Lost Horizons

As you may know, there is a contest on for the leadership of the Labour Party.  It will elect a successor to Gordon Brown, the UK’s worst Prime Minister since Tony Blair, and the contest is relatively wide open with five candidates vying for the job. You may also know that I am a fairly committed SNP voter.

It may surprise you, then, to learn that I have a say in the election of Labour leader.  It certainly surprised me, when my voting form popped through in the post this morning.  You see, the Labour Party leader is not just elected by the party membership, but a complicated electoral college of firstly the party’s MPs and MEPs, secondly the party membership and thirdly the membership of affiliated organisations such as trade unions and socialist societies.

Many trade unions in the UK rather sneakily donate money to the Labour Party and charge a levy to their membership, regardless of their political opinions, and I was appauled to discover earlier this year that I had not opted out of this with respect to my own union (Unite).  To realise that I have been donating money to Labour – albeit just a few quid in total – has made my skin crawl and left me feeling disgusted, when I thought I was just getting the vital protection that a union offers.  It’s somewhat akin to eating a gorgeous mystery meal and then being told afterwards that it was actually minced slug in a dog’s milk sauce.

I called Unite up as soon as I realised the problem, and while my levy was changed immediately so that I opted out of the Labour Party payment, I was told that I would not be removed from the relevant membership category until January 2011 due to their procedures.  Fair enough, I suppose.

But obviously in that time, I still qualify for casting a vote for Labour Party leader, and Unite’s mailing is now inviting me to participate.  By the way, it’s disgraceful enough that the union should be connected to the Labour Party – whose policies are as utterly contrary to the interests of working people as those of the Tories – but they have the temerity to tell me at the same time who they recommend I vote for (Ed Miliband, if you’re interested).  Soviet era politics, eat your heart out.

My initial thought was to just bin the letter, but I hate abstaining from votes (I’ve never knowingly missed one in my life) and didn’t want my feelings on the matter to be ignored.  So I guess I have two options:

1. Vote for the candidate who I would genuinely most like to win the election, even though their victory would never persuade me to vote Labour if it was on fire and my ballot paper was made of water.  For what it’s worth, that would be Diane Abbott, who although hypocritical, spineless politician is still more left-wing than the other four clones of Blair/Brown who have more blood on their hands from Labour’s failures than most in the party.  Labour under any of those other four would be a disastrous failure in confronting the Tories (and of course being distinct from them), while Abbott at least is avowedly left-wing and might restore a little soul to the moral black hole that is Labour.
2. Engage in some destructive subterfuge by voting for the person I think would be the worst choice in terms of the national interest (I am truly spoilt for choice on this one), thus hopefully harming the Labour Party.  Probably not my favourite option of the three.
3. Spoil my paper with a diatribe as to why the Labour Party is a disgustingly anti-worker and ethically bereft machine of corruption, selfishness, spin, big business interests and cretinous warmongery, and email as many relevant addresses in Unite explaining my choice and condemning them for propping up a party so counter to the interests of the union’s membership.

Any thoughts?

Not only was our recent trip to Spain my first trip abroad for nearly two years, it was my first major trip with the iPhone.  And far from being a distraction, something that detracts your attention from the places, sights, sounds and smells you’re meant to be immsersed in, it was a real help.

For sure, with roaming switched off to save on charges there wasn’t much opportunity to be connected (no bad thing, of course), but even offline the iPhone is an incredibly handy thing to have: it’s a back-up camera, you have your contacts handy for writing all those postcards, you can scribble down bits and pieces on the Notes app, and so on.

But before leaving, I had a hunt around the App Store for a few things that might help us while we were travelling.  Here are just two apps I found helpful.

The first was OffMaps.  I figured there had to be something resembling an offline Google Maps out there in the App Store, something that could tell you where you were going without having to be connected like the iPhone’s in-built Maps app.  OffMaps pretty much met our needs. While not as detailed as Google Maps, it provided the ability to download maps of certain areas, in various levels of detail, meaning we could very easily find our way around without the hassle of out of date road atlases or unwieldy tablecloth-size road maps.

