Actually, since I'm an atheist, I should probably say heaven doesn't know why, but that doesn't stop me worrying.

I'm concerned that Rowan Williams, one of the most important people in the land and possessed of such world-beating self-confidence that he can wear a quite absurd outfit with a straight face, is being bullied.

The Traditionalists (which I've written with a capital 'T' because all Anglicans, even gay and feminist ones, are traditionalists of some sort) and the E-for Evangelicals seem to be ganging up on him.

This strikes me as wrong, firstly because the Church of England, however muddled and compromised it is, is, at its blurry centre, a decent, good-hearted institution and if anyone is ganging up against its leader, it should be us atheists – possibly, if we were to follow the example of the Anglican dissidents, in temporary alliance with cargo-cultists and devil worshipers.

There really isn't much that Dr Williams can do about it because fundamentalism is on a roll, with Darwinism having to go on the defensive and the Evangelicals driving around in big triumphalist cars – okay, the last point is a bit cheap, but look at the cars parked outside a posh, white Evangelical church and compare them to the cars parked outside a hopelessly outdated inner-city or rural church with a leaking roof and think where the future lies.

(Topical diversion, relating to the debate about whether Mrs Thatcher should have a state funeral. Charles Darwin is one of only nine non-royal Britons to be given a state funeral in the last 500 years and the only one honoured for his scientific distinction rather than for being a warrior or politician. Now, all his wonderful work is under attack from Evangelicals in sharp suits and you wonder what direction we've been moving in since 1882.

I wrote about Archbishop Williams some months ago, when he became what they call the centre of a storm (have they ever seen a real storm, I mean as opposed to a pitifully contrived controversy?) over his views on Sharia law.

I focused on his weaknesses; the things which make him a natural bully-victim. Being conspicuously clever was one; being far too clever was the decider.

His views on Sharia law were actually totally unexceptional and of hardly any importance to the British legal system and a wise man would have kept quiet about them rather than expecting slavering tabloid journalists to give him anything-like a fair hearing.

My view is that he needs a relaunch; less facial hair, bigger car, fewer attempts at intelligent debate and no more Sharia stuff. But will he listen? Should atheists stop getting diverted by religion and stick to the far more interesting questions of mundane life and scientific truth? Is the Pope a Catholic?


Sleepy hollow

HERE is another photograph taken on my recent trip to Senegal which I didn't use at the time on the grounds that it wasn't very interesting.

It still isn't but things have slowed down since then and it now looks better than it did. It shows the Village des Tortues just outside the capital, Dakar.

This is notable as one of the dullest wildlife attractions on the planet, although, to be fair, I'm still waiting for my invitation to The Wonderful World of Woodlice.

Basically, it's all about watching tortoises taking a nap – unless you happen to catch them in the mating season, in which case you will be treated, although that wasn't quite the word I was looking for, to four hours of torrid aggression often leading to extensive denting.

Apparently the Village des Tortues staff sometimes have to break up this time of togetherness, either because they get screaming bored or because the tortoises are threatening to do themselves a mischief.

The tortoises, sleeping in the midday heat, look identical unless you can be bothered to age them by counting the growth rings on their shells – which, halfway through the visit, suddenly seemed like quite an interesting option.

The plus points are that the baby tortoises look remarkably cute for tortoises and even move a bit and I can now take the Village des Tortues off my 'Must visit before I die' list.


The right man for the wrong job

AND talking, as we were, of people trapped in the wrong job (see the Rowan Williams item elsewhere on the page and try to pay attention in future), one waiter in the Indian restaurant down our street is allergic to chillies.

This means that when you ask him to make a recommendation, he can say, hand on heart, that he doesn't know because he hasn't tasted any of it.

Which, generalising a bit, is actually a great release; if I had a good excuse for not having to express an opinion on football, politics or religion, my life would be so much easier and I would have read a lot more books and possibly picked up a working knowledge of marquetry.

This week I nearly got trapped in the wrong job when I was invited to be a judge in a competition to find a promising female band. Fortunately, I opened the email too late to respond. Otherwise, I would have had to admit that I know hardly anything about music and considerably less about females and then wouldn't I have looked like a complete chump?