What class are you?

Don't have time to use the BBC calculator to find out which social class you are in? Don't trust your butler to do it for you? Let us help.

Am I tourist class? Business class? First class?

Simply match yourself against one of these profiles, and see which one you have most in common with.

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Sorry, I could only find an old photo.

You live in a big house in London, with your husband and some dogs. Whenever you visit someone they force you to listen to a piece of music (always the same one, in fact). Your picture is on all the postage stamps. You really enjoy watching reruns of Morecambe and Wise on TV, but instead they make you attend Royal Variety Performances, where you are bored to death by Ricky Gervais and Marcus Brigstocke. Upper class.

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Owen Jones.

You grew up in the rough tough gritty wastelands of Stockport, the scion of a deprived family (a humble local authority worker and an IT lecturer who were forced to work in order to make ends meet). You went to a run-down polytechnic - well, Oxford, actually - and you write a column in the second-most-depraved newspaper in Britain. Not interested in girls. Working class, obviously.

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Old enough for a bus pass.

You are 76 years old, but still forced to work in order to make ends meet. Although an immigrant from South America, you recently moved into a tied cottage in Rome, and tend to dress simply. You have met many interesting people in the course of your work, and also Cormac Murphy-O'Connor. Very keen on religion, but not much of a hymn-singer. Lower-middle class.

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Is this one of your best friends?

Originally from Wales, you became an MP, and then one of the most senior politicians in the country. Interests include pies, croquet-playing, Jaguar cars, and claiming toilet seats on expenses. No obvious achievements when in politics, but was rewarded with a seat (well, two seats) in the House of Lords. Middle class.

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Do you like to dress up as Mrs Hudson in your spare time?

Born in the slums of Reading, you reached Oxford University on sheer brilliance after writing a prize essay about custard. At one stage you worked for the Catholic Herald, but now, instead of bringing religion into every conversation, you prefer to blame addiction for all the evils of the world. A brilliant pianist who is at much at home with the toccatas and fugues of Gladys Mills as the honky-tonk tunes of Johnny Bach. Intellectual, upper middle class.

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The Johnson twins

Coming from a privileged background, you attended Eton, and initially went for a job in journalism. After that everything started to go wrong, and in your degraded career you became first an MP and then a local government official. Occasionally, like the disgraced rector of Stiffkey, you appear in the public eye in a humiliating position. Evidently suffering from an incurable addiction to publicity. Upper middle class, but vulgar.

Well, I hope that helped. Not much spiritual nourishment today, sorry.

Directly-elected bishops

On the day when voters are rushing to the polling stations to elect their own police chiefs for the first time, it was announced today that from now on the Catholic Church would ensure that all future bishops were directly elected (as the American Catholic Countil recommends), rather than relying on a murky process involving the Pope, his Nuncio, and malicious gossip spread by well-known Catholic bloggers.

The Anglicans have had directly-elected bishops for some time.

Although for the time being all bishops will necessarily be male - a great disappointment to Prof. Tina Beattie, who had set her heart on a cosy diocese as a way of relaunching her career - the Catholic church is obliged by law to allow non-Catholics to stand for election.

We spoke to three people who are planning to throw their mitres into the ring, one from each of the largest political parties.

Boris Johnson, in cycling mitre.

Manifesto: Cripes! What Westminster needs is a go-ahead bishop who will build cycle paths in the Cathedral, in order to speed up the circulation of the jolly old customers. Then, in the longer term, we shall reduce congestion by moving Westminster Cathedral to a whizzo new island that we're building in the middle of the North Sea.

Religious opinions: Our new liturgy, beginning "What ho, God!" is guaranteed to get the Almighty's attention and give Him a friendly nudge towards smiting our enemies. Under my leadership, the Geiger counter of Catholomania will go zoink! off the scale, so put that in your pipe and smoke it, Romney!

Richard Dawkins, modelling the BBC-approved mitre.

Manifesto:The Catholic Church needs to rebrand itself as the Dawkins Foundation for Religion and Faith. At present it is too busy focusing on peripheral issues like God and morality, when it needs to be getting out there and preaching the Good News from my books. Science has solved all the problems of the Universe, and so we don't need any more scientists. Er, no, I'll have another go at that one...

Religious opinions: There's probably no God, but then again there may be, and I'm not being indecisive here. So I'm pretty much in touch with mainstream Liberal Catholic opinion on that one.

John Prescott, being measured for a bespoke XXXXXL mitre.

