Ladies and gentlemen, please take your pews in the Church of Uborka, for a service celebrating faith, which is officially defined in your prayer books as the triumph of hope over rational thought. One of the main tenets of Uborkanism is tolerance of diversity combined with a cheeky disrespect of everyone and everything. You have been warned.
We will start today’s service with a hymn called “We’re sorry about the weather,” interpreted in very irreverent ballet by Mademoiselle Lori Smith, and accompanied by a round of Pimms with frozen raspberries, as these have been recommended for just about everything today. This will be followed by an umbrella demonstration from Clair, since having faith in British weather does mean always carrying a brolly.
How fortunate that this is not a Methodist chapel, since the overwhelming majority of faithful attenders today have professed an absolute belief in the healing power of booze. This includes Absolutely Lyle, Lisa, Gert in her pretty scotch bonnet (how fetching), and krissa. Consider yourselves duly annointed with lots and lots of gin and other alcoholic delights.
Next we will have a short sermon from Pete about love and beer and good women, and the blessing, from asta, will also be about love. And in an unexpected twist, it’s Tom who brings the tone down today, with his remarks about having had Faith.
Now we have a prayer, from Pixeldiva, about having faith in oneself, which seems to me to be a good starting point for all of us; I suggest you take a moment to reflect silently on just how bloody awesome you all are.
The profoundly faithful and never-crumpled Dr Pockless will read from a text of his choice. This is the point at which the rest of us can snatch forty winks on the assumption that it will be deep but not in any way meaningful.
Graybo will lead the next hymn, which is They Might Be Giants’ Science Is Real. Listen out for a lovely solo by our chorister Mark, bearing a tray of lemon fondant fancies and a pitcher of Prohibition Punch. During this hymn the collection tray will be passed along; please leave a tip or suggestion for the faithless among us.
I’m drinking raspberry martini with washed ice, and I have faith in the Mighty and Ineffable Pete, from whose neat mind all mortgage papers flow.