WHO GETTING THE PICK?
That was what all the whispering was about among a number of dark-suited men standing up near the YMCA this week.
They say the tall, quiet fellow, steeped in tradition and very much an establishment man, is taking leave of his tenure. There is no more need for him to stay around.
Someone will have to move up the ladder.
The question these dark-suited men wondered was whether it would be the mild-mannered, short former teacher, often called the The Prince of Richmond.
Others not only wondered but were confident that The Scholar, who likes to reflect on Sundays in public forum would be the first choice. Erudite but approachable, he does not play an instrument but has more than a fondness for letters, from Shakespeare to Austin “Tom” Clarke. His expertise in the law of business and human and industrial relations would be an asset.
It should soon be known whether it will be the man who is very clear in his language or the strong-willed short man.
Giving way
Well, it seems at least one fellow is throwing in the towel as far as the national big show is concerned.
Word is that this man, who more than once failed to make any significant mark while performing to the audience during the nationals, feels there is little hope for him.
He boasts of being well connected – from uncle to father-in-law to sister to wife, all people in the national limelight. But he simply does not believe he can place before the tall, weird fellow who was in the competition before him. The tall fellow, who likes to take his exercise programme through Grazettes, across Whitehall and up through Eden Lodge, does not intend to throw in the towel as yet as far as the competition is concerned.
The problem with the unsuccessful contestant in the national competition is that he has no real personality and does not connect to his audience, and would not even rehearse some of his songs in the community centre in Grazettes or even on the block in Eden Lodge or, better still, in the old car park at Rock Dundo.
The promoter of the competition, whom many call the silent man, will have to start looking for a contender. The word is that the squeezy-voice fellow who can be heard every other Wednesday does not think himself the choice for the competition.
Meddler of the cloth
The congregation at a church in Christ Church where the short preacher talks as if he’s a black southern Baptist minister, are asking why he has been meddling in people’s business which has nothing to do with him.
He apparently rushed in to resolve a matter from which even his more well informed religious colleague Peter, whom some in the church refer to as the modern day Levi, kept a clear distance.
Instead, this preacher, who is known for once holding a picnic near his church and leaving the place in such a mess that not even the NCC could get it cleaned up, has now found himself having to dismiss as pure rubbish the accusations being made against him.
His comments tomorrow will be interesting while he speaks over the sweet-sounding voices of the choir as it sings in hush tones, “swing down low sweet chariot”.
