and the USA as two countries divided by a single language there have been innumerable jokes on the subject; and the odd song ("You say tomaytoes and I say tomartoes").
The following story is, in my judgement, one of the best if only it reminds us of the Church of England’s fondness for out of date words.
An American multi=millionaire came over the pond to discover his roots in rural England. He found the village where his family originated and visited it. On going into the ancient mediaeval parish church he found that it was in urgent need of £100,000 to keep the roof watertight and the building in good repair. Feeling very pleased at his pilgrimage, he sat down at once and wrote a cheque for the full amount and placed in the alms box.
You can imagine the feelings of the Vicar when this valuable piece of paper was found.
With funds in hand the work progressed rapidly and soon the parish was planning a grand rededication of the church to be carried out by the Bishop in the presence of the guest of honour, their generous American donor.
It was a great occasion and everyone was feeling very joyful; but they were rather perturbed when, in the middle of the service, their benefactor stormed out of church with a face as black as night. Eventually they found out the problem. The Vicar had been leading the prayers; and in the course of this he had said "and we thank you Lord for all those who contributed so generously especially for the succour [pronounced of course "sucker"] that came to us from across the Atlantic."
GOLF AND RELIGION

I have always thought that Golf and Christianity have a lot in common. For a start the New Testament word for sin could be translated "missing the putt". Perhaps the game could only have originated in a Christian culture. A Golf Club is a kind of church; and the pro is a kind of High Priest of the sacred art; and the green keepers are his acolytes ! but outstandingly there is the tradition that when you break the laws you have to confess your sins and do penance ! Here are three traditional tales about this strange relationship.
The Vicar went down to his Golf Club one Monday morning [his day off] to look for a game. There was a young man there who was visiting and also wanted a game. "What do you play off ?" asked the Vicar. "Seventeen" replied the man. So it seemed they were fairly well matched. Once they got going however it became clear that the visitor was a much superior player. At the nineteenth hole, the Vicar said " I thought you played much better than a seventeen handicapper today." The young man blinked. "I’m terribly sorry; did I say seventeen ? It was a slip of the tongue, it should have been seven. But I tell you what; to make up for the mistake I will come and listen to you preach. What time is your evening service on Sunday ?" "Six thirty" said the vicar." Do come - I would be delighted to see you; and while you are at it bring your mother and father with you. I should be very pleased to marry them after the service."

Donald was a keen club golfer; but he was getting on a bit. He was also a regular attender at Church. As he approached late middle age he was not so sure about the prospects of life after death. One day he buttonholed the Vicar. "Vicar do you know if there are any golf courses in heaven ". The Vicar replied that he had not the faintest idea but would make enquiries in the proper quarter. The following week after Church, the Vicar hailed Donald. "Donald I’ve got the information you wanted. The good news is that yes, there are several championship standard golf courses in heaven. The bad new is that you are booked to tee off at nine o’clock on Wednesday"

A Vicar John took up golf; and became hooked on the game. He practiced hard and spent all his time off playing on his local course. Golf began to take over his life. He spent more and more time playing and less and less on his pastoral duties. His guardian angel was very concerned about the way his charge was going. He went to God and put the case and asked God to do something to get John back to his true vocation.
"Don’t worry" said God, "I’ve got it all in hand."
One lovely weekend John was tempted as never before. On Saturday evening, he phoned his assistant colleague to tell him that he was feeling extremely unwell and that he would not be in church in the morning - would his colleague cover ?
Early on Sunday morning he set off for the golf course. Feeling very confident of his new found skills he addressed the ball on the first tee - a par four hole of 320 yards. He swung the club and the ball soared up the fairway, bounced onto the green and rolled up to the hole and fell in. It was a ‘hole in one’ beyond anyone’s dreams.
"Look what’s happened now " complained the angel to God. "He played that hole so well he will be even more full of himself - we’ll never hold him back "
"Oh I don’t know" remarked God. "I think we have him now. Just consider. A hole in one - and who can he ever tell about it !"
TALES OF THE NORTH COUNTREE

THE BISHOP'S VISITATION

The Bishop of Blackburn looked in his diary and found that he had a day clear of engagements. What should he do ? "I'll do what I really ought to be doing more of" (he thought) "I'll get in the car and visit some of the country parishes in North Lancashire – they get terribly neglected."
So without notice that is what he did.
He got to one parish and rang the door at the Rectory. There was no reply. He went to the church – nobody about. "No doubt he is visiting in his parish" thought the Bishop and went on to the one next door – with the same result. And the same at the third attempt. He was suitably impressed by the zeal of the country clergy.
He came to a fourth parish. Again there was no reply at the manse. But he noticed a light shining in the window of the church vestry. So he walked across and peered through the window. Amazingly he saw the four clergy he was trying to visit, sitting round a table and enjoying a rubber of Bridge.
"I don't want to embarrass them" he thought; "What shall I do ? I know, I'll go into church and ring the bell to warn them that I am here "
He did this, and as the chime of the bell faded away, the barmaid from the village pub across the road emerged, carrying four pints of beer across to the vestry !
THE HEADMASTER'S SECRET.

A young supply teacher was working at a little village school in north Lancashire. She was new to those parts and inexperienced. In those days the children brought their own packed lunch with them to eat in the dinner hour. When the bell went, the children got out their lunches. One boy, carelessly threw the paper wrapping on the floor. "Jimmy" she admonished him "we don't do that. Pick up the paper and put in a bin". "Where is it Miss ? " asked Jimmy. "I don't know but I am sure if you go into the playground you will find a bin there." she said. So off trotted Jimmy, looking for an non-existent bin. Just then the Headmaster returned cheerfully from the village pub where he went each day for a liquid lunch. Jimmy waylaid him .
"Please sir, where's the bin ?"
The headmaster glowered at him;
"What the hell is that to do with thee ?" he replied
("Where's tha'bin ?" in north country parlance means "Where have you been ?")
THE BISHOP'S INSPECTION

The Bishop of Blackburn was spending a day visiting the church schools in the villages of the Lune Valley. At the first one he talked to the children, and introduced himself.
"Now" he said "I am going to find out how much you know about the church. Can anyone tell me what is a pectoral cross ?"
A deathly hush ensued. So of course he showed them his cross and they were suitably edified.
When he left, the Headmaster phoned his colleague at the next school. "Bill" he said "just to warn you, the Bishop is asking the kids about his pectoral cross – so you can prepare your children and not suffer the embarrassment I went through."
The Bishop duly arrived at his next call; and went through the same ritual.
"Now children" he said at last,"I want to find out how much you know about the Church. Can anyone tell me what is an Archdeacon ?"
To his surprise a forest of hands went up. He picked out one boy. "Please sir, something that hangs round a Bishop's neck !"
Another Bishop of Blackburn told how he was visiting a Church School. He was introducing himself to the children and asked them who they thought he was. A bright boy said "You’re Father Christmas’ daddy " (!)
THE NEXT VICAR

Back in the old days, at the time of the inter-war depression and long before clergy vacancies were advertised in the modern fashion, a rather nondescript parish in West Cumberland found itself without a Vicar. Nobody could be found who wanted to minister to a poor living, a small congregation in a rather dilapidated church in an areas of high unemployment. Eventually they wrote to their Bishop to ask for his help. The Bishop replied that he would be happy to help; but could they have a parish meeting and decided what qualities they needed in a new pastor ? Then the Churchwardens could come and visit him.
So they came – with the usual list of requirements - someone not too young nor yet too old; good with children, good with the elderly; a keen visitor of his flock, an excellent preacher and of course married. They brought the list to the Bishop and the more talkative warden explained all this to him at length . Eventually, when he could get a word in edgeways, the Bishop remarked that Archangel Gabriels were is short supply but he would do his best to find someone to go and work in that portion of the vineyard.
At which point, the other Warden who had said nothing up to that point, joined in."Well Bishop," he said" you don't really need to take too much notice of that list. What we really need is a man of God. The other things don't matter so long as he is a man of God"
"Nay Tom" said his colleague "there was now't [nothing] said about that at t'meeting !"
BISHOP TOM BLOOMER

Thomas [or as his extended family knew him "Uncle Tommy"] Bloomer was appointed Bishop of Carlisle in 1946 and remained so for twenty three years. I was Head Boy of Carlisle Grammar School at the time and so represented the School at the Enthronement in the Cathedral. I was dimly aware that there was a young family in the Bishop’s pew. Eight years later, I was ordained by him and so he became my Father in God. At lunch after the ordination I found myself sitting next to a feisty 16 year old schoolgirl who I discovered was the Bishop’s younger daughter. Five years after that we met again and within a year we were married, so Bishop Tom became my Father in Law as well. The following tales reflect something of his personality which was dominated by an Irish sense of mischief which perhaps partly hid a very acute and perceptive mind. When telling us of the salmon which he had nearly hooked and its enormous size we would query him and ask if the story was really true. His answer would be that it was "substantially the truth". It is in that spirit that I offer the following.
INDUCTING THE VICAR

