Humorous Thoughts 2

One of the most amusing people I have ever met is Bishop Colin Buchanan. As my college principal at St John's he managed entertainment with intellectual rigour. In his worship lectures and seminars we all did our preparation and reading. We knew that the grilling we would get would be merciless if we didn't. His ability to expose the false arguments or a lack of proper thought was remarkable. Tuition by sarcasm maybe wouldn't work for all of you but it worked for me and I loved it.

Should he read this post it is likely that the comment box will be correcting 'Tilley English.' It's my style Colin but hey, I'm happy to hear your points. He edited the first booklet I ever wrote (Grove Evangelism 16). No-one read it but it wasn't his fault. I chose a stupid title.

His college lunchtime notices were also the epitome of concision, brevity and if possible, humour. Once, noticing that the whole college was in a giggly mood, he stood up and suggested that he would like to do a survey on the relative humour-merits of various words which may or may not be funny. He then chose a list of words which were not at all amusing, ending with deaconess which brought the house down.

So if you don't subscribe to the Church Times go and buy a copy of this week's issue simply for Bishop Colin's letter deconstructing the ridiculous reasoning one of our bishops is giving for 'going over to Rome.' It's priceless. The Church Times is also one of the most entertaining reads if you enjoy the seriousness with which people describe problems you will never have.

What is the correct way to fold a crosier?

How do we remove earthworms from the churchyard?

What do I do if my vicar is female?

I have, of course, made all these up. They are less weird than the real ones. Trust me.

Some random prejudices to conclude.

Never, ever wear a cartoon tie unless you are a surgeon in a children's hospital.
Never, ever, ever wear cartoon socks.
Only wear entertaining T-shirts once then destroy them.
(All three of these come under the heading of  'I only know one joke'. You don't want to make that widely known.)
Don't imagine you will ever hear anything amusing from someone who says they have a good sense of humour.

I'll try and write something serious next.

Humorous Thoughts

How can you tell if you're sleeping next to an axe murderer?

In one of the great jokes of all time Bob Monkhouse said, 'My family laughed at me when I said I wanted to be a comedian; they're not laughing now.'

It's brilliant because, and I accept that if I have to explain why a joke is brilliant I might be struggling, firstly he got the pause at the semi-colon right every time. Secondly because it turns the tables twice. As he turns the tables on his family he turns them on us too.

I credit him with the joke, as I always do if I know who done them, because I know how long it takes to write a joke. If you can look and talk you can do observational comedy moderately well but to do jokes - that takes skill.

A clergy colleague once asked me to write him some new Christmas cracker jokes. Since I often joked and punned I guess he thought this would be easy for me. It took me hours. Then I handed them over and realised, as they bombed, that I had written jokes only I could tell. This was partially because of the length of the pause needed at the semi-colon but mainly because it turned out he couldn't read.

A regular visitor once described this blog as whimsical. I loved that. People often under-estimate how much truth you can smuggle in under the cover of light-heartedness. It increases the likelihood of my occasional deepish thought being pondered.

As a clerge I've been doing stand-up for years and the trick seems to me to be to judge the audience early before trying your best moves. I find, 'Good morning and welcome to the service my name's Steve Tilley' so extraordinarily useful in assessing the congregation's mood. If it is a congregation I don't know well they will, more than likely, be blown away by the fact that the minister told them his name. You can also surreptitiously, see if anyone spots you used the exact format of the introduction to Have I Got News For You. If they're with you on that you'll have comrades and companions for the journey (and it will be fun too). But in many cases a blocking mechanism takes place. People chuckling in church somehow feel they are being naughty. They don't think it ought to be fun. I go for at least one laugh every funeral if I can. It's usually what the dead person would have wanted, unless they were... no you don't trap me that easily.

Humour is complicated. When you deliver a punchline you are resolving incongruity by a pragmatic reinterpretation (Wyer and Collins - A Theory of Humour Elicitation 1992). Bet you didn't know that. And the amount of humour is a monotonic inverted U-function of the time and effort required for interpretation and reinterpretation (op cit).

So, for example, Emo Phillips' joke. 'When I was young my parents told me not to go near the cellar door for if I did I would see things I shouldn't see. Then one day I went near the cellar door and I saw - that the hall had carpet.' The parents turn from good to bad and Phillips' quirky character has another bit of background to it.

