After hanging out with victims of an armed robbery I got into the car and headed back to the newsroom. The car was freezing, like a penguin’s pocket, so as soon as the engine kicked in I whacked the heating on. Taking a deep breath and glancing over the Pennines, I carried out a task I had done a thousand times before. I turned the radio on.

Why is this in the opening chapter of my blog for this Easter weekend? Get this gentlemen.
The BBC Radio 1 presenter introduced a song as if he was waiting for me to get into the car.
As soon as I had pressed the on button he said this: “And number six in the updated chart show is Delirious with History Maker.”

There was so much wrong about this sentence that it forced me to put the car back into neutral and delay my journey back to the office.

This song was released in 1996, and is one of the many worship songs written by the most well-known Christian band to come out of the Twentieth Century. As I checked my pulse and wondered why on Earth a 14-year-old worship song, which had been sung in churches up and down the country, was being blasted out at number six in the UK chart, I cast my eyes back over the Pennines.

It was one of those moments which reinforced the idea that every passing moment in your life is a chance to feel alive again. I opened the windows and allowed the cold Lancashire air to fill the car and take the smell of rotten milkshake away temporarily.

I said a quiet prayer for the families in the terraced street I had just spoken to who had been left distraught after hearing one of their neighbours had been robbed at knife point in his own living room. I took stock of my life in the duration of the song which featured as a key anthem in the soundtrack of my Christian journey.

I stopped caring about why it was on BBC Radio 1 and just fixed my eyes on the snow-sprinkled mountains in the distance.

This week we remember the death and resurrection of Jesus; the hundreds of prophecies he fulfilled in the events we now call Easter. And though no one of can fully understand the secrets of the Cross and the mystery of the resurrection, I can testify with all my heart that Jesus is the hope of this generation.

Please, take a minute to glance at the lyrics of what may even be the number one on Sunday’s chart show, its a song called History Maker, by a band once called Delirious. Be encouraged.

Is it true today that when people pray, cloudless skies will break, kings and queens will shake?
Yes it’s true and I believe it, I’m living for you.
Is it true today that when people pray, we’ll see dead men rise and the blind set free?
Yes it’s true and I believe it, I’m living for you.
I’m gonna be a history maker in this land, I’m gonna be a speaker of truth to all mankind
I’m gonna stand, I’m gonna run, into your arms, into your arms again.
Well it’s true today that when people stand, with the fire of God, and the truth in hand
We’ll see miracles, we’ll see angels sing, we’ll see broken hearts making history.
Yes it’s true and I believe it, we’re living for you.

I am more impressed with Eddie Izzard than Usain Bolt. Don’t get me wrong, Bolt is the fastest man on Earth over a short distance, and if I broke into his house and he was in, I would be in a very tricky position if it came to a foot race. I’d probably have to knock him out before my getaway. Anyway, Eddie Izzard ran 43 marathons in 53 days. They say you should take 26 days to rest after one marathon. He had never ran before the first one. It’s not really possible to do what Eddie did it.

People are wowed by those who sprint, but humbled by those who endure. The crazy thing is, Jesus talks about this. I have seen a lot of people take a fleeting interest in the message of Jesus before moving on to something more shiny. The more I read the scriptures the more I see the long distance runners changing the world whilst shooting stars fall after a few seconds under the spotlight.

Ok enough with the metaphors. These last few weeks endurance has littered our TVs and radios with sports relief challenges and marathon men. Coupled with this new phase of endurance, I have recently taken some major steps with the most testing battle a man can face. Golf.

It has nothing to do with skill, strength or power. It truly is all in the mind. And after you swing and miss the first 7 million balls, the temptation comes over you like a wall of burdens. No man should have to stand so vulnerable on a driving range in front of 20 professionals wearing one glove. Everyone I speak to about my recent progress in Golf say the same thing. “Yeah man that’s really good. It’s a great game but well hard. I played once but I was awful. Didn’t bother again.” Some of my mates spent hundreds of pounds on clubs but gave up because they weren’t very good at it. (These clubs will become my property in the near future).

