And Another Thing

27 September 2008

Stop throwing bricks! You might hit a bishop’s niece

A little flustered, Kennion hastened to do so, only to discover Rosebery didn’t live there but at his own house, 38 Berkeley Square. So he went there, to be told: ‘His Lordship is at the Derby.’ He left his card all the same. In fact Rosebery was watching his horse, Ladas, win the race. He returned in good spirits, and afterwards appeared on the balcony, glass of champagne in hand, to acknowledge the cheers of the crowd, who had won money. Returning to the drawing room, he was handed Kennion’s card. ‘Hm. Decent of him to call. Remember him at school. A good fellow. What? Bishop of Adelaide? That will never do. Surely there’s something better on offer.’ To his secretary: ‘Any bishop died recently?’ ‘Yes, my lord, the Bishop of Bath and Wells died this morning, here’s the telegram.’ ‘Ah! That will do nicely.’ So Kennion became Bishop of Bath and Wells at Wells, one of the best episcopal residence in England. He lived for another 28 years, lucky fellow.

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nc

September 26th, 2008 11:36am Report this comment

Wonderful! One of Mr Johnson's best articles in recent memory!

William

September 28th, 2008 3:55am Report this comment

Good luck indeed. If a few more of us knew such healthy stories there would be less "depression" about. We believe in terrorism as we once listened to pop. We could just about stomach Demis Roussos in English but generally laughed and squirmed at songs in foreign languages, especially in French. Jacques Brel's song was only a hit as "Seasons in the Sun".
If we knew about our own ancestors and foreigners as real people, be they Anglican or Punjabi we would not jump on pop-chart-like bandwagons loaded with today's idiot xenophobes and fearmongers.

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