I frequently find myself praying for punk, for something to come along and upset everybody and ignite a few fires and behave disreputably.
Food as sport is nothing new. To a vicar, especially, church catering has represented the conduct of war by other means for many years.
Trying to do Christianity properly is tough. Life as a priest is rigorous and disciplined. It involves sacrifices.
The dog collar is fascinating to people, when it doesn't repel. I've got used to being shouted at in the street.
In the church I am very accountable, to the parish and the deanery; in the media thing I am not really accountable, I am out there on my own as a sort of busy, recognised religious person.
I remember in one parish a terrible row over the ideal size of mince pies, and in another two great ladies dashing trays of pancakes to the vicarage floor in a controversy over whether to roll or to fold. But the real arena for food combat is television.
