The Archbishop of Canterbury on being glad James Corden's career abroad is going well
Waking with a hangover so intense that even a full tank of water can’t cure it, I find myself reflecting on the absurdities of recent events. Weeks earlier, after an unusual confession with Tony Blair, I received a call from the office of Prime Minister Keir Starmer, who wished to undertake the same “spiritual exercise.”
He arrived, knelt in the confessional, and spoke with solemn gravity:
“Bless me, Archbishop, for I have sinned. I confess that, amid the responsibilities of high office, I too rarely acknowledge my humble origins. My father, for instance, was a toolmaker.”
I could not resist correcting his version of history, snapping that his father in fact owned the factory and employed others to make the tools. Still, he continued with another prepared confession:
“I sometimes focus too much on delivery—delivery for British families and workers. This is my confession.”
I was unimpressed and replied in a tone far from saintly, questioning the sincerity of such mild admissions given his political record. After dismissing him with an exaggerated blessing, I moved on with my day.
To clear my head, I took a light breakfast and opened a magazine. There I found that Ricky Gervais had launched a string of parody adverts to promote his own brand of vodka—apparently because Transport for London had turned down his original creative ideas. It was one of those moments reminding me how surreal modern celebrity and politics can be.
Author’s summary
Between hangovers, confessions from politicians, and Ricky Gervais’s vodka spoofs, the Archbishop delivers a biting reflection on modern British absurdities.