Just before the 2008 global recession plunged the world into an economic nightmare with Britain’s Got Talent airing around the same time, bringing its bland dumbed-down entertainment nightmare first to the UK and then exporting it to rest of the world, the High Priest was donning the collar and stepping onto a stage in a different church from what he had previously inhabited. In the Windmill pub in the back streets of Brixton, overshadowed by the prison, for the first time since his excommunication from the church, he began his preaching and ranting through the mediums of comedy and music.

In a world run by the masters of mankind, the 0.5 percent, where fear runs through the streets and the digital alleyways of social networks, where the populations drown in their own conformity, the High Priest from the Deep South of England, Folkestone twinned with Alabama, to London, Edinburgh and New York has delivered services, spread the word and shined a light on the hypocrisies, the untruths and the odd realities we have created as humans. As many have said after a service, “you spoke what we were too afraid to say.”