Manifesto: I may not be a pious Cathartic myself, but my friend Tony Blair certainly is, and he thinks it is important that New Labour should be at the heart of the Church. I see the job of a Bishop as one of derogation - so I shall sit in my pew mediocritating, while someone else does the work.

Religious opinions: The Bible is far too complicated for the average bishop in the street to understand, but "Give us this day our daily pies," or whatever the exact wording is, seems to be something I can relate to.

Let's all be pilgrims

For an imaginative holiday this autumn, why not become a pilgrim? No religious beliefs are necessary, as we highlight some of the excursions on offer.

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St Daryl's offers a liberal pilgrimage for those who don't think Vatican II went far enough.

Who is leading the pilgrimage? Hey, we don't have leaders as such; however, Fr Arthur will be at the front, walking backwards so that he can face the congregation at all times.

Where are we going? This is a bit of a mystery - we rather hope that Fr Arthur doesn't lead us over a cliff. But, hey, it doesn't matter where we're going, or even if we all go to the same place. There's no such thing as a sacred site in the 21st century.

Is everyone welcome? Of course. We will particularly welcome atheists, Muslims and Buddhists, who are currently under-represented in the modern Catholic church.

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The arms of New College, Oxford (the motto is being corrected to "Genes Makyth Man").

The Foundation Church of Dawkins offers a Dawkins-themed pilgrimage to the sacred places associated with Dawkins.

Visit the grave of Chrissie the chicken, about which Richard wrote a Ph.D. thesis! See the shop of the blind watchmaker who broke Richard's watch! Visit Marks and Spencer, where Dawkins buys his selfish jeans! Ride in a bus bearing the Dawkins message: "God is probably not riding on this bus!" See the police station to which Richard would have taken the Pope, if he had been allowed to arrest him!

Visit BBC Quarry Number 1, where the future Mrs Dawkins filmed many adventures

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Mormons! Come and see the sacred places visited by the Angel Mitromni!

Yes, until the year 2012, British Mormons felt left out: the keystone of the Mormon faith was that God's final message to mankind was delivered in America. But then the Angel Mitromni came to England, and now British Mormonism is flourishing!

The Angel Mitromni

Visit the holy city of London, where the Angel Mitromni spake unto Boris, saying, "How pathetic are thy Olympics!" See the Temple of Miliband, at which Mitromni spake unto Ed, saying "Nice to meet you, David. What do you do, exactly?"

The sacred plates (now washed) on which the Angel Mitromni's lunch was served

The Angel Mitromni's words have been transcribed in the Book of Gaffes, a work sacred to all British Mormons.

Ave! Magazine

Ave! Magazine has the exclusive photos of the 80th birthday party of Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor, at which a galaxy of celebrities joined to wish the cardinal Ad multos annos.

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The Sacred

Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor was clearly enjoying himself immensely.

Vincent Nichols sits by his mobile phone. "I'm expecting a man to call about a red hat," he explains.

Mgr Basil Loftus (centre) conducts a simple post-Vatican-II service of thanksgiving for the ministry of Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor.

Pope Benedict XVI (Keeper of the Keys) receives from Arthur Roche (Keeper of the Padlocks) a catalogue of those churches in Rome destined for closure.

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The semi-sacred

Damian Thompson, a Notting Hill journalist, grumbles that the carnival organizers asked him to play his piano more quietly, as they couldn't hear themselves revel.

Tony and Cherie Blair, who generously waived half their normal appearance fee, were the life and soul of the party.

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The definitely profane

Polly Toynbee explains how she went to Tuscany to see for herself how women were being oppressed by the Catholic Church.

"Am I overdressed?" quips Prince Harry, grandson of the Supreme Governor of the Church of England.

The Honourable Member for Bradford West (representing Julian Assange) shows Respect.

Boris Johnson and Kelly Brook arrive by bike. Lance Armstrong wanted to come as well, but is banned from cycling.

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One of the many gifts given to Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor

The Venus de Milo, lovingly restored by a little old lady.

Bad Hymns 8

Today's entry for the Eccles Bad Hymn Award is Imagine, by John Lennon. Unlike most of the entries we've seen so far, which are vaguely Christian in spirit, this is an atheist hymn, included because atheists are terribly misunderstood people who need the chance to explain themselves.

Imagine no possessions.

E: So welcome, Mr Lennon. Nice car you've got there.

JL: Yes, I can't imagine what life would be like without it!

E: Now, I'll bet you had a good laugh when the Olympic closing ceremony included the words "Imagine there's no countries?"

