Meeting The Orthodox Archbishop of Tirana and All-Albania, +Anastasi.

His Eminence +Anastasi

By Uncle Monty

+

At Kisha Katedrale Evangjelizmoit

(Ungjillezimit) or the National Cathedral

of the Albanian Autocephalous Orthodox

Church at Tirana, I was indeed privileged

to meet with the Archbishop of Tirana and

All-Albania, +Anastasi, after the Sunday

morning's elaborate and fascinating

Orthodox Service, which I attended

as an informal Anglican observer.

+

Bishop Anthony at the Cathedral arranged

for me to meet with, and to take photographs

of, His Eminence immediately at the service

that was packed with the Orthodox faithful

of at least a 1,000 worshipers. On meeting

His Eminence, he was so friendly and he had

met just recently with England's Archbishop

of Canterbury, Dr. Rowan Williams. The

worldwide Anglican Communion not only

recognises the head of the Albanian Church

to which Patriarch-Metropoltian +Anastasi

heads and presides, but it also actively sup-

ports interfaith communion with Tirana's

Orthodox Episcopacy. And, wisely so.

+

Speaking softly and clearly in English, the

Albanian Archbishop couldn't have been

nicer toward me and he was well aware of

Anglicanism and he was delighted to meet

me and for me to take a set of photographs

of him for my blog. I have for now uploaded

one of the five images that includes His Em-

inence with I and one of his young acolytes

who was encouraged to be part of the pic-

ture taking session as it unfolded inside the

Cathedral that is located on Rruga e Kavajes

at the heart of downtown Tirana with its

population of almost one million. This is my

fourth day inside of Albania, which I am

enjoying considerably and especially after

my personal encounter with His Eminence

and his faithful clergy here.

+

As for the Sunday service, all I can say

is that it was visually stunning with the

Patriarch in all his episcopal vestment,

and his Bishops, Archimandrites, Priests,

and Archmonks all partaking in the pro-

found and extremely colourful and moving

Orthodox liturgy that lasted for almost three

hours with its 24-member mixed choir sing-

ing anthems and praise throughout the

solemn Eucharist. Many folks stood for the

whole service, while others sat contentedly

in prayer or silence. Unlike other orthodox

churches, I noticed there was no separation

between male and female church members

of the Albanian Autocephalous Orthodox

rite and rituals. Parishioners, unlike in the

English and American Churches, are not

given hymn books to sing from or to

collectively sing in unison with the choir.

Rather it is the sole role of the choir to sing

throughtout the service and not the con-

gregration.

+

Two other things that struck me this morning

were seeing the neatly lined beggars at the

Cathedral gate with little toddlers and very

elderly women sitting on the ground and

seeking alms and gifts from the arriving

and departing parishioners. I was more

than glad to give something to at least a

couple of the 10 to 15 truly poor folkz

gathered there. We have a moral and

spiritual_obligation to give something of

what we have to others who are in greater

need of help than us. "We do not live by

bread alone,"-so we are taught biblically

as Christians. We degrade not only those

who we do not give to when we can, but

we also degrade ourselves as humanbe-

ings, I believe, if we fail or refuse to help

others when we can. The saying, "Where

there is room in the heart, there is room

in the house," is also true of giving.

+
The other thing that struck me inside

the cathedral itself was upon seeing the

faithful there take their hand to the

ground and make signs of the cross with

their finger(s) before also doing the same

across their chest or near their chin. I

had never before seen worshipers do that

in any other religion that I'd witnessed

outside of my own Anglican faith. In-

deed, Anglicanism looks to be very

plain and uncolourful and quite un-

ritualistic, which of course it is, com-

pared to those of Albanian Orthodoxy.

With the magnificent icons of religious

iconology everywhere at the Tirana Or-

thodox Cathedral, it would be hard to

ignore the richness and pageantry I wit-

nessed and absorbed like a cleansing and

uplifting spirit as a plain and simple Anglican.

I am greatly attracted to the beauty and

solemnity I see in Orthodox Christianity. If

I were ever to convert from Anglicanism,

I would turn to Eastern or Western

Orthodoxy.

+

I will have alot more to write about my

fascinating stay here at Albania's capital

and elsewhere at Elbasanit and Dajti.

+

Please Note:

My domain thebiggerissue.org ex-

pired while here in Tirana. I'm pleased

to say it is now back online after more

than 9 days being down due to my domain

being accidentally unrenewed. So with the

many e-mails wondering irately what had

happened to me and my domain and not then

being able to access my blog, all seems now

thankfully back to normal. You can

always access my blog, too, thru:

http://www.thebiggerissueorg.blogspot.com/

+

Greeting to you all from sunny

and hot Albania, Uncle Monty.

