And He spoke a parable to them: "Can the blind lead the blind? Will they not both fall into the ditch? (Luke 6:39 NKJV)

I am so bored of church. I am so bored in church. I am so bored of all the seeker-sensitive claptrap.

I’ve been to hundreds of churches—homogenised, cloned zombies, the walking dead—mostly populated by grandmothers, children, asylum seekers, strange men in strange jumpers, unmarried professional women, divorcees, deviants in disguise, and a few cool, twiggy-armed boys with plooks and guitars.

This happened because of the strange symbiotic atmosphere between the hipster talker and the unchallenged dwindlers—now all kidding themselves with the language of the “celebration worship experience” and stirred-up revivals. Nonsense!

Yes, nonsense is what we were left with when we traded the straight-talk preach of the I AM for the inclusive, culturally inoffensive language of compromised, cowardly coolness—and then dressed it all up in countdown technology. That one hour of dumbness, peppered with a little “talk,” spread like cancer through our spirit-being.

It is all too late now. I tell you, even if you “break the bloody glass, you won’t hold up the weather.” Damp darkness is upon us; the dwindlers of the night are dying.

PERFORMANCE TIPS |

Delivery & Rhythm: Perform to the same skirl and gallop as Louis MacNeice’s “Bagpipe Music.” Maintain its breathless, percussive nonsense-poem cadence.

Theme Shift: MacNeice’s original lamented Highland cultural decline in the 1930s. Your piece targets the church’s spiritual decimation by modern slickness. Keep that edge front-and-centre.

Tone: Sarcastic, urgent, unapologetic. Let each absurd detail land like a jab, but let the final lines drop into a dead-serious warning.

Audience Shock: ???? “shall supersede this rubbish.” Deliver that line as a prophetic overturning—sharp, deliberate, unavoidable.

Form: Treat the legacy church as a poem riddled with “bad feminine rhymes.” Hammer that metaphor home by exaggerating every off-rhyme and clashing image.

https://youtu.be/n72XebBaMeI?

[HOOK]
It’s fine, it’s cool, it’s awesome,
It’s national prayer at Wembley!
[VERSE 1]
It’s brill-i-ant, resil-i-ent,
It’s project name and vision,
It’s clueless, bookless internet—
A clicking mouse decision.
[HOOK]
It’s fine, it’s cool, it’s awesome,
It’s national prayer at Wembley!
[VERSE 2]
It’s empty, harmless, fluffy,
It’s flashing lights, it’s coffee,
It’s donuts, clubs, and T-shirts,
It’s a bowl of chocolate toffees.
[HOOK]
It’s hands in pockets up the front, and
It’s a “Sorry if I’m preachy,”
[VERSE 3]
It’s hands in pockets up the front, and
It’s a “Sorry if I’m preachy,”
It’s coloured purple corduroy,
A plastic fruit that’s not quite peachy.
[HOOK]
It’s fine, it’s cool, it’s awesome,
It’s national prayer at Wembley!
[VERSE 4]
It’s the white of Converse trainers,
It’s a flat and floppy canvas,
It’s smoke, and jokes, and a trail of dopes
With no evidence to hang us!
[HOOK – VARIATION]
Break the glass, break the glass—
But you won’t hold up the weather!
[VERSE 5]
It’s dead, it’s dying, lying,
It’s self-deception and it’s passing—
It’s de-trained men at Auschwitz,
All lined up for the gassing.
[HOOK – FINAL]
It’s fine, it’s cool, it’s awesome,
It’s national prayer at Wembley!
Break the glass, break the glass—
But you won’t hold up the weather!

Support the show

The simple believes every word, but the prudent considers well his steps. (Proverbs 14:15 NKJV)

Where there is no counsel, the people fall; But in the multitude of counsellors there is safety. ( Proverbs 11:14 NKJV)

Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful. (Proverbs 27:6 NKJV)

I have bathed in the glittering visions

Of many a bluster-blower, and

Ignored all the warning noises

That bounced off the walls of my

Well-bullied ‘knower.’

Yes, I’ve chewed on the verbalised goo, my friends, and

Gulped down the plunk, plink, and fizz,

Singing:

“When it sounds far too good to

Be true, me boys, then

It most likely and

Probably is!”

