Diary Of A Sociopathic Vicar – Part 42

When a person approaches a vicar with something on their mind, it is rare that they will come straight to the point. I am told this is not an experience unique to vicars, but you will understand that it is the only viewpoint on which I can speak with authority. There is probably a technical term for it.

Thus, when Psycho turned up on my doorstep, apparently in a thoughtful frame of mind, I decided to write off the evening. He’s a Hells Angel and has a string of arrests for assault. Generally, the complainant in the assault case is his employer, meaning he’s never held a paying job for more than a fortnight. Despite this, he runs the church’s soup kitchen, Souper Saturday, at the town market each week, and does it well. He seems to respect me, perhaps because I once stabbed him through the hand with his own knife – I kept the knife and now use it as a paper weight. Oh, and then there’s “The Words of Death”. He thinks I know special words – a curse if you will – that I can say to someone and they will die shortly afterwards. It is true that there have been some unfortunate coincidences of late, but that is all they are - coincidences.

Eventually, around 10pm he came to the point. This wasn’t as much of a hardship as might be expected, as he is an entertaining conversationalist. As long as you don’t mind rather coarse language and have a strong stomach.

“Had a chat with John Harden on Sunday.”

John Harden - sidesperson. His job is to hand out hymn books and service books to people when they enter the church for a service. His job is also to smile in a friendly manner, to make them feel welcome. He has reached the pinnacle of his ecclesiastical career in this role.

“Really?” I asked.

“Oh yeah. I was asking him what was so special about Mordred.”

Mordred of the family Williams, our new Lay Reader, who accidentally broke his nose after the service as the result of taking the prayers really badly. Entirely his own fault.

“Well,” continued Psycho, “He told me that Readers can stand up in church and preach, and take services and stuff, all on their own. Got a special license, or something.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“Well, I kept thinking, I mean, I can’t do a worse job than Mordred, can I? So, what do I have to do to become a Reader?”

I suppose that many would immediately dismiss Psycho. They would not consider him “sound”. Not the right material to become a Lay Reader. I am of a different opinion. I believe we have an excess of retired, white, middle-class male Readers. I believe we need more people like Psycho, people who have an alternative perspective. It will make church more interesting if nothing else.

I ran through the basic procedure. “If I give you my approval, then it gets put to the vote by the church council. If they support you, then there’s some formalities with the Diocese, but then you start training. There’s three years of study, and then the bishop licenses you.”

“What if I fail the study?” asked Psycho, as I searched my desk for some paperwork. “I didn’t do very well at school.”

“You won’t. I’ll make sure of that,” I replied, as I located the right form and a pen. “Name?”

“You’ll put me forward?”

“Yes. If you’ve got as far as talking to me, you’ve obviously thought about it. Thought about it enough to do something. That means you need to explore it. Maybe you’ll decide it’s not for you, and there would be nothing wrong with that. But maybe it is – and so I’ll support you.”

“Oh.”

“Name?”

“Psycho.”

“Not your nickname, your real name.”

“Psycho. Honest. Had it changed by deed poll for a bet.”

I raised my eyebrows slightly and said, “Surname?”

“Path.”

“Christian name Psycho, surname Path?”

“Yeah.”

I thought about the licensing service for new Readers, in particular the bit where the bishop calls them each forward by name. To my mind, Psycho Path becoming a Reader was all up-sides.

“Are you baptised?”

“Er, yeah, I think so. Yeah.”

I ticked the appropriate box.

“Have you been confirmed into the Church of England?”

“What’s that?”

I ticked the “No” box and made a note in the “Comments” box to the effect it was going to be sorted out soon.

“A technicality. The essence is that you should know more or less what the Church is about and say you’re OK with that. There’s a ceremony where the bishop welcomes you during a service, and there’s cake as well as tea and biscuits after the service.”

“Oh. OK, then.”

I was about to ask the next question on the form when he said, “Aren’t you worried about what the other people at the church will think? You know - that you’ve gone off on one or something?”

I wasn’t worried about this at all, as it happens, although I paused a moment as if in thought. I knew there would be discussion at the church council, but I had no doubts about my ability to carry them with me. Besides, Psycho coming forward like this was very useful to me. In order to advance in the church of England, a vicar must be seen to tick certain boxes. An increase in the amount in the collection plate? That’s a tick. More people in church? Another tick. People coming forward to become a Reader as Psycho had just done? That’s at least two ticks. Only healthy churches with effective vicars put people forward to become Readers.

“There will be discussion, it is true, but that is to be expected,” I replied, “But I worry more about doing the right thing.”

We moved to the next question, slowly filling the long-winded, overly complicated form. A form which fails to ask anything of relevance other than the person’s name. Interestingly, it does not ask if the applicant has a criminal record – probably fortunate, in Psycho’s case. You might be forgiven for thinking this was in line with the Christian message of forgiveness and new life – you would of course be wrong. It is simply assumed that no vicar or church council would put someone forward unless the were a “sound chap”. Naturally, a sound chap would never have a criminal record, because that wouldn’t be, well, “sound”, would it?

I think it was close on midnight by the time we’d finished. As Psycho was getting up to go, I asked, “Do you want to do one of the Bible readings on Sunday?”

“Er, yeah, go on then.”

I took a spare Bible from a shelf – The New Jerusalem translation – and marked the passage I wanted him to read.

“What do I do then?”

“When I give you the nod, walk up to the lectern and read it. It’s an apocalyptic piece from Isaiah.”

“What does that mean?”

“End of the world. Make sure people won’t fall asleep – really put something into it.”

Psycho was looking uncertain, so I added, “Pretend someone knocked your beer over five seconds beforehand. Read it as if you’re explaining that they should buy you another.”

“Got it.”

With that, I bade him goodnight. It would be interesting to see what became of him.

The next day, I had a meeting with Mordred “of the family Williams”, the Lay Reader who had started Psycho on his way. He’s recently arrived in the parish, and I’d learnt he’s a bit of a hot potato. He gets passed from parish to parish, upsetting everyone. After the appalling mess he’d made of the prayers, I had thought it best if we had a little chat. He had a two-up, two-down place he was renting in the older part of Sutley, and it probably wouldn’t feature in the Tourist Information brochures for the town.

He let me in, the front door opening straight into his front room.

“How’s the nose?” I asked, more because such questions are expected, rather than due to any real interest.

“Painful but improving. You’re lucky I didn’t go to the police.”

I shrugged. “Porker straightened it for you, and we both know you don’t want to involve the police.”

Mordred muttered under his breath, and then begrudgingly offered me tea, which I accepted. He went through to the kitchen and I looked around his front room. A threadbare sofa and a couple of armchairs. A table with a laptop. No television, but plenty of bookcases.

I always look at people’s bookcases.

Disclaimer: Rev. David Wilson’s dismissal of Lay Readers being retired, white, middle-class men is unreasoned. His argument appears to be that people of alternative backgrounds may provide a different perspective. Considering that the Church of England only believes in one God, it is reasonable to conclude that only one perspective is required.

A map of Sutley may be found here:
https://kevinwoodauthor.com/SutleyMap.htm