Which is why Stewart Lee's book How I Escaped My Certain Fate sub-titled the Life and Deaths of a Stand-up is so important. As a response to the adverse reaction to Jerry Springer the Opera from certain evangelical Christian quarters, in one section he attempts to lead his audience on a journey which ends with Jesus assisting him when drunk. Most of you will find it offensive. The point though is to address the boundaries of humour and taste. For in a piece where the subject matter is unpleasant - being drunk and sick - he portrays Jesus as a sacrificial servant. But obviously not in a way any Springer-hating, evangelical Christan would want him to be. At the same time as doing this, Lee has turned his back on all cheap-shot humour which humiliates people for their appearance. Quite right too.

Something funny is happening to comedy. The label 'comic' would seem inappropriate if you are not laughing at the label-wearer's jokes. Today some comedians lead you to the joke but then deliberately try not to make you laugh. Or try to con you into laughing inappropriately. And if you sit in the front rows you are opening your life to ridicule at the hands of another who has a microphone when you don't. A live comedy event then, once you've made sure you are in row C or further back, becomes not so much entertaining as an exercise in intellectual rigour. More like a philosophy gig maybe.

Oh, and I nearly forgot, if you can tell, don't sleep next to them.

Friday Music Treat

Amazingly, given the zombed-out eyes as he sings this stoner special, Stevie Winwood isn't one of the the three former members of Traffic now deceased. Takes me back to a great gig at Birmingham Town Hall that same year. Great pianist. Great guitarist. Great band.

Lost Causes

Because of the brief instruction at the end of his letter to 'snatch others from the fire' St Jude is the patron saint of lost causes. God's sense of humour kicks the door down at this point and enquires if St happened to do his first curacy at a St Jude's. Indeed he did. Good work God. Treat me as a lost cause from the beginning and everything you get out of me is a bonus. Like your thinking. Oh you invented thinking did you? Soz.

Anyway I love today. It seems to me the saints day on which you examine the people you have met in your life who are furthest from faith and pray for them. I'm a fire-plucker; twisted fire-plucker. Don't try singing that outdoors until you've really got it.

Great spam scam

I don't read these all through very often but absolutely love the style and grammar of this latest Nigerian fishing trip. Hood-lumps is my new favourite word. And I intend, forthwith, to embark on a strategy to remit sanity. Not enough sanity has been remitted recently.

INDEPENDENT CORRUPT PRACTICE COMMISSION - MAITAMA-ABUJA, NIGERIA


FROM THE DESK OF INVESTIGATION DEPARTMENT,INDEPENDENT CORRUPT PRACTICE COMMISSION

This management is hereby to inform you that, out of our records, for the year investigation, it is dawn to us that you have been victimized by the men of underworld (Pretenders). However, the management has been dutifully empowered by the Investigation bureau office of the President and Commander-in-chief of the Armed Forces of Federal Republic of Nigeria to curb all illicit transaction and workload of this perpetrators.

In line with the Anti-corruption crusade of the presidency, Good luck Jonathan GCFR), you are by this Email notification to stop any contact regarding this illegal transaction with this Hood-lums. Out of our finding, the image of this country has been dented internationally during the past administration of the Federal Government of Nigeria. Presently, we have employed a strategy to remit sanity, and vow to terminate the activity of this fraudsters, by consolidating our security Network all over the country in view to monitor all outgoing and incoming communication to enable fish out and avert all illegal and suspicious transaction both domestically and internationally respectively.

Moreover, it occurs that some of our Financial Institutions (Bank) serve as a conduit pipe by which this fraudsters use to perpetrate the undo crime. We have signalized all these financial institutions to implement scrutinized investigation before carrying any transaction. Any bank found culpable of breaching the law, must have their operational license revoke.

In accordance with the criminal and other related offense act, 25 of 1999 constitution, we have been officially compelled by Senator. A. Aminu (JP), Chairman, Senate committee on Foreign Affair to mapped out billions of Dollars from the Annual Budget to compensate all defrauded victims as part of the ongoing National Reform Scheme of the presidency, and means to radiate immunity for criticism.

In view of this, we have been informed that you are still dealing with those hood-lumps in all your attempts to secure the release of your fund. We wish to advise you that such an illegal act has to stop if you wish to receive your payment since we have decided to bring a solution to your problem. Do be informed that we reserve the right at our discretion to sue you for damage on recognition of further contact with this people.

