• Ask For God’s richest blessing on ALL the drug Addicts I met in Swansea
    • Thanks For having a Bed to stay in last night
    • I am in ST DAVIDS tomorrow, so please pray for Divine appointments please…….and of course for PROVISION. THIS IS A BIG ISSUE.



See my Full 66 City Tour List by Clicking HERE


I got up this morning. I have not updated my APP in days. I spend the first early hour, loading up the four APPS with devotions for yesterday, today and tomorrow. I have over 10,000 patient users all over the world. I have let them down a bit these last few days. Still, there are only so many hours in day and only so much of me.

I packed my kit as quietly as I could, creaked down the extended aluminium, steps from the hot attic and loaded up the car. It was still there! It was not firebombed. I went in to say my 7:30am goodbyes and my lovely Korean sister, harassed by two lovely boys already playing war and a Chihuahua Jack Russell cross with springs instead of legs, had made bacon and eggs. All five of us sat and ate. Lovely jubbly. Then by 8:00am I was on the road. I had forgotten to charge up the Sat Nav, so she was once again in the back seat belting out instructions. Cardiff City centre is beautiful, but in the morning light this council estate looked torn apart. Literally, the parade of shops at the top of the road, all had their shutters pulled down this early Saturday morning, the two Security cameras at either end of the building sat in their own protected bird cage and sometime last night, someone had gotten gold of a sofa and pulled out all the white fluff. The whole parade looks as those someone had run amok with some sheep shearing scissors and the place was awash with the clumped bowels of the sofa. The white fluff and the red graffiti, made the whole place look like a Christmas from hell. This was obviously the dumping ground for Cardiff’s troubled families. The last one I lived on was in Derby in 1986, all the mums were single mums and all their partners were in prison. The favourite pastime of the kids then was shooting airgun pellets at people’s windows, and picking their scabies scabs from their chins. 25 years later and things are worse than they have ever been, these dumping grounds now teeming with immigrants, and the fat, jobless, hopeless, fatherless, education less, black tooth asboed, “whose the father of this one then”, tattooed, braless, fag smoking Jerry Springer like fodder all flashing their pathetic and psychopathic lived for the rest of the monkeys in the zoo to giggle at.

Well…..I’m annoyed. Annoyed because among all of this, are honest to goodness folk all trying to make a go of a very bad lot, and among the rest of them is a crying need for hope. I remember seeing the pictures from the excellent exhibition at Cardiff library of workers living in tents, (if you could call them that) and the Chartists in Newport and the later labour movements. Poor people, hungry people, all striving to make things better for their kids, hoping, praying, fighting. Now we are quite literally hopeless, all jacked up on Jerry Springer, Methadone, Mogadon and Malibu and Massive Plasma screened T.V.s. I tell you what, we need some rabble rousers to wake up the underclass and give them a hope and a future. Don’t wait on the Government for this; it just is not going to happen. They have shown us that. Our mega rich public school politicians will always take care of themselves and their buddies. There is a time for new movement that will embrace and educate the under-classes with new entrepreneurial skills. Let the Government pay the Police and the armed forces to get the drugs and the drug dealers off our streets, and give us a chance to make something of ourselves together. I say again, don’t rely on the Government; the people must make their own way. I believe it can be done but I do wonder if there is any revolution left in Wales. And no, I am carrying SORTED magazines with me on this tour, not the Socialist Worker, but after I sat with David, another one of our tens of thousands of lost boys, isn’t it obvious that new grass movement must arise? The labour movement in this country had a very Christian past and God forgive it for forgetting that. Anyhoo, diatribe over for now.

I am on the road to Swansea. It’s a nice drive, and I arrive in Swansea around 9:30am when Dave and Lizzie from the Saturday morning Premier Breakfast show give me a call for an interview update on the journey. I have been on their show and in their studio before. I’m not sure they remember, or maybe they are forgetting on purpose just for the show? The interview goes well and I really appreciate the opportunity to plug the 66Cities Website. They think I am a nutter. (Nicely so of course) I tell them what I am about to do today. They now know I am a nutter. I tell them it is a fine line between being a fool for Christ and bringing the gospel into disrepute. (Believe me, I know). I say, rather smugly, that my team of three is God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit (bet they never heard that before!) and that I am being a fool for Jesus. My Psychiatrist says I need to explore this further. Dave and Lizzie are always great on their show. Always professional and encouraging, but I was flat. I should never have mentioned the word ‘Brothel’ on a Christian Breakfast show. I was trite. I missed the mark. Even so, I was in Swansea. I was here now.