I have wedded the big blow-up doll, my friends,

Embedded with ‘come to bed’ eyes, and

Danced on the deck of the Hesperus

Financed by a large pack of lies.

Yes, I’ve sucked up their green snots of flu, my friends, and

Imbibed on their pale pots of piss

(and that’s what it is),

Singing:

“When it sounds far too good to

Be true, me boys, then

It most likely and

Probably is!”

So—no more to the fair or the fleecing,

No more to those high hills of hope,

For the man that is constantly bitten, my friends,

Is a fool and a festering dope!

Yes, I’m done with the hugs and the muggings, and

I’m done with sweet fellowship’s kiss—

For:

“When it sounds far too good to

Be true, me boys, then

It most likely and

Probably is!

Yes,

When it sounds far

Too good to be true, me boys—

Know for sure that it

Probably is!”

© 2012 Victor Robert Farrell AKA Purple Robert All Rights Reserved

Support the show

I have bathed in the glittering visions

Of many a bluster-blower, and

Ignored all the warning noises

That bounced off the walls of my

Well-bullied ‘knower.’

Yes, I’ve chewed on the verbalised goo, my friends, and

Gulped down the plunk, plink, and fizz,

Singing:

“When it sounds far too good to

Be true, me boys, then

It most likely and

Probably is!”

I have wedded the big blow-up doll, my friends,

Embedded with ‘come to bed’ eyes, and

Danced on the deck of the Hesperus

Financed by a large pack of lies.

Yes, I’ve sucked up their green snots of flu, my friends, and

Imbibed on their pale pots of piss

(and that’s what it is),

Singing:

“When it sounds far too good to

Be true, me boys, then

It most likely and

Probably is!”

So—no more to the fair or the fleecing,

No more to those high hills of hope,

For the man that is constantly bitten, my friends,

Is a fool and a festering dope!

Yes, I’m done with the hugs and the muggings, and

I’m done with sweet fellowship’s kiss—

For:

“When it sounds far too good to

Be true, me boys, then

It most likely and

Probably is!

Yes,

When it sounds far

Too good to be true, me boys—

Know for sure that it

Probably is!”

© 2012 Victor Robert Farrell AKA Purple Robert ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Support the show

The [i]Dartford tunnel

Took its toll on our patience and our love and

My wife, trapped in traffic,

Fumed like an old kettle, fit to explode.

At home and with time on my hands and mischief in mind,

I turned to my mistress so fragrant and kind, and

Took the time to ‘get it on’ once more.

In the lavender filled washing liquid flavored air

Which oozed out of the white, wet tray above

The virgin white cube’s glass porthole,

To the background Brazilian Bossa nova rhythm of

The dirty dish washer

I quickly put her on the cooker top and

Screwed her lid right off!

Know what I mean boys?

Sure, my wife’s revolving bra’s and pants

In shocked surprise

Pressed their face against the glass and

[ii]Criticized my efforts, but this was a

Well-practiced event now,

A quick and illicit

Hunger-panging

[iii]Guilt-ridden

[iv]Aluminium pan banging affair

‘Cause you see, me and Mrs.. Sharwood, well,

[v]We got a thing goin' on and

Though we both know that it's wrong

It’s just much too strong

To let it go now

Beaten by a 4lb hammer

The [vi]Diamond wood grenade

Unmercifully split the [vii]knotted hazel

Bringing the proud and unyielding log to its knees

Like a Pole axe pounded into a pink pigs head, and so

Stripped of its Samson like strength

Its long grained meat now lay crackling in the fire.

“Just one more screw”

I thought

“Before she barges through the door” and

The cork,

Sucked out of the brown bottle’s neck

Bounced to exhaustion on the kitchen floor

Sweet and sour chicken and some long grain rice

Thawed the fiery ice of commuter madness, and

Served in front of a red hot roaring fire

With some chilled white wine

Unlike the M25, speedily

Turned winter into summer in

Double quick,

Quick double time

“Thank you my dear”

She said,

“That was lovely” and

“All that effort!”

“Yeah,” I thought

“You poor deluded thing.”