+Low Sunday, 2oo8.

Once This Was King Zog's Country. By Uncle Monty.

Once This Was King Zog's Country

By Uncle Monty

*

Safely arrived now at Albania’s capital of Tirana
or at what was once King Zog’s Shqiperia country.
This is now my first 2oo8 short haul trip

aboard of only a mere few thousand miles.
*
I have all sorts of plans while here and hope also to

meet with, among others, the Orthodox Archbishop

of Tirana and All Albania, His Beatitude Anastasios.

I shall report from time to time of what I can with

whatever spare time I may have to write more fully

of my first visit to this former communist bloc country

that was then under the iron fist rule of Enver Hoxha.

In 1967, he also declared the country as the

world’s first official Atheist State.
*
Since then, times have changed and things have

changed alot for the recent better so I am told.

I’ll soon find out here, if such is truly true …

This is a country, too, that is no longer closed to

foreign visitors like me or you. I’m staying near

Skanderberg Square at the heart of Tirana. The

city, however, is simply known as “Alban” to all

the locals … Must sign off for now as I get my

walking cameras out to photograph and to

explore all over inside Albania.
From Truly Tirana, Uncle Monty.
+Easter Wednesday, 2oo8.
*

This posting is now my 100th-post for

my blog herein called thebiggerissue.org
*

The "Beggars of St. Mungo's." By Uncle Monty.

The "Beggars of St. Mungo's."

By Uncle Monty

+

St. Mungo’s at Covent Garden’s Endell Street
is set to reopen for the homeless after a major

£3.2 million refurbishment of the men’s hostel,
which was plagued with community opposition
due to drug addicts and beggars that they say
have been harboured there in the past.

+

Some irate community residents still publicly

claim the so-called “Beggars of St. Mungo’s”
make a 100 quid in no time. While some of the

homeless themselves have bitterly complained

that to spend over £3 million on redoing the hostel

could have been spent better in permanently re-housing
them elsewhere in the open community rather than in an
institutionalized shelter for such buggers and beggars.
+
For over 25 years, St. Mungo’s – under the patronage

of The Church of England – has been at Covent Garden.
Its location has been a mecca for those seeking shelter
and help from their problems of homelessness and
social rejection in Central London. Many have been

helped and have gone on to do better and bigger

things, but there is always going to be those who

bring infamy on a good thing.
+
Crack and heroin are madness and “trying to rehabil-

itate 17 year old homeless kids in the middle of London

is madness,” too, says Jo Weir, chairperson, Covent

Garden Community Association (CGCA). Then the

word “madness” is used yet again by the St. Mungo’s

resident Edwin Hilliard, 48, who says: “It’s madness

to say homeless people should not be in central

London.” Next steps in Richard Burdett, editor of
the homeless magazine The Pavement. He’s quoted
elsewhere as saying: “We can’t get ourselves into a
situation where we segregate the homeless into
ghettoes.” Well, well, just look a nearby Parker
House on Parker Street and if that is not a

homeless ghetto already and segregated from

the non-homeless, then I don’t know what is. The
homeless are by nature ghettoised by the system

and treated collectively in any kind of hostel no

matter if its called St. Mungo’s or Parker House or

something else and no matter whatever its good

aims and intentions are publicly stated to be.
+
When I last stood outside of St. Mungo’s some

three years ago or more, I was too apprehensive

to go inside after I’d encountered a volley of

obscenities and urination as I stood there with

some of the troubled hostel residents, who directed

their anger at the passing public although not di-

rectly at me. I was there to enquire about staying

at St. Mungo’s myself as then an unhoused

homeless man.
+
To be frank, I fled from there and have never
set eyes on the place again. Hopefully, the new
changes are now substantially better than the

past. But the £3.2 cosmetics of the building are

only skin deep. Like all cosmetic treatment
it is liable to easily fade in short order if the

treatment isn’t carefully updated regularly
to keep the cosmetic glow. The homeless
resident must feel they have a stake in the
ongoing success of St. Mungo’s at Endell

Street. That’s if it is to withstand the bick-

ering and complaints of Covent Garden
homesteaders and the local businesses

and the professionally-working people

of the area.
+
I’ve yet to hear of any homeless hostel any-

where that engenders for the homeless a stake
in the place itself and to help it to grow for the
future homeless that will come after them.

