Wendy Alec, co-founder of GOD TV, says that she has not received a salary from the Christian broadcaster since July. The London born author and presenter is now asking supporters for personal financial help.
On her Facebook page she writes:
"Beloved friends - I am going to be SO very vulnerable with you now - And brutally honest as well. Deep breathx...
To explain to those who may not understand... I in a short term extremely tough transition period where after the divorce I am still faced with paying quarterly rent; council tax; utilities and other bills connected with the divorce. And I presently have NO Income. Things happened re GOD TV that I am not at liberty to discuss or disclose... only to say that my salary was terminated abruptly and with virtually no warning in July... no severance pay."
She goes on to detail her difficult circumstances following her high-profile divorce to Rory Alec in 2015 but says that she is unable to give further details of the current situation between herself and GOD TV.
She writes: "You know me. This is REALLY HARD FOR ME TO ASK THIS.
I have never in 21 years asked for myself but always promoted others to the best of my ability."
The GOD TV website also appears to have scaled back on references to its co-founder and presenter.
Founded in the UK in 1995, GOD TV has a global viewing audience of 1.1 billion people.
UPDATE: Wendy Alec says that her ex-husband and co-founder of GOD TV, Rory Alec is getting remarried this weekend (16/17 September 2017).
"I honestly didn't think it would affect me," she says. "I've had so much prayer healing deliverance and cut all soul ties... but it has far more than I realised... The end of an era of 30 years." Editorial comment
At the moment it seems that viewers are either in camp Wendy, camp Rory (who has gone on to establish a business website called 'The Internationals') or camp GOD TV. Given the historically fickle nature of much Christian media it must be hoped that GOD TV treats its founders fairly, whatever the current circumstances.
A few years ago I wrote an article for a niche US
publication in which I speculated that there could be a referendum on Britain
leaving the EU (even the re-election of the Tories, the only party offering
this, seemed unlikely at the time) and that this could possibly relate to
eschatology (note to the uninitiated – eschatology refers to the study of the
end of the world).
We are not ready for the end of the world.
I’m really not any kind of prophet and I don’t claim to be, but
it reminded me that just sometimes I can be right. Just sometimes. (My wife
would say ‘very, very occasionally’). I’ve always preferred beginnings to endings, but I am still fascinated
by the theories and mythology that accompany the end of days. In story terms I
prefer beginnings, the blank page, the start, the hook and the possibility. But
endings naturally fascinate many of us. We want to know what is going to happen
in the end and we want it to satisfy. Part of us wants to see the sky fall.
As better people than me have said: ‘We face immense adversity’.
Most of us. We face all kinds of problems. I’m going to spare you the pessimism
of my Christian worldview as I’m not a literalist and I don’t really know how
the end times are ever going to pan out. Some people say that the end times can
be mitigated through prayer and preparation. But safe to say I don’t think we
are in the last of the last days yet. If there is anything I have been
conscientious in, it is in not alarming people by saying that the world is
about to end imminently. I have never misled people in this. To be honest, I’ve
rarely led people at all, but please indulge me unless you think I have no care
for you as a reader. I have usually been as honest as I can be, I have a little
integrity. So despite rumours to the contrary it is not the end of the world. There
is hope for your children (if you have them) to live full lives without the
fear of getting raptured (and, believe me, in some circles, there is a lot of
fear surrounding the rapture).
Things are grim on this island for many of us these days in
2017. There is no getting round it. I think it was the TV series ‘Lost’ where a character exclaims: ‘…we're just
going to go crazy waiting for the next bad thing to happen’. Lost
was about a group of survivors stuck on an island and that may sound like a
familiar plot to us in the UK.