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2012 OLYMPICS MEDAL TABLE

EARTH: 301G 302S 302B
VENUS: 1G 0S 0B
PLANET THARG: 1G 0S 0B
The Venus score includes a gold medal for Miss Williams in the tennis.
The Planet Tharg score includes a special medal for Boris Johnson in the men's zip wire.

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Boris Johnson celebrates winning a gold medal.

JL: Yes, indeed. But you know, like, my true message is of universal peace and love, like.

E: Indeed. Now, how about "Imagine no religion?" Does that include Maharishi Mahesh Yogi?

Imagine no religion.

JL: Ah, we were deceived there, you know. We thought he was an enlightened spiritual leader, but he turned out to be just another dirty old man who wanted money. What's more, he promised to teach me to levitate, like, but I never got the hang of it.

Levitation. Do not try this without a swimming pool.

E: Well, keep reading my blog, and you may get the spiritual nourishment you are seeking. I see that Liverpool "John Lennon" Airport has taken another line from your hymn, "Above us only sky," as its motto.

JL: Yes; they should try and get the roof mended, like.

Above us only sky.

E: Well, thank you, Mr Lennon, I feel you've suffered enough today, so we won't mention Yoko Ono.

Taking the peace out of Lennon.

Bad Hymns 5

Today's entry for the Eccles Bad Hymn Award is Kum Ba Yah, or, as it is known in Yorkshire, Ee Ba Gum. This is a negro spiritual, which somehow escaped from the Dawkins slave plantations and ended up as a hymn in happy-clappy churches. We had some trouble tracking down the authors, since they quite understandably wanted to remain Anonymous, but in the end we succeeded.

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The authors of Kum ba yah

E: Welcome, Anonymous. Now, what exactly does "Kum ba yah" mean?

A: It means "Come by here," Eccles, and is a reference to Revelation 22:20, "Come, Lord Jesus."

E: I see, yes, it does sound a bit like "Come by here," spoken by a Yorkshireman with a mouthful of chip butties. Why not just write "Come by here?"

A: We wanted to make it more ethnic, you know. That way it doesn't sound so ridiculous when accompanied by guitars and drums.

E: I see we get exactly 30 repetitions of "Kum ba yah". What is it about the number 30? In the previous hymn we discussed, "Walk in the Light" is also repeated exactly 30 times.

A: Is it? Perhaps we'd better add another verse or two and claim the record?

E: Now, apart from "Kum ba yah," the words are very simple. We get "Someone’s laughing," "Someone’s crying," "Someone’s praying," and "Someone’s singing,"

A: Give us a day or two, and we could come up with some extra verses, then. "Someone's sneezing," "Someone's giggling," and "Someone's snoring?"

Someone's yawning, Lord, Kum ba yah.

E: Yes, that wouldn't make the hymn any worse. Who is this "Someone," anyway?

A: Do you know, we never really discovered that! When we were writing the hymn we were distracted by some noises from next door. Our secretary, not being very bright, thought that our complaints, "Someone's laughing," and so on, were part of the hymn we were dictating to her.

E: Well, thank you very much, Anonymous. I am sure that "Someone's laughing" indeed!

Someone's laughing, Lord, Kum ba yah.

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.

Electoin night party

Our host Damain Thopmson held an electoin night party to which he invited all his best freinds like Joanne Hairy and Vanilla Redgrave, wot he writes about in his luvvly blogg. Of course, de staff at Castle Thopmson excelled demselves in makin de preparatoins.

Luckily, Will Heaven de butler fuond dat Damain had been hoardin hair-restorrer in his garrage in case of a shortage, so my Anti Moly's grate thirst was taken care of (in fact, as she has reportted on Damain's blogg for all her many admirin readers, she was stung by a bee in a most embarassin place, and was feelin a little woeful). Here is my Anti, unable to sit down, but revivin herself wiv a glass of Damain's hair-restorrer.
 

Muvver Odone de cook had prepared some exottic Itallian delickacies wot you cant git in Enggland, such as macaronni and pizza. Old Lean de gardener had got Damain's grounds nice and tidy; in fact he aint very good wiv growin plants: since he installed crabon doixide filters in the greenhuoses in order to save de plannet, all de plants is wiltin away. And I aint sure dat de plannet is saved, niether. We also had Hannan de chuaffeur on dutty to ferry de guests home when dey had drunk too much - dis man's gotta part time job in Brussels as well, but he says it is badly paid and he has to take on extra jobs to make ends meet.

