Sunday, 28 August 2011
I can see only one reason to love 'King' Arthur Uther Pendragon---the nom d'épée of deluded old sponge John Rothwell---and that's the mirror he holds up to religious leaders everywhere. His preposterous mixture of moral certainty and difficulty with the act of thinking reminds one strongly of George Carey's tenure in Augustine's seat; the cooked-up personal anger over the bones of the long dead puts me in mind of thicko Muslim youth declaring parts of East London a 'gay-free zone.' As 'Arthur Rex' (for so he signed the court papers) might have said: 'For verily, the Earth Goddess is mighty in anger and severe in punishment, and She looketh down in thunder upon the Unbeliever.'
Yes, he is a disgrace to thinking, and, like so many UK neo-Pagans, enemy to and fugitive from logic, sense, and taste. I should like to take him---and Carey, and the addle-pated madrassoids---to one side and explain to them that one key aspect of living in a democracy is that the intensity of your feelings is not a barometer of the seriousness with which they should be taken.
Also I'd like to say to him: get a job and STOP WASTING OUR F***ING MONEY.