Clash of the Titans.

Yes, already they're calling it the Debate of the Century. Peter Hitchens and Damian Thompson, acknowledged experts on addiction, discuss the question: Whose book is better?

Peter Hitchens prepares to confront Damian Thompson.

For those who don't have time to listen to the Spectator podcast, we present a transcript of the debate between the two greatest intellectuals of our day.

DT: Well, I should point out straight away that I'm an expert on addiction, as I've written a best-selling book on the subject. I don't normally plug it, but it's called The Fix.

PH: I've written a best-selling book too. It's called The War We Never Fought: The British Establishment's Surrender to Drugs.

DT: Well, my book's better than your book. My friend Cristina says so.

PH: No, my book's better than your book. You see, I claim that addiction doesn't even exist.

DT: What? How dare you say that! I hate you!

Damian Thompson, modelling the new Michael Voris wig.

PH: Well, I'm sorry, but any addicts you see are purely a figment of your imagination.

DT: Look here, mate. Your brother Christopher may have been a lunatic left-wing atheist, but he was still much cleverer than you.

PH: Well, your sister Emma may be a lunatic left-wing atheist, but she's still much cleverer than you.

Emma Thompson expresses concerns over her brother Damian's latest meltdown.

DT: I'll get you for that. Wait until I write my Saturday column.

PH: Look, calm down, Damian. And please stop throwing cupcakes at me.

DT: I'll ruin you, as I did Johann Hari, David Cameron, and Keith O'Brien. Nobody will take you seriously again.

(Storms out, slams the door, and knocks over two secretaries, a security guard and a passing Monsignor. Returns to Telegraph Towers to launch a barrage of Twitter abuse and hostile blog posts. Phones Telegraph hit man and orders him to pour custard through Peter Hitchens's letter box.)

Preparing to fill Peter Hitchens's house full of custard.

PH: Sigh... it looks as though I'm not going to get that job on Telegraph blogs, after all.

The Da Mian Cod, and others

An excerpt from Dante Brown's new novel Infernal Cheek:

Renowned blood-crazed 50-something Telegraph blog supremo Damian Thompson was standing energetically in Berlin's famous Louvre Museum, at the heart of Piccadilly Square, admiring Michael Angelus's 1504 marble sculpture "David," which portrays the Arabian King David on the point of biting into a cupcake.

David. Note the cupcake in his left hand.

"Cupcakes," thought Damian pensively, meditating in a contemplative fashion on the highly addictive edible foodstuff, whereupon which he had written so movingly in his book on addiction, The Fix, which he himself had written. And this reminded him, it was the day on which the aforementioned memoir on addiction was to be published in paperback (his contacts at the heart of the publishing world had told him that this would be something like a hardback, only with softer covers).

The Fix, in new Hide-de-Vomit^(TM) yellow covers..

Damian had not blogged on addiction recently. His protège (a Latin word meaning "dogsbody"), slightly-renowned 30-something leftie atheist blogger Tom Chivers, had been promoted from his key job of assistant deputy strategic events supremo, a position in which he had been mainly responsible for making the tea, and was now allowed to write the occasional Telegraph column in the Saturday "moron" slot. This in turn freed up more chronological time for Damian, in which he could blog about religious matters from a Catholic - and sometimes papist - viewpoint.

Or - and here Damian crossed himself religiously, making a cross symbol familiar to all Christians since Pope Pius XII - there was another possibility. He could use his blog to plug his terrible book again!

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Father Xylophone writes:

I had a great day today with a Texas military firing squad.

Father X joins the liturgical Firing Squad.

I was delighted when the Texas militia contacted me, saying that an army chaplain had been court-martialled and found guilty of three capital offences, namely, (i) being a liberal; (ii) reading the National Catholic Reporter (aka Fishwrap); and (iii) arguing with me on my blog. The penalty for these was execution by firing squad, and as a priest in good standing who understands the importance of a well-armed priesthood, I was delighted to assist. (Aim at the black cassock, and stain it red, as I always say.)

I had of course been practising my sharp-shooting beforehand, so as not to let the side down by missing the target: the colonel complimented us on the unerring way in which we exercised our liturgical duty, blasting the renegade priest to smithereens.

QUAERITUR: Should one aim for the head, or the heart? Generally, Cannon Law says that one should aim for the head from Advent to Easter, and otherwise aim for the heart.

Don't mess with Fr X, unless you want to end up like this.

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Ordain a Lassie!

A new video has been released by the campaign for the ordination of dogs, called Ordain a Lassie. We do not have space to discuss this in detail, but the campaign is based on the observation that in some churches dogs are already being allowed to act as altar-servers.

"Bark!" the Herald angels sing.

Our return to Notting Hell

We decided to leave my bruvver Bosco hidin wiv Juliano Assangua in de Ecuadorian souvenir shop, and we came back to London to stay wiv our friend Damain Thopmson again. Dere is a lot goin on in London dis weekend, as I will rellate.

We finds ourselves in Little Giddin.

