Letters to the Church Magazine: February 2017

Dear Sir

Anyone can forget to switch their phone to “silent” before they go to church. We should all forgive them that simple mistake.

But actually taking the call. That’s a bit much. The correct response is an embarassed, whispered apology while switching the phone off. Not answering it and dealing with a three minute discussion about the plumbing.

But during the sermon? That’s just plain rude.

What was  the vicar thinking of?

Yours etc

Maisie Daisy, Church Lane, Gt Tremlett

Dear Sir

The last PCC may have set some kind of record.

Three resignations by church officers. And all over the question of the cost of the candles over Christmas.

Paying for all the farewell cards is itself now a strain on the expenses of the church. That’s why I have been investigating the possibly of producing cards for outgoing church officers “on the spot” on the printer in the church office.

In the process of carrying out these experiments, I have of course incurred some expenses. I therefore include an invoice to the value £74.22. The good news is that, now I have been elected treasurer, I will have less trouble getting reimbursed.

Yours etc

Norbert Dranesqueezer, Chester St, Grilsby-on-the-Hill

Dear Sir

In these troubled times, we need strong leadership more than ever.

I have been pushing the details of job opportunities in other counties through the Vicar’s door since November. When will he take the hint?

Yours etc

Dr Sandra Ireland, “Dunphlebbing”, Lt Tremlett

Dear Sir

I apologise for the over-excitement I showed last Sunday when we had a visit from a lovely group of Anglican nuns.

I had consumed a gallon of my friend Daniel Winship’s crab-apple cider and I am afraid he may have left the fungal “bloom” on the skins. With the result that I thought the church had been occupied by a group of oversized mutant badgers.

In retrospect, chasing a group of terrified, whimpled octogenarians from the church with a candlestick is not the highlight of my previously distinguished military career.

Yours etc

Major J Dumpling, “Rodney’s Rest”

Dear Sir

I don’t know which is worse.

The hysteria that Norbert exhibited at Tremlett Stores when I was buying a packet of sanitary towels. He having presumably deduced that this means I am a sexually mature woman and not some kind of robot or disembodied spirit.

Then his offer to carry my basket back to the car in case I was “feeling a bit weak.” I hope the right hook he received put him right on that matter.

Yours etc

Revd Joanna, The Old Chapel, Lt Tremlett

Dear Sir

I was shocked by the Vicar’s performance at the Church Quiz.

A whole round I set on “The History of the Countess of Huntingdon’s Connexion.” And he didn’t get a single question right. I thought he was a man of the cloth.

Yours etc

Charmander McBrayne, Woodby Lane, Grilsby

Dear Sir

Clearly Revd Nathan has been trawling the internet again for the lyrics to modern songs, as printed on the service sheet. How else to explain the references to a “neighbor”? If St Paul had known we would sing about ” blessing and honor” I do not suppose he would have bothered writing Romans at all.

Really, Wycliffe would turn in his grave. If they hadn’t thrown his bones in the river. I used to be in  the Home Office.

Yours etc

Chas “Charlie” Charkles, Hangman’s Close, Gt Tremlett

Dear Sir

Once again a delight to cover for the current Vicar, as he hid himself in his study to deal with six months of administration and claimed he was “on post-Xmas holiday”.

The people at Woodby were so delighted when we restored the use of Lauds instead of the degenerate modern worship they have been used to!

But a strange thing occurred as I was setting off to Great Tremlett on the Sunday morning. I was stopped by the police in Woodby Lane and told that, under President Trump’s ” Hatred of Foreigners Act” I had to be arrested.

I spent the next four hours tied and gagged in a ditch until a passing cyclist heard my cries for help.

In retrospect I am not sure that was a real police car. It was a 1980 Mini Metro. And the blue flashing light was probably a bike lamp with some kind of blue scarf wrapped round it.

The good news is that the Reader, Doreen, was able to step in and lead the service for me. And even had  a sermon conveniently written for the week! What a treasure she is.

Yours etc

Canon Vyvyan Westclyffe (Retired but still available to take properly-run Occasional Offices), The Old Vicarage, Woodby
Dear Sir

Week five of the vicar’s plan to “make the church more open, less set in its ways.” And there are certainly radical results.

The vicar’s theory, to give us new perspectives on church, was that every week we should sit in a different pew to our traditional place. Well he’s right. I’ve got very different perspectives. In just five weeks.

It is very peaceful staying at home on Sundays. And I get to stay in bed a lot later.

Yours etc

Gabrielle Fitch Thompson, the Old Market House, Little Tremlett

Dear Sir

I may have caused some distress and confusion to Revd Joanna at the Burns Night celebration in the Church Hall. Blame it on the moonlight, blame it on the good times, blame it on the whisky.

I remarked to our lovely lady curate that I didn’t know how she had time and energy for it – what with her four children, full-time ministry and hospital chaplaincy. Said she must be absolutely exhausted at night and  just ready to sleep.

What I was referring to was her prayer life. There was absolutely no need for her to set fire to my tie.

Yours etc

Philemon Doyle, Chestnut Lane, Lt Tremlett 

Dear Sir

You’d better watch out, you’d better beware.

Albert said that e = mc squared.

Yours etc

Samantha Giblings, Church Green, Woodby

Dear Sir

When I heard that the vicar was now allowed to conduct “informal prayers of blessing” I presumed he was referring to rabbit weddings.

Now it turns out that the Church of England was talking about blessings for gay couples.

Not rabbits.

Once again, nobody cares about the rabbits. I suppose they do not buy enough cakes.

Yours etc

Solomon Snodgrass, Station Road, Gt Tremlett

Dear Sir

A little poem for St Valentine.

Roses are red
Violets are blue.
Most things are dead
soon we will be too.

Death death death

Death death death

Death death death


And some nice chocolates.

Yours wishing you a loving “special day”

Mellissa Sparrow (Mrs), The Hollow, Grilsby-on-the-Hill


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