Seriously, even if the rich elites stockpile gold and have reinforced
boltholes in Alaska because they ‘know things’, it still doesn’t mean that the
world is about to end. They live in fortresses like Prospero’s castle in Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death. But my
theory is that things were just as grim in 1666 when the plagues hit Britain
and the great fire of London burnt it all out. They blamed the terrorists then
too – except they said the terrorists were Catholics not Muslims. It is
convenient for a Government to have an enemy like that. It is in the Government’s
political interest for us to have a common enemy of flesh and blood. When
really we should be fighting together against so many other adversaries that
are not human or animal.
I was so fascinated by eschatology that I wrote a whole
fictional novel about it for the writing contest NaNoWriMo, speculating about
end of the world scenarios. Accepted thinking is that the earth is destroyed by
the sun in millions of years and that the hope for humanity centres around
finding the technology to occupy some other world. But even then, accepted
wisdom is that, eventually, the universe will either expand or collapse into
some kind of oblivion. There is no hope. We’re doomed, if you subscribe to the
narratives of scientific speculation… and they are narratives and speculation (unless we are somehow able to
transcend the physical universe or you are able to see some kind of strange
beauty in transience and meaninglessness).
Christian thinking is that there are not millions of years.
That what is left are the last raindrops of a storm and that another storm is
coming. But my point is that we are not prepared for nuclear holocaust,
a third world war or the opening of the abyss from the hadron collider. We are not the generation to deal with these things on top of all the rest of our problems.
What I’m trying to say is this – whether you are fascinated
by beginnings or endings, by the past or the future, you have to accept that
our interest in current affairs and in what will become of us is almost
certainly (and I’m 99% sure) going to revolve around the sun getting turned to
darkness, the moon to blood and the stars falling from the sky. When I say this
I’m using the Bible’s own metaphors when it comes to sun and moon and stars. In
the story of Joseph in Genesis, Joseph has a dream in which the sun is a
metaphor for his father, the moon for his mother and the stars for his
siblings. Presumably the end of the world, and the end of all our worlds is the
loss of our own lives and that of our friends and family. Some suns have
already darkened. Some moons have already turned to blood. Some stars have
fallen. And this is sad and real and something we all face if we have not faced
it already – it is going to happen. We can’t escape it through a portal or
through any other means. I’m sorry, but as Jim Morrison said, ‘No-one here gets out alive’. All we can
do is prepare. Or distract ourselves.
However it feels at the moment for some of us, it is
unlikely that we are the last generation. It is a coincidence too far that just
as the digital, information and news revolution has taken place that we
somehow suddenly face the end of the world too. We are more likely to lose our own
suns, moons and stars and experience our own world ends on a micro level. And
so, on that level, yes, suffering is always going to be with us and we are
always going to be afraid as long as we live and the end of the world could be
imminent (quite probably through house fire, car crash or some disease (please check
your smoke alarms – I have too few readers already and don’t want one less)).
We are unlikely to die from a terrorist attack. I’m sorry, but we’re just not.
We are unlikely to die through an end of the world scenario. We are likely to
die before the end of the world takes place and who knows if we will ever see
how that happens.
I’m a little sad about the jaded tone of this blog entry.
But that’s not the end of the world.
Pastor L. J. Darkside, following his controversial review of 'Life', has penned another review for the appraisal of those who remain on this planet. Enjoy...
The Second Review
(by Pastor L. J. Darkside)
In my review of today’s theatre performance I am compelled
not to be too biting. As I have said repeatedly to my readers: ‘I don’t bite’.
My first point would be to say that none of the show was
realistic. It was an anachronism. The aesthetics were lacking in some way. I
appreciated the slightly camp symbolism in the ‘over the rainbow’ entrance and
the psychedelic lighting which filled the huge venue. It was – perhaps, like Sharif’s
horseback entrance in Laurence of Arabia
in some ways. Except the desert was the barrenness of the scriptwriter’s
imagination in this particular production.
But please, spare me the clouds and the flying horses. If
one were a marketer or advertiser, one would use the visuals to promote beer, which,
is, ironically, precisely what I require after experiencing this shambles.
