Patrick Kidd

There was always something of John Cleese’s Sir Lancelot about Ben Stokes, ever eager for a flamboyant rescue mission in his own particular, as Lancelot puts it, idiom. Leave no chandelier unswung, no buckle unswashed. He would charge in, gung-holier than thou, and work out the damage later. ‘When I’m in this idiom, I sort of get carried away,’ Lancelot apologises after massacring all the guests at a wedding.  At times, it was glorious. But often, increasingly so in the second half of his England captaincy, ghastly. ‘Incredible highs and pretty low lows’ was Stokes’s own assessment – and we will always be grateful for the highs. But as England rebuild, they need to consider the manner of those lows and how many were self-inflicted.

My eight-year-old son’s eyes widened when I unwrapped a Christmas present I got from my parents: a bottle of cherry brandy from the Lyme Bay winery in Axminster. ‘Can I have some?’ Humphrey asked, for he had been hitting the cherry brandy hard over the summer. Not the alcoholic kind, of course, but the cherry brandy-flavoured lollies sold by the ice-cream van that parks outside his school on a hot afternoon. How could I refuse? Ashley Dalton would be scandalised. The junior health minister said this month that the government is looking into banning the sale of non-alcoholic versions of booze to teenagers in case it ‘normalises drinking’ and becomes a ‘gateway’ to the real thing. Children will be allowed to vote at 16 under this government, but not drink a Lucky Saint.

A sheet metal worker from Shropshire who lost a leg below the knee in a tractor accident when he was a child has been told to pay back £36,000 in disability benefits after he was filmed playing cricket twice a week for a village team.  Shaun Rigby, 37, had received personal independence payments since 2016 and acquired a car under the Motability scheme three years ago but the Department for Work and Pensions has judged that his daily needs do not require such assistance.  Mr Rigby called the decision ‘unfair’, observing that people with less debilitating conditions get Motability cars. He remarked: ‘Just because I play cricket doesn’t mean my leg has grown back.’ He bats with a runner, while an umpire holds his crutch.

Passiontide is a good time for church music. From the triumphal Palm Sunday processionals of ‘All Glory, Laud and Honour’ and ‘Ride On! Ride On in Majesty!’ to the mournful but grateful reflections of ‘My Song is Love Unknown’. From the desperate sadness of ‘O Sacred Head, Sore Wounded’, the tune coming from Bach’s ‘St Matthew Passion’, to the Handel-set pomp of ‘Thine Be The Glory’ on Easter Day. This Holy Week a new song of praise has arrived. Or rather an ancient one has been revived. In 1918, archaeologists digging on a rubbish dump at Oxyrhynchus in Egypt discovered a tattered piece of papyrus on which was written the earliest surviving Christian Greek hymn that contains lyrics and musical notation.

Eighteen years ago, half his lifetime away, Rory McIlroy made his debut as a professional golfer at the British Masters at The Belfry, Sutton Coldfield. The Northern Irish teenager began with a respectable round of 69 and finished 42nd to earn a shade over £10,000. He said he would spend his first pay cheque on taking his then girlfriend to the cinema and put the rest towards buying a house near his mum, ‘so she can still do my washing’. Late last night, McIlroy won £3.2 million at another Masters, the American major in Augusta, Georgia, taking his career winnings to about £120 million. But the money was the least of his concerns.  Of far greater value was the £200 green jacket slipped on to his shoulders after McIlroy sealed victory in a play-off.

It is the early 9th century. Peace reigns in a small French village as they prepare for a wedding. Garlands are being hung, sheep are being shepherded, all is sunshine and smiles. Then, in a snap, this bucolic bliss bursts as Viking warriors invade the scene and unleash hell. The original Puy du Fou is unashamedly pro-God, pro-monarchy and Vive la France A longboat splashes down a chute into the river, another spectacularly emerges from beneath the lake; swords clash, fires erupt, women are carried off and treasures seized. The villagers need a miracle, and it comes with the sudden appearance of a bishop, the blessed St Philibert.