Frankly, the Swansea I saw today was nothing to write home about. No offence to anyone, but it was a step up from Newport and a big step down from Cardiff, though after a few conversations with folks, it is obvious that they love their city and are very, very proud of it. I hear the waterfront development is fabulous. The city of course was flattened in the War, and some areas it seems are still in need of a leg up. Clydebank was in a similar position I remember in the 1980’s. Maybe devolution will bring more to Welsh cities than disestablishment has done for its Anglican churches. MacDonald’s needed a big leg up. Dismal and dirty, (and that was just the pancake and sausage) I could find no plug for my failing laptop battery so I did not have too long to make Saturday church connections. But I got on the internet and went a googleing.
There are LOADS of Evangelical churches in Swansea, and a few of them even answered the phone on a Saturday. Unfortunately no one was available to meet with me. So, the dramatic naked bungee jumping was going ahead. I would go and scout out a pitch.

I bumped into a Kindly busker to try and find out what the local rules were and common ‘courtesy’ seemed to rule the day. That and a licence. But then, I wasn’t busking or collecting money. The Busker tells me two interesting things. First that it’s Christians that are the most inconsiderate when he is busking. They are rude and just set up and preach and teach despite him being there. I apologise. Again. And secondly that he is in contact via email with a bunch of Methodists from America, who through “this into his hat”. It was a Nickel with the cross shaped hole in the centre. The busker might carry it for good luck, but this mice bloke is in communication with Christians from America

I wandered up the road to find a great Amphitheatre, cameras’ lights and seating for a 14:00hrs concert featuring two secular choirs singing the blues. It started at 2pm and I thought to myself that just outside the entrance might be a great place to act out Ecclesiastes. I speak to the kind lady and ask who will be present. I tell her what I am up to and ask here for an interview. She kindly obliges.

OK so I have my pitch, I have warned the busker and the nice lady art student not to be disturbed if an unusual guy comes around as it will only be me in disguise.
I wander back to the car and start to get ready.

I need to black my eyes and lips first of all. But try as I might I cannot get any black on the sponge! I discover I have left the clear plastic cover on the paint. I sigh. On goes the black; on goes the white, a large red cross down the centre of my head and a little dripping from the side of my lips. I have opted to leave the bottle of vampire blood in the car, but take some blood capsules with me just in case I need them. Yes. Then finally, I put the rest of the red paint on my arms. It almost covers by tattoos, and the black streaks make it all look quite, well quite gory.
I can’t take the back pack as it won’t fit under the monks black hooded habit. So, after I pull the hood up, I have to pack a few Bibles in my front pocket, put my brass hunting horn in the back pocket put the board under my arm, and the camera in my right hand along with the 6 foot Axe which is as big as my head. . (Yeah, yeath, yeah…I’ve heard the jokes before!) In all the Kerfuffle and dressing up, I have somehow disconnected my Digital microphone. Despite it being turned on, nothing will be recorded.
We’re off.
It’s hilarious walking out of the car park looking like a Ghoul, covered in a monks habit and carrying a six foot plastic Axe over your shoulder. Honest, some people don’t half stare!
“Yes, good morning to you as well”
“Yes, lovely day. It’s gonna be like this all weekend I hear”
“No I am not a stripogram!”

Now the weight of the hunting horn and pockets full of Bibles coupled with the downward pressure of my Full English every blinking morning Dunlop belly is pushing my pants down. With the imminent danger of exposing myself, I am already walking like John Wayne with rickets trying somehow to keep them up. Does death have problems keeping his trousers up? Does he wear chaps? Should I be carrying a Scythe instead of an Axe? Did the Costume shop have a spare Scythe? So anyways, pants up, adjustment made, passing comments noted “are you going to a party? – it’s not Halloween etc etc) and I hit the high street. It’s time to get in character.
I have about 500 yards and I need to gather a crowd. Then I hear it! Christians singing. “There is power, power, wonder working power, in the precious blood of the lamb!” Oh this has gone to a whole new level! I could, without them knowing it, play off them, use them as a foil, I would be the fool, they would be the foil. And then to top it all, I can hear and see that these are Korean Christians. Oh this is going to be fun. They will love it I am sure. Well, that’s what I told the Police. But I mustn’t get ahead of myself.

