The Coronation - 3: What's God got to do with it?

 King Charles will be crowned a week from today in Westminster Abbey, a religious site with a direct connection to royalty since Edward the Confessor built the predecessor to the current building put up by Henry III, and which became a "royal peculiar" by Elizabeth I. His right to be monarch will be acclaimed by the peerage and ordained by the Church of England speaking on behalf of God. 

The King will in turn make a covenant with his people by uttering the coronation oath. The following extract is from the oath sworn by his mother in 1953, as administered by the Archbishop of Canterbury, and I assume he will use the same wording.

Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the Laws of God and the true profession of the Gospel? Will you to the utmost of your power maintain in the United Kingdom the Protestant Reformed Religion established by law? Will you maintain and preserve inviolably the settlement of the Church of England, and the doctrine, worship, discipline, and government thereof, as by law established in England? And will you preserve unto the Bishops and Clergy of England, and to the Churches there committed to their charge, all such rights and privileges, as by law do or shall appertain to them or any of them?

The other parts of the oath relate to everyone who is a subject of the King, but this section refers only to the Protestant religion. It is worth considering what this means. According to the Office for National Statistics, the results of the 2021 census show:

• For the first time in a census of England and Wales, less than half of the population (46.2%, 27.5 million people) described themselves as “Christian”, a 13.1 percentage point decrease from 59.3% (33.3 million) in 2011; despite this decrease, “Christian” remained the most common response to the religion question.

• “No religion” was the second most common response, increasing by 12.0 percentage points to 37.2% (22.2 million) from 25.2% (14.1 million) in 2011. 

Less than half of the population is Christian but within that number are Catholics, Baptists, Methodists, Quakers, members of the various Reformed churches and so on. The Church of England represents only part of a minority, but it is this unrepresentative group that the King will swear to defend, to protect its privileges and to to the utmost of his power, maintain its doctrine and worship. And by declaring his oath in the most sacred place that he acknowledges, he is swearing that the Protestant religion is true and by implication all other versions of Christianity, never mind the beliefs of the rest of the country, are not.

Charles may the first monarch in British history to be in this strange position, apart from Edward VI and Elizabeth I who implemented the Protestant takeover of the church after they were crowned. Unlike them, he cannot say "I am the king, everyone believe what I believe or I shall persecute you, even unto death". He will take his oath to represent some of his subjects and, unless the wording of the oath is to change drastically, will omit the rest of us.

During the rest of his lifetime, and that of William his heir, it is likely that Christianity will continue to decline and that the majority of Britons will describe themselves as of no religion. Will there come a time when it is no longer reasonable for the King to defend the privileges of a small minority on the grounds that that is what God wants? God remains silent on the subject.

Grotesque Exaggeration of the Week

 At the conclusion of the Mastermind 2023 series on BBC Two earlier this week, presenter Clive Myrie declared that the achievement of the winner, Stuart Field was "absolutely incredible".

The abuse of the once rather useful word "incredible" by people in the media has long been a source of pain to those of us at Ramblings, who believe that words ought to have some sort of integrity, and who reject Humpty Dumpty's famous dictum that "When I use a word it means just what I choose it to mean - neither more nor less". ¹ We have tried to adapt to some modern usages. But Mr Myrie has taken Dumptyism² to a new high.  Mastermind is a quiz show in which whoever scores the most points wins. That the winners  often painstakingly research subjects of zero interest to the rest of us - Mr Field chose the BBC TV show Extras as his special subject - does not tarnish the result. It doesn't matter if the other candidates in the final score just one point and someone scores two - that person will be declared the winner.  Therefore there is nothing whatsoever in the least remarkable, in any way, that someone won. And therefore that achievement, in itself, is not even incredible, alone absolutely incredible.

What therefore compelled Myrie to reach for the super-superlative to express his inability to put any credence upon Field's memory for television trivia? Did Field utterly trounce his rivals and score more points than has ever been known in the venerable history of this show? No. The scores were 20, 22, 22,24,25 and his score was 28. A good result, certainly. Possibly impressive. But not incredible. 