A small Cumbrian country parish suffered a long interregnum. This was mainly because the parishioners refused to help the incumbent with telephone or travelling expenses which at this time was becoming normal. They expected the vicar to exist and work on his Endowment Stipend.
The Churchwardens came to see Bishop Bloomer (my father in law as well as father in God) who greeted them kindly and heard their story.
"Gentlemen," he said eventually "I promise you I will find you a new Vicar; and what's more I will conduct the Induction myself with pleasure. And in the sermon I shall instruct your new Vicar to spend the majority of his time maintaining the church yard." Their jaws dropped. "Why's that,Bishop ?" "Well they're the ones who will be paying him won't they?"
PAYING THE CURATE
The same Bishop was taking a confirmation at a city church. After the service he was asking the Churchwardens if they thought there was anyone in the congregation who would like the job of chauffeur and handyman at Rose Castle [the Episcopal seat]. "What sort of wages would you be offering ?" said one Warden. The Bishop named a sum. The other Warden exploded "But Bishop that is more than you are paying your curates !"
NEVER APOLOGISE

One winter's night there was a confirmation in a small historic church in the wilds of north Cumbria. It was some distance from its village and was situated in a field. It was blowing a gale and sleeting and the Bishop's chauffeur got lost in the country lanes. Half past seven and no Bishop. The organist played. The congregation chatted. 7.45 and still no Bishop. Ten minutes later the door flew open and Bishop Bloomer marched in saying in a loud voice "This church was in a different field the last time I came here !"
COLLEAGUES

Bishop Bloomer and Charlie Nurse his Archdeacon shared a roguish sense of humour. It was well known that at times one or other would turn up for some Diocesan event without their reading glasses. They simply converted the exchange of the one pair of available specs into a liturgical action. They were known on occasion (e.g. the licensing of Readers) to find that neither had brought the order of service. So they made it up as they went along and no one really noticed that the service was extempore !
THE MYSTERIES OF SIGNING

Bishop Tom told of how he was invited to preach at a special service to mark the Jubilee of the Diocesan Deaf and Dumb Mission.
Everything of course had to be signed.
He launched into his sermon, and at one point got sidelined into telling one of his whimsical and rather long Irish tales. The signer seemed to translate the story fairly briefly but the Bishop was reassured when the congregation laughed as loudly as he had hoped.
Later in the vestry he enquired into the miracle of signing compression. "What did you say ?" he enquired.
"Oh ! I just said "The Bishop has told a funny story - please laugh".
OFF BY HEART

Bishop Tom had been Vicar of Barking during the war. It was a very large parish where service men on leave got married in large numbers - often on the half hour from eight to four o’clock on a Saturday. So he knew the marriage service upside down and inside out.
When it came to conducting his eldest daughter’s wedding in Carlisle Cathedral he took the service with his accustomed confidence. He sailed though the introduction "Dearly beloved we are gathered here ......etc." till he got to the end. At which perhaps the Ulsterman in him took over and he said "if any one can tell why these two persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony let him now speak or for ever after hold his tongue" {!}.
THE BISHOP’S CANTOR

That wedding service included a Nuptial Eucharist which was to be sung by the Cathedral Choir. The Bishop of course was conducting the marriage; but there was a problem in that his ability to pitch a note was very limited and this might spoil the singing of the responses at the Sursum Corda ("Lift up your hearts etc") Someone suggested that the Bishop would need a Chaplain and that his son in law (me) might be able to deputise for him in the musical bits. In those days the Eucharist was of course celebrated in the Eastward Position so that the congregation could not see who was singing.
All went smoothly; and at the reception afterwards several ladies complimented the Bishop on his musical contribution.
"We didn’t know you had such a lovely singing voice, Bishop !"
He accepted the compliments with grace and of course never let on !
ULSTER A CENTURY AGO

My father in law was brought up on a small farm in County Tyrone; and did not wear shoes till he was old enough to go to school.. How he became a Bishop in the Church of England is another and remarkable story. As one wit remarked when the appointment was announced: "I have heard of many a Bishop making a bloomer but never a Bloomer making a Bishop."
He told once how as a boy he was walking with his father to market in Dungannon on a Saturday morning in the company of another Protestant farmer and their Rector. The Rector said to his neighbour "Have you anything in mind at the Market today Michael ?"
"Well" said Michael " I would like to buy a couple of cows if I can find the right ones."
"Well" said the Rector "if you do, make sure you buy some Catholic Cows ; then we might see you in Church on Sundays."
(It was a fact of life that Protestant cows were very prone to be sick on Sunday morning but the Catholic farmers always got to Mass somehow)
ON RETIREMENT

Bishop Bloomer retired in 1969 and was granted the Freedom of the City of Carlisle. At the ceremony he made one of his delightful whimsical speeches and the following comment has gone down in the annals of clergy humour.
" Many clergymen say they do not want to retire but would prefer to die in harness. That might be very good for the horse but not necessarily good for the harness."
OTHER BISHOPS - EASTER LITURGIES

The story is told that Archdeacon Hopkins of Zanzibar was an expert in the more recondite elements of Catholic liturgical practice. One Easter day after the reading of the gospel, he marched up to the Bishop’s throne in the Cathedral , made a reverence and announced in a loud voice:
"Right Reverend Father in God, Christ is risen ! Alleluia!"
To which the Bishop made the liturgical response
"Good gracious Hopkins ,what will you think of next !",
STORIES FROM 1706

Bishop John Nicholson was a local boy who made good. The son of a Cumbrian farmer, he went to Queens College Oxford on a foundation scholarship, and was ordained. He became Vicar of Pentrith ; and then, in an age where promotion depended largely on one’s aristocratic connections, he eventually against all the odds became Bishop of Carlisle on merit. He kept a visitation diary which gives a vivid account of the state of the Church of England fifty or so years after the Civil War.
Two entries stick in my memory.
He would note down interesting inscriptions on gravestones in the churches he visited. One he noted was a tribute to a Royalist Colonel to his deceased wife. It included the gorgeous couplet which would never be allowed by a modern day faculty committee.
'In her fair bosom did all virtues dwell;
God plucked my rose that he might take a smell."
The other entry refers to the village school at Bridekirk in West Cumberland. He noted that it was in good repair and that over the lintel of the main door was a stone inscribed "Ex dono Robert Vaux de Brownrigg" (the gift of Robert Vaux of Brownrigg)
The Bishop comments: "from this it would appear that the said Robert Vaux had built or at least endowed the school; but on further enquiry it transpires that he merely donated the stone."
HIGHWAY CODE

Bishop Martineau of Blackburn [around 1975] once observed that he was somewhat disconcerted that one day, driving through Preston, he came to a cross-roads outside the large municipal cemetery. A new scheme to regulate the flow of traffic had been recently introduced. A large notice outside the cemetery instructed drivers
"Please do not enter your box until you know your exit is clear !"
BISHOP MONTGOMERY CAMPBELL

Montgomery Campbell was successively Bishop of Guildford and then Bishop of London. Sadly his wife died at an early age and he brought up his family on his own. I was privileged to know his daughter Mary, a much loved paediatrician, when I retired to Worcestershire. I played golf with her husband George. Our mutual claim to fame was to be in that very select sociological sub-division of English society called "sons in law of Diocesan Bishops "
Campbell was renowned for having the sharpest wit in the Church of England and the following are just a few of the stories told about him.
A Clergy Conference was being held in Guildford. It was not inspiring and a clergyman decided to slip away during the lunch interval. On the way out, he met the Bishop coming in – who mildly enquired where he thought he was going.
"O my Lord," said the embarrassed priest "the Holy Spirit has just reminded me that my wife asked me to do some shopping for her while I was in town."
"The Holy Spirit is misinformed" replied the Bishop "it is half day closing today"
A clergyman of evangelical persuasion was recommended to the Bishop for a certain parish. He was invited to lunch at the Bishop's Palace. As they sat down to eat, the Bishop said "You'll take a glass of wine with me of course ?" "Oh my Lord" said the unfortunate man "I never touch alcohol – I would rather commit adultery !" To which the Bishop rejoined "So would we all but that wasn’t what I asked you !"
When the Bishop was to be enthroned as Bishop of London he arrived outside St Paul's Cathedral and as custom directs thumped three times on the Cathedral door with his crosier to demand entry. There was a long pause when nothing happened. The Bishop whispered loudly to his Chaplain so that all could hear "Have we come to the right place ?"
A short space after the above, the doors were opened and revealed the Dean and Chapter of St Paul's waiting to receive their new Bishop. They were all very distinguished but all extremely decrepit in appearance. The Bishop muttered
"The See gives up its dead !" (explanation for non Anglicans "See" is another term for "Diocese" hence the pun.)
At a gathering of Bishops, the Archbishop of Canterbury was paying farewell tribute to his colleague, Archbishop Garbett of York who was retiring. Garbett had been a Bishop of the old school and a stern disciplinarian – he was not exactly popular with all. Canterbury was saying "There are some who think that Archbishop Garbett is a hard man "
Montgomery Campbell at the back of the room was heard to mutter "Hard ? Hard ? He'd wash his handkerchiefs in a widow's tears !"
YORKSHIRE CUSTOMS