Little did she know that me and Mrs. Sharwood, well,

We got a thing goin' on and though we

Both know that it's wrong

It’s just much too strong

To let it go now

© 2012 Victor Robert Farrell

[i] Travelling anti-clockwise and North on the M25 will bring you to the Dartford Toll Tunnel which runs under the river Thames for nearly 1.5km.
[ii] My lovely wife, bless her, can’t help herself giving me advice in the kitchen! I think it’s because she has to clean up after me.
[iii] At the time of writing, I hated the fact that at this point in our lives, it was mostly my wife that was seen to have a ‘proper job’, you know, one that brings in a steady wage. I hate the fact that she comes home so tired. I just hate it. Mind you, I have done it myself as well!
[iv] If you are from the USA please feel free to insert Aluminum!
[v] "Me and Mrs. Jones" is a soul song written by Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff, describing an extramarital affair between a man and his lover, Mrs. Jones.
[vi] This is a fantastic device which splits logs into four! Worth every penny, even if it’s just to annoy the neighbours with all the banging. Of course I was making a nice warm cosy fire.

Support the show

The [i]Dartford tunnel

Took its toll on our patience and our love and

My wife, trapped in traffic,

Fumed like an old kettle, fit to explode.

At home and with time on my hands and mischief in mind,

I turned to my mistress so fragrant and kind, and

Took the time to ‘get it on’ once more.

In the lavender filled washing liquid flavored air

Which oozed out of the white, wet tray above

The virgin white cube’s glass porthole,

To the background Brazilian Bossa nova rhythm of

The dirty dish washer

I quickly put her on the cooker top and

Screwed her lid right off!

Know what I mean boys?

Sure, my wife’s revolving bra’s and pants

In shocked surprise

Pressed their face against the glass and

[ii]Criticized my efforts, but this was a

Well-practiced event now,

A quick and illicit

Hunger-panging

[iii]Guilt-ridden

[iv]Aluminium pan banging affair

‘Cause you see, me and Mrs.. Sharwood, well,

[v]We got a thing goin' on and

Though we both know that it's wrong

It’s just much too strong

To let it go now

Beaten by a 4lb hammer

The [vi]Diamond wood grenade

Unmercifully split the [vii]knotted hazel

Bringing the proud and unyielding log to its knees

Like a Pole axe pounded into a pink pigs head, and so

Stripped of its Samson like strength

Its long grained meat now lay crackling in the fire.

“Just one more screw”

I thought

“Before she barges through the door” and

The cork,

Sucked out of the brown bottle’s neck

Bounced to exhaustion on the kitchen floor

Sweet and sour chicken and some long grain rice

Thawed the fiery ice of commuter madness, and

Served in front of a red hot roaring fire

With some chilled white wine

Unlike the M25, speedily

Turned winter into summer in

Double quick,

Quick double time

“Thank you my dear”

She said,

“That was lovely” and

“All that effort!”

“Yeah,” I thought

“You poor deluded thing.”

Little did she know that me and Mrs. Sharwood, well,

We got a thing goin' on and though we

Both know that it's wrong

It’s just much too strong

To let it go now

© 2012 Victor Robert Farrell

[i] Travelling anti-clockwise and North on the M25 will bring you to the Dartford Toll Tunnel which runs under the river Thames for nearly 1.5km.

[ii] My lovely wife, bless her, can’t help herself giving me advice in the kitchen! I think it’s because she has to clean up after me.

[iii] At the time of writing, I hated the fact that at this point in our lives, it was mostly my wife that was seen to have a ‘proper job’, you know, one that brings in a steady wage. I hate the fact that she comes home so tired. I just hate it. Mind you, I have done it myself as well!

[iv] If you are from the USA please feel free to insert Aluminum!

[v] "Me and Mrs. Jones" is a soul song written by Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff, describing an extramarital affair between a man and his lover, Mrs. Jones.

