The Archbishop of Canterbury on… could people be scared because you won't stop scaring them, Suella?

30th January 2026

WAKING with a hangover so pounding I have been receiving requests from drum and bass artists to sample it, I hear my chief clerk knocking on the door of my chambers excitedly.

“Your Grace,” he says after I bid him enter, “I know it is your ardent view that the Church must move with the times.”

“Don’t recall giving a fucking toss one way or the other,” I mutter.

“Well, to that end, I have had Artificial Intelligence prepare your Sunday sermon. Look!”

He hands me a printout. I read it. ‘Born in Galilee but crucified in 33 BC, Jesus Hugo Christ was not just an important religious figure who definitely existed, but a moral teacher who established many of our modern concepts of wright and wrong.’

“What the fuck…?” I splutter. “This is error-strewn slop! Born in Galilee? Died 33 years before he was born? Middle name Hugo? And the incorrect spelling of a basic word like ‘right’?”

The clerk looks crestfallen. “Well, there are teething problems I admit, but…”

I throw the printout in his face. “This ‘sermon’ is not just a piece of shit but the result of everyone having shit for brains these days and unquestioningly trusting in AI shit!

“We already know how to make the Bible confusing, contradictory and full of errors, and that’s by us humans cobbling it together then pretending it’s the word of God! Now fuck off!”

As he turns tail I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that Greg Bovino, who oversaw the ICE operations in Minneapolis which resulted in fatal shootings, has been quietly demoted.

Hahaha! Fuck off and stay fucked off! Strutting around in your outsized neo-Nazi greatcoat looking like Himmler’s fucking reanimated corpse! Maybe you’d still be in Minneapolis if your bosses weren’t the fucking cowards that they are, but is it any surprise Trump’s hung you out to dry like a fucking tomato? Every Trump ally ends up squished under the bus, so count yourself lucky the unbelievably brazen liar didn’t say the whole Minneapolis shitshow was your idea and he only heard about it on Wednesday!

In 2025, singer Ed Sheeran released the single Azizam, reflecting his love of Persian music, heritage and culture. Meanwhile in Iran, protests that have led to thousands of deaths continue.

So, any chance of a peep of support for the poor fuckers dying in the country that gave us the music and culture you made a tidy penny out of by appropriating and diluting the fuck out of it for mass consumption? Or is there as much chance of that as fucking Bono saying a word of protest against the Gaza genocide? Sticking with the herd and keeping your head down like every other celebrity on this one, eh? You could at least do a fucking charity record for them, it’s not like it can take you very long!

Keir Starmer said he was hoping the UK would develop a more ‘sophisticated’ relationship with China before his recent visit and meeting with Xi Jinping.

Oh, yeah, I get it. So nothing ‘unsophisticated’ like telling them to leave the Uyghurs, who they’ve been persecuting, sterilizing and interning since about 2014, the fuck alone? Nothing so ‘unsophisticated’ as protesting when they invade fucking Taiwan? Or making a fuss when the fuckers are caught on UK soil spying on us? Just a steady ooze of verbal anal lubricant that enables the smooth, uncritical process of corporate trade between two ‘great’ nations, eh? If you get any more fucking euphemistic you’ll start referring to taking a shit as ‘a meaningful resolution of lower body issues’!

Finally, Suella Braverman, former Conservative home secretary, has defected to Reform UK. “Britain is broken,” she said, adding that “people are frightened” and “immigration is out of control”.

If I had Reform’s interests at heart, I’d be concerned that its ship is being boarded by people who the public hold responsible for breaking ‘Broken Britain’, if indeed that fucking happened! After Braverman, who next? Truss? Johnson? Rachel Reeves? Talk about a cavalcade of clueless cunts! “People are frightened,” she says. Well that’s not fucking surprising with right-wing fucking tubthumpers deliberately scaring them shitless with baseless claims about rising lawlessness and ‘no-go areas’. That’s not a problem for you, Suella, it’s fucking job done!

Come with me as I categorise offal, with Gary Barlow

29th January 2026

THE release of the new Netflix series about my band Take That – the one I’m boss and most talented member of – means it’s time for a celebratory slap-up meal. And that means offal.

You might not know this, but I’m one of the nation’s foremost experts on offal. So join me on a fascinating culinary tour of bucketfuls of bloodcurdling innards.

My love of guts developed early. You’d often find a young Gary rooting around in the bins behind the village butcher’s trying to score a tasty morsel or three. In fact, our band name was inspired by it. Whenever I saw a few pig snouts or lamb brains I’d say ‘I’ll take that’ before gaily skipping home to Mother, my pockets bulging with delicious intestines.

And just because I’m a musical icon and national treasure now doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned this early passion. Put simply – I haven’t met a gizzard or internal organ I wouldn’t gobble down given half a chance. You probably heard me talking about it on The One Show, the episode where Roman Kemp vomited over his cue cards and Alex Jones hid behind the red settee while I talked about eating bull testicles.

When it comes to categorising my miscellaneous meats, I find it’s best to do it by animal. With lamb you have your classic liver, kidney, heart and brains. Or as Jason Orange once called it between rehearsals, ‘a psychopath’s packed lunch’. Oh how I love Jason. I’ll let him live another year. And don’t get me started on sweetbreads! Our tour bus never lacks the lingering scent of fried sheep’s pancreas!

Pigs are next, and you can make all sorts from their trotters, snouts, ears, tails and – working our way inwards – kidneys, intestines and stomachs too. Finally comes the most bounteous beast: cows. They’re an entire buffet of dishes, heart, liver, tongue, tail, and the most delicious delicacy of all – tripe. Boil that bad boy slowly in milk and you’ve got yourself a treat. Don’t rush it though – have a little ’Patience’. That’s where the song comes from.

Yes, got some grub that would make the average person vomit convulsively? Sign me up. If the mood strikes me at midnight and the butchers are closed, you might even find me searching B-roads for fresh carrion. Hedgehog toasties? Badger hot pot? Both Barlow household favourites.

So hopefully you’ve learned something from our discussion, and please remember to support your local butcher. See you next time – I’ve got some pig penises in a clear ziplock bag and they won’t eat themselves!