The above mentioned Archbishop Garbett however noted the following story in his diary when he moved to York, having never lived north of London all his professional life.
A newly ordained clergyman was appointed to be Curate of a prosperous Yorkshire country town. When he got there his Vicar and boss announced that he was going on holiday in a months time and that he would be left in sole charge. During the holiday, the wife of a very well to do local farmer died, and the Curate did his best. Being new to the life he was surprised that at the end of the service he was warmly invited to return to the farm for a meal – or as they say in Yorkshire "to be buried with ham". He arrived and went into the large room where the centre table was filled with all kinds of good things to eat. It is the custom in the North of England on such occasions to go, as they say,"round the table", sampling all the good things on offer.
The young man stood there feeling very unsure of himself; when a buxom lady came up to him with an apple tart [or 'plate cake' as it is called in the North] and said cheerfully:
"'Ere lad ! Have a slice of plate cake made by corpse's own hands !"
(the deceased had collapsed shortly after completing a big baking day)
CHARLES GORE

He was the first Bishop of Birmingham, a great scholar and regarded as a saint of God by many. But he used to say
"I never like going to the zoo - I always come out an atheist !"
HENSLEY HENSON

Henson was a Bishop of Durham in the early 20th century whose reputation as a gadfly was not dissimilar to that of his successor David Jenkins many years later. He told the following story.
He had been to dinner with the then Archbishop of Canterbury, Cosmo Gordon Lang who was very much of the old starchy school when the "presence" was all . At the end of the meal the Lang said "Come into my study Henson; I’ve just had my portrait painted and I’d value your opinion. They went in and the Archbishop said in a false deprecatory tone.
" I don’t like it, I don’t like it . It makes me look proud, pompous, and prelatical."
Henson replied "And to which of those adjectives does Your Grace take exception ?"
Those were the days.
A BISHOP’S ORATORY

At the end of a session of the Lambeth Conference in 1929, the assembled bishops had been bored stiff by one of their colleagues who said too much about too many things. Over lunch one Bishop said to another. "I do like listening to brother xxxx; his speeches always remind me of the peace and mercy of God "
"Why is that ?"
"Well like the peace of God they pass understanding and like the mercy of God they endure for ever."
MICHAEL RAMSEY

When Michael Ramsey was a young priest he worked in the parish of Boston, Lincs which has an endowed curacy. He was of course renowned for his apparent unworldliness and absent mindedness. This story was told. He was in lodgings and had been out visiting the flock one afternoon.
When he got home he found that he had forgotten to take his latch key with him so he rang the door bell. His landlady was in the upstairs bedroom and shouted down through the window [without looking] "The Curate’s out !"
"Oh" said Michael "I’ll come back later then."
Not many people know that apparently in his time at Cambridge as an under-graduate, Michael Ramsey was a prominent member of the Cambridge Union and was regarded as a probable future Leader of the Liberal Party. Did anyone think he would be an Archbishop I wonder ?
IN THE WILDS OF NORTH CUMBERLAND ABOUT 1925

The land between Carlisle and the Scottish border is still pretty remote. Two stories have come, via a dear friend, Charlie Nurse, onetime Archdeacon of Carlisle, who was steeped in the folk lore of his native diocese. He told me these tales from the early twentieth century which illustrates this in different ways.
Bewcastle is a village famous for its Saxon Cross in the churchyard which is visited by anyone interested in the history of the Dark Ages. A new Rector arrived and all seemed well. Some months later the Churchwarden said to him "Eh up Rector ! How is't we never hear nowt about t'election these days.?" The Rector looked puzzled – there were no elections as far as he could see on the political horizon, nor had there been for some time. "Why do you ask, Bob ?" he asked.
"Well t'last Rector, ee were allus gan (always going) on about t'election, ee were. " Light dawned. Obviously his predecessor had been a convinced Calvinist for whom the doctrine of pre-election of the saints was very important.
A new incumbent went to inspect the church school at Westlinton in the other end of his large parish which also doubled as a Mission church. The caretaker/verger met him and showed him round; and it was pretty depressing. There were no signs of any equipment for Holy Communion. "Walter, where do you keep the chalice and paten, ?" asked the Vicar. "Nay Vicar" was the reply "we don't have none o’ them." "But surely you must have something ? You know what I mean – the vessels we use for Holy Communion". "Ah !" [light dawned] "tha means t'coop and platter !"
THE NIGHT TRAIN

The same Charlie Nurse told this story of his trip to Oberammergau as a young man in 1929. He went with his father, who was Rector of Windermere. They took the ferry to Hook of Holland and then got a sleeper compartment on the night train and trundled through Germany. In the middle of the night the train stopped.
"Where are we now Charlie ?" enquired his father from the top bunk. Charlie looked out and saw a large notice . "We’re at AUSGANG" he announced. "Never heard of it" pronounced his father, turned over and went back to sleep. Off the train went and a couple of hours later stopped again. They woke up.
"Where are we now Charlie ?"enquired his father. Charlie looked out - "We’re back at AUSGANG again !"
(for non Germanic friends, Ausgang simply means "Way Out")
"MIRACLES ARE DIVINE COINCIDENCES"

New Years Eve, 1962 was a Sunday. After evensong we packed up and got in the car with our baby Rachel in her carry cot, to spend a day or two Christmas holiday with our respective parents in and near Carlisle. There had been a lot of snow. Halfway, I let Sally take over the driving as I was tired after a long Sunday duty. We got to Penrith just before midnight and the crowds were assembled in the square to see in the New Year. Someone noticed my clerical collar and shouted "Its the Bishop ! Make way for the Bishop!" and the crowd parted magically to let us through. We then got onto some narrower country roads in the wilds of north Cumberland. A car came towards us down the middle of the road with headlights blazing and all that Sally could do was to drive off the road onto the verge.
Then we found we were stuck in the snow and could not move. We left the car engine running so as to keep the car warm for the baby and pondered what to do. Eventually I said - "I’ll get out and walk till I find a farm where I can get some help - if I can wake anyone up at this time of night". It was a really threatening situation. I was just about to set off when on the horizon a long way off I saw a glimmer of light. It got nearer and was obviously a car I stood to wave it down when it stopped. The driver looked out of his window and said "Where can I take you sir ?"
Unbelievably it was an empty taxi cab ! So we got home safely and rescued the car next morning. I resolved never to doubt divine providence again ! Of course today we would have had our mobile and the problem would have been far less.
ACUTE PARANOIA

This story is forty years old and was told me by a friend who was a hospital chaplain.
An old chap lived on his own in a rather run down row of terrace houses in downtown Burnley. He got some new neighbours. He began to talk to friends down at the pub; saying that the new neighbours were after him and were trying poison him by boring holes in the dividing wall and pumping domestic gas through into his house . He had to keep watch and find the holes and block them. After a while people began to be suspicious and got him to see his doctor. He told his doctor his complaint. It was an obvious case of acute paranoia and the doctor referred him to the Psychiatric Unit at the local hospital. He was taken in and assessed; the diagnosis was confirmed, and he was put on a course of drugs to try to alleviate the symptoms. Nothing doing. He still went on telling the same story of being persecuted by his next door neighbours.
In desperation his psychiatrist said: "Mr Jones, we will solve this once and for all. Take me to your house so that I can see for myself ; and we will prove that all this is in your imagination."
Off they went; entered the house and found, to their astonishment, that the story was indeed true !
MOUTHS OF BABES AND SUCKLINGS

I was asked to be Father Christmas at an Infants School in Barrow in Furness. I arrived at the appointed time; was shown to the Headmistress’ office where I found my fancy dress. I then ventured to the door into the school hall where the party was taking place. The children were in the middle of a game; so I stayed back in the corner. Just then a little boy and a little girl returned from a visit to their respective toilets. They looked at me and the boy [being a realistic down to earth male] said "That’s not Father Christmas that’s a man"
To which the little girl [with that wonderful feminine gift for intuitive faith] replied "Don’t be silly - he’s only pretending to be a man!"
PS Serious afterthought for clergy. Students of theology will remember that in the days of primitive Christianity the doctrine of Christ included everything between saying he was simply an inspired man to saying he was a divine spirit pretending to be a man The answer of course in the end was somewhere in between; but those two children summed up the Christological debate perfectly !
A GENTILE FUNERAL

