One of the few things which seemed wrong about the various Anzac ceremonies was the use of the deardful modernised, ruined version of the Lord's Prayer. None of the myriad dead would have recognised or understood it, and many might well have been extremely offended by what had been done to the original, noble language. But, hey, this is nothing to do with me; the whole thing being twaddle anyway. The familiarity of the thing seems strange, thought - just odd that the trend seems to be to address God as some sort of slightly eccentric neighbour; I'm surprised they're not calling him Jerry or Sam - or, indeed, I suppose, Maureen.
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