Within the cities particularly, where the level of detail was fantastic, it was a great way of keeping track of our movements while avoiding the need to stop, unfold a huge map and erect a sign saying “we’re tourists!”.  It took up a lot of memory on the iPhone, but the great thing is that you can delete entire sections of map after you’ve moved on from them, which is handy.  We had wireless internet access along the way on one or two occasions, meaning we could download the next couple of places we were visiting and delete where we’d recently been.

As I say it’s not got the full level of detail of Google Maps, but in rural areas or where you’re driving you perhaps only need a rough approximation anyway, while in the cities it was more or less as detailed as we needed.  A very handy wee app.

The second one I found helpful was lastminute.com’s free Spanish phrasebook – one of the better-reviewed free language apps.  It was a nifty and easy app to use, giving a wide variety of phrases across a range of categories, even providing a button to press so you could hear the phrase and learn more about the pronounciation.  This – or something like it – was essential for us as we battled with a language we knew little of between us.

The sad thing was that the app didn’t have quite the range of phrases we needed, with some obvious absences, such as the ever-essential “no problem” or the occasionally necessary “no, we’re from Scotland”.

If there’s a better (and, ideally, free) range of phrasebooks, do offer your suggestions.  And while you’re at it, dear reader (well, dear iPhone-owning reader), what are your favourite travel-related iPhone apps?  What are your recommendations worth sharing for making a trip abroad that bit easier?

It would be interesting to read your ideas.

Well, I say “new”.  Pillars was launched in early July, and I was at the spectacular launch event at the Ironworks to see a great gig and pick up my copy of the album (the first physical music format I’ve bought for as long as I can remember).

It’s only now, though, that we have our internet up and running in our new house that I’ve been able to upload some photos from the night, and figured I’d save the album review for now too.

Pillars has been a long time coming: Shutter have been around for years, and it’s a shame in one sense that the band have taken so long to release an album.  But on the other hand, the band have demonstrated staying power, clearly proving their durability and popularity (not just locally), and there’s no danger of them being a “flash in the pan” outfit.  Pillars, in that sense, is not really the start, but the continuation for this post-rock foursome from Inverness.

And why shouldn’t a band take its time in releasing a band?  Do they release something on demand that may not be up to scratch?  I’m glad that instead they’ve released it only – excuse the Grolschism – when it’s ready.  They’ve got some great people involved in making it too, apparently, including production bods who have worked with Mogwai.

The launch, then, was an exciting event because of the sense of anticipation, and the hundred or so folk in the venue seemed a greater number because of the stage that had been set up in the middle of the floor, making for a surround picture as well as an all-encompassing sound.  Shutter were loud, powerful and gripping.

And the album, of course lacking a certain rawness you get live, is terrific.  With Lost Transmission and Pillars of Creation providing a great opening, the layers of guitars, bass and drums continue in a vibrant mood, with New Starts standing out as a particularly energetic number.  It precedes Sedona, for me the stand-out track on the album, a catchy mix of rough, explosive loudness and almost sinister quiet spots.

The album doesn’t tail off, though, and while I can’t help feeling that one or two tracks left you wanting more and could have (in true post-rock tradition) been somewhat longer, the finale Sulaco – which featured on their earlier EP – is a fine conclusion to an outstanding album.  Pillars flows together brilliantly, and I’ve been listening to it a great deal since the launch.

Fingers crossed “Pillars” is the springboard that makes Shutter more widely known.

You can buy the album via their website here, or on iTunes, and see my photos from the launch here.

Blog posts lately have been few and sporadic, due to a number of things, not least our home internet connection only just being set up.  This means I can catch up on a whole host of things I’ve been wanting to write and photos I’ve been wanting to upload.

I’ve also had plenty writing to do, which believe it or not is actually easier with an internet connection – yes it can be a distraction, but it’s also a great way of verifying facts, checking maps, and so on, and I’ve really missed having no access other than the somewhat fiddly iPhone.