A Jewish bookie had a gentile friend who died suddenly. He was invited to the funeral and all went well. Afterwards a colleague asked him what it was like. "It was a very nice service," he said "until we got to the graveside. I didn't like the way the priest was saying prayers and making 'two to one against' at the same time !"
[sign of the cross of course].
THE BETTING GAME

A 'gentleman of the road' called at the presbytery requesting money.
"Now Jimmy', said Fr Joe, "you know we never give money. But I will help you make an investment. Here are two 10 pence pieces. Go into church and by the side altar you will find candles at 10 pence a time. I suggest you go there, light a candle and then go and put the other ten pence on the horse of your choice for the next race. So that is what Jimmy did. The horse came in first at 20/1. So he repeated the process and placed his winnings on the next race. The outsider he bet on came in first at 30/1. So it went all afternoon and he had amassed a small fortune by the next to last race.
However when he went back into church to light another candle he found to his horror there were none left. There were however some smaller candles priced at five pence. So he thought it would be the same if he bought two of those instead of one of the ten pence ones. He put his winnings on his last choice and the horse came in last. He stormed back to the presbytery and told Fr Joe what had happened. "Ah Jimmy," said the Father "I should have warned you – those five pence candles are for the dogs.
KNOCK

(This tale was circulated in Irish Catholic circles at the time !)
In the centre of Ireland there is an international airport in the middle of nowhere called Knock. It was built with money supplied largely by the European Community and was intended to be a facility for developing the local church as a pilgrimage centre. Knock Church claims that it was the site of a special apparition of the Blessed Virgin Mary.
The project was mainly handled by a local committee chaired by the Parish Priest. As the airport neared completion they began to plan the opening ceremony. They needed a personality to open it. What better than to have the occasion on St Patrick's Day. Their first choice as opener was the Saint himself and they sent a message upstairs to that effect. St Patrick replied that they should have known that there was only one place he could be on his name day and that was New York and sent his apologies.
Someone suggested President Reagan; but they found that that too was impossible for him for the same reason.
Then a lady came up with a bright idea. "Why don't we invite Our Lady herself ?" Everyone agreed that this was brilliant and a telegram was sent to heaven.
The answer came back: "I should be delighted to accept your kind invitation to open your airport. Knock is a place I always thought I ought to visit some day !"
CATHOLICS AND PROTESTANTS

Canon John (Anglican) and Father Michael (Roman Catholic) were the best of friends and enjoyed one another's company and lots of friendly argument across the denominational divide. One day they met in town and Father M said "John, you know they have been building me a new presbytery – well its finished now and its very nice – would you like to come over and view it ?"
So John did so and he was very impressed with this up to the minute house which his Catholic friend was going to enjoy. It seemed to contrast too well with the overlarge and inconvenient Vicarage he and his family had to endure. He expressed his envy to his friend; to which Fr Michael replied
"Ah well, John, you Anglicans may have your better halves but we Catholics have the better quarters !"
CHURCH ARCHITECTURE

The Parish church was burned down one night . (the local paper said that the Vicar had described the happening as "an act of God under suspicious circumstances".)
Unfortunately, there was not sufficient insurance cover to rebuild the church and there was much despondency in the congregation.
One night the Vicarage door bell rang; and a stranger introduced himself and was invited in.He told the Vicar he had a proposition.
"I am a well known and successful church architect; and I have heard of your plight. So I make you an offer. I am prepared to build you a new church at no cost to yourselves on the understanding that I can build it as I want and not as my clients usually want me to design." The offer was too good to be true and the building went ahead.
On the Saturday afternoon when the new building was to be consecrated by the Bishop at 3.0 pm people started to arrive in good time. The first arrivals entered the church and found to their surprise that the church was empty of furniture apart from a row of seats along the rear wall. So they sat in those. Then when the seats were full, there was the sound of machinery and the row of seats was propelled to the front of church and a replacement row appeared at the back. So it went on till at three o'clock the church was full from front to back.
Everything went fine. The Bishop got up in the pulpit to preach. He was in the middle of his address when, after twelve minutes, there was more noise of machinery and the pulpit gradually disappeared into the basement .The architect had made his point !
SOUND SYSTEMS

When I went to St Thomas’ Church, Lytham St Annes, I was warned that the sound amplification system was a little treacherous. The long leads to the speakers transformed themselves into aerials and picked up unwanted messages from the emergency services.
During my predecessor’s reign there was a Civic Service and the church was full (it seated 750) Patrick was preaching one of his tirades against the ungodly society. "Where ?" he demanded rhetorically "where can we go in these days to find God ?" and paused for dramatic effect.
As if on cue, a Police car broke in "Down the M6 approaching Preston."
MEDICAL SERVICES

It was winter; there was a lot of illness about and the doctor had had a very busy day. He got home late at night, went to use the lavatory but found to his annoyance that it was not flushing properly. He picked up the phone and rang the local plumber. He explained what the problem was and "I want you to come out and fix it for me"
"What ? at this time of night"
"Well if you were taken ill you would expect me to come to you."
"You want me to come to you in the same spirit as you would come to me."
"Exactly"
A little later the plumber arrived and was ushered in. He went to the bathroom, fished in his pocket; took out a couple of aspirin tablets, dropped them down the ‘loo’, pulled the chain and said "Phone me if you’re no better in the morning."
AT ST PETERS GATE

St Peter was on duty at reception. Every candidate was asked three things;did they smoke ? did they drink alcohol ? and had they been unfaithful to their marriage vows ?
Candidate A assured Peter he had done none of those things. Peter said "In that case you can come in with pleasure - you have been so good that we will provide you with a Jaguar so that you can motor all round heaven to your hearts content." So off he went in his brand new car.
Candidate B had a good record but he did admit that he enjoyed a whisky night-cap from time to time. He was granted a Ford Fiesta.
He set out and followed the Jaguar. Suddenly the first driver threw out all anchors and the Jag shuddered to a sudden halt. Taken by surprise the second driver crashed into the rear of the Jaguar. Incensed, he got out and marched up to the first car to complain. To his surprise he found driver A creased up and helpless with laughter. "What’s so funny ?" said angry driver B.
"I’ve just seen the Vicar on his bicycle !"
THE ANNEXE

The women of St Ermyntrude’s Church were on their annual coach outing and were enjoying it very much. Sadly there was a terrible accident and they were all killed. As a result fifty devout church women arrived at St Peter’s gate at the same time and he was rather stretched. "I’m sorry, ladies," he said" but we are a bit pushed for accommodation - please wait while I make special arrangements for you. " He got on the phone and spoke to Satan. "Could you put these women up for me just for a while until I find them a permanent home?"
"Certainly, send them along "
He came back to the queue
"I’m very glad to tell you we can accommodate you in the annexe; my assistant will show you the way." And off they went.
Regrettably, Peter was so busy that he forgot that particular piece of business. Some time later the phone rang. It was Satan.
"Peter old chap, do hurry and take these women off my hands - one more jumble sale and they will have enough money to install air conditioning down here ! "
OFSTED (SCHOOL INSPECTIONS) EARLY 20TH CENTURY STYLE

In the early nineteen hundreds, there was a system of school inspection in place called 'payment by results'. The amount of government grant towards the upkeep of the school was measured by the efficiency of the staff in inculcating essential knowledge of the THREE R'S" into their pupils.
An inspector was working in a small rural school in north Lancashire where the general level of attainment was not high. He examined the children in English language.
"Children," he announced, " I am going to write a sentence on the blackboard and we will then find out if you can parse the sentence. He wrote:
"John could hear the skylark singing in the fresh morning air."
It was easy to find that 'John' was a proper noun. That 'hear' was a verb. Then they got to skylark.
The inspector noticed one boy near the back of the class who was taking no part in proceedings. "You boy !" he called "what kind of a word is skylark ?" The lad screwed up his face in concentration and then announced "It's a noun sir !" "Very good !" replied the inspector. "but what kind of noun is it – is it masculine or feminine or what ?" Again the lad responded "Masculine sir."
"Come now" responded his inquisitor, "there is nothing to indicate whether it is masculine or feminine. So what do we call those kind of nouns ?" But the boy stuck to his guns. "It IS masculine sir ". Increasingly irritated by such perverseness, the inspector asked "How do you know it is masculine?" The boy who knew all about such things of course replied "Well sir, I've never heard a hen bird sing yet !" (Collapse of stout party, as they say).
BURNLEY DAYS