So I walk slowly toward the music and lay my board at the gate to St Mary’s church.
I stare people in the eye. Young men sat on a wall soaking in the sun.
“The sun’s shining now” I shout, “But its gonna rain and Monday. A brief spell of sunshine, a life time of showers and then you die. LIFE!” I shout. “Its absolutely meaningless.” Remember, I have a message rooted in Ecclesiastes. You with me now? Good.

I eyeball an older woman. Yes it’s me darling. It won’t be long now before we meet… Are you ready?” I turn to everyone that’s now looking and hold my Axe up higher, “Get ready for the chop. Life is meaningless under this sun. (It’s a beautiful day and one of the hottest beginning to October on record) “You are gonna live a few more years and then you die.” I shout very loud…. “I am the King of terrors and you all belong to me” I am gathering quite a crowd and they are waiting to hear what I have to say.

The teenagers are loving it, they want to have their picture taken with me, I say of course and the with each male teenager I reach my hand under his arm and grab him my his trapezium and speak it real hard, now I have him in my grip I say “You can have your picture today, but we will meet another darker day. Are you ready to meet me?” They look a little worried
“I am the King of terrors and the shepherd of all men” (that’s Job and Psalms by the way) “and very soon you will meet me and I will eat you up! You are all food for worms and maggots. Your life is meaningless under this sun”

I spot a middle aged man carrying a bag full of electronics.
“Why get into debt putting them on your credit card. You can’t take it with you? You will rot long before they do. Life is meaningless.”
I shout out “I am the King of Terrors and the shepherd of all men.”
A heavily tattooed guy stops me and smiling asks me what I am doing. I tell him and he records a very short video.

Now I am across from the 10 Korean Christians. They are belting out great hymns and giving Testimony. I am inciting the crowd against them. “Don’t listen to them!” I say. I am the real shepherd and I am gonna have you all one day”

I go across to the Pastor and demand in front of everyone that he gives me the Microphone. He is very gracious. Some of his flock are furious. I don’t blame them. None of them accost me. (I commend them for that!)

They start singing another hymn and I join their ranks holding by axe held high. We are getting quite a crowd now.
The pastor steps out and I put my hand on his shoulder and whisper in his ear
“Don’t worry” I say “I love the Lord Jesus, I am a Christian and a minister, give me the Mic and I will preach the Gospel”
He looks at me incredulous
“Yes really. Just give me the Mic” I whisper, then turn and shout “I am the king of terrors”
“Yes really. Look, I am speaking from Ecclesiastes and this is about the futility of life under the sun, and death the inevitable end of us all. Solomon wrote it and his conclusion was live your life to full knowing that death is coming and then you will give an account to God. Give me the Mic and I will then tell them about Jesus.”
The wonderful Pastor then asks me if this is a “good way to preach the Gospel” and if I “do this every day?” We have a crowd…give me the Mic brother. But by now a Glaswegian lady has the Mic and she has no idea who I am, She is saying “If you want a Mic go and get yer ain Mic Jimmy” (She didn’t actually say Jimmy…but you get the flavour) I stay away. I do not want a Glaswegian kiss. I reach into my back pocket to get my card and my brass hunting horn false on to the pavement with a large clang. We both look at it. I am wearing a Black monks habit, made up as death with my arms running blood red carrying a six foot plastic Axe. I don’t even bother explaining why I am carrying a brass hunting horn. I pick it up and smile. I must look like the Joker out of batman.
The Pastor says I can speak when they have finished their hour. I don’t know how long they have been there, so I move across to the entrance and stand on a bench, gather some folk around me and tell them Ecclesiastes in a minute
“Solomon was a rolling stone, he tried everything, sex drugs and rock and roll and still could find no satisfaction under the sun because he was gonna die like everyone else. He discovered the key of life which was to enjoy it the full before you die, but enjoy with knowledge that when you die you will appear before God to be judged. Are you ready to meet me? Are you ready to meet God”
The Korean Christians are still singing and it makes a great backdrop.
Two young hard men stop me “Mate, I have just come out of prison, I am 24 and you have no idea what I have done and have been taking. Let me tell you that Jesus is my Lord and Saviour and that without Him I would not be here today. What you up to? Don’t disrespect my Lord.” I tell him I will tell him what I am up to providing he keeps it a secret for a few minutes. He agrees. They love it. They are from teen challenge and are out for the day. Teen Challenge! Amazing.
“ I am the King of Terrors!”
Another guy with an open can of Stella and two others on what’s left of a six-pack plastic tag comes up and says “am I gonna meet you then mate?”
Gazza is 24. He looks 34. He has been in prison and used to be a heroin addict. Speed is actually his drug of choice. He loves it but it’s hard to get in Swansea. Now he is just an alcoholic. He wants to die. If he had the courage he would ‘top’ himself. He has done stuff I would not believe. I tell him I don’t want to know. He said (he’s an atheist remember) he has asked God to speak to him, but he doesn’t speak. He does not care. I look him in the eyes and say “How many times have you had a little guy dressed as death carrying a six foot axe come and tell you that Jesus loves you?” He agrees it’s a little unusual. I tell him it’s a God appointment and that he needs to listen up. He does and at the end I pray for him. This atheist is very happy to be prayed for, and as we are finishing our conversation a very tall and burly Policeman comes up and tells him he can’t drink beer in the open and then says to me “Excuse me sir, but we’ve had a complaint that you are verbally abusing people”. Now he is joined by an equally burly security guard from the shopping complex. I have a six foot plastic axe. No problems. The Policemen takes my name, date of birth and address and wants to know what’s going on. They are professional, polite and very nice. He used to work up near Chesterfield. We chat about the area. He is checking me out. The Security guard says they have been watching me on Camera. I say “I know”