Without a community stake, the homeless stay

homeless much longer than they should.

+
And next time I’m down on Endell Street,

I’ll look to see if The “Beggars of St. Mungo’s”
have now re-appeared and are counting
their phantom “hundred quids” yet again …
+Monk Justin of Connecticut, 2oo8.

For Me, No Easter Sunrise On Holy Island.

Story and Photos By Uncle Monty

+

So off I went on Good Friday to The Holy Island of

Lisdisfarne so that I could witness the Easter Morning

Sunrise around me, but I never got to get there due

to circumstances beyond my personal control of

transportation mishaps and the island's tidal

waves. Instead, I found myself at Ecosse's

Edinburgh and Scottish Borderlands for

my Eastertide.
+

Swarms of Asians I now saw upon my unplanned

Easter arrival at Scotland's Edinburgh, which I'd not

seen for forty years or more since I lived there very

briefly at Fountainbridge and just doors away from

actor Sean Connery's mom who came with her baked

jam tarts for me and my fellow Edinburgh University

students at the turn of the 1960's.

+

At first I thought Edinburgh looked quite unchanged

from my days there, but once I saw the swarms of

Asian youthz racing down the streets I knew, then

and there, it wasn't the same city I once knew of so

many years ago ... Even though I was back in Edin-

burgh, I distinctly felt I was still in England with all

its foreignized and ghettoised communities that I

cannot avoid no matter where I go in London and

elsewhere all over the UK. It seems the whole

country is now a minefield of foreign towns and

cities at where if one is not a foreigner you feel you

are almost unwelcomed and unwanted in your own

British country that has been subjugated by every-

thing that is so foreign and so unEnglish. The political

curse of mass immigration has robbed us of our own

country. And Scotland seems to be no exception,

if to a milder degree, from what I can see.

+

Edinburgh also seemed so Anglicized -now, compared

to my days when everything Scottish was so proudly

rendered before you. I saw more Union Jacks flying

here than I did of the St. Andrew flag of Scotland. And,

brand name retailers at the hideous shopping centres

have now taken a hold here, too. I saw only one small

local shop with taylored tartan kilts for sale in its neat

little shop window set against the brash and ever-

commercial stores of the well-known brands.

+

Snowflakes came somewhat hapharzardly as I

bumped into the first begger of the day on Easter

Saturday. I was moving rapidly along Princes Street

at about 8:00am to keep myself warm from the free-

zing tempertures that hit me badly and the begger

I soon photographed. Then it was the Romanian

girl I saw next who was too scared to be photo-

graphed full-faced, but I told her to pull her

hood more over her face and to stand to her

side so that I could photograph her as a street

vendor of The Big Issue. I bought my first

Scottish edition of the mag from her at her

pitch near St. James Shopping Centre. She

spoken only pigeon English at just age 20.

She spoke more English than I can speak

Romanian for sure ... Forty years or more

ago there were no Romanians to be seen

on the streets of Edinburgh nor The Big

Issue. Such had never been heard of then

and perhaps in the next forty years or more

such will have long disappeared, too.

==

The Romanian girl (above) called hereself "Nicole."

That's hardly a Romanian girl's name, I suspect.

Her name of "Nicole" sounds so American to me.

She seemed quite happy to be here in Edinburgh,

but I wasn't frankly. I'd prefer to remember the

city has it once was to me, not what it has become

today. The problem with sentimentality is that it

always shatters one's memory and emotion when

it faces today's new reality of what one once rem-

embered of things from all those past yesterdays.

And so, my fond memory of Edinburgh has now

been permanently shattered here by coming

back after forty years or more. I wish I'd never

come back, like I did today. I simply hate all the

new reality being a deep sentimentalist at heart.

As a Capricorn, I am more comfortable with

things of the past than with new-fangled things

that seem so shallow and so empty at best and at

worst a most unwelcomed and forced reality.
+

And, Now To The Borderlands.

+
The Borderlands of England and Scotland

are best understood from The Walled City of

Berwick-upon-Tweed, which was once Scotland's

richest city until the English conquered it and

claimed it as their own. I include a couple of

my pictures of my visit to Berwick that is

a major jumping-off stage to go on to The

Holy Island of Lindisfarne, that's if the tides

are low and if not then you're stranded to stay

at Berwick like I did for Easter Day. Being so

near to Holy Island and yet so far was so

frustrating to me especially after travelling

almost 400 miles to get there and then another

400 miles to return to home base after being

unfulfilled in my purpose for wanting to go there

for Easter Sunrise as a devout and affirming

Anglican that I always try to be ...