In the 1960’s I visited an elderly couple in my Lancashire parish who were housebound . We were having a nice chat and it was just at the time when Edward Heath was negotiating entry into the Common Market. I then heard this remarkable exchange.
She. "Of course our Joe [the husband] doesn’t believe in all the Treaty of Rome business, Vicar."
Me. " O why is that ?"
She "He thinks we should stay Protestants !"
When I first went to St Stephen’s, I found myself in a good size church and in those days not many churches had sound systems. So I made it my business to pronounce my words in a fairly loud way to ensure I could be heard. A while later, I was at a church meeting when a middle aged lady parishioner came up to me and said
"Eh Vicar, tha’ knows tha’ don’t need to shout in church. We all worked in t’loomsheds when we were young and we can all lip read."
Burnley was of course until modern times one of the largest of the Lancashire weaving towns.
An American parishioner in Burnley once confided to me that although he loved the Lancashire people he was still a little mystified by their language. "When you meet someone and ask them how they are, they either answer "Middling" or "Nobbutt middling" or "Fair to middling" and to this day I don’t quite understand in what order of health the three phrases come."
MY SON TIMOTHY

When a very small boy Tim was the family comedian. You just said "say something funny Tim" and he always obliged.
As a toddler we took him and his elder sister out for a day trip on the train. At lunch time we went into a cafe in Keighley . Sally and I had meat pie and chips and fed the children from our plates. Rachel sat up to table but Tim was still in his carrycot under the table. Suddenly from the cot came a plaintive voice which said "More pie !" They were the very first words he ever said and we still cannot work out how he managed it ! He has always liked his food ever since !
When he was a little older , he announced in church "Daddy talk in church; me talk too !" (can’t argue with that can you ?)
During the service he would play with hymn books, shuffling them along the shelf . A lady on the pew in front of him turned round and said in a loud whisper "SssssssssHHHH!" Tim replied
"Oh ! do you play trains too ?"
ON THE STAGE

St Stephen's Burnley had a very good Op and Dram society. They put on the pantomime "The Pied Piper". As the only flute player in the parish I was the eponymous Piper. There was the statutory schoolroom scene with the Dame comedian as the schoolmistress. I had to make an entrance with a gentle request and was greeted by the Dame with a long and very funny piece of comic vituperation. Tim, aged four, was one of the class children on stage. Suddenly and quite unscripted a little voice shouted "Don’t you speak to my daddy like that !" It brought the house down of course but he couldn’t be persuaded to repeat it the next night.
BABYSITTERS

Clergy families are very dependent on baby sitters when both parents have to be out on church business. One night in our village parish, this was the case and a nice lady volunteered to look after Tim, who asked that his friend Howard from down the road came in to keep him company.
We found out that the two boys (about nine at the time) span a yarn to the bemused baby-sitter that they were really twins - but that Daddy being a Vicar he couldn’t afford to maintain them both; so Howard had to live with another family down the road. So insistent were they that the information was all round the parish next day and we actually received sympathetic murmurs from those who did not know the true state of affairs.
THREE AWFUL BUT SLIGHTLY SUBTLE JOKES

A probationary vet was sent out in emergency to see to a wounded horse one night. When he got there he found the animal had lost a lot of blood so he resolved to give it a transfusion. In the dark he was not able to check on the blood group of the horse, and gave it a dose of the wrong kind. Unfortunately this caused the poor animal to have a heart attack and die.The moral of the story is
"Never change your blood streams in mid horses"
In Edwardian times, the chief of an African tribe newly annexed to the British Empire was visiting London for the first time and the Colonial Office did its best to impress him. On one outing he visited Harrod's and saw in the store a magnificent, heavy ebony throne inlaid with ivory. It was just what he wanted with which to impress his tribe; and the government was happy to purchase it for him. He took it back to Africa, and when not in use for state occasions he kept it on the storage area in the roof of his kraal. One night there was an almighty thunderstorm which shook his royal hut violently and dislodged the throne which fell through the ceiling and onto the bed where the chief was sleeping and killed him. The moral of the story is
"People who live in grass houses shouldn't store thrones"
A circus promoter discovered a wonderful troop of midget Basques in northern Spain who did all kinds of superb acrobatics. He brought them over to London, and put them up in a hotel on the Strand in London for a night. They were very excited; and in the morning discovered the wonder of a revolving door. They were due to go for an audition, but their promoter could not get them away from the fun of playing with the revolving door. In a moment of irritation he gave the door a hefty shove and made it revolve quickly, which resulted in the little folk being ejected out into the street., Just then a Number 11 bus came along and ran them all over . The moral of the story is
"Never put all your Basques in one exit".
LES DAWSON

That brilliant natural comedian and impressive person, Les Dawson, came to open a Garden Party at my parish in St Annes on the Sea. We had a conversation over tea and cucumber sandwiches, in the course of which he made this rather nice observation."You see Vicar, you and I are really in the same line of business. We both have the job of making people's meaningless lives meaningful and their intolerable lives tolerable. I do it by making them laugh at things they want to cry about – like mothers in law. You have other methods. The trouble is that you have a better script writer than I have !"
LYTHAM ST ANNES

The following story was told by comedians in Blackpool about the neighbouring resort of Lytham St Annes, not renowned for its public services.
A Scotsman came on holiday to Blackpool and took a bus. Unfortunately the bus started before he had got on properly. He fell off, broke a leg, and was whipped off to hospital. Subsequently he put in a claim on the bus company and got compensation of £5000. He was rather pleased about that and the following year he went to Scarbrough and managed to fall off a bus again – this time on purpose. He sued again and came away with another nice cheque. The following year he went on holiday to Lytham St Annes eager to try out his well tried ruse. He stood at the bus stop on Clifton Drive and died of pneumonia
THE CEMENT LORRY

Joe was the driver of one of those cement lorries which whiz around the country with a revolving container which keeps the liquid cement in good condition. One day he was pleased to find that his route went very near his home, so he thought he would stop off and have a cup of tea with his wife.
He drove into his street and noticed that a flashy open topped Jaguar sports car was parked outside his house. Suspicious, he drove past and parked in front of the car. He got out and peered through the front window. Sure enough, there was his wife entertaining a strange man on the couch. What was he to do ? Well he opened up the bonnet of the Jaguar, went to his lorry and backed up; and then poured a liberal dollop of cement onto the car engine. Then he parked up the road to see what happened. In a while, a man came out of his house, picked up his bicycle and rode away.
THE FIRST SERMON (a very old chestnut)

A newly ordained Curate was approaching his first sermon. It was to be at the principal Eucharist on the occasion of a big Parish Festival. He got progressively nervous about this as the day drew nearer; and in the end he sent away for a sermon from one of those agencies who provide such essential facilities for the poor overworked clergy.
On the Sunday morning he strode up to the pulpit full of confidence that he had a really good sermon to deliver. When the people had settled he began with the words:
"FIVE MINUTES AFTER YOU ARE DEAD".
Everyone sat up at such a remarkable introduction and everything went swimmingly. Even his rather caustic training Vicar congratulated him.
Later in the day, there was a Festival Evensong at which the guest preacher was the Bishop of the Diocese. He got into the pulpit and began, (of course) with the words:
"FIVE MINUTES AFTER YOU ARE DEAD"
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY CHURCHMANSHIP.

A certain clergyman of some reputation was invited to preach a sermon at the court of King George III. The Prime Minister was Lord North.
The text was announced from the book of Psalms:-
"Promotion cometh neither from the east or from the west nor yet from the south".
THE PERILS OF READING YOUR SERMON

The Vicar was preaching at some length on the story of the Garden of Eden. He had the sermon written out on several pages. Towards the end he announced "And as Adam said to Eve...." and accidentally caught his notes which fell to the floor of the pulpit. He had to stop, get down and pick up the sheets of paper. But they didn't seem to be all there and he was heard to mutter
"There must be another leaf somewhere !"
THE ULTIMATE DEFINITION OF THE C OF E
(an early 18th century comment by the then Dean of Ely)

"The Church of England is a virtuous mediocrity between the gaudy meretriciousness of the Church of Rome and the squalid sluttery of the fanatical conventicles."
Notes: mediocrity in those days simply meant a middle way but it is better in the modern meaning ! Fanatical conventicles of course means non conformist chapels - fanatical was the "in word" for what we would call enthusiastic or "clap happy".
THE GLOOMY DEAN

Dean Ralph Inge of St Pauls in the 1920/30s was renowned for his pessimistic vision of the future of western civilisation. In his diary he wrote one Sunday:
"This morning the choir sang a new setting of the Nicene Creed at the end of which I had long ceased to believe in anything !"
SAYINGS OF MY OLD VICAR,HAROLD BEESLEY WILSON

