text: For the record, this cynical journalist for one is deeply sceptical about get-rich-quick schemes. I have no doubt they work – the problem is, I think they work for those selling them, not those buying them.
  I wouldn’t dispute that speakers like Mesiti can be a powerful force to motivate people to get out there and improve their lot, but it’s hard not to see that as secondary to the sales pitch. Pick your gurus carefully.
  
  “And the prayer offered in faith will restore the one who is sick. The Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore, confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man has great power to prevail.”
  Yes, I quoted two whole verses because I just want to make you feel a little sinful so that I can feel good about myself by highlighting this part: Therefore, confess your sins to each other …
  Weh, I remembered that verse when I watched Bridgerton a few weeks ago. I know the number of you that are roasting silently after getting their body temperatures raised by The Duke of Hastings is higher than Covid infections in Italy. And you have not confessed the murderous thoughts you inhabit against Daphne, she who got to be the spoon. The kind of feels that series gives you require a whole tank of anointing oil, re-baptism in River Jordan and a full confession to the pope – even if you’re not catholic. I’m still fanning myself.
  The story is amazing, and I feel for the women whose only goal in life is supposed to be to get married and have kids. I felt deeply for Eloise, an ambitious writer who hates the system and want to ‘live precariously’ with her beloved art but can’t. It’s frustrating, being stuck at an age that you can’t be anything or do anything apart from being chosen wife. And the choosing is an extreme sport in itself.
  But the Duke of Hastings had me re-evaluating my life choices and replaying my honeymoon night, to see if the Duke of my house said, “This will hurt a moment.” I don’t remember that bit, but then again, I have mommy brain courtesy of two babies. I was told you lose a third of your brain every time you get a child; I have been operating on a third a brain since 2014 and I’m still writing things that people find interesting. Imagine if I was even on 75% brain function? I’d have won a Pulitzer by now! Don’t take my word for it.
  But even the remaining 1/3 of my brain has been blurred by the Duke of Hastings. I’m walking around feeling like a mirror in a steam room. Every time he raised his eyebrow, I got palpitations. Shonda Rhimes planned to trigger buttons with this one and judging by the thirst reports I have been reading on the streets, she took the cup home! Oh, to be a Christian in the times of the Duke of Hastings …
  You remember that time when dear Paul of Tarsus was having a mid-life crisis moment and he was doing the things he didn’t want to do and not doing the things he knew he was supposed to do? That was me with Bridgerton. But the tragedy of being an artist is you know a good story when you see it, and a good storyline with excellent casting and unexpected twists is unputdownable (Note to the reader: This word is not in the dictionary, don’t look it up). And when that story is spiced with a hot sauce like Regé-Jean Page, a camel going through the eye of a needle seems easier than choosing to give it a thumbs down on Netflix.
  Choosing what our little eyes see in this world that’s bursting a kaleidoscope of movies, songs and tiktok videos before our eyes is hard. Choosing to keep our eyes from staring at evil is hard — but it’s not impossible. I’m beginning to get convinced that the narrow way, has no screens.
  We are not of the world, but we’re in the world and these are some of the struggles we have to go through before Peter opens the pearly gates eventually. In between, when we have moments when will probably wish we were a spoon, we will remember whose we are, and that we were bought at a price incomparable to your Netflix subscription.