Not that it was without merit. In some ways it was like a
forgotten Frankie Goes to Hollywood
video – but I could clearly see the discrepancy between reality and the cloudy
backdrop. The effects were lacking. Aren’t we beyond this? I mean – angels –
really? Angels. As, I say, archaic and condescending in many respects.
I had heard much about this show prior to its release –
rumour had it that it would be a satisfying end to anyone’s day. There was a
mixture of expectancy and nervousness surrounding the whole performance. How
long did it even take to recruit such a vast army of extras? Points are gained
for detail, but that is all.
And that was the problem for me. It simply was not realistic
enough, at some points it went into out and out fantasy. There was no life to
it. It lacked the X-factor.
The rest of the audience seemed to be either thrilled or
horrified. One man turned to me and said ‘Told you so’. What was that even
supposed to mean? Clearly we held very different artistic sensibilities. We
were in very different places.
As a production, it appeared to be performed simultaneously
across the globe. And that was the problem, not merely the appropriation of the
platform to force this performance on (often unwilling) crowds, but the
thoughtlessness, the crass nature of the whole drama. Some of us were busy.
I am not one to criticise a free performance without cause.
I am no philistine and I have reviewed many, many such shows for papers. But
the audience was clearly divided in their appreciation and reaction.
I cannot, of course, criticise the aesthetics inasmuch that
the special effects were effective to an extent. But please – a man on a white
horse coming in the clouds to save humanity? In terms of narrative it lacked
any satisfaction on a personal level. In terms of endings it was both
predictable and slightly depressing. At least for me.
Spoiler alert: The lacklustre character on the white horse
won – at least in some people’s eyes. So predictable. And unnecessarily
violent. There seemed to be an underlying hypocrisy to it all. It was even gory
in places when the dragon character succumbed to the mouth-sword prop. A bit of
an over-reaction towards a character with no discernible or meaningful backstory.
Was he killed by bad breath? Many of us were left wondering, I can tell you.
For some reason I am unable to parallel these archetypal characters with any
previous form or genre. I fear they are stereotypes. The best that can be said
of them is that they are caricatures, but I am stretching the parameters of my
I watched, hoping for some kind of resolution to the drama,
some kind of redeeming quality. Drama should be uplifting, especially in these
troubled times. But I found that it was not life-affirming at all. I found it
to be quite the opposite. I pride myself on being in-touch with my audience and
that was one of the problems of this performance – it was so out of touch with
the day to day life of the hoi-polloi.
I saw faces in the strangely painted stage clouds and I
would suggest that they were the faces of similarly disappointed viewers. At
one point I found myself distracted by what seemed to be a great crested newt
in a spiral of contrived cumulonimbus. The newt turned to me and said,
‘Remember Tangier?’ I forget the specific point at which this happened, but it
seemed incongruous and irrelevant, my fascination with this detail only
revealing the depth of my ennui.
Then there was the whole battle scene – both brief and
unsatisfying. The dragon character seemed to come from nowhere and was
dispatched with the sword-prop coming from the mouth of the protagonist in an
instant. Many viewers were left wondering what on earth was going on. The
antagonist had popped up from nowhere. What was that all about? An army on horseback
riding through the clouds, simultaneously performed at a number of venues? It
reminds me of the ending to some half-forgotten tale from childhood. I feel I
should remember it, but for the life of me it has passed me by. I would say though
that the lead actor was the only one who seemed to be taking the whole
proceedings seriously, albeit he was far too melodramatic. Perhaps he could do
better things than this. I can see him in a Woody Allen adaptation one day.
The relevance of the trumpets at the start I will leave to
your imagination. Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd introduction was less of a cacophony of noise than this. It was an assault to
my virgin ears. The shofars were too Jewish.
During the performance, I turned to my neighbour and asked
him what he thought. But he was engrossed, his eyes glassy, as if hypnotised.
