You think it, he'll ink it.

THE MOST charismatic clergyman I’ve ever met was a Priest I sat next to at a wedding in Ireland. For the entirety of the meal we talked non-stop: about fox hunting, drinking, fishing, game shooting, dogs, drinking and women. He indulged in all but the latter. And we spoke about the state of the world and, of course, briefly about religion. If it wasn’t for all that Latin, I’d have converted to Catholicism on the spot.

Having said that, the rector of St Michael’s Cornhill and St Sepulchre without Newgate in the City of London, the Rev Dr Peter Mullen, seems like the kind of vicar you wouldn’t mind having a pint with – a God-botherer about as far away from the lank-haired, dungaree-wearing, whiny-voiced female clergy who now infest the Church as it’s possible to be.

We know this because he writes an internet blog, and on that blog this week he ventured that homosexuality was “clearly unnatural, a perversion and corruption of natural instincts and affections, and because it is a cause of fatal disease”.

Further to that, he also suggested that it should be “obligatory for homosexuals to have their backsides tattooed with the slogan SODOMY CAN SERIOUSLY DAMAGE YOUR HEALTH”. Well, they do something similar to cigarette smokers, so why not?

Predictably the Bishop of London, the Rt Rev Richard Chartres, called the remarks “highly offensive” and threatened the Rev Mullen with disciplinary action. Other clergy have queued up to join in the condemnation. Peter Tatchell, of gay rights group OutRage! said he should resign.

Why so? Even if Rev Mullen meant the remarks as a joke, which he now claims, so what? Is no-one allowed a bit of fun any more? In fact, I’d be more impressed if he actually meant what he said and had at least had the courage to say it.

As I’ve said before, I have no problem with homosexuals as long as they don’t do it in the street and scare the horses. But I do have a problem with knee-jerk witch-hunts of honest, if misguided, men.

Perhaps it’s the fear of having to bare their backsides for the tattooist’s needle that has spooked so many of his clergy colleagues …

I DON’T think I’ve ever seen our pubs work so hard, particularly in rural areas. You can hardly walk past them for the blackboards blocking the pavements advertising quiz nights, football, live music, meat raffles, wine tasting, new menus and so on. The only investors smiling at the moment are those who bought shares in coloured chalk. Some landlords have even learned to smile at complete strangers, probably as a result of an intensive CAMRA training course.

I even saw one at lunchtime today with a sign outside saying: “Wanted – Football, Pool and Darts Teams. Food provided. Fees paid.” Astonishing stuff.

I do so desperately hope that they succeed, but I fear that for many this might be nothing more than re-arranging the deckchairs on the Titanic. The smoking ban, the price of petrol, rising food and fuel prices and the decision of supermarkets to sell loss leading cans of lager at 23 pence each – less than half the cost of bottled water – has left many clinging on for dear life. And that’s before the banks start getting snotty about overdrafts.

A bad festive season and the 36 pubs already closing in this country every week will seem like small beer, and that will be very sad.

WHILE WE’RE on about pubs, I was delighted to see that a Japanese company has made an airbag designed to stop elderly people injuring themselves by falling over.
The device is strapped around the body and inflates in 0.1 seconds if it detects it is accelerating towards the ground, the manufacturers say.

Never mind old people – with the Christmas party season just around the corner, this is surely a boon for any binge drinker. The only small problem is that it provides no protection should you fall forwards. This need not be a fatal fault, as long as you don’t mind going out on the pull wearing a crash helmet and with a cushion stuffed up your jumper.

CONSIDERING THE £2million paid out to school pupils in compensation last year, perhaps we should consider fitting such devices to our children. Or maybe we should do something about the sickening, life-sapping compo culture we’ve created.

When I were a lad, playground accidents were part of the fabric of life. Broken noses, grazed knees, minor knife wounds and the occasional gunshot injury were all part of growing up. Now we’ve bred such a generation wusses – or, more to the point, a generation of greedy, needy parents – that these days getting pushed over in a Birmingham playground can bring in a cool £17,901.

Landing awkwardly while playing basketball is worth £9,750 in East London; slipping on tinsel in the dining room yields a cheque for £15,500 in Sheffield; falling out of bed on a field trip earns you £9,000 in Lewisham; while falling off a Space Hopper in Derby only brings in a derisory £500.

Still, there could be worse things happening to our kids at school than a few minor injuries. According to teachers’ union leader Chris Keates, her members shouldn’t face jail and a lifetime on the sex offenders’ register if they get caught having sex with pupils who are over the age of consent because it’s “an error of judgment” rather than a criminal offence.

Perhaps we should all have a warning message tattooed on our children’s backsides.