Like some crazed freak I use these faces of those who quit Golf to pump my concentration after I spoon a ball 20 yards over the fence. I will not quit. Not because I’m super strong, or as focused as a leopard, but because the theology of Eddie Izzard is 100% proof. How does perseverance work? It works like this: Wake up, have a wash, eat some breakfast, do the thing worth persevering for, eat some food, have a sleep. We cannot persevere tomorrow. Only today. And if everyday you wake up, have a wash, eat some food and persevere, the years will pass and looking back on your life you will see that you have finished the race.

Consider these epic teachings by Jesus who persevered more than any living thing. In Mark’s account he said this: “Some people are like seed along the path, where the word is sown. As soon as they hear it, Satan comes and takes away the word that was sown in them. Others, like seed sown on rocky places, hear the word and at once receive it with joy. But since they have no root, they last only a short time. When trouble or persecution comes because of the word, they quickly fall away. Still others, like seed sown among thorns, hear the word; but the worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth and the desires for other things come in and choke the word, making it unfruitful. Others, like seed sown on good soil, hear the word, accept it, and produce a crop—thirty, sixty or even a hundred times what was sown.”

For those of you who have not yet encountered “The word” then for the next hour or so have a read of the book of Mark. Endurance pays off. For those of you who have encountered “The word” then for the next hour or so have a read of the book of Mark. Endurance pays off.

Today we endure, because tomorrow isn’t real.

Peace.

My friend Mak is an engineer. He is currently working on a airship which flies itself. Get a load of that…it flies itself for crying out loud. I can barely dress myself, and this machine will be able to fly all on it’s own. Last week my laptop starting ringing like a mobile phone. I opened it up and my Dad’s face was on the monitor and I could hear him speaking to me from Bangladesh. It was one of the most disturbing experiences of my life. For a second I actually thought my dad had infiltrated my mind and was taunting me through my laptop. They call that technology Skype, but I call it the Matrix.

In less than eight months it is claimed that a group of London scientists will have invented an alcohol which has all the pleasurable aspects of a normal bevvy, but absolutely no detrimental effects on the liver or the mind. I have just rammed a nasal spray canister up my nose because I have a cold, and though it has only been 15 seconds since I used it, I can now breathe perfectly. Gents, there is no denying it, the human race has technology in a head lock and is ramming it into new leagues every single day.

But we still have one major thing in common with the sloth. We have no clue what is going to happen in ten minutes time.

The technology to predict what is yet to happen does not look like surfacing in our lives anytime soon. In fact, though we can order food through a computer and get it delivered to our front door, if just 1cm of water falls onto the road leading to your house, and that water freezes, you won’t be getting your pizza anytime soon. Human beings have conquered space travel, but still cannot tackle a little bit of ice on the road.

On Sunday night I bowed my head with my Christian friends and we prayed for our futures. Usually when I pray for my future I ask God to guide me to new things. New house, new car, important things like that

But as I read more about Jesus I am struck by how many times he tells his followers not to worry about what’s coming next.

Though it is true our fast-food culture blatantly urges the individual to sign up for things now, it also whispers “Be afraid” and “What if”. Adverts about what will happen if you do not buy into something are on the rise. I have recently been told that my skin will wrinkle, my hair will fall out and the windscreen on my Fiat Punto will crack, unless I hand my money over now.

So I worry about my future. Even when I pray I worry about it. And then I realise I’m not actually praying, I’m babbling. When I talk to God about my future I sound like I don’t really trust him. I emphasise certain things to make sure he hears them properly. Like God has a hearing difficulty or something. “My God is great, deaf as a post but still great.”

I need to get real about what Jesus says about my future. Talking to his followers in the account of Matthew, he says:

“Your Father knows what you need before you ask him…
“Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

I need to stop babbling like a drunken clown and start trusting.

One of the tricky things about grief is that it lies to you. It tells you that when you encounter loss, you have simply been left with nothing. That your hands have been emptied and what once was, is now no more. And it is that terrifying thought of a life without the seemingly one thing that lit up your life which disturbs the soul. Don’t get me wrong; the pain is real, the swollen bloodshot eyes which attract sympathy from strangers is real. The sense of hopelessness which sits on your chest as you lie in bed at night and wraps itself around your waking moments is real.