Not to say that I have plenty time on my hands – work is in a very busy phase, and I’ve already been spending a lot of time around the country.  Most recently I’ve been in Edinburgh, where the hellish, pretentious plague that is the Festival has been grinding down my patience with each August-time visit.

I did succumb, however, and visit the Edinburgh Book Festival’s home on Charlotte Square – only, though, to see my own book amongst the Sandstone Press stall (see picture).  I had various reports from friends and readers that copies of Up The Creek Without a Mullet were shifting well down there, which is good news, and comes on top of its recent publication as an ebook.  This means it should be available on the Kindle and iBooks soon, more on which as and when it is sorted.

I’ll be doing some accompanying publicity to plug the book, especially abroad where the ebook may be very helpful.  That’s one of the many things I’ll be getting round to in the next while and which are infinitely easier now our home internet is up and running.

Oh, and don’t forget I have competition going where you can win a copy of the book.  Well, two, in fact.

I went to see “Mogwai: Burning” at Eden Court the other week. It’s a film by Glasgow band Mogwai, arguably among the grandaddies of post-rock, and is effectively a wordless documentary about a series of gigs they performed in New York last year.

Shot in a black and white, with blurry, fast-paced camerawork, the film is uncompromising and rough around the edges, a perfect commentary on Mogwai’s music itself.

With only the occasional exterior shot – a band member crossing a road, or fans buying tickets from a kiosk – the film focuses fully on the gigs, or more specifically the music. Not much applause, few words from the band, no narration – just shots of a guitarist’s hand, a cymbal, a brief glimpse of a face in the crowd, a pedal, a wire, an amp… it’s a film that dwells purely and solely on the music, and is thus quite hypnotic.

The way the camerawork matches and complements the sound really draws out the strength and depth of Mogwai’s music – brooding instrumental guitar music, with angry and haunting undertones and often tense build-ups that lead to explosive cruscendos.

One quite amazing example of the camerawork complementing the music comes during the epic, sweeping sixteen-minute classic Mogwai Fear Satan, where a loud spell gives way to a quiet intermission in the middle of the track.

There is just the lightest of riffs on the guitars and the softest of heartbeats from the drums maintaining a tense sense of anticipation, and the camera magnificently captures the briefest of glances of understanding between the band members as they lift their heads and shatter the tension by launching back into a ferocious whirlwind of noise.

The film – just released on DVD along with a live album – is short at around 45 minutes, ending abruptly and almost humorously as a result, but the format might not have worked for longer, and gave a powerful enough flavour of the music and of the gigs that I was quite satisfied at the end of the film. It’s not quite the same experience as watching live – for one thing, the sound in Eden Court was atrocious – but at least with this film the camerawork gave a stunning sense of the performance and of the music itself that you don’t always get in a live gig.

Definitely worth watching if you’re into Mogwai or similar bands; though if you’re like three bewildered people who left our showing halfway through then you’ll find it an uncompromisingly dour and minimalist film. Something it was perhaps meant to be.

Okay, so the last in my summer flurry of book reviews: “Deep Stuff” by New Zealand writer Mike Riddell.

“Deep Stuff”, as you might expect, is about just that – deep stuff.  It’s the story of five young housemates somewhere in England who gather once a week for food and discussion.  In essence it’s a thought-provoking and often moving exploration not particularly of these characters but of the big issues that affect our society today.

I was recommended “Deep Stuff” many years ago (by Gareth Saunders, I think), and it was only when I went on my pre-holiday flurry of book-buying that I thought to finally get round to acquiring it.

And that links in with one problem I have with Deep Stuff – that I bought it over a decade after its publication, leaving it ever so slightly dated.  The cultural reference points of the characters’ discussions are very late ‘90s, and it’s an indicator of our fast-moving culture and society that concepts such as smartphones, Facebook, the war on terror or reality TV seem notable by their absence from what is trying to be (and probably at the time was) a cutting-edge book about today’s world.

