Irealised that the whole thing had become absurd when I was squeezed in by a female vicar for photos around the font of an Anglican church. There we were, all six godparents grinning back at the camera as the baby was held aloft (screaming) by its proud parents. But out of the six godparents assembled, only two of us had been baptised and confirmed in the Christian faith, leaving four godparents out. Not really godparents at all, then.

Witnesses or mentors perhaps, but not godparents. In our increasingly secular age, the distinction bears recognising. If you don’t believe in God, this isn’t going to work. You can be lots of other things to the child: present-buyer-in-chief, jolly playmate, lunch companion at Daphne’s or similar, purveyor of the first cigarette/joint/vape, but you can’t be

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