Parish Church of St Cuthbert. Carlisle
'When I was Curate of St Matthew's Barrow, my Vicar, Canon Postlethwaite, was very rude about me. He used to say "I wouldn't call Wilson a gossip but he's singularly well informed about the affairs of his neighbours"
"I'm not really celibate - just a worldly old bachelor."
On listening to a clergyman on the radio giving a more than unctuous blessing.
"O dear O dear ! If that's what we sound like no wonder people laugh at us !"
Notice at Evensong. "Thursday of this week is the Feast of St Michael and all Angels. There will be Holy Communion at seven o'clock and half past ten. I have been your vicar now for over twenty years; and for twenty years I have asked you to observe the red letter days of the Church's calendar and for twenty years you have taken no notice of me whatsoever. I suppose if I ask you NOT to turn up on Thursday you will all come !"
Harold was more than a little deaf and was selective in what he heard. His Sunday services were at 8 and 11 am. One clergy chapter, the Vicar of Holy Trinity approached him. "Harold, my curate's on holiday – is there any chance of you coming to us at ten o'clock and assisting with the Holy Communion ? " "What's that ?" barked Harold.
"Is there any chance of you coming to us at ten o'clock, preaching and assisting with the Communion ?"
Like a flash the reply came ."I heard you the first time – you didn't ask me to preach the first time !"
"I never get any time off these days. The only day out of the parish I get is when there is a cremation at Newcastle". [This involved a nice 60 mile drive through lovely countryside and invariably involved a slap up meal in a Newcastle restaurant. Newcastle was for a long time the nearest Crematorium.]
"My choir boys are very rude about my deafness. They call me Mr A.Watt (Eh What ?)"
Harold was a life long bachelor; but he was noticed by two other Canons entertaining a lady of indeterminate age to tea in a city cafe.
They wrote him a letter congratulating him on the forthcoming announcement of his engagement. By return of post they both received a post card on which was written in large letters "NOTHING DOING !"
Harold invited a friend to give a series of midweek addresses on a Wednesday evening in Lent. He made it clear that something between 12 and 15 minutes was all that was required. " I know you tend to go on a bit, George; but our people are used to my short sermons. So when time is up I shall get out my handkerchief and wave it and blow my nose - that means stop."
On Ash Wednesday George spent some time saying how nice it was for his dear friend Harold to invite him; and then even more time to tell how that on the train from Appleby that afternoon he had had a most interesting conversation with another gentleman [which he related at some length] So by the time he actually got to his text the time was nearly up. At fifteen minutes, Harold got out his handkerchief and waved it wildly. But nothing happened.. The process was repeated several times but no notice was taken by the preacher. In the vestry afterwards, the conversation went:
"George I thought I told you that 15 minutes was the limit and you took a half hour."
"Yes - I am very sorry Harold."
"Well, we pay your train fare from Appleby don’t we ?"
"Yes, you are very kind"
"Well next week get yourself a first class ticket and then there won’t be any of those damn fool conversations for you to tell us about !"
FUN IN CHAPEL

I attended Ely Theological College [now no more]. Thirty full blooded young men crammed into a small chapel were a recipe for hysterics when anything went wrong.
I was on rota to lead Compline one Saturday night; and Saturday was our one day of freedom. We had been into Cambridge for the afternoon and had wined and dined rather well. I got back to college just in time to slip on a cassock and get into my pew. We stood up and I began the service:
"Brethren be sober, be vigeonlant" and collapsed with giggles.
I later found that I was passed over for senior student because I was "too frivolous" – a description I rather feel [or hope] would not be recognised by many of my acquaintances.
One student was a retired army Warrant Officer and read the bible as if he was on the parade ground. So on one occasion the Sergeant major in him came out when he read "And the Lord said unto Moses "WHO ARE YOU !!!" (you horrible little man as it were).
The standard in-house joke concerned the fact that at noon the mid-day office of Sext (the sixth hour) was said in chapel. It was not compulsory [as everything else was] .
The college library was situated on the floor above the chapel; so that if you happened to be in the library at mid-day you were "over sext".
An elderly student (Lay Reader) arrived as a ‘special case’ in the New Year. He was on rota to lead Matins on a weekday in Lent and was unused to our high church pernicketyness. He stood up on the front row and said "I will arise and go to my father" and the Vice Principal growled from the back "O no you won’t "! O Lord open thou our lips". So we got over that hurdle. After the first lesson the poor man stood up again and led off with the Te Deum. "We praise thee O God" The Vice Principal again interjected "We don’t in Lent - O all ye works of the Lord bless ye the Lord". Matins of course nearly ground to a halt.
One night we were called into chapel at short notice to be addressed by the Principal. He had a complaint about the disgrace of someone committing an "unspeakable act of depravity". None of us could imagine what he was referring to. It turned out that as it was exam time there was a notice which was hung on the door of the room where we were sitting the exam which said "Silence Exam in Progress" The same card was used on 'open day' when facilities had to be provided for all comers. Someone for a lark had turned the card over so that it read "Ladies Toilet". That was the unspeakable act of depravity.
Students have to cut their teeth on leading worship and preaching by going out two by two to village churches in the area. One such was run by the two churchwardens – one did 'front of house' and the other played the organ by ear. We met before the service and arranged that the responses would be sung in G. During the General Confession the organist poked me in the back, pointed to the organ keyboard and asked "Is that G ?" (it was, fortunately.)
LITURGICAL RUBRICS

Donald Coggan was enthroned in York Minster as Archbishop in 1960; and I was privileged to be present. I was taken with one of the rubrics which read:
Entry of the Diocesan Bishops of the Northern Province
Hymn: Bright the vision that delighted.
Some time later I found myself in the lift at a Clergy Conference and was alone with Donald Coggan for a few seconds - in which time he showed he had the special gift of making you feel you were the only person in the world who mattered at that moment
ANOTHER ARCHBISHOP

Robert Runcie was not always treated kindly by the media , politicians or some members of his church; but the following true anecdote is worth reporting.
The Archbishop was the honoured guest when he paid a visit to Carlisle Cathedral to preach on the occasion of the 800th anniversary of its foundation. The Greater Chapter (the Honorary Canons) were drawn up in two lines along the path to the cathedral door; and the procession drew nigh. At which point Robert saw someone he knew. It was my old training Vicar Harold Stewart. The Archbishop stopped the procession, went over and shook hands saying "Harold, it’s been a long time since you were Curate of St Faith’s Crosby and I was in your Confirmation Class". It showed the true measure of the man and I think he could be forgiven anything for that !
A CHAPEL UPBRINGING

St John's College York was one of the foundations pioneered by the Church of England in the 19th Century to provide proper training for schoolteachers. I served there as Chaplain and Lecturer in Divinity from 1958-61. It has now graduated to become the University College of St John York. Joe Copping was the Tutor who trained students to be Primary School Teachers. He was himself a brilliant and inspiring teacher who produced brilliant teachers in turn. He grew up in the fen district of East Anglia , a remote part of the world; and as a youth he attended the village Methodist Chapel. This was, he said, run by two local devout farmers of limited education. When they were reading the Bible in church they had a way of getting round all those long words which are an accident waiting to happen for any reader. They would simply say:
"And the Lord said unto hard word, go unto hard word and tell..... etc. etc." It sounds a funny idea; but when you think about it, if the congregation had heard the proper names used they would have been no wiser than when they heard "hard word".
Joe was a devout Christian and a confirmed member of the Church of England; but he never lost his Methodist background. One Sunday morning the choir had sung a new setting of the Eucharist which included a 'nine fold kyrie ". Joe came into breakfast at High Table and announced in a loud voice "Silly carry on this morning - all those "weary kyries"- one day the Lord is going to peer out from the gallery and say "I heard you the first time"
A TURN OF PHRASE

Chris Chapman was the Vice Principal of St John’s College at that time and became a dear friend. I always remember him coming back to his room one afternoon with a brand new stereo record player which was pumping the Brahms 2nd Piano Concerto down the college corridors.
"Is it your birthday Chris ?" I enquired.
"No dear boy, just a little present to my self esteem."
LEONARD

Leonard Poore was the senior Tutor in Divinity at St John’s, a delightful friend and colleague and a distinguished academic in his own right . He was also very deaf; and if he was having an afternoon reading his ‘stuffy books’ he would take out his hearing aid. One day there was an almighty thunderstorm raging over York. A student was walking down the corridor past Leonard’s study when the building was shaken by a bold of lightning and an almighty bang. The student reported that at that moment he heard a plaintive voice behind the door shouting
"Come in !!"
GEORGE

