Sede Vacante

Conspiracy theorists are still arguing over the significance of the "vacant seat", marking the absence of Pope Francis from a concert last week. We asked some of our local bloggers if they could explain this.

Sede vacante.

Eccles: Apparently, the little girl sitting behind him had asked him to move, as his mitre was blocking her view. This happens to me in the cinema a lot: I'm sitting down to watch an exciting James Bond film and a bishop comes in and sits in front of me. Still, in some dioceses you're lucky if they even wear a dog-collar.

Ven. Fulton Sheen - hearts sank whenever he came into a theatre.

Father X, expert on cannon law: I'm told that Pope Francis took the evening off in order to practise his shooting. It's not widely known but he always packs a pistol whenever he celebrates Mass, just in case a Tabletjournalist should walk in. And a good thing too.

Good shooting, Holy Father!

Father TF, hermeneutical expert: No, in fact Pope Francis spent the evening attaching corks to his papal mitre, in readiness for a forthcoming trip to Australia. He was envious of the corking biretta that my parishioners have made for me.

The Pope prepares to meet Cardinal Pell.

Catherine Pepinster, Tabletista: Pope Benedict XVI would have attended this concert, which featured music by the misogynist dead composer Beethoven - a shabby attempt to revive the sort of music which is totally against the Spirit of Vatican II. Pope Francis, when he discovered that there would be no music by living female composers - such as, er, Sandie Shaw, Lulu, Dusty Springfield and Cilla Black, who appeal to the younger generation - rightly boycotted the concert and spent the evening reading the last 50 issues of the Tablet, which we'd sent him.

Cilla Black, as modern and relevant as the Tablet.

Damian Thompson, custard expert: Sorry, I'm too cut up about the death of James Gandolfini, surely the most important overweight actor since Orson Welles. I must go and write three more blog posts on the subject. Surely his beatification cannot be far away?

A scene from The Sopranos.

Just a Minute

Nicholas Parsons (for it is he). Welcome to this week's edition of "Just a Minute," the show where contestants have to talk for one minute on a given subject without (a) being rude about anyone, (b) rolling on the floor laughing, or (c) talking about their boring family.

Tonight's guests are Moly Badnite, also known as the Great Australian Blight; Damian Thompson, who asked me to mention his new book; Ken Livingstone, politician and clown; and lastly Richard Dawkins, founder of the Dawkinsology cult. And we start with Moly, who has to speak for just a minute on the subject of Beethoven.

MB: Of course I had a very good musical education in Australia, and was I able to play all the Beethoven piano sonatas by the time I was 3 years old. I know them all, the Pathetic, the Woeful, the Hammersockenpuppet, etc., thanks to my father who was a personal friend of Beethoven and... BZZZ.

NP: Yes, and a challenge from Damian there. She's been mentioning her boring family again, hasn't she? You have one point and the subject with 49 seconds to go.

DT: It's really shocking that kids these days don't know their opus numbers off by heart. Why even my friend James Macmillan hesitated for 10 seconds when I asked him to name three 19th century Finnish composers each of whose opus 94 was in the key of G major, and James is the greatest composer since Beethoven. BZZZ

MB: ROFL. He's a traddy fanatical Catholic. I told him once to stick to composing.

RD: Catholics??? Did you know that the Pope killed Polly Toynbee, made a pie out of her body, and served it up in an old people's home? Well, he would if he could. Darwin predicted it, you know.

MB: Toynbees? There's a plague of them in Pottymouth. Huge creatures. Not like the pathetic pommy bees you get in England. Such is life, eh? BZZZ. Aargh, there's another one!

NP: SHUT UP. Sorry, slightly incorrect challenges from Moly and Richard there, so Damian continues with 39 seconds left.

MB: Why is the rude idiotic Nicholas Parsons troll allowed to continue here?

NP: It's my show, actually. Now, Damian?

DT: I own 45,000 CDs of Beethoven's music, which is probably a record. I really must get a CD player one of these days. Of course, late Beethoven is the best - say, anything he wrote after 11 p.m. BZZZ.

NP: Ken? Did you have a challenge?

KL: Waaaaaahhhh! I lost! How could people vote for Boris? He tells lies. He has extremist views. He makes friends with terrorists. He keeps newts. He hates Jews. Or was that someone else?

NP: Another point to Damian for an incorrect challenge, I'm afraid. But I've had enough of this stupid game. It was so much more dignified when Kenneth Williams and Derek Nimmo were on the show.

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Concluded here.

Yet more bloggs

St Gordon of Kirkcaldy
By Mary Drilled






Mary Drilled's photo marks the 100th anniversary of the death of Bram Stoker
 
Gordon Brown now spends his days in retirement in a darkened room in Kirkcaldy, his only reward being an MP's pittance of £65,000, together with necessary expenses (most recently, an invoice from Jock McBogey's Glazing Repairs, for a window damaged by a flying laser-printer, £300+VAT). But until 2010 he was the most powerful man in the free world, the saviour of civilization as we know it. The verdict of history on Gordon Brown will surely be: We Owe So Much.

 Of course Ed Miliband is wonderful too, so handsome, so masterful. He can't make his eyes revolve in opposite directions at the same time, as Ed Balls can, but let's face it, is that really a necessary qualification to be PM? But it is Gordon whose photo I have on my bedside table, the Pride of Scotland.



Surely this man is a god?
 

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Viagra, sex, and pianist envy
By James Hordes







As a famous but iconoclastic pianist  - I'll get a better picture later, but I never really understood the instructions in those photo booths - I went to a concert recently. It featured a new sensational Chinese pianist, Miss To Tee. I can't remember much about what she was playing (it was one of those seriously uncool dudes, Beethoven, maybe) but I did notice that she certainly wasn't "flat". As I munched my way through a packet of Viagra tablets, and swelled to a climax with the melody, I said to myself, "Yes! This is what classical music is all about!"

Damian Thompson can keep his Bach (that Baroque wig he wears when he thinks nobody is watching doesn't suit him anyway). Give me To Tee tickling the ivories any day. Or the new CD set  from Cora Bimbo, in the deluxe edition with extra photos. YES!!!



Playing Fauré's Dolly Bird Suite
 

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Is Monbiot trying to kill me?
By James Goldenpile








I was eating my cold toast for breakfast today (no warming required), when I was struck by a terrible thought: is George Monbiot trying to kill me? Call me paranoid if you like, but I remember that the last time I appeared on Any Questions? with him, he was carrying an umbrella, and I am fairly sure that it was he who jabbed me in the leg half-way through the programme. I was explaining once more how Michael Mann had produced his hockey-stick graph by massaging his data, adding in his friends' telephone numbers and converting them to Fahrenheit. But the warmists are up to their dirty tricks as usual.

There's definitely a Libtard conspiracy to suppress the truth. Indeed, the man on the Sainsbury's fish counter looks suspiciously like Al Gore, and is obviously ready to slip me a poisoned haddock if I let my vigilance slip. But Monbiot is at the centre of it. He's a master of disguise too - the old lady who nearly barged me off the pavement yesterday didn't look anything like him, so that proves it.

Phew, it's cold today, isn't it? I told you there was an ice-age coming.



There's something sinister about him, don't you think?

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Concluded here.