“Look” says Mr. Policemen, “You seem a really nice bloke. But just be careful.” He leaves and me and the security guard get chatting. I am dressed as death and carrying a six foot plastic axe.
In retrospect, I have to say that the Policeman and the security guard (and you know what I think about the majority of them) were not just professional and polite. They were mature men. They had been around the block. They knew stuff. They knew what was really going down here. So they let me a carry on. It’s quite amazing really, honest, I think I would have locked me up. I was on a roll.

More conversations with young people followed and I now publicly proclaimed (as death) that only one person had defeated me and that was , Jesus, and that was what I had been getting on at the singing Christians across the road. Because Jesus had defeated death. I declared that the Korean Christians were right and they should listen to them and get their lives sorted out with Jesus before they met me.

I went across the road and joined my brothers.
They all kept their distance. I don’t blame them, but the Pastor gave me the Microphone and I shared my journey with the listening crowd and outlined the Mick Jagger hook of Ecclesiastes and its conclusion. and commended them to Jesus and prayed for them. But it wasn’t over yet.

The Korean Pastor said, “Now we will pray” and they all dropped to their knees and prayed loudly, enthusiastically and with much passion, either in their own mother tongue or another tongue. I do not know.

Pastor Byung-Ok Son is in charge of Korean Swansea Church. He is in this spot 6 days a week for a whole hour each day, preaching the Gospel, giving testimonies and singing hymns. 6 DAYS A WEEK. Mostly South Korean believers, living in Swansea, singing songs of the Old 20th Century Welsh revival. He has seen thirty people either come to Christ or recommit their life to Christ. This happens on the street, and when they commit their lives to Christ, it is not a ‘with every head bowed and eyes closed’ now slip your hand up if you want to accept Jesus’ kind of a commitment. It’s “get down on your knees in front of these non Christians and make your peace with God right now!” No messing. Amazing. As we are talking several young children come up to me, and say “Are you really death? I say yes and there is only one person who has defeated me. Pastor Byong-Ok tells them who it is and gives them a tract.

A Young Woman comes across. She is smiling like a loon. She is with teen challenge and will be out on the Streets witnessing next week. She has learnt a lot and will put into practice what she has seen. I am greatly encouraged. She gives me an interview.

Lastly, I would like to publicly thank Pastor Byung-Ok for his incredible forbearance with me. He coped exceptionally well with my interjected surprise. Listen to this guy. How wonderful

I get my stuff and head back to the car.
Christina has two dogs and is sat against a wall begging. I go and join her. I am knackered. Christina has no teeth. She has been an addict. She is a depressive. He has been in hospital. Both kinds. She has her own flat now but during the day she is on the streets.”This is where I lived for 14 years. I learnt grace and humility in the gutter.” She is not in church “This is my church”. She has street hunger /street psychosis…She knows all the terms. Her Father God has been speaking to her about a number of things. Mostly to do with the state of her heart. She has found herself to be very judgemental…….” A geezer comes wanting a penny for a tab. She gives him a penny and he gives me a hand up. They are in conversation and its time for me to go.
I walk around the corner and my pants are about to fall down my ankles once more. Patrick is sat in the sun. He has got the biggest lighter and the smallest cigarette tabs I have ever seen. Patrick is very ill. Physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually. You name it. He shows me his bench bed. Again, I am overwhelmed and my prayers do nothing. Can this axe head float? Can these bones live? I am powerless. Where are the signs and wonders following? (NOT getting arrested this time is rather wonderful but not a sign and wonder.)