De guests of honour was of course Borris and Ken, who is grate pals of Damain's. Here we see Ken wiv an uniddentified freind, weepin his eyes out cos I told him dat he aint saved.

De church was well-represented, and Vincent Nicholas and Rowan Willaims came along for a snifter. Vincent Nicholas was full of fun - here you see him sneekily doin de rabit ears trick where you puts your hands behind someone's head so dat dey looks like dey got rabit ears, and so aint saved. Unfortunately he aint very good at it yet.

I said to de costume holly man, don't try doin dat trick to de Pop, buster, or you aint never gonna git dat red hat. Remember de sad storry of Barrack Obamma, who was rude to de Queen and is now personna non gratta (dat's traddy langwidge for "in de dog huose").

Actaully de Queen was at Damain's party too, and she was anggry cos she had just read dat Obamma liked eatin dogs. Dis might explane why after his last visit Winston de corgi was nowhere to be fuond - so perhaps Obamma had been literally in de dog huose. Dis is what we calls a diplomattic incident.

Well dis blogg is gettin a bit long, but it was an all-night party and a lot happened. Dere was one more geust I should mentoin, a charmin preist called Farver Pau, wot is a libberal Cathlic. He said "You looks like a handsome young lad, has you ever been to Exxeter?" I fink dat my spiritaul juorney is gonna take me to some interrestin places.

Boris steps in

Boris Johnson, Mayor of London, has blocked a bus campaign aimed at helping regular philanderers find a cure. 

NOT UNFAITHFUL! EX-UNFAITHFUL, POST-UNFAITHFUL AND PROUD. 

GET OVER IT!



Said Mr Johnson, "Cripes! It's clearly not on to suggest that serial adulterers can control themselves! London is a vibrant city tolerant of all forms of sexual activity - expecting Johnny Casanova to put his trousers on is bloody offensive, what?"

Meanwhile, the mayor continues to perform his essential mayoral duties, which mainly consist of getting himself re-elected. Provided that Ken Livingstone and his views continue to be publicised widely, Boris Johnson seems certain to succeed.

Amongst his official appointments today, Boris will be joining Archbishop Peter Smith to open a new convent, the Liberal Sisters of St Oona. Here we see the Mother Superior modelling her new Vatican II-approved habit.

 

"Jolly good show, what!" commented Mr Johnson. "That's what I like to see. Not stupid bus campaigns about morality."

Damain is arressted

We has had de most worryin news. As you know, we is grate freinds wiv Damain Thopmson, who visited us in Lost Angles a few months ago, and spent some time in de funny farm wiv us. We mannaged to save him, and he is no longer a Cathlic blogger (de bloody crazy hammster, as dey used to call him), but is now secrettly a follower of de Calumny Chappel. Such is de evangellical power of my bruvver Bosco's luvvly blogg.

Anyway, Damain decidded to attend a service at de Calumny Chappel in Londdon, and he got arressted! We fink it is de Pop to blame, as if you does apostassy de Pop torchers you. My bruvver Bosco told me dat so it must be true.

We is making all efforts to get him releesed, so dat he can write more luvvly bloggs about Joanne Hairy. We has got suport from de Mare of Londdon, Borris Jonhson, who is very sympathettic to de Calumny Chappel, we fink he may even be saved.

Bruvver Borris have sent a special mesage of symmpathy.

"Cripes! The bounders! Chin up, Damian old fruit, Boris will soon get you out of durance vile. Crikey, what a cad's trick to play on you, fellow scribbler!"

I apollogise for de spelling, I cut and passted Borris's e-male, and frankly we is still trying to decod it.

Anyway, dis photto shows dat Borris is alreddy negottiatin wiv de costume holly man Pop ("What ho, Pop!") So we hopes dat Damain will soon be releesed and writin more of his luvvly bloggs.

Anti Moly is very upset by de news. She has found sollace in drinkin lots of gin, but dis is expenssive, so I gotta put in an advert to pay for it.

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FOR SALE

VERY BIG HOUSE, ONLY ONE PREVOIUS OWNER (NOW DECAESED)

FREE BONNUS STATUE TO SCARE OFF BURGLERS

APPLY TO FARVER ARFUR, PREIST IN GOOD STANDIN AND ESTATE AGGENT

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Late news: Farver Arfur is also suporttin de "Releese Damain" campaing. "I has sent a letter to de Pop in Avingon," he says. I fink his adress book needs updattin.