His entire demeanour shouted: ‘Drug-induced psychosis’. I think he had been to
the toilets and tried to make the performance more tolerable in the only way he
The end of the whole show was ridiculous. As I say - It
simply was not realistic. Where was the life? Where was the passion? One can
sense when there is love behind a performance and I can only think that the
actors had all had a bad day or were being underpaid. A massive over-reaction
from the protagonist towards the dragon character resulted in it being thrown
into some kind of fiery pit which appeared stage left. Surely that was a fire
hazard? Indefensible of the producers. The theatre programme suggested a backstory
for the protagonist that was a contrast to the angry vengeance he displayed. It
seemed as if he and the character from the backstory were two different
characters, one kind and gentle, the other the reverse of everything he had
ever stood for. And as for that fiery pit – it lacked any kind of beauty. Such
an ugly thing. Anyone could have fallen into it at any moment – and it was too
literal. Indefensible. I confess to feeling sympathy for the dragon character at
this point. It was the sheer predictable didacticism of the performance which
was its greatest failure.
Where was the irony? Where was the passion? It was a perfunctory
anti-climax. I’m sorry, but it was. No questions were answered. No words were
spoken in the whole drama. Pathetic.
Spoiler alert… I laughed at the epilogue – the finale when
the audience members began to ascend from their seats. How passé. They were
clearly stooges who had been placed in the audience with wires attached. It was
a low-brow, people-pleasing effect. If I had wanted to see Wicked I could have gone to the West End any day of the week. Even
my neighbour turned out to be one of the plants.
The rest of us watched as the assorted hoi-polloi extras ascended
to the clouds. And that was the problem, as I have said – this sheer lack of
realism. Most of the audience seemed to be terribly pre-occupied – why stage
such a divisive performance during such tense political times? The mind
I confess to feeling somewhat unnerved, disturbed even by
some aspects of the show. But it was disturbing people for the sake of it.
Street art is fine – and in effect, that was what this was - but artists do not
disturb for the sake of disturbing. It seemed so contrived. I am not the only
one who felt no feelgood factor, no affirmation of life. And that is important,
because it is important for a show to create a sense of joy, a sense of bliss
and there was none of that. Where was the bliss?
Note for the editor
I rushed home and was so affected by this performance that I
quickly wrote this review. However, I was unable to post my review on the
newspaper website as there appears to be a blackout in the area and neither my
mobile or computer seem to be working. So I have been forced to write this by
hand. That I am reduced to such a platform is a problem but I’m quite sure that
you will be in touch presently. At present you appear to be unavailable.
I have some pressing personal matters right now but shall
invoice my fee as usual when things return to normal.
Information for review box graphic:
Overall: 1 out of 12
Positives: The camp
portrayal of angels in a sky-based psychedelic backdrop.
Negatives: Where do I
start? The protagonist seemed familiar somehow. It detracted from the
performance. Had he been in The Bill? I think even I could have done a better
job than he did.
Personal note for
Delete the reference
to the cloud-newt. Tangier should not be mentioned for obvious reasons.
In my glory days, back in the early noughties, I worked in
London as a trainee staff writer at a trade magazine. It didn’t last long. The
truth is that it was not as glamourous as it may sound and in the end I
returned to the Midlands, defeated by London. When a man is tired of London he
is tired of life they say. And I left London both tired and a little jaded. London
had been fickle to me.
But occasionally I would still go back to the capital. On
one journey I met the anti-war protester Brian Haw in Parliament Square in his
makeshift protest camp in support of ordinary Iraqi families. He died from
cancer as he was a smoker (but this one fault did not outweigh his great
principles – he was a man of genuine conviction).