George Bagguley was the Music Tutor and Master of the Music at York - an excellent organist and a man of some wit, somewhat mordant at times. He could control the weekly hymn practice for three hundred students with no problem at all due to his quick tongue and comments about Welsh hymn tunes that were "only fit for mountain goats !" He was temperamentally ‘anti-clerical’ (comment on a student "He can’t be any good - he’s highly recommended by his Vicar") but combined that with a stout and devout Anglo-Catholic churchmanship.
At breakfast on Sunday monrings, the Principal would look at all the students who had not been in chapel and look very worried. George would quote in a stage whisper from the Lamentations of Jeremiah :
"The ways of Zion do mourn because men come not to the solemn assembly "
He and I got on very well. One weekend Sally had come over to York so that we could spend some quality time together. On the Monday morning at the end of "Chapel" George kindly extemporised a fugue on the organ from the hymn tune to the words "dark and cheerless is the morn unaccompanied by thee".
HOSPITAL VISITING IN BARROW

As a young curate I was visiting a parishioner who had gone into the local hospital for an operation.
One the way out of the ward I noticed a familiar face and it smiled at me . So I stopped to talk.
Eventually I said: "I'm awfully sorry - I know your face but I don't remember your name. You are a member of St Luke's aren't you ?"
"Sorry Vicar,"said he "I'm not. I've been here a week and have had a call from the Monsignor at the Sacred Heart, the Rural Dean from St Georges, the Methodist bloke and the Congregational one and all the rest. And they all greeted me like a long lost brother. So the guys in the ward said to me "Well which church DO you go to, mate ?" and I replied "I don't go to any – I drive for Co-op Funeral Services."
(which is why we all thought we knew him !)
Roose Geriatric Hospital (formerly Barrow Workhouse) was in our parish and the Vicar and I visited every bed between us every week.
One delightful old boy used to regale me with stories of Barrow in Furness around 1880. He used to speak warmly of the first Vicar of St Luke’s – not for his priestly qualities but because he was an ace at teaching lads exercises with Indian clubs. But he hadn't really much time for the church. "It's all hypocritical" he would say. "When you were taken on at the shipyard as an apprentice, you learned to find out where your journeyman went to church, and you went there too and were marked down as a good god fearing lad. When you qualified and became a journeyman yourself you found out where your charge hand went to church and changed over accordingly. So when there was a vacancy for a charge hand you might stand a chance of promotion. Then as a charge hand you enquired where your foreman went to church and changed again. And if in time you became a foreman you found out where your manager went to church ! They're all hypocrites".
THE UMPIRE

In the nineteen fifties at Barrow in Furness where I was a curate, there was a traditional cricket match between the clergy and the doctors. It was very amusing to my mind that we had a league umpire in charge who happened to be the principal local Funeral Director - it seemed very appropriate that he should arbitrate between the two ministries frequently involved with death.
The matches ceased when the local hospital happened to be employing two young Pakistani A team pace bowlers as Junior House Doctors and we could no longer compete !
TWO TALES FROM OLD CUMBERLAND

These two stories were told by a local historian at a lecture in Carlisle about sixty years ago and they have always remained in my memory.
PUTTING OUT
In the bad old days, when children left school at twelve, they would often, in country areas, be literally 'farmed out' to a farmer to learn the life. It was called "putting out". It was a hard existence [as it was for the farmers themselves] but though they hardly earned a penny they at least lived in with the family.
One lad found himself sitting down to Sunday dinner with the family; and they enjoyed roast beef and all the trimmings. The farmer however was not a generous soul. When Jimmy had finished his plate, his boss asked "Do you want another helping lad ?" "Yes please" replied Jimmy. "WHAT DID YOU SAY ?" roared the farmer. "No thank you sir" said the boy.
"That's right lad,"said the farmer" never be afraid to speak up in this house."
THE HIRING FAIR
In the days before Job Centres and other modern facilities existed , you got a job as a farm labourer at what was called a 'hiring fair' which were held about three times a year. If you wanted a job, you stood around the Market Cross in Carlisle and put a straw in your mouth to indicate availability.
One Martinmas fair [11th November] a farmer approached a likely looking man about a post. They discussed and agreed terms. Finally the farmer asked "Hast tha got tha letters,lad ?" (Have you got your references ?)
"Can you wait till after dinner, Mister ?" said Joe."I left them with my bags at the Rose and Crown so I need to collect them". So they agreed to meet again at two o'clock. Over the dinner hour, Joe asked around his mates to find out about his new employer. At two o'clock they met again. "Hast tha' got tha' letters now lad ?" asked the farmer.
"Nay" replied Joe "but ah've got thine and ah'm not cummin !" (I've got yours and I'm not coming)
A NORTH LANCASHIRE STORY

Back in the 19th Century in many village churchyards, families tended to be buried in their own particular corner. The story is told of a young man and a young woman who were very fond of one another but rather shy. How could Alan ever get round asking Audrey to marry him ?
The problem was solved in this way. They used to meet at the lych gate and go to church together. One Sunday morning as they walked up the church path, Alan pointed to his family graves and said:
"How would thee like to be buried there when thy time comes ?"
To which the young lady replied:
"I’d like it very much"
So they went into church engaged to be married.
(told by a journalist steeped in local history)
A LANCASHIRE CLASSIC

Theirs had not been a notably happy marriage; but when Joe died, Doris gave him a church funeral and then he was cremated. Doris asked to be given the urn of ashes while she decided what to do with them. Some months later the Vicar remembered that the ashes had not been disposed of. He paid a pastoral call and very gently enquired if Doris had decided what to do with them.
Doris pointed to a large egg timer of the old fashioned hour glass kind on her mantelpiece.
"Ee lad !" she said" I‘ve got it all sorted now. I put him in there. T’old bugger never did a stroke of work in his life so I’m making sure he’s earning his keep now he’s dead !"
THE CIVIL SERVICE

When I was involved with church schools in Lancashire, there was a visitation by a team from the Department of Education in London who were coming to view proposed new school developments in the Diocese. There was the Principal Officer for the north west of England, his assistant and his secretary.
My boss had a previous lunch engagement and asked me to take the team to a nice slap up lunch and then drive them to Burnley where he would meet up with us again. On the road I [as a previous vicar in Burnley] was filling them in on some of the town’s background and history as a cotton town.
The comment from the back of the car was "Do they still grow their own cotton round here or do they have to import it nowadays ?"
I nearly crashed the car with shock. It has been difficult to take the national bureaucracy seriously ever since !
THE ULTIMATE TACKLER’S TALE

Tacklers were the men who were employed in the weaving sheds to get the looms working again when they had broken down. They were not renowned for being too "bright" and there is a large corpus of these tacklers tales. This is one of the better known ones.
Bill was walking down the village street at night when he saw his mate Tom bent down and peering at the ground very intently under the gas lamp.
On enquiry, Tom told him he had dropped a coin and could not see it anywhere.
"Are you sure this is where you lost it "
"Nay it was outside the Rose and Crown up the road but there’s no street light there."
THE ALTERNATIVE GOD

John was enjoying a brisk walk along the Cornish cliffs when there was a disturbance and he found himself disappearing down the cliff at a rate of knots. As he passed a shrub that was growing out of the rock he grabbed it and stopped his fall to the sea below.
He shouted for help - but there was no-one about . He started to pray:
"O dear God I know you’re there - please help me. If you get me out of this I will go to church every week and say my prayers every night".
Nothing happened.
After a while John said: "Is there anybody else there ?"
THE NAVAL GOD

A long service sailor said to me (1948):
I can’t see the point of saying my prayers unless there is a real need. At the end of the war we were in the China Sea being attacked by kamikaze bombers; and one was coming straight for us. I prayed then "O God make it miss !" And it did. That I can understand.
A TALE FROM RURAL WALES c 1900

My maternal grandfather was headmaster of the village church school at Pontrobert in Montgomeryshire. Many years later we met Oscar Morgan who had been Rector of the parish fifty years later. He told this lovely story about the Rector in Grandfather’s day.
He was a good countryman himself and liked to ride down the valley to Welshpool on a market day. He would attend the livestock auctions and chat to the local farmers about things agricultural. The said farmers were very generous with their tipple and often the Rector returned home rather the worse for wear.
One Saturday, he got helplessly drunk; and they put him on his horse, led the horse to the road home and left it to find it’s way. After a mile or two the Rector fell off his horse and fell into the roadside ditch and lay there.
In a while, a couple of Methodist farmers came along, saw the horse, looked into the ditch. And one said to the other:
"T’is a pity to see the Rector in such a condition"
A ghostly voice emanated from the ditch:
"It is not the Rector - it is the Baptist Minister !"
MUSICAL GEMS

"The English don't understand anything about music – they just like the noise it makes" (Sir Thomas Beecham)
Rehearsing the scherzo of Tchaikowsky's Pathetique Symphony, Beecham was trying to get the orchestra to get the rhythm of the main theme right. "Think of it like this " he said:
" I'M OFF TO PARIS TOMORROW AND I'M LEAVING THE WIFE AT HOME !"