+

My selected pictures of Berwick-upon-Tweed

show the city 1, from a panoramic view; 2, the

perimeters of the historic walled city; and 3,

the lovely memorial to Lady Annie Jerningham

with her beloved dogz of 1902. Her husband,

Sir Hubert, was the local M.P. at the time of her

death. Here, too, is Britain's oldest infantry barr-

acks that I tried to visit but it was too tough for

me to climb at its long and very steep incline at

the high elevation of the walled city. I saw plenty

of young military recruits though going up and

down the steep incline with perfect ease. And,

Berwick, like Edinburgh, was too wintery cold

for everybody even on this Easter weekend ...
+

+
+
+

Here's are a couple of other photos of the full-

time beggar and the unbadged street vendor

there that I encountered while on the streets

of Ecosse's Edinburgh:

+

I wouldn't take a word of what he said

with two grains of salt. Clearly, he was a

"professional" beggar. Look how clean he

looks with a nice clean colorful blanket

and new dark blue bag and a nice, clean red

bowl and not to mention his carefully crafted

beggar's sign so carefully place in front of him.

His sign declared: "I Am Hungry And Homeless.

A. Please Can You Spare A Little Bit (of)

Change. Thank You. B. I Have Got Learning
Disabilities."
+
You sure have buddy!! Your only "disability" it

seems to me is you DON'T want to earn a living

by working, at age 26, instead of professionally-

bumming on the streets of Edinburgh to get money

from suckers such as me and others!! Right, mate?

Get off your smelly ass and do something with your

life and don't panhandle it away until you're so old
they'll bang you away in some care home for old

men of wasted lives like your's will eventually be ...
+

See no Big Issue badge on this street guy,

do you? For those who might like to see it,

I add my photo of the front cover of the

Scottish edition of this week's Big Issue.
=

As for my fancy Berwick dinner at the King's

Arms Hotel restaurant called Il Porto di Mare,

I got what I paid for I pretty well think.

Here's what I got for almost $20.00 or

£9.75 in local money: Organic Grilled Tweed

Salmon with crispy Bacon masked with Suffron;

white wine and chive sauce and Duchess cream

potates. Followed by Raspberry Pavlova mer-

ingue Shell-filled with Chantilly cream and

Raspberries Coulis, costing me another $9.00 or

£4.50. And, a nice big pot of tea at only $3.00

or £1.50. It was better to sit comfy and dine

warmly inside, no matter the cost, than to stand

and wait in the freezing cold and the on and off

sleet for my final 400-mile or so ride back to

London just before midnight.

+

What I saw of Berwick's so-called "nightlife"

was the common scene of British hot-to-trot

nights of boozing and screaming at the local

Golden Square by the native yobz and loutz

with girlz half-dressed (or half-naked, if you

wish!) like local slutz despite the bitter cold of

the night. I saw one black fella drunk as a newt

and he skipped and hopped from one side of the

street to the other. He then charged like a black

bull in a bull ring and crashed his head right into

a blank, brick wall. But he seemed unfazed as he

then carried on to wherever he planned to rest his

bloodied face and his drunkened head. Just minutes

earlier, two young woman copz had stood watch but

they seemed clearly outnumbered by the public fray.

A couple of more other copz came by later show-

ing their tallness and maleness to those who would

just dare challenge them. They'd missed the black

bull, of course!

+

So finally, I got my long ride back to home base.

For me, then, no Easter Sunrise on Holy Island as

I journeyed through the English night and after

my visit back to Ecosse's Edinburgh and my first

visit to The Borderlands of Scotland and England

with a touch of Easter just for me at The Walled

City of Berwick-upon-Tweed ...

+

Britons Still Believe In Christ's Resurrection

http://www.religiousintelligence.co.uk/news/?NewsID=1760

+

And now, HAPPY and BLESSED EASTER

to you all. Faithfully, Uncle Monty.

Easter Day, 2oo8.

+

A Letter from America ...

Howdy Uncle, Keep pumping out those stories of your own

style. They're readable plus honest. What happened to you hap-

pened to my family when we could not get across to Holy Island

when the low tides came. We stayed in Berwick for the night. As

for the night life, we were so tired we saw none of it. What you

wrote about the night life there was shocking plus revealin'.