But such is the nature of writing socially-relevant commentary, and it is only a minor quibble about what is on the whole a powerful, engaging book whose characters and issues fast get under your skin.

The house is brought to life by John, a friendly and outgoing social worker from New Zealand, whose arrival as a tenant shakes up – without upsetting – the existing dynamics in the house.  Camp and intellectual writer Quentin, gritty Irish girl Siobhan, blunt computer programmer Tanya and image-conscious daydreamer Claire all eventually respond well to John’s direct personality and attempts to get to know them, and before they know it they are taking it in turns to make Friday night dinner, the cook providing a discussion topic.

The housemates’ discussions – of everything from sex to death to fame to family – strike at the hearts of their lives, their upbringings, their beliefs and their perceptions of the world, and the conversations become more intimate as the housemates share deeper and more painful stories from their lives.

New boy John is a Christian (as is the writer), and while this occasionally comes up and John subtly steers a lot of the discussions to the really big questions about life, the universe and everything, we are nudged to no particularly Christian conclusions, and “Deep Stuff” could not accurately therefore be described as a Christian book.  I’d recommend it therefore to anyone interested in how people relate to the world they live in and the people around them.

While the characters are well-crafted and compelling, it does seem that, occasionally, their contributions are abstract: that it matters not who is making each certain point, just that the point is being made and explored.  Even the stories the housemates tell or make up to illustrate their points sometimes seem more powerful and real than they themselves, and most of the time the five young folk appear simply to be tools for dissecting the issues within each chosen topic.

In that sense, “Deep Stuff” could be put – albeit loosely – in the category of metaphor-packed pop-philosophy, alongside the likes of Paulo Coelho, Sophie’s World and so on (not that I’ve read the genre all that deeply); where the themes and dimensions of human existence are more the point of the story than the characters themselves.

That’s not a criticism, particularly, because the ‘deep stuff’ and the way it is all explored is thoroughly provoking and lingers in the mind, and we are left thinking about the ideas rather than any judgements we may reach about the characters.  Indeed, the book has a compelling feature in the form of one or two quotes in the margin of each page from famous people that relate to the particular point being discussed in the story.

Far from being distracting, these enrich the thought process and help to unpack the dialogue.  They include quotes by folk from Kurt Cobain and Douglas Coupland (told you it was very late ‘90s) to Woody Allen and Carl Jung.  Some of my favourites include…

The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win you’re still a rat. (Lily Tomlin)

Money doesn’t talk, it swears. (Bob Dylan)

When authorities warn you of the sinfulness of sex, there is an important lesson to be learned.  Do not have sex with the authorities. (Matt Groening)

The Bible contains six admonishments to homosexuals and 362 admonishments to heterosexuals.  That doesn’t mean God doesn’t love heterosexuals.  It’s just that they need more supervision. (Lynne Lavner)

I don’t consider myself a pessimist at all.  I think of a pessimist as someone who is waiting for it to rain.  And I feel completely soaked to the skin. (Leonard Cohen)

The ending of the book isn’t wholly unpredictable, but is nevertheless powerful and moving, as eighteen months after the houseshare ends all five characters reflect on how their lives have been moulded by the other four and the deep stuff they discussed.

“Deep Stuff” is a well-written and wonderful book, and I’m glad I’ve got round to reading it.  Even several years later.

This is quite amazing – a haunting, floating thirty-five minute soundscape reminiscent of early Sigur Rós work, particularly their weird, ambient first album. The track is by Shamantis, an American music producer.

It’s currently viral on Twitter, because it is not just any soundscape masterpiece – it’s Canadian pop singer Justin Bieber’s song “U Smile”, slowed down 800%.

I hope my view that it’s a gorgeous reworking in its own right, never mind simply being notable because of its origins in teen-pop, is persuasive given that I’d never actually heard of Justin Bieber until just now.

No, honestly, I’d not. Maybe I’d heard the name somewhere before, but I had no idea who he was when I stumbled across the Shamantis track on Twitter earlier and had to google him to remind myself of exactly who he was.