I talked with him a little in Parliament Square. I mumbled
about how he needed to be heard in the media and how he deserved to be taken
seriously. He spoke to me of how one of the large established churches in
London had rejected him and his cause even when he had asked them for help. That
was very sad as he was one of the most conscientious Christians I have met and
he deserved to be supported. He wore badges on his hat, some of them Christian
badges which praised God, others were badges of protest and resistance. He
stood (or rather sat) to defend humanity – to defend the ordinary people of
Iraq who were suffering because of UK sanctions and who later suffered even
more from UK war intervention. He made great personal sacrifices to protest and
was treated with disdain by the British Government of the time who preferred
war, for their own agendas. The Government considered him to be invisible, as
they do to many of those who oppose them. To ignore someone is often an act of
When I met Brian, he asked me to fetch him some tobacco from
a newsagents and I went to the shop and bought a pouch of tobacco for his roll-ups.
I didn’t know that he would later die of cancer - I just wanted to be of help
at the time. When you are consciously resisting the Government day and night
you really do need some kind of comfort and some human faults can be necessary.
And Brian Haw showed me a book which he was writing. It was
a handwritten diary of his experiences and life story. He had no computer. He
only had pen and paper and principle.
And sometimes, late at night, I wonder what happened to that
What happened to it? Where did it go? Why was it never
I’ve searched for any reference to Brian Haw’s book over the
internet but I can’t find anything. The distrustful, jaded side of me
speculates that it was ‘appropriated’ by Government. But it seems to me that it
is a little like Anne Frank’s diary. One document is lost, another is held as
rightfully important. Sometimes important things are lost or kept private.
Sometimes the truth doesn’t out in this lifetime. And how can it without people
working towards that?
We all have stories to tell. They are documents. They are
often important testimonies to the events which we experience and which we
cause. Some are more important than others. But many deserve to be told.
I’m aware that I’ve been neglecting my loyal reader again.
You probably should know that the Church of England has a new campaign planned for the 25th May – 4th June called ‘Thy Kingdom Come’. In a nutshell the idea is that it will organise people into praying for the country to somehow fill churches again. They say it is a cross-denominational, inclusive initiative.
Just think of all those Christians praying for the people of Britain (whether you like it or not). Filling the post-Brexit vacuum of division and sporadic violence with an atmosphere of love.
Will it work? Sheesh, who knows. But anything that holds back demon-inspired racism and violence has to be a good thing doesn’t it? Anything that lifts up the vulnerable and oppressed in this country sounds okay to me. Of course, the efficacy of prayer is always up for debate and few people expect a paradigm shift.
So that appears to be the Church of England’s plan following Brexit. ‘Pray’. It probably took about 1000 meetings to come up with that one.
‘Surely someone, somewhere has a proper plan?’ I hear you think.
“We’re living in strange times.”
It was an offhand remark to the electrician as he came to assess a broken cooker. We had been talking about politics. It seemed like a safe, anodyne remark, unlikely to cause offense or to alienate. And maybe it was ironic.
But it’s true – we are living in strange times. Perhaps the times have always been strange, but they are no less strange today than they were before. This world of alternative facts and fake news has driven many of us to the edge of our resources. All kinds of things that we used to take for granted now have to be fought for.
It’s partly the fault of the citizen journalists but it’s also true that alternative facts and fake news are not new.
We can say we are post-truth and post-irony and that we are far too sophisticated to accept old dogmas, but there is still that longing for some kind of meaning to it all, some kind of certainty. For some kind of pragmatic way of survival in this strange world.
And that is partly why I have written my new book, released today.
It is a non-fiction book which takes an original look at irony in our modern lives. It is a book which extends the definition of irony in line with our modern understanding of the term. And it is written for people who blame God when things go wrong. It’s for the agnostics, for the people who wonder why the believers and atheists are so loud.
I make some wild claims in this book. I say that irony needs there to be a story. That it needs there to be an audience. That it implies an ironist in the same way that a story implies a storyteller. But what would the nature of such an ironist be, given the nature of the ironies which we are subject to?
Would it be ironic for there to appear to be patterns in both our lives and in the story of history or in our meta-narratives, stories like the Gospels, Frankenstein or 1984? Or are such things evolutionary survival mechanisms, like the formulation of language or the willingness to arrange our lives into some kind of meaningful story? What is the point of the sword which is irony? Why is it there?
