Oh dear, it appears that the lord has washed his hands of us. At least, that's the impression being given by Dr Rowan Williams in his capacity as Doom-merchant of Canterbury. Speaking at York Minster he has declared that God "will not give a happy ending". Personally I didn't even know he gave massages, but then I haven't been to church in years. It could be virgin sweat and deep-fried camembert at communion for all I know.
"God's faithfulness stands, assuring us that even in the most appalling disaster love will not let us go - but it will not be a safety net". Splendid, so we will be going it alone with the earthquakes, floods and imminent return of 'Britain's Got Talent' but at least we'll get a sympathy card. A card which will remain on humanity's doormat as Williams also gave the good news that it will be "choked, drowned, or starved by its own stupidity." So the there the card will remain, our address carved into the paper with lightning, as our bloated forms lie stinking up our apartment, ingnored by all as the milk bottles pile up outside.
Notice how he doesn't include himself as part of the human race's dullards? "Look at you, you fat rhino-skinned sacks of crap. Look at you not praying. Well you're all fucked. I'm not, but you are. Well and truly."
"But Rowan, we pray too?"
"No you don't. If you did (which you don't) then you don't do it as hard as me. Which is irrelevant anyway, because you don't."
Miserable sod. It's not surprising he's so misanthropic, what else would you expect from the lovechild of Harold Shipman and Charles Manson? I blame the parents.
(I'm not really suggesting that the Archbishop of Canterbury is related to two of the most famous beardy killers of all time. In fact the very idea that he would have any involvement with an ideology that is responsible for large amounts of death, both historical and contemporary, is quite simply nonsense).
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