Only after did I listen to the Shamantis reworking did I listen to the original “U Smile” on YouTube.

And I really, really wish I hadn’t.

I promise I’m getting to the end of my list of book reviews.  The other night I finished the last item in my current “to read” pile, so I’ll have to find something else to blog about soon.

My penultimate review for now is Yin Yang Tattoo by Ron McMillan.  Now I must declare an interest here: Ron is a fellow Sandstone Press author with whom I have frequently corresponded (he lives in Bangkok), and it’s actually because of his previous book that I got Up The Creek Without a Mullet published in the first place (read how that happened here).

But if this review makes scant criticism of Yin Yang Tattoo it’s not a response to any camaraderie with Ron or the knowledge that he will read this review – I am sure he can take criticism on the chin! – but rather that there is little to criticise in this fast-paced, entertaining thriller.

The story’s main character is Alec Brodie, a hard-drinking Scots photographer who is invited to South Korea – where he previously lived and worked – for an assignment that turns out to be a cover for all sorts of dodgy shenanigans.  Framed for a murder he did not commit, Brodie is forced to unravel the truth of what’s going on while on the run from the authorities, relying on his wily intuition, his knowledge of the country, and not a little grit, determination and luck.

Gritty crime novels like this with a range of rough and curious characters and numerous twists and turns in the plot are not normally my cup of tea, but I certainly found Yin Yang Tattoo to be engaging, with each chapter ending compelling you to read on, and the story kept vibrant by the exciting plot, great characters and vivid portrayals of South Korea’s highlife and lowlife.

For sure, some of the characters seem almost pantomime-like, because it’s easy to know who you should be cheering and booing as there’s little to hate about the good guys and little to like about the bad guys.  But that didn’t bother me, because the book as a whole, including for instance the South Korea that Ron portrays, is full of the extremes of good and bad too.  And the book really does give a rich description of the country - all sorts of seedy nooks and crannies as well as plush, rich areas in Seoul, the countryside, far-flung rural corners… this is a book that gives us a good sense of what the country is in terms of its diversity, its beauty and its relationship with its odd neighbour to the north.

In that sense, the book is a packed and diverse one – we have romance, sex, detective work, violence (I did wonder why in one dramatic martial arts fight scene nobody just thought to bring a gun, Indiana Jones-style), humour, and much more.

Our central character, Brodie, is likeable and much of his past, his attitudes and motivations are explained, but not so much so that the reader is fully satiated at the end.  Brodie has either unfinished business or a motivation to keep exploring the region at the conclusion of the book.  So I’m guessing that means there’ll a sequel or two in the future, and I am looking forward to seeing them.

I’m increasingly coming to the conclusion that there are two Christianities.

Cue sharp intake of breath from hardline evangelical readers who think I’m about to reinterpret God in a heretical, post-modern way; and sigh of boredom from hardline atheist readers who’d rather move on and browse something else.

But read on, please, hardline evangelical readers and hardline atheist readers alike – what I am about to say is about and for both of you.

I picked up recently via Twitter on this article by Johann Hari – “The slow, whiny death of British Christianity” it’s called.  It talks about how new statistics say that Britain is now “the most irreligious country on earth”.  This, Hari surmises, is cause for celebration because it will help undermine the case for the privileged position Christianity and other faiths have within our society.

The problem is, however, that Hari’s ire is stoked by a narrow, potentially even lazy, view of Christianity – one which holds or seeks a privileged position in law, education and politics, which holds prejudiced views about certain minorities, and will regard any criticism of it as an assault on freedom as a whole.

Of course, the thought occurs: should we blame Hari or any other committed atheist for judging Christianity on what they see?  Maybe the only Christianity they see in political and social discourse, in the pages and screens of the media or with their own eyes is the Christianity that abuses children and covers it up; that wishes to deny homosexuals – and, sometimes, women – equal rights; that seeks to determine what healthcare or education people including non-believers receive; that greedily protects its ex-officio parliamentary seats; that thinks it has the right to stop people watching whatever films or theatre they want; that confuses the right to evangelise with the right to impose the consequences of belief upon those that do not share that belief; that maintains it has the right not to be insulted or intellectually confronted; and so on.