You have been approved US$850,000 (Eight Hundred and Fifty Thousand United States Dollars) as a compensation funds. Therefore you are required to contact the Verification department for proper evaluation into your file. Be informed that your file security code is PA9877BR67NG. You are to quote these file number for proper identification when contacting this office. Contact the Head of the Verification Unit::

Name: DR.YASITA TADINMA

E-mail info.icpc2010@gmail.com

You are to contact this office upon receipt of this notification immediately to enhance proper consideration and immediate release of your approved compensation funds as the defrauded victim.

Our Vision is to fight corruption to a standstill and restore Nigeria to the enviable standard of respectability and dignity within the comity of nations.

Best Regard,

JUSTICE EMMANUEL AYOOLA(Chairman, Independent Corrupt Practice Commission,( ICPC.)

Health Check

A good opening gambit for any public-service provider receptionist ought to be, 'Tell me, if you have a bad experience here, do you intend to write about it in your national newspaper column?'

And although 500 or so readers a week is hardly a national column, and notwithstanding my late father's advice never to insult anyone who may one day be holding a scalpel over something important of yours, here goes.

Today, in preparing for a planned arthroscopy, I had to go to an NHS treatment centre in North Bristol. My appointment was for 0935 and I was told to allow at least three hours for it. This statement was accurate.

I arrived and went to reception. I was given a long form to fill in and a pager. I was told to go through to outpatients when the pager buzzed.

I filled in the form and read three quarters of this month's GQ and began to wonder if I should check on the delay. NHS patients do not like to check on the delay until they have begun to suffer severe malnourishment. I noticed a notice telling me that if I had not been called in fifteen minutes I should inform reception. Since I had been waiting thirty-five minutes I went back to reception. There was a queue and no obvious way to jump it if you were not a patient trying to register but trying to enquire about the delay.

I was told, after a phone call from reception to someone else in the building, that I would be called soon. Immediately I settled back down with my GQ my pager buzzed. So; they had forgotten me.

I went through the doors I had been directed through and followed the signs to outpatients reception, which took me beyond outpatients reception to a dead end. About-turning I found I had walked right past the desk. I handed over my hot buzzing pager and was told to take a seat. Again. This time in a less comfortable corridor where I had to keep moving my legs in to allow others to pass. Moving my right leg in is a current difficulty. I can hokey but not cokey.

I had had to surrender my GQ to the previous waiting room so I gave my attention to my book. At first it was hard to concentrate but eventually I settled down into it and read a chapter of John Lanchester's excellent Whoops! It's the financial crisis for idiots. I commend it.

By 1035 (sixty minutes after the timed appointment I was told was precise and there was no need to arrive early for) I had still not seen anyone but a receptionist so I plucked up the courage to enquire. I was told I was due in next. The delay was because reception hadn't told them I was here.

Next meant ten more minutes but I saw a man called Josef, who was being watched over by another man. Josef asked me a few simple questions in English, his second language I'd guess, examined me and confirmed I had what everyone thought I had and that surgery would work. He noticed I was a vicar and told me an amusing story about how he had bought a Bible for 50p on Bible Sunday yesterday.

Flung back into the corridor to await I knew not what next I had got no more than ten pages on in Whoops! when Ange and Debs called me in to a consulting room 'to get things moving.' This included a blood pressure reading (still low), nasal swab and a groin swab. For this latter they handed me a swab and asked me to swab 'my left groin.'

I swear I have no idea where my 'left groin' starts.

During none of this time was I told how many people I would be seeing, where I was headed next or what the person seeing me actually was.

Ange and Debs' double act included many complaints about their slow or crashing computer. They asked me a few demographic questions but struggled to find 'Roman or Viking' an amusing answer to their ethnicity question. By this stage I was entertaining myself, I fear. Not funny and not clever. I was returned to the corridor for a further half hour.

Finally I was seen by a bubbly, Afro-Caribbean, Pentecostal Christian woman from Wolverhampton. The nature of my work means I tend to find out more about denominations than health specialisms. She interviewed me about my health. Hooray. Many of the questions I answered with 'As I put on the form.' I wanted my 30 minutes work on it at the start of the morning to have been worthwhile.

She declared me fit for surgery and could now go. I asked how the appointment would be arranged. She said reception would sort it out but, taking me back to outpatients' reception noticed there was nobody there, so she took me to main reception. There was a queue. She told me to sit down and they would call me over.

