apologia pro vignettes mea

The church is still and silent.
Me bowed in the front pew asking the Almighty for things.
"I've got some Len Deighton books for you," whispers Father Baines appearing out of nowhere.
"I'm wading through a Robert Fisk word heap at the moment Father," says I.
"Great isn't he!" says the priest.
"Do you actually like him?" exclaimeth I aghast.
"I think he's brilliant," enthuses Father Baines.
"Et tu Padre!" I intone bitterly. "Then fall Heelers."