I go back to the car and wash up as best as I can.

Pay the £6.90 parking.
I ring VJ and Jess, who I worked with at a former church. They are letting me use their flat in Oswestry as a hub to visit the next three cities. Veej googles the distance for me to the flat. 3.5 hours there and then another three hours to St Davids tomorrow. I am going direct to St Davids, its about and hour and a half away and its about 14:30pm and a beautiful day.

I am hungry. All this nervous energy burns calories. So I tell myself. I stop at Maccy D’s for a 1950’s Burger. It looks like its been made in 1950 and the bun is stuck to the box. I am too tired to complain and have completely forgotten to clean my arms, which are of course, corpse like red and black way up to the arm pits. “I have been street performing. Its just paint.” I don’t want to preach the Gospel, I just want this burger that looks like shoe leather, dip the potatoes wedges and slurp the coke

I drive to St Davids. It’s a nice relaxing drive. Just outside I find a Bed & breakfast, negotiate down to £33.00 ( I’s October and I come under the ‘Grey Pound’ category) with Breakfast and Wi Fi. C’Mon! Unfortunately the Wi Fi signal is very poor and the landlord says I will have to sit in the conservatory to get the best signal. I try my laptop in the seating area. It’s rubbish. I make my apologies to Peter the Landlord who is bemused that I am leaving because of poor Wi Fi speed. It’s a first. I walk up the path and think ‘He said to them, “In whatever place you enter a house, stay there till you depart from that place.” NKJV Mark 6:10.

I drive along the Coast toward St Davids. B&B’s are everywhere. I arrive at Coastal Waves. £50 per night with Sea views, a Launderette and no Wi Fi. I ring St David’s information Centre. “All B&B’s are full except Coastal Ways. Do you know where that is?” I am sat in the car park. I ring Martin up and tell him I am coming back. I have wasted an hour. The room I am staying in is above the hub. It is the best Wi Fi not just in the house but so far on the journey. Sigh. I should have listened.

I immediately start the uploads.

I am still covered in blood. The sheets are white. I immediately get the fake blood off in the shower, then following, I clean the chalk board, I clean the car, I put some clean clothes on, no, just a minute. I put the clean clothes on after the shower. Then I settle down to type and Skype.
Bridget spent last night with a close friend of ours in Brighton who donated £100 to the cause! And then she spent the afternoon with our two grown kids in Brighton. She has a bit of an ear infection and is not feeling too good. She wants to know what I have been eating today. The Phone has suddenly got very bad reception, so it is hard to properly explain. The Kit Kat wrapper has turned into the accuser of the brethren. Despite my wife’s fixation with my belly, I miss her much.

It’s now 23:46 at night and I have been at my portable office for 5 hours now. I just got a text through on my phone.
“My name is Siju – and me and my wife Manju heard you on Premier Christian Radio this morning. I was literally crying when I heard your passion about Jesus and His Gospel. I was praying while I was driving. Praise God for you and lots of Love and prayers. I have donated £50 through PayPal this morning. Is this OK? Or do I need to cancel it and pay by card. We have a commitment to God to pray for the nation and his people whom are working for him here, now we will pray form you too, we will definitely remember you in our prayers. Please let us know if you are coming to Watford, we can join you here if you don’t mind?”

I text back that my nearest city is St Albans. IF he can make it, then it would be great to see him. He texts back:
“I don’t do can’t. If it is for my Saviour, I will be there.”
But I was flat…….I missed the mark……I mentioned a Brothel at Breakfast time…..
I wonder what tomorrow will bring, especially as I am supposed to speak from an erotic love poem, the Song of Songs. How on earth…..

If You Want to see The First Twelve of Our 66 Minute Video Bible Check Here P.S. We need some more funding ti finish this project before Christmas so if you are up for it give me a call on 07975 805 323

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About vrfarrell

Biblical activist
This entry was posted in 21 of 66 | SWANSEA. Bookmark the permalink.


  1. joelleakey says:

    Ha! Just brilliant. I wish I could have seen this, Robert!

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