A close friend of mine had to accept something really difficult this week. Like me, he has four men in his life whom he goes to when big decisions have to be made. They don’t know each other but they all follow Jesus. They very rarely give him the same advice but this week they all said the same thing. They softly told him that the girl he was once poised to propose to, who has recently told him to leave her alone, has gone for good. They told him she was no longer his beloved. They told him the time has come to man up and accept the painful reality.

When he told me about this he was crying and smiling at the same time; like a crazy man. I told him he looked like a crazy man and he soon stopped crying. I tried to express my deepest sympathy for my friend but he then placed his hand on my left shoulder and said: “Alex, pipe down for a second, because I have learnt something wonderful today which might even make a blog for you”. I laughed and told him it would never make my blog but to tell me anyway.

He said: “Alex my brother, accepting this rejection has been horrible. However, I am guilty. I bought the great lie which haunts every man who gets told it’s over by the woman of his dreams. I believed that my life experience bag I carry in my heart had been depleted. But that’s not how God works brother. I took a good long look at my heart and though it has been dump tackled onto the concrete, the bag inside is full! Its full!!! There are lessons in there which were not there before I met her and they are imperative lessons I needed to learn to become the man I was born to be. Lessons on what love is, what romance is, what sacrificial loving looks like and most importantly how to trust God’s unique plan for my life. And I trusted him when I was with her so I can trust him now I’m single. He hasn’t changed Alex. He isn’t worried about my future so I shouldn’t be. He filled my bag with priceless lessons through meeting, dating and losing my beloved. The sun will rise tomorrow brother, and I will be able to use those priceless lessons in my day. I need to man up and leave her go now.”

Tears were now streaming down my face as I smiled back at my friend. (But he didn’t tell me I looked like a crazy guy.) There is no formula to deal with loss. But there is truth. I think Jesus was right when he said the truth will set us free. And he didn’t just mean free from sin. I think its more than that. I think truth helps us to cope in a mess despite the temptation to sink.

Consider these wonderful truths in the book of James 1 v. 2-4. “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

The bags in our hearts are being filled by God through the good times and the bad. And what is it for? It’s for God to see us on our last days on this planet and say those words to us: “My child, you have persevered and you are now mature and not lacking anything.”

My friend told me if I could do a shout out to Mark and Lucy who helped shared the above verse with him. I told my friend I was a serious journalist and not some punk who allowed trashy shout outs to litter my precious blog.

Peace.

Within ten minutes of arriving in London, I found £20 on the floor. I knew it would be a good weekend. As I strolled down Great Portland Street to meet a good friend I had not seen for years, I saw a homeless gentleman sitting up against a red letter box. He looked like Bob Dylan.

I asked him if he had eaten, he said no. I nipped into Tesco and bought him a cheese sandwich and a bottle of Lucozade. He smiled and for a minute I thought he was Bob Dylan.

I enquired if he was plugged into a local church – but he wasn’t. But then he told me that he did however meet up every week with a group of Christians who “made sure he was alright’. He guessed I was a Christian and showed me his bible. He held it like a trophy. I smiled and left him to devour his sandwich paid for by the poor sod who dropped £20 earlier on.

Five hours later I was humming Bob Dylan songs in London’s most prestigious nightclub (according to some fancy magazine).

It was breathtaking and so were the prices. I didn’t fit in at all. I was surrounded by tory boys with expensive haircuts and pink shirts. I felt like an undercover miner looking for revenge on Margaret Thatcher for closing down the Welsh Valleys. I only kicked off once though. It was after being charged £2 to keep my coat and bag in the cloakroom. “That is a scandal” I said. “This is the best club in London” he said. “Its got nothing on Preston’s Wetherspoons” I said. The security guards glanced over at me. I didn’t say anything else.

As I stood in the 6th floor heated gardens overlooking the nation’s capital, illuminated by night light, starlight and moonlight, I became aware of something which had been niggling at me for about two years.

It was this: I have no interest in earning copious amounts of cash. I don’t want it. I don’t want to be seen in fancy clubs by women who laugh the same, dress the same, eat the same and dance the same. I couldn’t give a toss about the latest Paul Smith range of after shaves. Nothing inside me wants to be known as a friend of the celebrities. I don’t want some idiot pretending to be my mate by kissing me on the cheek whilst splurting out how good I look.