You're truly a marvellous feature writer. You write a big range

of subjects I see from your blog. Plus, those photographs you

take are well taken. Take good care, good Uncle Monty.

Keep writing more for us all. Chio.

Casey Dahl, Kennebunkport, Maine, USA.

They Spoke Christ's Message At Jerusalem's Eastertide.

They Spoke Christ's Message

At Jerusalem's Eastertide.

Edited By Uncle Monty.

+
"In Situations of Death We Demonstrate That
We Are the Apostles of the Resurrection"

+

"In the evening of the first day of the week, Jesus

came and stood among them. He said to them,

"Peace be with you" and showed them his hands

and his side. The disciples were filled with joy

when they saw the Lord and again he said to them

"Peace be with you." St. John ch.20 vv 19-21.

+
Dear Sisters and Brothers, Christ is risen:

Many people limit their thoughts on Easter to the

empty tomb. How important then, for us to concent-

rate on the first manifestation which our Lord made

to his disciples. There is considerable encouragement

to be gained from the fact that the living Christ is

greeting his living Church. We do not under estimate

the burden of so many of our faithful today from the

continuing violence and acts of terrorism that surround

them, and of which we all are victims, in the West

Bank, in Gaza and in the Israeli society. Nevertheless,

the Risen Lord reminds us and tells us that we have

a role and we have to change the present situation,

through the power and strength which He gives us.

+

On that first Easter evening it seems obvious that the

disciples were full of fear mingled no doubt with doubt

and perplexity. So much had happened to make them un-

certain of the future and consequently they were afraid.

However, in their moment of greatest need Jesus came

and stood amongst them. At least they believed that

he suddenly appeared to them. Because, since they saw

him die on the Cross, they believed that everything

had ended and the Master has abandoned them. But,

fear, weakness and locked doors could not keep

Jesus from his disciples ... then or now !

+

He appeared to them glorious and renewed their

faith. In giving the disciples the conventional greet-

ing "Peace be with you" Jesus is seeking to quieten

the hearts of his anxious and troubled disciples.

He shows them his hands and his side to convince

them of his identity as the one recently crucified.

So their fear and doubt are replaced by joy.

+

Today we too, we live in fear and perplexity. We too

need to see the Risen Lord, in order to take away

perplexity and fear because of all that is happening

around us and in us, so to replace our fear and

anxiety with peace and joy. However the message

of Easter does not end there. The new joy is a

mission which the apostles have to bring to the

world. Jesus sent them to the troubled world as a

whole in order to bring to every one its joy and peace.

+

So Jesus says: "As my Father has sent me,

even so send I you." In this way Jesus reveals that

his Church is to be the instrument through which

his saving power is to be made known to the world

as the lives of men and women are challenged to

submit to the claims of his Kingdom. More is re-

vealed as Jesus tells the disciples of the spiritual

power which will be given them to enable them to

fulfill their task which he has given them. "He brea-

thed on them and said Receive the Holy Spirit."

+
In that instance he is preparing them for the

forthcoming Pentecost. He also shows them the

intimate relationship between himself and the

Holy Spirit, sometimes described in the Early

Church as "the Spirit of Christ".
Having told the disciples of the spiritual power

He is giving them Jesus then makes it clear that the

Church has a specific function in the world to explain

and convince people that men and women have a

responsibility to confess their sins. If they truly

repent and relieve then their sins are forgiven.

+
It is very normal that we bring the same message

to our Land. Similarly we have to take away the

many burdens on people's lives caused by

Occupation, bloodshed, violence and killings and

mutual hatred, as well as the wrong ways followed

so far to reach security. In all these situations of

death we demonstrate that we are the apostles of

the resurrection, with its joy and hope. We have to

tell the people that the present situation in which

we are living is part of the world's sin, but it must

also be part of the new power given to us by the

Risen Lord. Hence we invite them to make

penitence, to admit their involvement in the sin

of the world, to be forgiven and to become able to

see the right ways that lead to security and peace.

We say this to our Leaders in Palestine and Israel.

+

The ways used until today to reach security must

be changed. If not, we will remain in the same

positions in a permanent cycle of violence. For you,

Leaders of this Land, we ask that God give you

light and strength to take away from it death and

fear so as to restore in it peace with security.
So, as we greet all of you this Eastertide we urge

all concerned to demonstrate their faith in more

positive terms not least showing their personal belief

lin a Risen and Glorified Jesus. Moreover, our Jesus

is no figure of history but rather the One to teach

us and guide us along the path of peace and new life.

