Archbishop of Canterbury Enforces New Beatitudes

A source deep within Lambeth Palace has revealed that the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, is forcing his Talent Pool to recite the Beatitudes, with a twist!

Unfortunate members of the Talent Pool, a group of high-flyers in the Church of England, have been ordered by Welby to recite a new set of "Beatitudes" as an exercise in "team building":

Blessed is the Talent Pool - because theirs is the kingdom of promotion,

Blessed are the MBAs – because they will inherit the salary,

Bessed are HR - because they will cut out the dead wood in a caring, sympathetic and inclusive manner,

Blessed are the CEOs – because the first will be first every time,

Blessed are the Accountants – because they can make rich men appear poor,

Blessed are the Lawyers – because they can plea-bargain here on earth,

Blessed are those with poor memory – because Alzheimer's is a great excuse when you get caught,

Blessed are the immoral – because they will rise to the top,

Blessed are those with a private jet – because they can lecture on climate change around the world.

"We have to go around the Palace wearing chinos and loafers, chanting these so-called 'Beatitudes,'" said our source, "Justin calls it 'team building' but it's really humiliating. He sits on the edge of a desk squeezing a stress ball, watching us. It's pretty unnerving, some of the Talent Pool are seriously considering dropping out of the program altogether."

The Church of England is facing declining membership and rising costs, despite women bishops and celebrity Crowley lookalike, Giles Fraser.

LSP

Ozymandias

By popular demand, I'm posting Ozymandias, which is a poem by Shelley. Shelley was aristocratic, so is Justin Welby, the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, sort of.

I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away from Welby.

But I'm well-pleased at the performance of my sporter Lee Enfield, which I checked at the range today, prior to a hunting party somewhere in Texas next week. Easier to shoot than the Remington 700 but less substantial.

A Couple of Guns

Shoot on and God bless,

LSP