With My Finger on the Pulse

This post is designed to challenge the pre-concieved, to rip up that inner book that you all have in you that details the buck-toothed cotton-wool haired image of the Vicar with the speech-impediment and "vicar-voice".

No, dear Reader, you may place that idea to one side. You may abandon your stereotypes for you are reading the work of one hap-hoppity-hip young priest with his finger on the pulse of British society. I know where 'it' is at. So, with my 'pants sagging and my spraycan for the tagging' I declare that I am more in tune with society that even yer common spotty oikus from da hood. 

I must lay it on the line, and tell you all now, that this funky-monkey man of da cloth watches X Factor and I'm A Celebrity. Yes, ladies and gentle, at the cutting edge, me. I know what a Waggnah is, and I know what a Boosh Tookah Trile is.

So, reality TV - that thing that we Brits do, because - as the name will tell you, we live in (all salute now) Great Britain. Once we had to cope with Morse, fancy-pants period dramas, documentaries about the pygmies at the end of Essex gardens, Nationwide and Crossroads - but not now. We have 'Strictly', 'X Factor', 'Slebbrity', 'Big Bruv', 'The Apprentiss [You're fired]', and then we have the spin-offs, three apiece per programme so that we can watch bored slebs being bored, dancing slebs dancing, ambitious preposterous mega-business brains spatting over their blue-sky thinking, and how much Waggnah and Maffyoo have been scrapping. Happy happy joy joy.

Well, last night we watched a travesty (albeit an amusing one) when Waggnah [a pony-tailed Brazilian octogenarian] got through to another round in Ecksfactah while Paige was given the heave-ho. Then we watched another travesty as Gillian bloody McKeith faked  [allegedly] another faint in front of millions to get out of doing the thing she agreed to do in the first place (and after having watched her lie about her former failure to so the same on a previous occasion - lie, I tell you) in Slebbrity. The dancing in 'Strictly' was far more mundane, although Patsy 'Only Good in Lethal Weapon 2' Kensit's pouty weepy commiseration for Felicity 'I've Had a Little Work Done' Kendall as she was given the heave from that show was a further moment of amusement.

So, make me the Chaplain to Sleb-land Reality TV - hang yer 1662 and all that stuff. I am where life is, at the coal face, the cutting edge of our heartbeat and national culture. What'o!