Perhaps Field had to battle obstacles hitherto unknown to Mastermind contestants? Did he have to learn three obscure foreign languages within a month? Did he have to memorise the contents of the West Yorkshire (he is from Sheffield) telephone directory for March, 1958 and cross-refer each name to whatever their descendants are currently doing? Was he compelled to travel from his home to the TV studio by pogo-stick, blind-folded and being harassed all the way by Rottweilers? No, I don't think of any this applies, fascinating though it would be to watch.

Does this therefore come back to the obsession in the media to build up every TV moment as special and as better than the last? Will next year's winner be greeted by "That's so staggeringly incredible I'm going outside to jump off Tower Bridge"?  Wouldn't it be nice if Myrie simply said "You've scored 27 points, everyone else scored 26 so you are the winner, jolly well done and now, for an encore, you can pogo-stick your way back to Bolton. Nigel, release the Rottweilers!"

Ah, well, must break off. I'm going to have an utterly unbelievable cup of tea, the weather is simply amazingly normal for this time of year and I shall soon watch some World Championship snooker, a pastime to which "incredible" is, on occasion, le mot juste

Footnotes
1. Alice through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll
2. [Must we? Ed]

Alert Test Hits Britain!

 It was National Emergency Test Day today. The Government planned to send a message to every mobile phone in the UK at 3:00pm, preceded by a beeping signal, and bearing the following text:

Pic: The Guardian

Mrs C. and I made sure we were seated comfortably in the living room, with the curtains drawn and a bucket of sand close by. As the witching hour drew near, we concentrated on our phones (although with the snooker in the background showing John Higgins leading Kyren Wilson 8-0 in the second round of the World Championships, it was not easy). At last it came - or any rate it did on my phone. A beeping tone for a few seconds and then the message popped up, complete with a voice over from an unidentified American female. Mrs C.'s phone remained mysteriously silent.

Naturally there was a barrage of reaction on social media. The population divided into the following groups:

1. Those who received the warning tone and the message
2. Those who received the message but only a truncated tone, just a second or so according to some
3. Those who received it one minute early
4. Those who received it late - in some cases after several minutes
   
5. Those who received nothing at all
6. Those who received it but had failed to take heed of any of the advance publicity, of which there had been plenty, and who had a shock. 
7. Those who received it but had forgotten about the advance publicity and who had a shock from which they quickly recovered.

I am disappointed that, test or not, no further action is required. For it was just three years ago that, under the guidance of  ex-prime minister B. Johnson, I went onto  high alert in the national interest.  And have remained so. Despite not receiving the regulation tin hat and armbands marked "Alert Warden", which I am fairly sure I was promised when I was recruited, I have never let my guard drop. I mentally note all suspicious movements in beautiful Ruislip and maintain a sharpened pencil close at hand to write them down, should the need arise. I peer with slitted eyes around my estate [back garden: Ed] each morning lest something sinister should have occurred during the night. My phone is always charged in case the call comes.

And now there is a national system of alerts but still I have not been given the long-awaited commission into the Alert Corps. Such a promotion, fully deserved and way overdue, would entitle one, I should think, to a proper steel hat, some stripes to be sewn onto one's jumper (Mrs C. assisting) and above all to a special phone alert that ordinary members of the public would not receive. Having that alert, say ten minutes before the real one, would give us officers time to don our hats and armbands, collect our pencils and assemble in an orderly way at strategic points in the locality, thereby to dispense directions, information and reassurance to an anxious public.

"Nothing to worry about" I would say, crisply and with effortless authority "Move along now, return to your homes or places of work, everything is in hand, well done everybody"

Nonetheless I shall carry on, undaunted, always on the alert until the all-clear finally signs and we can all go back to civvy street. I shall do my duty, God knows I can do no less. Or more. Thank you. 