I only gave it five minutes before noticing no queue so I wandered over. My file was now five down in a pile and there was no suggestion that anyone would have called me over anytime soon. I asked about an appointment for surgery.

I must tell you that there is a discrepancy between the letter I was sent which told me it was important to bring my diary so that a surgery date within four or five weeks could be fixed, the brochure which said this would be two or three weeks and reality, 'There are no appointments; the person who does it is at lunch, we will phone you when some more are released.'

I was allowed to leave. I swear if I hadn't queried the delay on three occasions I would still be there, being cleaned round. If you ever find yourself  in Emerson's Green waiting room it would be a kindness to check if any of the people already waiting look dehydrated.

But I repent of thinking nothing good ever came out of Wolverhampton.

The Steve Tilley Daily

A friend followed the links through the Steve Tilley daily (see right hand side-bar) and clicked on one or two of the adverts and found content he thought I probably wouldn't want to endorse. Too right.

So a warning, sensitive readers. If you are offended by satire, deep sarcasm, irony and other stuff found on the internet occasionally then don't click through.

It is a newspaper made up of the stories linked or written by those people I follow on twitter. Now needless to say I follow people on twitter not simply because I like them or agree with them but because they challenge me or stretch me also. In trying to make me laugh some may offend you. They don't offend me because I've found being offended a terrible, terrible waste of time. I commend this attitude to you.

Leaks and Insults

Today a member of my congregation made an insulting comment about another member of my church. Actually they didn't but for the sake of this little essay imagine they did. Ready? Thank you.

Now clearly it was my duty as a minister of the gospel of truth to take that insult, which had not been directed towards the other person, and deliver it to make sure it was understood, digested and caused some harm.

Clearly? Well no. If I had done that it would have been my reputation that was damaged, not either of the other two. And rightly so.

I found it frustrating during the General Election campaign when Gordon Brown was caught unawares calling a lifelong Labour supporter a bigot. She wasn't insulted personally at the time but once journalists had run through the crowd, caught her and delivered the insult to her personally, and then told the world, she was a bit upset. The rest is history and was probably the final nail in the coffin of the Brown Government. Well done journalists.

Yesterday an MP was foolish enough accidentally to allow a photographer, using a camera with a very good zoom lens focused through the window of a private car, to see a projection of one possible unemployment consequence of the spending cuts announced today.

We are led to believe that details of many of these cuts had been leaked to the press, deliberately, in advance.

I am pig sick of this. Will one newspaper, any one, dare to cramp its own style by saying that in future if documents come into its possession by a deliberate and orchestrated leak it will name its source. Will a newspaper furthermore respect the privacy of document-holding MPs and not try to see things they are not supposed to see. Publishing a document (shame on The Guardian amongst others) which has been accessed by taking advantage of a guard drop, is not far removed from stealing a laptop off a car seat because the owner was stupid enough to leave it on view. The opportunist thief argues that they are doing society a favour by reminding everyone to lock things. They would do society a bigger favour by allowing us to leave things unlocked without worry. The opportunist photographer argues that the public interest is served by knowing what MPs are keeping from us. Surely the public interest is served by MPs not having to spend so much time being elusive. Some documents are allowed to be confidential. The photographed document did not disclose a felony or a lie, or a cover-up. It was simply a piece of research of one possible result of one policy not-yet-announced.

I have been around the block a bit and am a realist. Things will only become more transparent if we say we don't like the mist. We don't have to tell everyone who has insulted them. We can let an insult die. We don't have to be interested in leaked documents. We can say, make it official or clear off. We don't have to sneak up on officialdom and search though its bins to see if it has been acting inappropriately. We can ask questions. If we don't like the answers we can vote for someone else.

I like the idea of open government. I have to remember that the governed have as much of a part to play in that as the governors.

No members of Trendlewood Church were harmed in the writing of this piece.

Keeping up with the News

I find it increasingly difficult to keep up with all the stuff in the new social media network and blogosphere but this morning, loaded and working in less than ten minutes, I came across the brilliant paper.li. All my interests and contacts are extracted from my twitter account and links and then displayed in newspaper form, updated daily as The Steve Tilley Daily. Amazing, time-saving and fun. A tripple whammy of gorgeousness (as I think Mr Gnome might put it).