+
To our friends across the world we wish the peace

and joy of the Risen Lord. Thank you for your

prayerful support but please we would ask that you

recall that your faith in Christ has its origin in this

Holy Land. You have to assume your responsibilities

here. You too are responsible with us for restoring in

it the joy of the Resurrection so as to lift the burdens

of death, hatred, Occupation, Security Walls and the

fear of taking the risk of peace. Do whatever you can

and please involve your Governments too to assume

their responsibilities for the peace of this Land.

+
Pray for us as well as for a just and comprehensive

peace in this Land ; pray that fear, the main obstacle

for peace, will disappear. Pray that people recognize

and accept each other, so that the right ways be open

before the glory of the Resurrection so that this Land

of the resurrection may enjoy the new life to

which God has called it.
Christ is risen.
Happy and Holy Easter.

+
Patriarchs and Heads of the Churches in Jerusalem:

Patriarch Theophilos III, Greek Orthodox Patriarch

Michel Sabbah, Roman Catholic Latin Patriarch Torkom

I Manoogian, Armenian Orthodox Fr. Pierbattista

Pizzaballa, OFM; Custos of the Holy Land Archbishop

Anba Abraham, Coptic Orthodox Archbishop Swerios

Malki Murad, Syrian-Orthodox Archbishop Abouna

Matthias, Ethiopian Orthodox Archbishop Paul Sayyah,

Maronite Bishop Suhail Dawani, Anglican Bishop Mounib

Younan, Lutheran Bishop Pierre Malki, Syrian-Catholic

Archimandrite Joseph Saghbini, Fr. Rafael Minassian,

Armenian Holy Patriarchate.

+
JERUSALEM, MARCH 23, 2008 (Zenit.org).

Barred From The US of A For Being Different ...

By Uncle Monty

***
Sebastian Horsley stopped by at my Big Issue
pitch a few months ago to buy six copies of the mag
that he was written up in and so Sebastian and I
chatted happily and I also took some photographs

of him, too. Thus, I include the above caption photo

here that I took of him at my pitch.
+++
So when I read this morning’s major news story at

Reuters that he’d been barred visa entrance to the

the US of A, I wasn’t particularly surprised knowing

how the US has now become a kind of “Fortess America”

since the 9/11 fallout and in which almost anybody who

thinks and acts differently to the average American Joe

can expect the good old US of A to do its very best at

barring those who it feels threatens them and their

rather closed and horse-blinked view of the world

outside of Stateside.

***

So, anybody who says or believes that “America is

the land of the free” needs to read why such isn’t

so after reading the stupid reasons why they barred

such British folkz as Sebastian Horsley and Cat Stevens
from first entering the country … In the case of Cat

Stevens, they even diverted a whole plane full of people

so that they could bar him as a so-called “terrorist

threat” to the US of A. Cat Stevens was and is no

more a terrorist threat than a skinned cat …

+++

As for Sebastion Horsley, eccentricity isn't cherished in

deculturalized America and is viewed as almost a "crime"

by some members of Yankee officialdom, especially

if you’re a “funny” foreigner with a Blighty

accent like Sebastian Horsley.

+++

Here then is the full unedited news story about him from

Reuters news staffers Belinda Goldsmith and Todd Eastham:
***
:: U.S. denies entry to British

sex and drugs memoir writer ::
*
CANBERRA (Reuters) - Controversial British

author Sebastian Horsley was denied en-

trance into the United States as he arrived

to promote his memoir of drug addiction, sex

and his dysfunctional family, his publisher

said on Wednesday. Seale Ballenger, spokesman

for HarperCollins Publishers, said Horsley

was stopped by immigration officials at New

York's Newark airport after flying in from

London on Tuesday to promote his latest book

"Dandy in the Underworld." He said the

flamboyant writer, wearing a top hat, three-

piece suit and painted finger nails, was

accused of "moral turpitude" in connection

with his former drug use, pro-prostitution

stance and controversial self-

crucifixion in the Philippines in 2000.

+++
Horsley, 45, claims to have slept with more

than 1,000 prostitutes, worked as a male

escort and been in and out of rehab to treat

drug addiction, with video interviews of

him talking about his drug use and sex

life posted on the Internet.
"He is very honest about his life.

