King Brian, while lacking the all-round love of the people enjoyed by his late mother, Queen Brenda, does appear to be a well-meaning, if slightly misguided soul. Due to Brenda’s longevity, he’s had to wait to an age when most of us are long retired to get the gig he has always wanted, and now he has finally made it, what’s left? A life of waving, handing out gongs to the chosen few, asking people how far they had come to see him and issuing messages on major events, one of which is of course Easter.
Now, to those of us lacking ‘faith’, which is to say belief without evidence in a supernatural creator, the whole idea of Easter is ridiculous. For instance, today is Maundy Thursday which to me, during my civil service ‘career’ meant an extra afternoon off work, until David Cameron, the absolute bastard, abolished it in 2012. For many years, I had no idea it had anything to do with religious superstition, whereby Jesus Christ washed the feet of his disciples. I am not entirely clear as to why this was necessary, but perhaps this was a time before socks had been invented in order to hide the natural odours that emanate from hot and sweaty feet. I assume that these days the role has been assumed by podiatrists? For King Brian, Maundy Thursday means something entirely different and only slightly less mad.
In the UK, Brian hands out free money, known as Maundy money to deserving people who are the same age as him (or is it Him?). This replaced the foot-washing tradition. I have no idea, and even less interest in this historical nonsense, but find myself greatly amused by this explanation on wikipedia: “The term “Maundy” comes from the Latin mendicare, Old French mendier, and English maund, which as a verb means to beg and as a noun refers to a small basket held out by maunders as they maunded.” So actually, it literally means begging so the recipients of Brian’s largesse are regarded as no more than beggars. I would imagine that Brian would not particularly want his maunding activities to be considered as such.
The rest of the weekend precedes as follows. On Friday, the devout commemorate the execution of Christ. On Saturday, they remember the day Jesus’ body rested in the tomb and the belief in His descent into Hell (what?), on Sunday they celebrate His return from the dead, particularly the former MP for the Victorian Age Jacob Rees-Mogg who always tweets “Christ is risen‘ while Easter Monday “is seen as a time of ministry and preparation before His ascension to heaven.” Listen, to me this is a load of old cobblers, but if it floats your boat and gives you peace, or whatever it is you’re looking for and, crucially, does not impact my life in any way whatsoever, then all well and good.
And it won’t impact my life a great deal, either, although the big supermarkets, as well as the main shopping areas, will close so we can all celebrate Jesus coming back to life. Well, not all. Like many people in our village, I may well decant to our local pub before settling down to watch football on the telly. And if the big supermarkets are closed, there’s still our little Tesco, which is clearly oblivious to the crucifiction, thank God. (Well, not exactly God, but you get the way I am drifting?)
King Brian’s maunding will occupy the “And finally” slot in tonight’s bulletins, usually filled by happy shaggy dog stories and millions of people, like me, will be wondering what the fuck this is all about?
For most folk, except those lazy sods like me who don’t work anymore, Easter is a long weekend off work to be spent watching the rain battering against the windows and, more importantly, a time for family. And whether your Easter weekend is one of religious superstition or not, do have a good time, and always look on the bright side of life.