CHORUS | Me and Mrs. Jones
We got a thing goin' on
We both know that it's wrong
But it's much too strong
To let it go now

We meet every day at the same cafe
Six-thirty

Support the show

Reckless Rednecks on I49

Barefoot children at the Five & Dime

Black men shakin’, slidin’ skin

Pick-up trucks with nothin’ in

An extra syllable in evr’y vowel

Sealed flannel sheets and fresh-up towels

De-caff coffee

Diet coke

Well-dressed Christians and a hairy goat

Grits with jelly in the Waffle House

Crushed armadillo and a white wooden house

[i]Skeeter bugs a-dancing on black-eyed peas

Wal Mart

K-Mart

Plastic cheese

Plates that are full with more and more

Dirt in the corners at the [ii]Piggly Wiggly store

Strange verbal pointers to a guy called Booodah

Sweet & Low as a substitute for sugar

Porches full of rockers and swinging chairs

Blue perm rinses

Nasal hairs

Bland white cream on pecan pies

[iii]Hell mad preachers, all wearing ties

Lightest blues

Largest skies

Darkest cheeks

Whitest eyes

De-caff, diet

Racial riot

‘[iv]Look Out’ mountain

What a si-yat

[v]Hillary being pilloried in pounding pulpits

Passion for possession of presidential pundits

AN [vi]ELEPHANT, AN ELEPHANT,

A SMALL PINK PIG

Small English people where everything is big

White-collar necks that [vii]don’t give a fig

Don’t give a fig for a [viii]hot cross bun

Don’t give a fig for a man without a gun

For a man without a gun

Ain’t got no stature

A man without a gun

Don’t like [ix]Mrs. Thatcher

Mrs. Thatcher, Mrs. Thatcher

What a gal!

Ronny Reagan what a pal!

England and America

Bonded ties

England and America

Don’t tell lies

Don’t tell lies about [x]dogs in prison

Don’t tell lies about any ‘ism’

Socialism

Communism

[xi]Baptist schism

Split apart

Break my heart

Separation

Desolation

Bringing down of [xii]evil nation

Evil nation, makes you think!

Blacks and white are on the brink

Ice rink, blue ink, kitchen sink

[xiii]Presidents that cause a stink

High and mighty you may frown

[xiv]I WILL BRING YOU DOWN

Copyright Victor Robert Farrell AKA Purple Robert 2015

Support the show

Reckless Rednecks on I49

Barefoot children at the Five & Dime

Black men shakin’, slidin’ skin

Pick-up trucks with nothin’ in

An extra syllable in evr’y vowel

Sealed flannel sheets and fresh-up towels

De-caff coffee

Diet coke

Well-dressed Christians and a hairy goat

Grits with jelly in the Waffle House

Crushed armadillo and a white wooden house

[i]Skeeter bugs a-dancing on black-eyed peas

Wal Mart

K-Mart

Plastic cheese

Plates that are full with more and more

Dirt in the corners at the [ii]Piggly Wiggly store

Strange verbal pointers to a guy called Booodah

Sweet & Low as a substitute for sugar

Porches full of rockers and swinging chairs

Blue perm rinses

Nasal hairs

Bland white cream on pecan pies

[iii]Hell mad preachers, all wearing ties

Lightest blues

Largest skies

Darkest cheeks

Whitest eyes

De-caff, diet

Racial riot

‘[iv]Look Out’ mountain

What a si-yat

[v]Hillary being pilloried in pounding pulpits

Passion for possession of presidential pundits

AN [vi]ELEPHANT, AN ELEPHANT,

A SMALL PINK PIG

Small English people where everything is big

White-collar necks that [vii]don’t give a fig

Don’t give a fig for a [viii]hot cross bun

Don’t give a fig for a man without a gun

For a man without a gun

Ain’t got no stature

A man without a gun

Don’t like [ix]Mrs. Thatcher

Mrs. Thatcher, Mrs. Thatcher

What a gal!

Ronny Reagan what a pal!

England and America

Bonded ties

England and America

Don’t tell lies

Don’t tell lies about [x]dogs in prison

Don’t tell lies about any ‘ism’

Socialism

Communism

[xi]Baptist schism

Split apart

Break my heart

Separation

Desolation

Bringing down of [xii]evil nation

Evil nation, makes you think!

Blacks and white are on the brink

Ice rink, blue ink, kitchen sink

[xiii]Presidents that cause a stink

High and mighty you may frown

[xiv]I WILL BRING YOU DOWN

Copyright Victor Robert Farrell AKA Purple robert 2015

Support the show

Copy Right 2025 - Bobby Farrell - All Rights Reserved

Support the show