Dennis D. Hughes Knihy

Numerous ancient texts recount human sacrifices and ritual killings. For instance, in 480 BC, Themistocles sacrifices three Persian captives to Dionysus, while yearly expulsions of human scapegoats known as pharmakoi occur in Greek cities, sometimes resulting in their deaths. Other accounts detail Locrin girls hunted down by Trojans, children sacrificed on Mt. Lykaion, and various reports of human sacrifices linked to the cult of the gods or during crises like war and plague. Archaeologists have often suggested that human sacrifice explains their findings, such as children’s bones with knife marks from Minoan Crete, a youth's skeleton with a bronze blade, and bound skeletons in Mycenaean and Cypriot tombs. Additionally, some dual burials imply a woman may have been sacrificed at her partner's funeral. If these archaeological interpretations and ancient claims are accepted, they portray a violent religious life among the ancient Greeks from the Bronze Age to historical times. However, the author urges caution, noting that alternative, less sensational explanations exist, and that many literary references to human sacrifice may be mythical or misinterpreted. Regardless of the evidence's acceptance, this study provides a captivating insight into ancient Greek religious thought and evolving modern perceptions of their practices.

Hugh Dennis has secretly been worrying about what being 'British' meant for nearly a decade, ever since his friend Ardal O'Hanlon had told him in passing that he was the most British person he had ever met. Hugh was unclear whether he was being praised, teased, vaguely insulted or possibly all three - because it has always been very difficult to know how to feel about being British. And then the London Olympics came along. We gave the world a gleaming new vision of Britain; a smiling Britain of achievement, a Britain responsible for leading the world into the modern era through the Agrarian and Industrial revolutions, a nation proud to embrace multi-culturalism, individuality, and eccentricity. A country where a major politician can dangle helplessly from a zip wire like a discarded straw dolly and gain in popularity, and whose Queen can send herself up and then descend by parachute. The unexpected legacy of the Games has been a Britain with a new found self-confidence in which we all know how to be British. A Britain which should be embarrassed by nothing and proud of everything, from sheep to chimneys to the Spice Girls to industrial action and what had always previously been described as our "ailing transport network". A Britain which having been pinned firmly in its own half, has dribbled the length of the field, nutmegged the defenders, unleashed a curling dipping shot into the top right hand corner, scored a wonder goal and is now kissing the badge