Every now and then, among the endless stream of stupidity and low-grade evil that comprise the average day’s stories, one sees the bright golden glimmer that denotes a nugget of pure good news – a little item that restores one’s faith, however briefly, that God is in his Heaven, and all right with the world.
And so it is that today we thank the Lord for the existence of Bill Stuart-White, and appropriately enough, for he is a genuine vicar and so predisposed to that sort of thing.
It seems that three alcopopped hoodies wandered into Evensong and made off with a parishioner’s handbag, only to find the Vicar in hot pursuit, his robes streaming behind him tanquam vexilla regis prodeunt inferni. After a brief chase, the bag was recovered and the hapless chavs delivered into the hands of the local constabulary.
It is always a mistake on the part of the criminal classes to presume too much on the forgiving nature of Christians. Even Anglicans have a respectable tradition of tough love that still occasionally surfaces, as in the case of the Rev Stuart-White. I am put in mind of an acquaintance at university twenty years ago – a wispy little man in the Christian Socialist tradition who, being goaded beyond endurance by the blasphemies of a grinning Trotskyite, suddenly gave the cheeky commie a decent uppercut. Backpedalling desperately, the startled Trot attempted to make light of the matter by offering to “turn the other cheek” – whereupon with the immortal words “Sod you, I’m C of E”, my friend followed up with a righteous haymaker, dislodging both a trendy Guevarista beret and several expensive items of dental hardware.
I had not thought to see his like again.
The Rev W Stuart-White yesterday. You’re fuckin’ *nicked* my son…