Two things to do

If you want a chuckle drop in to Bad Vestments and see what they are up to.

If you want a wee thinkette drop in to Agblostic and ponder Anna's thoughts about faith there.

Encouragement

Mrs Mustard has returned from work with a new management tool for changing staff behaviour. I have spent too much time doubled up in laughter over the last couple of days to note what this tool is called so let us name it TCC.

T = thank-you
C = continue
C = change

In order to demonstrate how it works she chose to use it on me, always a mistake and after thirty seven years you'd think she'd know better, and this is what she said:

Thank you for washing out the tins before you put them in the recycling box. I want you to continue to do this and in future I'd like you to do it thoroughly.

You thank the person for what they've done, encourage them to continue and suggest ways they could perform even better. No 'howevers'; no 'buts'. It's all done with 'ands'.

Here's the problem. I'd much rather she said, 'Why can't you manage to wash out a tomato tin properly; are you stupid or blind?' I like straight talking. We could then establish that the problem would be solved not by more thoroughness but by my wearing my glasses to do the job. I guess it's not that which rankles but the fact that SHE'S NOT MY BOSS! And yes that was an exclamation mark; it's come to that. I didn't hit her anywhere the bruises will show unless you have a more intimate relationship with my wife than I realise.

However, having learned that this is an appropriate way to offer commentary I thought I'd try it.

Thank you for coming home from work every day and putting your bags down tidily. I'd like you to continue to come home and I'd like you to place your bags anywhere except in front of a door that might need opening in the next three minutes during the production of supper.

We'll see how that goes before I try the ones about physical intimacy.

Life Skills 435

Don't look for the previous 434. The numbers are a thing I make up because I can never remember where we got to. Click on the 'Life Skills' label on the sidebar to read previous efforts.

Anyway, on. It is a day free from duties. Some clergy call it their day off.

Now ministry is a bottomless pit. There is always stuff to mine (oops, mining metaphor, so soon). So when you get to the end of the day before a day off it is more than possible that you will have left undone that which you ought to have done. You will certainly have left undone that which you could have done but that ain't in the confession. No really it isn't. I checked. On Thursday night I stop for a day.

The only way to enjoy a day off with that background is to ignore the static. Saturday morning may see the need for a 'sorry I didn't get round to...' call. Don't stress about it today.

And a word of advice flies at me from a colleague I worked with in the north-east over twenty years ago. She was fond of saying, 'I am not here to live up to your expectations.' If others had unrealistic expectations of the super-powers of their clergy she felt that was their problem not hers.

I noticed a colleague in a meeting yesterday lamenting the fact that something else had come up which she had to do before going on holiday. In fact 'I won't be able to do that before I go on holiday tonight; could someone else get that done?' would have worked. If I'd thought about it I'd have offered but sometimes you gotta just ask for help. I was busy taking notes.

It is fine to try to live up to others' expectations but only if you have set them realistically. We will now be disappointed if the job is not done in time. Failure could have been avoided by changing the expectations.

Do you practise the 'I will try but I don't promise' response? Do you set helpful deadlines? For me, if something is needed to be done by next Monday, the deadline, in effect, is last thing Thursday. Fridays I keep free, Saturdays I keep clear of admin and only do necessary people tasks and Sundays, for a vicar, have enough in them already.

So the life skill is, once again, the simple task of being normal and making that clear to others. Be human and remind people you are. If you promise and don't deliver your life will be surrounded by the debris of shattered relationships.

Flowers

Today, for the first time in twenty six years of ministry, a man sent me flowers for conducting his partner's funeral. It is nice to receive flowers. Especially from a life-hardened former Milwall triallist. Thanks Tommy. Appreciate it.

Jon Richardson - Newport

If you don't know Jon Richardson he mentioned in his set last night that today he was off to record Have I Got News for You where he is occasionally the guest comedian. So you'll be able to see him Thursday (tomorrow) night.

Clergy life can be demanding in terms of evenings but I learned some time ago that one of the things that makes me happy is having tickets for upcoming gigs. Meeting friends for a meal first is a bonus, which we managed last night. The date will always prove to be inconvenient on many levels but making it a priority over work occasionally will keep you sane.

