FOUR-letter words and vicars don't usually go together. Sounds like we're saints but a dog collar is a halo that's slipped.

Anyway, I do hope you'll appreciate that my upcoming four-letter noun is not me driving through our cherished customs without due care and attention.

HELL! There, I've said it. Yes, I know it' s crude, and you just don't expect a man of the cloth to use such language, do you, my poor dears?

I read like somebody resurrected from the fog and gas-light past when dragon dog-collars breathed sulphur and brimstone all over their congregations after Sunday porridge.

Funny, though. When reverends raged in ancient times they did so to packed pews. Today's lovey-dovey heavenly preachers echo in quarter-empty basilicas, and I idly wonder if there's a cause and effect here.

When vicars 'swear' at pews, do the contents increasingly sit up and pay attention? Do they tend to fall to their knees, knowing themselves to be sinners in need of saving from hellfire and that other nasty stuff?

Especially this week after Ash Wednesday introduced the season of Lent.

And do they then flock to church not only out of love for a saving Father, but also with a healthy awe of an almighty, holy God who's made them and to whom they will one day answer?

And does the heavenly brigade fail to fill churches because they've lost the main half of their message?