We is still havvin a little trubble wiv our Satan-Nav, and instead of takin' us to London, it landed us in a holly place called Little Giddin. Our chuaffeur, Hannan, tapped de machine, and it stopped its usaul dialogge, originally programmed by Anti Moly:,

Turn left, no I mean right, look where you is goin you nearly hit dat little old lady you poor old fool, aint you gonna get your eyes tested? Woeful.

Instead it waxed poetical and said:

If you came this way, taking any route, starting from anywhere, at any time or at any season, it would always be the same: you would have to put off sense and notion.

Which is very luvvly, but don't help much when you is lookin for de A1 Motorway.

We is lost.

Still, we got back to London finally, and found dat Damain Thopmson had buoght an oil painting, called Moaner Lissa, which he wanted to give to his great friend Cradinal Murphy-O'Connor as an 80th birthday present. It used to belong to de Luovre in Paris, but Damain is a rich man cos of de runaway success of his book "De Fix," and he made em a generuos offer.

Anti Moly had been readin about an old Spannish lady who restored frescos, and said "I can do better dan dat." So she set abuot restorin de Moaner Lissa. Sadly, I fink dat at de end it didn't look quite right.

Moaner Lissa, after restoratoin

Still, Damain says it will give Cradinal Cormac somefink to remember him by.

Damain was very excited too because he heard dat someone called Harry was phottographed wiv no clothes on. He was wonderin whevver it was Joanne Harry, de great juornalist, but it turns out to be a Prince.

Well, apart from Cradinal Cormac's birfday party, to which we is all invited, de other grate social event of de weekend is de Notting Hell Cranival. By traditoin, de gruonds of Castle Thopmson is given up to music and dancin, while Damain retires to de cellar and puts a pillow over his head. Dis sounds like fun.

Cradinal Cormac dancin at last year's Notting Hell Cranival

A day in the life of Damain Thopmson

A blood-crazed ferret

I shudder into wakefulness as my alarm clock rings (today it plays my friend James MacMillan's cantata "The Lord smote Glasgow Rangers"). Giving my teddy-bear, Benedict, a quick hug, I leap out of bed and get dressed. Breakfast is a simple affair of cupcakes and coffee.

Telegraph cupcakes. Can you spot Cristina Odone, Tim Stanley and Ed West?

Of course on Sundays I omit breakfast and go straight to the Oratory to look for liberal and modernist tendencies in the Latin Mass, but on weekdays I go to Telegraph Towers where I hold the highly important job of Editor of Telegraph Blogs. This means that all the bloggers kow-tow to me, bring me cupcakes, and laugh at my jokes. The only person I have to fear is the Telegraph's Editor, Tony Gallagher, who is a West Ham United fan, and regularly says things like "I don't like your face, Thompson, you little squirt. Beat it!" But now I've stopped blogging on religious topics, he doesn't kick me so often.

One big happy family of bloggers

Like most journalists, I spend most of the morning reading the papers, insulting people on Twitter, and swapping silly jokes. But Friday is my big day, as I have to write a Saturday column for the Telegraph's distinguished readership of London lawyers and retired colonels. So I look for pictures of fat people with silly hair or strange clothes, and weave a hilarious (or as my brainy friend Tom Chivers says "an hilarious") narrative about them.

Arthur Roche, always good for a laugh

The lost sheep?

My Telegraph column also provides the material for a very witty blog. It attracts comments from the intellectual elite, who post under names like GI Joe, Mahatmacoatmabag, An Aussie Carrot, Chap With Wings, Molybdenite, Cutley in Florence, Ernest Chaussette, and The Great Stalin. Most of these names are real, but I suspect that one or two may be made up!

Well, the day draws on, and in the evening there are many options open to me. Sometimes I stand outside Victoria station selling copies of my new book The Fix to commuters. "Big issue!" I shout, as I think that addiction is indeed a big issue for all of us. Many commuters agree, and some are so impressed that they give me 50p, saying "Get yourself some tea, young man," without even taking a copy of my book.

Did I mention that I have written a book?

This is the book of which the great Clive James, writing in the prestigious Wallamaloo Possum-Breeder's Gazette said "Some wonderful books have been written on the subject of addiction. If you want something totally different, try this book instead." Praise indeed, I'm sure you'll agree!

Another thing I may do in the evening is go home to Notting Hill, and play one of my 50,000 CDs. I am a very cultured chap, and I have 94 recordings of James MacMillan's Orchestral Variations on Donald, where's yer troosers? Often I lie in my bath, playing games with my plastic duck, Donata, and singing along to James's immortal music.

Before I know it, it's 9 p.m. and time for bed. A quick anonymous phone call to one of my enemies (e.g. Austin Ivereigh or Johann Hari), with a burst of demonic laughter, and we've reached the end of a perfect day. Off to bed with my teddy-bear!

Good night, Damian!

Internet addiction and Monsignor Ban O'ffee

By Damian Thompson (no photo available)

What the Internet can do to you - an addict in January and July 2012

One of the problems we have at the Telegraph is an addiction to the Internet. As can be seen from the pictures above, in the space of a few months it can turn a glamorous young woman into a raddled old harridan whose natural home would be the Chamber of Horrors at Madame Tussaud's. Luckily, I have found a solution: by writing dozens of tedious blogs about addiction I have managed to cut the readership of my own blog down to a handful of die-hards. A few more well-placed insults should soon get rid of them as well.