If the best this world can offer is yuppy utopia, then it can shove it right up its arse.

Get this: in the toilet of this a-list club I was told by a stranger that I wouldn’t find anything better. He said, “this is what it’s all about bro.” As I washed my hands under the silver taps I looked at him in the mirror, square in the eyes, and said “no it’s not”.

You could offer me a lifetime membership at this place and I would still choose to spend my Friday nights with my bread-stealing flatmate Mark talking about Jesus. And why? Because the best of the British is farcical compared to the message of Jesus, who says to be free, and free indeed. He says do not to be slaves to culture, do not bow down at the cloakroom of the famous, do not orgasm at the idea of being liked by pretty people with fluffy hair.

Jesus says plant yourself on his promise. Root your heart on the Scriptures and give yourself to loving your friends ferociously. The sight of the homeless Bob Dylan tucking into his lunch, and the knowledge that this week a group of Christian brothers will meet with him to express love, IS what its all about. That’s life to the full. That’s where joy can be found. That’s where freedom can be seen. That’s where hope can be held.

Do not be deceived.

When a chiropractor says “I’m going to cuff you to the bed and manipulate you” something inside you wakes up. When they continue to inflict a wave of pain on your lower spine and diagnose you with a defected joint, book you in for an X-Ray and tell you the condition is “most interesting”, something inside you starts to get a bit scared. “I hope it’s not serious” I said.

I drove from the surgery two inches taller and tried to think about something other than the possibility of having an operation on my back. So, I thought about my imminent MOT which was scaring my Fiat Punto so much that the car was shaking. All the time. “I hope its not expensive” I mumbled to my dodgy gearbox.

On my return home I received a text from a French friend about Wales’ biggest game of the Six Nations tonight. I thought about how much it was going hurt if I saw us get beat by the blue-shirted bread lovers. “I hope we score early” I said.

As I caught a glimpse of my “hopeful” face in my interior mirror, I noticed that when I hope I frown a lot.

Why is that I “hope” for things but what I actually mean is this: My life is not floating my boat at the moment and there’s a few things that need to happen before I can take a big sigh and start to think happy thoughts. When my X-Ray comes back clear, my car passes its MOT, and Wales hammer the French, well then, and only then, can I stop frowning. Then, and only then, I won’t need to hope for anything else.

The other day I sang a song about Jesus. It was weirdly apt for my week of false hope. The first line of the song hit me between the eyes reminding me that the the things of this world WILL pass away. Cars, spines, rugby, frowns, jobs. The whole lot. It’s not going to last.

Check the first verse out of this hymn about Jesus.

In Christ alone my hope is found, he is my light, my strength, my song;
This Cornerstone, this solid Ground, firm through the fiercest drought and storm.
What heights of love, what depths of peace, when fears are stilled, when strivings cease!
My Comforter, my All in All, here in the love of Christ I stand.

Where is my hope? In my job which is here today and gone when the company wants to save some funds? In my body which fails on impact? In my car which sounds like Gollum retching?

If it is, then I’m in a spot of bother. Jesus is quite clear about this world. Though he died for it, gave his spirit to it, and is coming back for it, he tells all his followers not to put their hope in it.

In Christ Alone.

The interest rate is a lot higher.

Nine years ago this week I became a Christian. (That’s a weird turn of phrase isn’t it?)

I celebrated the occasion with my bread-stealing flat mate Mark. Together, we sat in front of the box, cracked open a bottle of Sailor Jerry Rum, and talked about life, love and loaves.

If someone had told me I was going to become a Christian on the morning of February 16 2001, I would have probably told them to have a drink and drive to the coast.

Though I had paid two very unsatisfying visits to the local church, I was still living my daily life as if I was in complete control. To be honest, until around 7.35pm that evening, my heart actually believed that whatever felt good, was good. It was a surprisingly liberating experience to find out that I wasn’t the man at the centre of the universe.

Since that moment when I honestly asked the Jesus spoken of in the bible to lead me in my daily life, I have had to constantly fight the temptation of reclaiming the throne of my existence.