That is who Sebastian is," Ballenger

told Reuters from a party in New York

that was meant to be the U.S. launch

for the book but ended up being a

rally for support to bring the

author back to the United States.
Ballenger said after several hours of

questioning by immigration officials,

Horsley was put on a plane and returned

to London. No one from the New York

office of United States Customs and Border

Protection was immediately available to

comment. The New York Times quoted a customs

spokeswoman, Lucille Cirillo, as saying

she could not comment on individual cases.
But in an e-mail to the newspaper she

explained that under a waiver program that

allows British citizens to enter the

United States without a visa,"travelers

who have been convicted of a crime involving

moral turpitude (which includes controlled-

substance violations) or admit to previously

having a drug addiction are not admissible."
***
Publisher Carrie Kania, from the

HarperCollins' unit Harper Perennial that

published the book in the United States,

said she found it hard to understand why

Horsley would be denied entrance into the

U.S. for "his notoriety." "It is un-

fortunate that his voice, in person, is

being stifled," she said in a statement.
"Sebastian has written a cautionary tale

of a life lived vividly ... an unapolo-

getic, honest, funny and torturous book.

Sebastian's memoir is about choice, some

conventional, some unconventional."
Horsley's memoir was published last

September in Britain with reviewers

calling it both amusing and revolting.
(News copy by Belinda Goldsmith,

editing by Todd Eastham).
http://www.reuters.com/article/domesticNews/idUSSP30020020080320

***

Just hours later, this neat response:

At 3/21/2008 05:07:00 AM, True Blue Liberal

said... As much as we'd like to have them leave the

US, the UK should retaliate by inexplicably refusing

to admit the next jingoistic cowboy-hatted country

singer or fundamentalist bible-waving TV evangelist

who lands at Heathrow. trueblueliberal.org

***

My Little Penny Day. By Uncle Monty.

=
“My heart goes out for all the poor hooooooooomeless,”
she declared with her tad of snooty, upper class accent

and nasal inflexion. For a moment, I also thought she was a

talking giraffe looming over me as she opened her non-stop
mouth to bare her gleaming white teeth for us all to see.
The more her mouth opened, the more I was convinced she
thrived on benignity despite her tall neck swinging and
turning with the propensity of a lady giraffe as she talked
her talk to me. There was, however, nothing gibberish in
her heartfelt voice other than I wasn’t sure if she was also
a modern day Florence Nightingale dressed in disguise
in her expensive, if not rural, Genappe. Her gewgaw
jewellery also made me giddy as she laid on her heartfelt
sorry, thick and thin, upon me like some kind of moral
pulpiteer. She was indeed caught-up in the rhetoric,
but not the reality of homelessness. I’d never met

a talking giraffe before, until I met her!!
“You see, I do read The Guardian and read all about those
poooooooor people we call the homeless. It makes my
heart pulsate just thinking about such a dreadfuuuuuuuuul
situation for them. Mind you, I know I would faint at being
one of them …” I wasn’t sure now if I would need next to
dial 999 for an emergency ambulance to help resuscitate
her and pick-up her fallen out dentures off the sidewalk
or pavement as she laid helplessly with her quivering
mouth now gasping at her last panting … Plus, her spread
legs showing her pressed and spotless pinky knickers …
I had no doubt, however, her heart was in the right place,
but I wasn’t so sure about her non-stop mouth and her
pink undies. Pink isn’t my favourite colour. What I did
discover most was that certain giraffes can certainly
talk the talk. Not to mention, I was the closest
ever to a lady giraffe.
“I want to help!!,” she suddenly burst forth with her given
nasal proficiency and promptly ordered me to open my
hand so that she could then make a donation. “Don’t look!!,”
she further ordered me as I then turned my head away
with my open hand and arm now stretched out toward her.
She fumbled abit as she tried to put in my hand whatever
donation she wanted to give me. Finally, she took my
fingers and closed them together after she’d done what
she thought was her good deed of the day. I then looked
at her and she was beaming at me like a royal giraffe on
her day off from the zoo. “I do hope it will help … it’s just
a little help for you. As you know, my heart goes out for
aaaaaalllllllll the homeless. Poooooor devils, aren’t they?
So God Bless and perhaps I will see you next time when
you’re no looooooooger in such a plight … Goooooooood
bye! Bye … bye …” And so off she went with her head up
so high it would have made any other humble giraffe
feel entirely too short and too shy.

After she’d gone, I slowly opened my hand with great

expectations! I then looked at what I had in the palm of my

hand and guess what I got? AN OLD DENTED PENNY!!!

