After much consideration and meditation (well, I
thought I'd write something off the top of my head) I
have decided on the following.
Alli - Liking Robbie is not a mortal sin, hardly even a
venial one. It's more like eating an extra large tube
of crisps - you might feel vaguely guilty about it ,
but it doesn't do you or anybody else any real harm in
moderation. Don't dwell on it. Robbie is a good looking
chap ( I'm told by some of the Sisters of the Perpetual
Chorus), and while may once in a while be in danger of
disappearing up his own jacksie, he seems to be having
a laugh. Over-indulgence is the danger here - try and
limit yourself to a bit of Robbie twice a week. However
, I am granting you an exemption for any parties you
may attend where "LEt me Entertain You " is essential.
Penance - Listen to ALL of NAtasha Beddingfields lyrics
from one of her songs of your choice and go in peace.
Miss E.
Oh Dear. Britney Spears. I am afraid I am going to have
to confiscate your single, while I repeatedly watch the
video for it and make a judgement. I would also like to
confiscate any posters anybody else may have of her. If
I were not a man of the cloth I would say that actually
that is a great pop song and I have been known to
sing along to it in the chapel form time to time - in
plainsong of course. That Lemarr chap has got a good
voice, even if he tends to lapse into a bit of a Craig
David "oooooaaaaahhiooooioooooooaaaaaeeeeaaa" from time
to time. Again, knowing how easy it is to stray from
the path, and in recognition of the fact that it has a
nice hook, I do not really see fit to condemn you.
However, I am going to give you penance anyway because
that's just the kind of bitter hypocritical padre I am.
Penance - You must find a video of Buck's Fizz
Eurovision winning performance and watch it ALL THE WAY
THROUGH. Yes, even the bit where the men rip off the
girls costume to reveal their mini-skirted twee- ness.
Go in love, my child.
Finally , Marco.
I am disappointed in you. I expected more from you.
How could you think I would fall for your fake
"Bluegrass" confession, when you knew the truth would
out and your fascination with (and I never thought I
would find myself actually writing these words) the
"Peter Pan of Pop" would be too much for you to keep
secret.
I can forgive a lot of things. The "Summer Holiday"
chorus is singable . "Carrie Doesn't live here anymore"
- well you can't shoot a man for rhyming that line
with a "second floor", can you? (Oh ,sorry - I have
just been told by Brother Threechords that apparently
you can, I didn't realise)Even I can find it in my
heart to excuse the odd listen to "Wired For Sound".
Okay , the Wimbledon singalong would have tested the
patience of a saint, but the crowd apparently loved it.
What I cannot find it in my heart to forgive Squiffy
Cliffy for is the abobination of dragging the great Van
Morrison down to his level. I am afraid for that I
could not bring myself to grant absolution.
And so it is with a heavy heart that I hand down my
judgement.
For Marco - you must wait until next Christmas , and
visit a department store which plays piped music. You
must then wait in the shop listening to the Christmas
music until it loops through the entire selection.
For Cliff - you are not condemned to an eternity in
hell. No, you must simply endure an unending lift ride
to the fires of Hades listening to homogenised,
synthesised Lift Muzac of legend.
However, bearing in mind the Words of the Lord -
"Let he among you who has not sinned , cast the first
stone"
and admitting that I am the worst sinner among ye, and
further admitting that I will listen to Robbie and
Britney and Lemarr, and also acknowledging that I must
have sang along to Cliff but probably am just in
denial, and also very open to temptation while watching
Top of the Pops - admitting all this I absolve you all
and replace your penance with a Virtual soaking of Gin
and Tonic.