Maybe such hardline atheists do not see a different Christianity: one which practices charity, selflessness, humility and modesty, which fights against poverty, injustice and war, which offers unjudging, caring comfort to the weak, the dying, the sick, the lonely, the depressed, the despairing, the angry and the hopeless… all often quietly, and under the radar of the media.

Maybe such atheists just don’t see these things, and if so, you can’t blame them for only judging Christianity on the aspects they see and hear about.

But frankly it doesn’t take too much searching to find evidence of a Christianity that is like that – and remember that atheists rightly pride themselves on their commitment to rationality, logic and evidence in their considerations.  So to tar all of Christianity with the same brush as you tar a number of nasty, warped manifestations of it, is lazy and unhelpful in resolving the issue of how faith, society and politics interact.  And even if – perhaps with some justification – critics might say that the line is blurred between those two Christianities, that doesn’t excuse the inability to distinguish between the two extremes.

Let’s consider a couple of parallels.  For instance, were the British Humanist Association to be found to be engaging in corrupt financial practices, to be operating illegally, or for some of its staff to be found committing crimes using BHA premises or resources, should I assume that atheism is consequently an evil of society?  Of course not - I should just assume that this one organisation is rotten or negligent.

A second parallel can be found in a real and famous example: should the declaration a few years ago that the Metropolitan Police was “institutionally racist” validate the view that the police should be abolished?  Of course not - the problem is the institution, not the cause.

So why can’t arguments like those in Hari’s article not make the same distinction between those institutions, structures and individuals who are arguably (or demonstrably) contrary to equality and justice, and those that aren’t?  Why do criticisms like those in Hari’s article lead to the scattergun conclusion not that the perpetuators of bigotry, privilege, abuse and so on should be opposed, but that the entire faith should be opposed?

To tangle up a movement or cause with the rot within an institution that embodies it, is perhaps easy to do but careless, and the consequences are counter-productive to the atheist movement, because it loses a huge number of potentially very influential allies: those moderate Christians who agree with them.

And this is where I start to get to my point.

There are Christians out there who believe that those responsible for child abuse in the church should be investigated and where guilty prosecuted: no matter how high up the chain of command they are or how infallible they believe themselves to be.

There are Christians who believe that our children must learn in school about religion and faith as influences on human history and society, but who do not believe that school is an appropriate environment for prosletysing or religious instruction.

There are Christians who believe that to reserve parliamentary seats to senior officers of one organisation (the Church of England) within one tradition (Anglicanism) of one denomination (Protestantism) of one religion (Christianity) is an affront to democracy; who believe that the head of state being the head of that same organisation is a disgustingly theocratic anachronism.

There are Christians who believe that to hold prejudice against or deny full equality to homsexuals, women or indeed any person either within or beyond the church is both immoral and Biblically baseless.

There are Christians who believe that churches should not receive public funds to spread their message.

There are Christians who do not believe that in a fair, inclusive democracy religion should be exempt from the law.

There are Christians who believe that their faith is strong enough to face scrutiny, criticism and even insult, and in fact know that the strength of their belief depends on this happening (see this post from a while ago for more on this topic, including a link to a fascinating article by Frank Skinner).

And there are Christians who believe that a secular democracy doesn’t mean one where Christianity is oppressed, but where it is simply disestablished from the machinery of government and public administration.

And they’re not a fluffy, liberal, fringe minority.  They’re normal, mainstream Christians, evangelical in zeal if certainly not in doctrine and dogma.

When the Christian viewpoint heard in the media is frequently that from bigoted and conservative organisations like Christian Voice or CARE, or privileged, antiquated church leadership like that of the Church of England, it frustrates me that there is no pan-denominational organisation out there that is recognised as a mainstream Christian voice and quoted as simultaneously upholding both the Christian message and a belief in secular democracy: an entirely uncontradictory stance.