The weird thing is, that until recently, I looked back on that day as a 16-year-old in Cardiff and thought it was the most important day of my life. But it was not.

From looking closer at the stuff in the New Testament I now know that today is the only day that matters. The message that Jesus came to bring to this earth was “Today if you hear my voice, do not harden your heart.” Jesus did not say, “In your own time, when you’ve got your life sorted out, come and see me.”

I’ll be honest with you. These last six months have tested my faith in ways I couldn’t imagine when I was a teenager. Grief has really had me by the balls recently, and though my emotions are often mirroring that of a monkey on LSD, I am so happy that Jesus is still in my life.

The number of mistakes I’ve made in the last nine years as a Christian is quite simply embarrassing. Which makes the fact that Jesus not counting my sins against me sound so good.

And not only that, since that day I put him at the front of my mind, he has been strengthening my faith and character. And the truth is he doesn’t seem to be running for the door any time soon. So nine years later, here I am.

And as Mark and I took a fair chunk of rum and coke on-board, I shed a few tears looking back at the last six months. (Don’t worry lads, I’m going rugby training later tonight to man up a bit.)

But because of recent losses to people close to me I am always a few steps away from a good cry. However, I also felt an overwhelming sense of sadness for my many friends and family members who do not have God as an anchor in their lives yet.

I thought about how accessible a living relationship with God was and how a whispered prayer of tiny faith started the most immense journey of joy, adventure and truth any boy could wish for.

Nostalgia got the better of me and I prayed the same prayer that kicked it all off before I went to sleep to mark the 9th year anniversary of my Christian faith.

“Lord Jesus, I reckon you are who the bible says you are. I want you to be my Lord. I’m so sorry its taken me all this time to admit all this. I’m also sorry for ignoring you and doing it my way. Thank you for dying on that cross for us Jesus. I believe. Amen.”

My voice started to waver as the Welsh national anthem came to a close. Singing alongside my Welsh brethren in a packed English bar as our homeland took on the infamous white army in Twickenham, was quite simply an honour. Our pocket of Welsh escapees had taken over a Preston watering hole with choral bombardments and banter to the highest level. I could imagine Jesus sitting with both sets of fans laughing out loud over a neutral pint of Guinness. (Probably wearing a Welsh shirt though).

Just before kick off a man standing just to the left of me pointed straight in my direction and started chanting “sheep shagger”. Though I have heard this insult a thousand times spilling from English lips, it still hurts. But why does it hurt!? Quite simply because its true. Not really, but I thought that would get your attention.

It’s the most average insult to use on anyone. The likelihood of it being true is so remote, its like me calling someone a petrol drinker, or a cloud maker.

So why does it hurt? It hurts because its the here and now, its the circumstances, its the six inches in front of my face.

Things just hurt. Like when my boss doesn’t thank me for going the extra mile, or when I’m mocked for going to bed early, or when one of the lads takes pity on my inability to relate with women by suggesting I try men, or when nobody asks you how you are on a really bad day, or when the little chav calls you a cube headed geek, or when the girl doesn’t feel the same way about you.

The here and now hurts. The here and now seemingly has complete control of how I feel.

However, after reading a bit about Jesus, I have come to the conclusion that there is a difference between living for the here and now and being controlled by it.

Jesus calls his followers to be in the world, to sympathise with the sad, to grieve with those in mourning, to stay alert everyday and to work hard. We are called to throw ourselves at life.

But he also calls us not to be governed by what we see. In fact, he calls us to be governed only by what is unseen.

Consider these words by Paul the Apostle:

But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body. Philippians 3 vs 20 to 24

I don’t think Paul’s identity would have been rocked by off-handed comments.

Peace.

I am at the centre of my universe. I discovered this yesterday.

This Christmas I became the proud owner of a bread-maker. It is by far the best thing I have owned for the last five years, which includes my green Fiat Punto “Stanley.” Waking up to the smell of fresh bread has quite simply changed my life. Its like having a sleepover in Greggs.

I am overjoyed with every loaf I make. I remove it delicately from its birthplace before setting it peacefully on its designated plate. I even give some loaves nicknames. This morning’s loaf was called Wheatboy.