I invite you to read my book as it is written for thinking people like you. People who seek meaning.
My first non-fiction
book 'Irony - Evidence for God' will be published soon so it seems right to
blog about that.
Of all the evidences
for God to be found on the Wiki page, you won't
find irony listed. In fact, historically, writers have used irony to argue
against the existence of God. Literary giants like Voltaire have used irony to state the alternative view. So, you could say,
at the very least, it's an original book.
The book was born out
of a growing conviction that the primary sustaining factor in my faith was
irony. That irony had become a kind of secret pain in so many chapters of my
life. A pain so intimate and seemingly-orchestrated that to see it as dumb luck
or coincidence was more unlikely than any other possibility. That it hinted at
the existence of God.
The book talks about
this in further detail and about the way God allows irony in all our lives. In
the book I call for a wider definition of the word in keeping with today's
understanding. Language evolves and for many people irony today is not the
strict dictionary definition. What if the real irony of Alanis Morissette's
iconic song was that the lyrics really were ironic after all?
Irony can be
hypocrisy, 'crazy bad luck' and even serendipity. And, to be honest, sometimes
'Crazy-bad-luck - Evidence for God' felt like a better title. But we live in
post-ironic, post-truth, and post-God times - we are far too sophisticated to
accept dogmas which we may have been expected to accept in the past.
If you understand,
observe and think about irony in your life you will realise that most ironies
are negative. So, to say that they are orchestrated by God is a big ask. It is
intellectually insulting (at least, if we are to believe that God is good) to
say that God has caused ironies to occur. Or worse than that, it is inhuman. So
you will be able to see the spiritual gymnastics I take in order to get God off
the hook for the bad ironies while still trying to defend human dignity or the
remains of my intellect. After all, isn't that what being a believer is about -
1001 ways to defend God even when all reason says he is to blame? Of course,
I'm trying to be ironic (or at least being disingenuous). How can irony be
evidence for a benevolent God? To find that out you may need to read the book.
Without being too
defensive, I'm anticipating a few possible reactions to my book. Firstly (and
most likely), I'm anticipating it to be largely ignored. There is a solace in
being an obscure, relatively unknown writer in that it means that I'm off the
radar of most critics. So, 'Wouldn't it be ironic to totally ignore this
diatribe?' is perhaps the most cruel criticism I face.
But there is also the
possibility of a considered counter-argument - that I have misunderstood
irony, that I have misunderstood God and that I have taken one too many
illogical steps in the formulation of my premise. An unreliable narrator can
safely be questioned. I think there are many holes in my argument, but I'm
willing to defend it.
Or a worse reaction
still, that the universe would have me subject to more negative irony for even
daring to write about the subject. Because that's how it all works isn't it? Or
that in pointing out God's apparent neglect I have somehow forgotten to toe the faith party line.
The book is written
for the agnostics, the seekers, the doubters, the skeptics. It is not primarily
aimed at believers or atheists (although I hope that these two groups would at
least find it interesting). It is not a very long book as I tend to write shorter
books, finding them easier to read myself.
I approached a handful
of publishers with the work but unless one of those who ignored me offers me a
contract too late (and that really would be ironic) I'm indie-publishing it
since I know the process so well. The most fun rejection I had from a publisher
was: ‘This is an interesting idea… clearly the Christian faith has plenty of
ironies to offer, but irony is not uppermost in the day to day life of the
church. I don't think our market would react with sufficient enthusiasm.'
The ironic thing is
that it is a book which can help you a little to survive day to day by making
progress towards a meaning to life, and pointing away from despair to hope.
Surely this helps people to survive (unless Viktor Frankl was wrong about all
However, you don't
really need this book. It won't resolve the issue of suffering. It won't make
you rich or make your tweets go viral. 'Why should I read it then?' I hear you
Firstly, because, you
may want to know why everything is conspiring to keep you from reading it.
Secondly, because it's
original and brings some fresh ideas forward.