If such an organisation exists, I’ve not heard about it, and I’d probably throw myself into it.

And yet atheists who call for the secularisation of our democracy rarely seem to acknowledge the existence of such mainstream Christians, let alone seek to form coalition with them.  In Hari’s article, he shouts down a call from the Church of England for certain exemptions from laws concerning gay equality by quoting the criticisms of “Lord Chief Justice Laws, who is a Christian himself”.

Aha, so Hari’s ire isn’t about Christianity, it’s about the actions of some within it…?

…Sadly, no.  He appears not to think for a second that there might be many Christians out there who do not hold the views of the bigoted end of Christian leadership, and he ignores the capacity or potential that such a voice might represent.  It seems that for many (though I am sure not all) atheists such a moderate Christian view simply doesn’t exist (and if my perception is wrong there, I’d love to hear otherwise).

Again – such a voice should organise.

But just imagine.  How much more powerful would the debate be if it wasn’t simply perceived rightly or wrongly as an atheist assault on Christian belief, but instead seen as a popular, diverse movement for free and inclusive democracy versus an out of date and confused establishment?

When it’s only atheists calling for these things, it becomes a war about faith, which misses the point the atheists are trying to make; when atheists and Christians call for them together, it would become about the kind of liberal democracy we want to live in.  And that’s a much more powerful, relevant and productive conversation.

Of course, as something of an aside, there are also Christians out there who believe that these changes would be good not just for society, democracy and government, but would be good for the church and the advancement of the Gospel too.

Hari writes:

As their dusty Churches crumble because nobody wants to go there, the few remaining Christians in Britain will only become more angry and uncomprehending. Let them. We can’t stop this hysterical toy-tossing stop us from turning our country into a secular democracy where everyone has the same rights, and nobody is granted special rights just because they claim their ideas come from an invisible supernatural being.

But far from dying a “slow, whiny death” as Hari puts it in the title of his article, these other Christians that he ignores will not become more angry and uncomprehending – for they, and this includes me, believe that a church that is free of the baggage of establishment and that is unencumbered by the weight of privilege would not crumble.

Instead, it would be a liberated, light-footed and socially radical church focussed purely on the spirit and message of Jesus.

It would be a church in the mould of the early Christian movement as described in the Book of Acts: a church that would focus on the gifts of the spirit because it has no other gifts to rely on.

It would be a church that, like in many parts of the world where Christianity is banned, discouraged or warped, would flourish like unstoppable wildfire.

Which is maybe what some atheists fear and why they refuse to see common ground with such mainstream Christians in the advancement of secular democracy.

Which leaves this question for hardline atheists like Johann Hari and others: which do you most fear – a church like today, seemingly drunk with privilege; or a disestablished Christian movement consistent with the ethos of a secular democracy?

If the answer is the latter or both equally, then that would demonstrate a theophobia unbecoming a good, rational atheist.

If the answer is the former, then let’s talk.

Right, it’s competition time.

I have a signed copy of “Up The Creek Without a Mullet” to give away, and have been racking my brains recently for a fun format for a competition.  Should I encourage some sort of challenge of creativity or silliness, such as the weirdest photo of a copy of the book, or a 10,000 word essay on why you should get a copy, or…?

It would have to be a fun, eye-catching and appealing competition that folk would want to enter, but I really don’t know what that competition should be.

So, I thought I’d have a competition to decide.  A “competition competition”, if you like.

What competition or challenge do you think I should run to give away a free copy of the book?  What should the rules be, how should people enter, and what might be the criteria for winning the signed copy?

The winner of the best suggestion for the competition wins… well, a signed copy of “Up The Creek Without a Mullet”. And of course their competition idea is carried out.

Entries close on Sunday 13th September, and you should email your suggestions to competitioncompetition@simonvarwell.co.uk.  Full details on the events page.