Glastonbury Festival - I Confess My Sins

I Confess My Sins

26 Jun 2004

2pm Saturday, in the wet Glebelands, and yes, it's begun - some people are already painting their faces with mud. I'm looking for a way to escape the rain, and decide that confessing my sins is as good a way to keep dry as any. As I'm waiting outside the tiny confessional I'm asked if I am truly prepared to do my penance and receive spiritual cleansing, and I begin to wonder if I'm taking this seriously enough.

I thought I had a nice sympathetic woman to confess to, but the young and strongly Irish nun behind the grill says "Call me Father Jack." Appearances very deceptive here, then.
"What have you to confess to me today, my child?"
I'm nervous, and think I'll go in gently with a small sin.
"Well father, I'm afraid I have a terrible lust for shoes."
This was the wrong way to describe it, because Father Jack thinks that I mean some full-blown shoe fetish, and she calls me a disgusting, filthy deviant. "My child, you've been going into Clarks and Dolcis and Shellys and all those terrible, evil places - they are foul unclean places. They are the work of the Devil himself, and you must keep out of them for the sake of your immortal soul. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll give you a penance that will help you. You have to get really drunk tonight, and dance in the mud to loud music - with no shoes on. That will sort you out, my child."
"Yes, father Jack. I will, Father Jack."
"What else do you have to confess?"
I'm seriously worried now, and thinking of running away.
"I'm not sure I can tell you. I'm afraid it's a mortal sin."
"No matter, my child. That's what I'm here for."
"I mean, a very, very bad one. Really bad. But it's an old sin, I want you to know that. I used to fancy this man. Quite a lot. And honestly, I'm over it now. Truly. He's a bit too past it these days, even for me. But I did."
"Who was this man?"
"Jeremy Clarkson, father."
Well, if shoes were bad, this really does it. It drives her to say I'm one of the worst sinners she has ever had to absolve. She's not even sure if she can. And I find out how much nuns can swear if your sins are serious enough.
"This is a very, very difficult one. I'm going to think about your penance for a little while. Is there anything else, my child?"
"No, I don't think so, father."
"Ah - come on now. I can see there's something. It's better all off your chest you know."
"Well - there is something. But I'm afraid it's another very bad one."
"Out with it, now."
"It started when I was a teenager. I was impressionable. Easily led. I really loved the music of Seventies folk-rock group Jethro Tull. And I never grew out of it. I still love Tull. Lots." I'm explaining a bit here, as father Jack is a young nun, and might not have heard of them - but no sin has escaped her.
"Jethro Tull? You mean that Godforsaken talentless idiot who stands on one leg and plays the flute? I hate that evil ******! Shame on you! Jeremy Clarkson and now this! You have no taste at all."
"That's my main spiritual failing, father."
"You evil, hopeless, wicked, lost woman. You need to learn good taste. Your penance is to get out there and kiss the first three attractive men you see. And go and listen to some decent music right now."
"Yes, father. Will Lost Prophets do?"
"Lost Prophets would be perfect, my child."

Nemone Thornes

I Confess My Sins

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