Anyway, my flatmate Mark helps himself to my bread. He showed no respect for Wheatboy as he hacked at it unevenly. He does not make the bread, buy the bread, or even name the bread. I feel short-changed every time I see he has depleted my loaf by another slice.

As I shared my burden with a few friends yesterday, something crazy happened. My mate Joe suggested that I start taking his beer. This way he would be forced to ask why I thought it was ok to steal from him. I could then point to my hard-working bread-maker and expose his thieving ways.

Unfortunately, I already take his beer without permission and never replace it. My friend Daf joked I could up the stakes and start taking his clothes. Unfortunately, I already take his clothes without permission and sneak them back into his room so he doesn’t know.
I also use his hair wax, wear his slippers, steal his washing up powder, and work out on his rowing machine.

I am the centre of my universe. I discovered this yesterday.

The problem is not just my selfish pride. It goes deeper. Despite realising my complete hypocrisy last night, I still got annoyed this morning when I saw another slice had gone.

Jesus said that freely he gave his life for me, so freely I must give to others. Jesus hung for hours on the cross until he died, so that my friendship with God would not be blocked by my attitude and actions. My salvation came when I believed and followed Jesus. I did not have to offer my body on a cross.

And I still begrudge my brother in the Christian faith a slice of bread whilst using his possessions like they are my own.

Consider these words of Paul to the church in Corinth:

“Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. Each man should give what he has decided in his heart to give, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.”

Mark, I know you will read this and I apologise. Please please keep eating my bread. I will be offended if you ever ask for a slice. Fill your boots mate. Tell your friends.

The freckled teenager with red hair wore his t-shirt proud. It fitted him everywhere it touched and read: “Look busy…Jesus is Coming”. To be honest, it made me laugh.

I asked my mate Mac to guess how many times the birth of Jesus was mentioned in the New Testament. He guessed 150.

I asked him how many times the death of Jesus was mentioned in the New Testament.
He guessed 200. (He also asked if Jesus actually invented the bar stool like in the film the Passion of Christ. I told him to stop talking.)

I asked him how many times the resurrection of Jesus was mentioned in the New Testament. He guessed 50.

I asked him how many times the Return of Jesus was mentioned in the New Testament. He said: “Never. That’s a myth made up by the Americans.”

Nine of the New Testament authors mention the Return of Jesus specifically and most of them numerous times.

The New Testament mentions the Return of Jesus over sixty times. Jesus talked about it in every account of his life to thousands and thousands of people.

But the reality is that though I can talk about the birth and death of Jesus and it only freaks my mates out a little bit, if I mention his Return, they start taking my measurements for a straitjacket.

In Matthew’s account, Jesus said this sobering message: “Immediately after the distress of those days the sun will be darkened, and the moon will not give its light; the stars will fall from the sky, and the heavenly bodies will be shaken. At that time the sign of the Son of Man will appear in the sky, and all the nations of the earth will mourn. They will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of the sky, with power and great glory.”

The bible then goes on about how this message will appear foolish to those who do not believe. Unfortunately, as a Christian, I cannot pick and chose the bits of Jesus’ message that suit me; though sometimes it would help my image with the lads.

Since I started writing these blogs I have heard mixed messages from those who do not believe in Jesus. Some have said they are encouraging, others challenging. Some friends have asked me to stop writing them for fear my journalism career will be jeopardised, and one stranger told me to stop gobbing off about Jesus and write about someone more relevant, like Russell Brand.

The truth is that some of the more tricky parts of the message of Jesus are the bits which say he is coming again to judge the living and the dead. (I can hear the sighs of my mates as they read that last sentence, but bear with me.)

The same book which enables us to stop working on December 25, the same book which provides so many structures in our current political system, the same book which is still sworn on in every court up and down the land….goes on and on about the Return of Jesus.

So what now? I think the ginger kid was more right than he knows. We need to get busy. We need to get busy with one thing.

Consider this in 1 John Chapter 5:

This is love for God: to obey his commands. And his commands are not burdensome, for everyone born of God overcomes the world. This is the victory that has overcome the world, even our faith. Who is it that overcomes the world? Only he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God.

Get busy believing and you will overcome. That’s what the Bible says.

Maybe next week’s blog will be about Russell Brand.

Peace.