The Turin Shroud, allegedly the cloth wrapped around Jesus' crucified body, was finally exposed as a hoax today in 1988. This shouldn't have surprised anybody. For centuries, the Catholic Church had been making money out of exhibiting the chains of St Peter, the finger of St Anthony and the foreskin of Sister Ursula (oh no, that can't be right!) and all of those where fakes, so why not the shroud?
The real miracle is how did a brilliant 14th century artist fake the thing in the first place?
In other news ...
The Queen, God Bless Her, made her first broadcast to the nation today in 1940. She was only 14 and said, on Children's Hour 'We know, every one of us, that in the end all will be well.'
And the old girl's been calming us all down ever since.
Showing posts with label The Queen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Queen. Show all posts
Saturday, 13 October 2012
Saturday, 7 July 2012
7th July
A bizarre conversation took place in Buckingham Palace thirty years ago today when Michael Fagan broke into the queen's apartments. Of course it's not protocol to discuss royal chat sessions, but rumour has it , it went something like this:
HM Good Heavens! What are you doing in my private apartments, you nasty little oik?
MF I was supposed to meet Bill - you know, Bill Sykes - who was casing the joint, already.
HM Aren't you confusing yourself with somebody else? A controversial Semite from London's
Underworld, perhaps?
MF No.
HM Well, what do you want?
MF I've got this lad, Oliver his name is, who wants to go straight. I taught him to pick pockets but he's got real career aspirations and wants to go on Britain's Got Very Little Talent. Nancy - you know, Del'Ollio - is trying to help him too, but Bill's threatening to cut her up.
HM How can I help?
MF Got any ciggies?
HM I'll just call the Old Bill, shall I?
MF Oh, he is here, is he? Thank God for that, I thought I'd got the wrong night. Talking of which, ma'am,
any chance of a K? You know, for services to breakin' and enterin'? Just thought I'd ask.
In other news ...
Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes, the White Company etc etc, died today in 1930. But of course, he didn't. Having thrown himself spectacularly over the Reichenbach Falls, he'll be back in a minute.
HM Good Heavens! What are you doing in my private apartments, you nasty little oik?
MF I was supposed to meet Bill - you know, Bill Sykes - who was casing the joint, already.
HM Aren't you confusing yourself with somebody else? A controversial Semite from London's
Underworld, perhaps?
MF No.
HM Well, what do you want?
MF I've got this lad, Oliver his name is, who wants to go straight. I taught him to pick pockets but he's got real career aspirations and wants to go on Britain's Got Very Little Talent. Nancy - you know, Del'Ollio - is trying to help him too, but Bill's threatening to cut her up.
HM How can I help?
MF Got any ciggies?
HM I'll just call the Old Bill, shall I?
MF Oh, he is here, is he? Thank God for that, I thought I'd got the wrong night. Talking of which, ma'am,
any chance of a K? You know, for services to breakin' and enterin'? Just thought I'd ask.
In other news ...
Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes, the White Company etc etc, died today in 1930. But of course, he didn't. Having thrown himself spectacularly over the Reichenbach Falls, he'll be back in a minute.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)