Sir Malcolm Sargent was something of a dandy. He was rehearsing Rossini's Barber of Seville Overture and the oboe wasn't getting it quite as he wanted it. So he sang to the player:
"JUST LOOK AT ME -E
I'M AS ELEGANT AS ELEGANT CAN BE-E !"

Ebenezer Prout was a Professor at the Royal Academy of Music in the 19th century and is now principally remembered for a performance edition of Handel's Messiah which was standard for many years. He tried to help students to memorise themes mnemonically by giving them a word phrase to associate with the notes. Notably he provided phrases for all the fugal themes in Bach's 48 Preludes and Fugues. A critic protested by taking the theme from the Organ Fugue in G Minor and using these words:-
"O EBENEZER PROUT YOU SILLY LITTLE MAN
YOU HAVE MADE BACH'S FUGUES AS FUNNY AS YOU CAN"
SCHOOL BOY HUMOUR

For some odd reason I still remember the following from my very youthful days (sorry).
The spoon said to the fork "Who was that ladle that I saw you with last night" The fork replied "That was no ladle that was my knife !"
Twinkle twinkle little star now I know just what you are;
Streaks of sulphur,streaks of tin, sulphuretted hydrogen.
GENERAL ELECTION

In 1945, a General Election was held immediately after the war. After six politically free years no-one knew how things would go. I was in a crowd gathered around the Town Cross in Carlisle to hear the Liberal Party candidate. One of the supporting speakers cried -
"The Liberal Ship of State is sailing towards Westminster".A voice from the crowd shouted "You'll get torpedoed, mate !" {how right he was !}
VISUAL AIDS

A Temperance Lecturer was giving a special session to children. .
"Now children . Here I have in front of me two glass beakers. You can see that they look exactly the same. But the first beaker contains lovely clean water fresh from the tap. The other one contains pure Gin.
Now I have here a worm {produced wriggling strongly).
I put the worm in the beaker of water and as you can see it is quite happy and swims around in the water.
I now take it out of the water and place it in the Gin. You will see that it immediately shrivels up and dies.
Now children, what lesson can we learn from that ?"
Bright boy: "Please sir if you drink Gin you won’t get worms."
CONFIRMATION CLASS REPARTEE 1957 STYLE

I was revising last weeks subject with my boys’ Confirmation Class in Barrow .I asked:
"What did John the Baptist say to the people who came to him to be baptised ?"
Intelligent/hopeful reply: "Please sir, ‘HOLD YOUR BREATH’ !"
RING OF TRUTH

When I was a curate, I asked the church youth club to discuss and report on the question
"what are the real reasons for attending church ?"
The reply came back after due consideration: "The boys go to church to see the girls. The girls go to church to see the boys. The boys and girls both go to church to count how many times Mr Vigeon yawns during the Vicar’s sermon."
(Those that ask silly questions etc. etc. etc.)
BUFFISMS

One of the strongest personalities of my earlier years was the Senior master at Carlisle Grammar School. He was universally known as "Buff" though nobody quite knew why. Like Capt. Mainwaring in Dad’s Army he gained a commission in the army in 1919 just after the end of WW1. And like the Captain he found coping with women was difficult. Someone remarked "He thinks women are here to make up the numbers".
His advice to senior boys was: "Never run after a bus or a woman - another will always come along"
Once he confessed to a class in a History lesson that he had indeed once fallen in love.
"Who was it sir ?"
" Actually it was the barmaid at the tavern on Preston railway station."
"What did you say to her, sir ?" "A pint of beer please !"
BLACK HUMOUR FROM FUNERALS

THE ODD COUPLE
Bob and Marge were an odd couple who lived in my parish in Burnley. They looked like the models for a postcard cartoon. He was very small and seemingly inoffensive and she was a huge woman with a loud voice. But they were in their way devoted to one another . They "worked from home" and were principally known in the parish as purveyors of condoms in the days before you could buy them without blushing in a supermarket.
Bob died and Marge was desolate. They put him in his coffin in the front parlour after the custom of the times until the day of the funeral, and many came to pay their respects. Then the undertakers arrived to seal the coffin in preparation for the arrival of the hearse. They arranged Bob very nicely and then began to screw down the lid when there was an almighty scream from upstairs. Marge dashed down holding a set of dentures in her hand. "You b....y fools", she yelled, "you’ve given him the wrong teeth !"

THE WRONG BOX
I was taking a village funeral. We had an ancient parish church with a lych gate and I would go to the gate to meet the hearse . I always had the habit (being forgetful) of looking at the name plate on any coffin just to remind myself of the deceased's Christian name. So I gently moved the floral tribute and to my horror I found myself saying to the undertake ;"You've got the wrong coffin !" "No I haven't" said he.
"Look for yourself" said I. "You're right" said he.
It was like a scene from an Ealing comedy or a classical TV sitcom. We agreed we could not tell the family and risk hysterics and possibly legal consequences. The undertaker said "Go ahead, tell no-one and make sure the flowers stay where they should be. I'll drive back to the Chapel of Rest and collect the right box and put it in the spare compartment in the hearse and meet you back here." So that's what we did and nobody suspected anything. When we got to the crematorium, the same thing happened, except that we told the Superintendent to be sure not to let the coffin go to the incinerator. When the family had gone, we collected the right coffin and performed all the proper rites a second time. The wrong coffin went back unharmed to the Chapel of Rest and we all breathed a sigh of relief. No harm had been done; and the deceased lacked nothing of ceremony - indeed he was prayed for twice . In retrospect it was very funny but not at the time !

DIRTY WORK AT. THE CREMATORIUM 1946
an episode of excruciatingly bad but (I think) funny taste.
Just after World War II, there was a scandal in the national press about how the staff at the Durham Crematorium had been in league with the undertakers. They would partly dismantle the coffins and sell them back to the undertakers as a sideline; for at the end of the war, raw materials like wood were in very short supply. At that time there were plans for our home town (Carlisle) to have its own Crematorium.
Our school Scout Group (of which Buff was the Scoutmaster) used to put on an annual gang show, the climax of which was always a locally produced potted pantomime in rhyming couplets full of local allusions A fellow student of mine came up with this black comedy rhyme. Even in these uncensored days I imagine it would be condemned – but consciences were tougher sixty years ago.
With some trepidation we invited Buff to sing it. To our amazement he gladly agreed. It appealed to his rather macabre sense of humour. I produced a tune and he and another staff colleague agreed to perform it. .Some of the words were as I recollect:
"We're co-curators of the Carlisle Cremator–i-um
we're the cheapest grilling business in the town;
Yes for half a crown a time
[half of which is mine]]
you can have your mother in law done nicely brown.
We’re co-curators of the Carlisle Crematorium
And when the bodies have been nicely grilled
We take the lids away
and to make the business pay
we then return the empties to be filled.
Half a crown, half a crown half a crown;
We're the cheapest grilling business in the town.
O you cannot do worse
than to step into a hearse
Please patronise the Carlisle Cremator-i-um
We are sometimes told that before the swinging sixties we were all innocents. Not on your life we weren't ! Can you imagine anything more politically incorrect ?

AND FINALLY
Perhaps this is the last occasion when some of the older stories printed here will ever see the light of day againt. They may well die out with my generation. Hopefully some of my readers will remember and pass them on to the next generation. However I expect many of these tales be more or less without meaning to folk who have lost the church tradition.
My last contribution is not a humorous one but I think it is interesting.
In the early fifties, my friend Keith and I were very friendly with the then Rector of Patterdale (the best job in the Church of England ? except that sometimes the Archbishop of Canterbury would turn up in the congregation when on holiday in the Lake District). One New Years Day, John invited us to the pub in Patterdale where the local hunt were gathered for refreshment. The Lake District hunts are/were mostly foot hunts in the mountains, and were not "society" occasions; but serious attempts by the farming community to rid the fells of the foxes who were a danger in lambing time.
After the Hunt they would all gather in a hostelry for a kind of party. Everyone was expected to do a turn - usually sing a song. After you had done so you could nominate someone else to follow. I heard lots of genuine local folk music which perhaps is now lost for ever.Many of the songs were verses commemorating famous hound packs or described a memorable chase. But this was the chorus I remembered and which I reckoned was at least the equal of the famous "John Peel" which is the Cumbrian ‘national anthem’ that everyone knows .
When the fire’s in the hearth and good cheer abounds
We’ll drink to Joe Bowman and his Ullswater hounds.
For we ne’er shall forget how he woke us at dawn
With the crack of his whip and the sound of his horn !
That is I think a good point to end
God bless you and keep you wherever you may be. Owen