Now I say 'keep you sane' but clearly Jon Richardson walks very close to the edge. He is a stand-up, observational comic of great skill but he sees the world from the point of view of a man probably suffering from OCD. He rants at a guy who walks with one foot on cobbles and the other on tarmac. He divides the world into 'putters' (good people who know where they put things) and 'leavers' (who can never remember where they left things and must die). Apparently two 'putters' should not marry because they will fall out over a spoon facing the wrong way in a drawer. My wife and I are both 'putters' without that level of commitment and remain happily married.

The central theme of the show is pessimism. Not utter, but enough to get you through. Richardson laments (I think that is the right word) that anyone might suggest 'Don't worry; be happy,' as the song goes, as helpful advice. There are things worth worrying about and living alone in a flat in Swindon, drinking and playing computer games keeps him safely tucked away from other people's worries because a problem shared is a problem doubled. I said this in a poem fifteen years ago, but since Richardson is only 28 he couldn't have stolen it off me and I don't think he ever came to Ellesmere CYFA Venture. The tour is called 'Don't Happy; Be Worry.'

Stand up is highly cathartic. If you do look at people in the street and worry that they might breed; if you think that folk who wear unusual clothes should better be ready to say something interesting, if you will never shop at a particular supermarket again because they closed one branch and if you love individuals but think all crowds must die, then this is the comic for you to see.

He picks on the audience but uses their material warmly and gently. No-one is put down. A graphic designer who couldn't remember the last thing he designed would have been minced by Al Murray or Ross Noble. Richardson simply moved on and found a pregnant woman who trained air-traffic controllers. Much richer.

He spoke for 90 minutes in two sets of 45. Time passed quickly.

It makes me happy that my desktop calendar turns over a new sheet when I turn it on each day and the clock hands advance to the correct time as if they haven't been bothering to tell it overnight because nobody has been looking. I swear I woke up depressed and that made me cheerful. I don't think it would have worked if I hadn't seen a highly competent comic in a barely half-full Newport Riverside last night and woken up tired. If you expect life will be rubbish today the smallest thing makes you feel good.

I'm off to inter some ashes. Treat.

On Doing Nothing

You have possibly heard about the research scientist who was investigating faith. When his wife gave birth to twins he had one baptised and kept the other as control.

I often wonder how well my ministry would go if I literally 'let go and let God' - a mantra from the renewal movement of the 1980s. Other ministers can try and grow their congregations by hard work and I will keep mine as control.

It has its attraction. Doing nothing except reading and praying is one of my favourite occupations. I found it annoying that for a while I had a reputation as being someone who could get a lot done. I also played along with it because everyone likes to be praised. I may have calmed down a bit now and seek as many ways as possible to be an enabler and facilitator. These are, of course, posh terms for getting other people to do the work.

Finding grand terms for things is the way forward for the 'hands off' ministry I seek. If asked my opinion on a matter over which I really have no opinion it is often simply a matter that a decision, any decision, is needed before we can move on. What size should this handout be? What colour might we paint this wall? With which of these two songs should we finish? Once upon a day I would help by making a choice. I now find that there are many other fine ways to promote others doing the thinking and the work:

Profound ambivalence (I really, really don't care)
Expectant hesitation (Ask me tomorrow)
Contemplative inertia (Let me think about it)
Collaborative non-intervention (What do you think we should do?)

Don't worry. I've just had a lovely holiday. I never return from holidays with an enthusiasm for work. I prefer to look for ways to feel like I'm still on vacation. I guess I'll eventually find something to do, beginning with lunch for ten so must dash. Laters.

Jesus on Wheels at the Commonwealth Games

Possibly my little friend's most exciting trip so far.

Offended in the Workplace

If the Daily Mail's take on the new anti-harassment legislation is to be believed then there is a new joke to tell. Did you hear about the disabled, Jewish, black-skinned, blond-haired, Welsh lesbian? Nobody dared speak to her.

I don't think the legislation is quite that frightening but let it be put on record that this greying, aged, adenoidal, white Brummie is fair game for whatever you want to say as long as you accept the possibility that he might give it back with a bonus.

Your call.

Jesus on Wheels

My little wheeled friend went with @goodinparts to Greenbelt this year where he seems to have been attracted to the special offers.

Lethal Drugs

Did you see the story, hard to call it a sad one, that California only had one dose of lethal injection left and two prisoners facing such a fate?

Furthermore, the entire supply of chemicals to make the doses will go beyond its use-by date shortly.

Suppose they use it. What's the worst that could happen? Nobody dies?