That’s what I got, one old and dented penny! I didn’t quite

know whether I should simply laugh or cry or go bonkers …

Whatever, I choked slightly and chuckled alot to myself at

the thought of what I thought I was going to get from the

high class lady … Her rhetoric was now my sore reality. One
lousy penny, yet I still chuckled at what had transpired so
comically at my Big Issue pitch. I vowed then that if I ever
saw the said lady again, I would stop her and say: “Excuse
me, my dear! My heart goes out for you, too! So please
accept my heartfelt gift to you of TWO OLD DENTED

PENNIES …” And, that would be the end of that!

A few hours later, however, a youngish bloke came from

out of the blue and stopped at my pitch and asked me:

"Are you Monty?” I said, yes! I have a question for you:

“Do you collect pennies?” Pennnnnies? “Yes, pennnnnnies.”

I was still choking and chuckling on the thought of that old
dented penny in my hand. So I hesitated and said something
to the bloke that I really wasn’t sure if to answer yes or no

to his question. Nor was I sure if it was a big joke or not be-

ing pulled on me. “Make up your mind, Monty. You either
collect pennies or you don’t,” he remonstrated to me as

he started to walk away, impatiently … “Yes, I do. I do!

After all, most millionaires started off with pennies …
didn’t they?” And, he approved of my sudden declaration.
“I’ll be back when I can this afternoon,” stated the never
before seen burly bloke. I thought then that was

the end of him, too.

But, I was in for one hell of a surprise … There he was

again, an hour or so later, crossing the street towards me

with a large and heavy bag of guess what? PENNIES!!! Yes,

PENNIES!! And, lots of them!! Along with other coins inside

the double plastic carrier bag of 5’s, 10’s, and 20’s. The bag

weighed like a figure of obesity much like the rough but an-

gelic bloke who gave me the bag of hundreds of pennies,

some new, some old, and even some dented!! I then soon

christened the day as “My Little Penny Day.” And, nothing

less … So from the lady giraffe to the burly bag man I’d

gone all within a few odd hours that bordered now on

some kind of script from a sloppy daytime soap opera.

It was all so unreal.

When folkz later stopped by at my pitch to visit, I asked

them to pick-up the bag and take a good guess of how much

money was inside. From Janis Vella, I got an estimate of 25

quid. From Alex Parish, I got 32 quid. From Mark Errington,

I got 18 quid. From David Greener he thought the bag con-

tained about 45 quid. From Dawn Young, I got an estimate

of 30 pounds. While Samantha Whitmore was convinced

the bag weighed heavy enough to be 65 quid in change.
But nobody came near to the actual amount, although
Samantha was the closest but still way off. I carefully took
the bag on the Bendy and was worried the double plastic

bag might split open due to its weight. So before I left my

pitch for the day, I got Lisa and Phil, I think, to give me an

extra plastic bag to ensure it wouldn’t split open and all the

change go scattering all over the Bendy. I could imagine what
would have happened with the bus passengers all scrambling
to pick-up all the change. I was very worried, too, that some
folkz might think it was a bomb on the Bendy with the ungain-
ly shape of the bag and looking so odd and heavy with only

dayz after we’d endured the fatal 21/7 horror in London. I

also didn’t want to become the next Charles de Menezes …

with armed British anti-terror cops ready to

blow my brains out!!!

Finally at the end of the day, I got to count all the pennies

and all the other change in the bag at my sheltered home of

what I call “my-hole-in-the-wall.” At final count, I got exactly

NINTY-TWO POUNDS and NINTY-TWO PENCE in

change!! Woooooooooooooow. No wonder I still

remember and relish “My Little Penny Day.”

~~~
Perhaps I should now offer at least three old dented pennies

instead of two to that talking lady giraffe … for my heart goes

out to all such looming ladies… And, moreover, to the money

bag bloke please remember no matter how heavy the bag I’m

more than happy to collect pennies no matter how many from

1 to 100,001. My Big Issue pitch can always handle an extra

penny or two … most gratefully and most graciously …

So ta-ta for now, everybody … And oh! “My heart goes out

for all the poor hoooooomeless,” remember that’s what

she said!! Thankz for that old dented penny. But you know

what? I think you brought me gooooooooooood luck. I

still have that old dented penny somewhere under lock and

key to be sure my luck doesn’t run out on the streets …

But above all, I still thank my Good Anglican Lord for

“My Little Penny Day.” He always works in the

mysterious way, doesn’t He? Bravo!! Bravo!!!

My above story "My Little Penny Day"

first appeared in The Vendors View,

January 1-31, 2oo8. Vol. 1, No. 6.