-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-

Readers! Have you been involved in any amusing or life-threatening "It happened because of the emergency alert" situations. We at Ramblings are keen to hear from you for a forthcoming blockbuster book, soon to be made into a long-running TV series (please God), called You've Been Alerted. We are looking for, in particular:

• Pilots who nearly crashed on landing due to looking down at their phone as it went off
• Cabbies who dinged into the back of the van ahead when they were startled
• Painters who left a long streak down the wall as they dropped their brush
• Mothers who took their hands off the pram handles at the top of a steep hill only to watch in horror as it hurtled down, Battleship Potemkin style before a policeman miraculously stopped it with a deft twirl of his truncheon
• Cafe proprietors left with a sopping counter top after they took off their eyes off the cup into which they were pouring coffee
• Footballers who looked up at the wrong moment and then found an opponent darting past to score (Newcastle 5 Tottenham 0 at half time today might be one such instance)
• Newsreaders who announced "And here is the three o'clock new...Oh shit what's that noise, oh bugger I'm still on air" 

And anything else that we can milk for all it's worth, especially if we can get our hands on it royalty-free. Send your submissions to the usual address. Terms and conditions apply, probably, as soon as we can think of any.

 

The Coronation - 2: Unleash The Quiche!

 Chicken featured on the menu for the silver jubilee of George V and, more famously, at the coronation dinner for Queen Elizabeth II. The precedent for her son as he planned his special nosh-up seems clear but Charles is his own man and vegetarianism is definitely in. The dish of the day for the "Coronation Big Lunch" is to be a quiche.There has been much comment about the choice and the fillings - notably broad beans and spinach - and many commentators on social media have pointed out that the current shortage of eggs in some shopping outlets could make it hard for the nation to join in the gastronomic feast.

The "Big Lunch" is something new to me. Apparently started by the Queen a while back, it encourages anyone wishing to eat a menu with royal approval to do so at a communal event. The burning question is whether the royals themselves will be tucking in on Sunday 7th May, the day after the coronation and the day designated for Chazza's subjects to get stuck in to the pastry. In the interests of research¹, this columnist looked at the royals' own website for details of the coronation events. It is surprisingly coy about the new king's arrangements. In fact it says nothing at all about whether he and his consort will be necking a few quiches, dining off a whole roast swan stuffed into a boar stuffed into a dolphin or just nipping out to the Windsor Pizza Hut with brother Andrew. The royals are expected to attend a concert, to be staged at Windsor Castle by the BBC, on that night, but whether they will be reeling in from the pub or dining in splendour off gold plates at a pavilion attended by mahouts on elephants is not known.

In beautiful Ruislip, events such as the Queen's jubilees have been celebrated with street parties and much jollity but there doesn't seem quite the same enthusiasm for Charlie's do. Hillingdon Council have put up flags and some shops are displaying festive posters but a certain sordid commercialism has crept in - a local baker advertising a pie as "fit for a king", that sort of thing.  It seems unlikely that your correspondent will be partaking of anything at a Big Lunch, never mind the famous quiche. Perhaps one of Sainsbury's standard quiches will do a similar job when Mrs C. and I have our own "Modest Lunch" here at Ramblings Towers.

Footnote
1. Yes, really. We do the groundwork and dare to venture where others do not.

The Weasel Chickens Out

Fox News, an American broadcaster whose very name contains a lie, has been successfully sued for defamation over its false claims that the 2020 US election was rigged. The owner and executive chairman is the same nasty, money-crazed reactionary outed in these columns more than once, a Mr R Murdoch. There was a well-known comic in the early days of BBC Radio called Richard "Stinker" Murdoch, who is no relation but whose nickname could surely be applied, without the quote marks, to his modern day namesake.

Fox, under the directions of Stinker, knowingly broadcast inflammatory claims that led directly to the battle of Congress and the deaths of several people. Murdoch was due to testify in the lawsuit. At the expense of yielding to the suit, and at a cost of nearly $800m, he was able to avoid taking the oath and facing questions about why he has plotted high treason against his adopted country.

I have given up hoping that Murdoch would either be dumped by his partners and shareholders, or be removed with extreme prejudice by some agency dedicated to justice, but let us at least rejoice in the diminution of his fortune.