OBITUARY: REVEREND EVERARD SOPHOCLES SMILEY 1953-2021

The Reverend Everard Sophocles Smiley, best known as ‘EverSo’, or just plain ‘E.S.’ (pronounced as in ‘Ye..ess?’) has finally passed away at whatever age he claimed to be. That was the thing with Ever (as he preferred to be called), one could never quite pin him down. Just when one thought that he was a miserable misogynist, he would display a marked misunderstanding of what that might mean … and alliteratively also!

What marked Ever out from other Church of Scotland ministers was his other- worldliness; an elusive quality that often prompted the reaction “Never heard of him!”, even among his closest intimates. Indeed, the present Moderator has speculated that Ever seemed more like a poorly-conceived fictional character than an actual Minister of Religion. Even his ‘cellmate’ – I think that should be ‘soulmate’, but we cannot be certain – the glorious Evangelica, often exclaimed “he’s no [not] real!” Dear Ever would usually reply in kind, and many of his better sermons (a few have said ‘bitter sermons’) would be at her expense. But this was all a part of the cut-and-thrust of a loving and laughably dysfunctional relationship.

Ever always claimed that his and Evangelica’s marriage was “made in heaven, but broken in transit”, and many were the tales he told to bolster this theory, even although most were likely invented for comic effect, or just to be disagreeable, a quality in which he excelled.

Ever was born within tasting distance of the Tunnock’s factory, famed for its caramel wafers and teacakes. As a result the poor child had an addiction to the white mallow-like cream that Mr Tunnock made a special feature of his world- beating treats.

His early life was described as premature, although why this was so continues to be a mystery, as does most of dear Ever’s infantile existence. His mother (Perpendicula Smiley – so named because of her rigidly upright character) always called him “who is that child?”, or ‘Witch’ for short. Such a damning nomenclature at such an impressionable time must have made Ever’s early years problematic. To be known as ‘Witch’ by one’s mother is one thing, but it led to the young lad being addressed as Hazel by his peers at school.
His real name – Everard Sophocles Smiley – did not make his childhood journey any easier, and he was subjected to many unbearable convolutions of his title until he began signing himself as ‘Riley’ (his brother’s name). Only then was he accepted as “that daft Smiley kid!”

It was in his teenage years that he felt the call to ministry, and having worked for the Ministry of Transport for a number of years, he realised that he had misheard, and applied for a job at the Ministry of Work and Pensions instead. Here, his true vocation signally failed to materialise, and he became desperate, feeling that the only avenue left open to him was to join the church. He was at the end of himself, and about to jump.

A chance encounter with his father, the Reverend U R Smiley (“a perfect example of religious plankton”, according to Evangelica), left an indelible impression on him. His father urged him to “Look where you’re going in future!” Ever never looked back. His neck pain often prohibited such movement. Indeed, Lot’s wife turned to a pillar of salt because she looked back, became an oft-quoted story in his sermons – to the extent that his congregation would join in – often ahead of him.

In his later years he enjoyed his once yearly trips to a Christian Conference in Ireland where he often summed up the substance and tone of what was said to conclude the event. Rarely was he ‘quoted’ as they say, but he was filmed on one occasion, although his appearance failed to live up to even You Tube’s notoriously low standards, and it was withdrawn at the viewers request. The viewer, a Mrs E Van Gelica complained that it was pointless drivel and that the perpetrator “should be ashamed of himself.”

His rise to fame and a national TV show which had seemed the inevitable outcome of a story like this, sadly never happened, although he was once approached by famed director Steven Spielberg, who — while filming in Scotland for his sadly never completed “E.T. Go Hame” — asked him the way to the nearest Public Convenience. Ever, by this time confused and loving it, did not know the answer, preferring to direct the acclaimed director to a a Public House instead. Interestingly, the drinking establishment was called ‘The Daft Minister’ (its name changed from ‘The Demon Drink’ in 1796.)

Obscurity and disapproval were to be the keynotes of an undistinguished and disappointing career. “At least he was peaceful at the end,” Evangelica revealed, “… and not before time either.” His last days were spent in ranting at politicians on television and throwing boilings (sweeties) at the screen. His last words were recorded as “Ah’m no deid, Ah’ve got years in me yet. Oh, sod it…!”

One lady in the congregation had a prophetic vision of ‘The Reverend’ caught up in the clouds, shouting in the manner of Arnold Schwarzenegger as ‘The Terminator’, “I’ll be back!” Evangelica commented, “Not if I can help it.” We shall see.

Ever leaves behind a dearth of great material, almost none of this paucity of work worth even the slightest of attention and of no merit whatsoever. Nice to know that he died as he lived — and is there any other way? Dying when you are dead has been shown to be a difficult trick to pull off, unless you are a vampire. You can Count on that, or so I am told. Farewell, my daft auld friend!

Shortly after writing this obituary, Ever’s widow Evangelica approached me with a box full of papers. She requested that I dispose of ‘this worthless rubbish’. In turn, I asked her if I could go through the papers in the box first, for I knew that Ever had been a keen writer, despite most of what I had read was grim to say the least, he may have inadvertently written something of value.

In the main — amid the bills and reminders and detritus of a life — there were notes for sermons; mostly either incomplete or rambling incomprehensible messages that bore out Evangelica’s opinion. Certainly Ever’s scripture understanding seemed minimal to non-existent a lot of the time, with only the occasional flashes of genuine insight. The many calls over the years for his resignation can be readily understood and it is a mystery how he managed to keep going for as long as he did.

However, I came across some notes and word sketches for a proposed autobiography, but of particular interest were several diaries dealing with some of his time in ministry. Certainly there are large gaps in the narrative, but I began to feel that I could begin to make sense of this strange eccentric character who I had known for many years.

I felt that I should rise to the challenge of presenting my friend’s life to a public understandably ignorant of Ever’s many qualities and happy to remain so. Having decided on this course, I adopted the title that Ever had chosen for his autobiography; ‘Tales of a Manse-spent Life’.