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Mgr Ban O'ffee

Those who think that Paul Inwood's contribution to the musical and liturgical life of the Portsmouth diocese should be classed with Jack the Ripper's contribution to the night life of London are pleased that an arch-traditionalist, Monsignor Ban O'ffee, has been appointed as the new bishop. Mgr O'ffee is expected to ban all celebrations of the Mass in English, which he regards as a barbarous modern tongue.

Paul Inwood's own songs, of which the most famous are those deeply spiritual works:

The God on the bus goes round and round, all day long,

Pontius Pilate sat on a wall, Pontius Pilate had a great fall, and

Bread-of-life Bread-of-life Jesus, man, bake me some bread as fast as You can,

will certainly not be wasted, as they will be recycled as episcopal toilet-paper.

---

Please buy this book, so that I can feed my addiction to CDs

Damian Thompson (under the pseudonym Sophie McKenzie) has written The Fix, a thrilling crime story. A stranger offers Damian cash to fix a football match. Will he do the right thing? This is a gripping football thriller, particularly suitable for struggling, reluctant and dyslexic teen readers (e.g. people who post on his blog under pseudonyms such as "phil_evans," "Markus River" and "Sanctimony").

The Book of St Richard, Chapter 4

Continued from Chapter 3

1. And the tragic story which Richard had written, Jean the shellfish, became exceedingly famous. Yeah, almost as famous as the Gospel according to St Damian, that which is called The Fix.

2. And yet these were lean and barren years for Richard, for he was not yet considered to be a great prophet. And so he continued to lecture in Oxford on the ways of the aardvark, etc.

3. For it is written that "aardvark never hurt anyone." However, since this is rather a bad joke, those who repeat it usually regret doing so.

An aardvark, not hurting anyone

4. For six long years he toiled, and then Richard wrote another book, The extended phenotype.

5. For if a book is popular, then the publisher doth demand a sequel, no matter how boring it may be. Just as many now quake in fear, thinking that we shall soon see The Son of Fix.

6. And the same maxim may apply to wives; for after seventeen years Richard put aside Marion, the companion of his bedchamber, and took unto himself a second wife, Eve.

7. Thus, although Marion was an expert in animal behaviour, some say that she could not control the animal behaviour of her husband.

8. For Richard begat a child, and called it Juliet Emma. And lo! His spirits rose and he said "My genes magnify the Lord, or they would do if He existed, which frankly He probably doesn't."

Congratulations, Dr Dawkins, your wife has given birth to some genes!

9. Then the famous ancestors of Richard, including Black Henry Dawkins the slave-driver, said to themselves, "Perchance young Richard is not such a wimp after all. For he hath passed on our genes, yeah, even unto the next generation."

10. Now Richard came to write a third book, and this is where his life changed. For he stopped being a boring old professional zoologist, and became a boring old professional atheist.

11. And it happened in this wise. Richard, being a man of great wealth, owned many oxen, and asses, and aardvarks. But his most valued possession was a clock.

12. For Richard said to himself, "I am the Lord of Time." Which will be interesting later when we come to discuss his third wife.

13. But one day the clock stopped, and he needs must take it to a clockmaker.

Clocks repaired by a blind clockmaker

14. But the clockmaker had been blind for many years, and when he returned the clock to Richard, it was damaged beyond hope.

15. And Richard said to himself, "Is this not a metaphor for the whole of Creation? I shall write a book, explaining why the World is in such a mess. Surely it was produced by a blind Creator?"

16. And I shall call the book The bloody useless clockmaker."

Continued in Chapter 5.

Damain is taken into care

I has not been bloggin much recently, and I entrusted de spiritaul nuorishment of my readers to some geust bloggers. Dis is cos after my Anti Moly was put into a care home, I was free, so I decidded to take a holliday. In fact I went to Sevile in Spain, cos my hair was gettin long and I had heard dat dey has good barbers in Sevile.

De hairdresser of Sevile

In de end de haircut wasn't great, but I buoght a new wig as a present for Damain Thopmson, and a jumbo-sized bottle of hair-restorrer for my dear Anti Moly, who is always so thirsty.

I also got appraoched by a woman called Carman wot works in a cigarete factory, but bein a saved pusson I resisted her charms and came back to London.

When I got back to Castle Thopmson de butler, Will Heaven, had shockin news for me. "Dr Thopmson is not at home," he said. "He has been taken into care."

Heaven explained to me dat Damain had been taken to St Cristina's Home for de Dangerously Addicted. After his luvvly book was published, he decided to devote all his time to pluggin it, and was unabble to stop goin on abuot it.

Suovenirs of DE FIX

All Damain's recent activities have been tailored towards making people aware of DE FIX, and he has filled his home wiv suovenirs rellated to DE FIX.

More suovenirs of DE FIX

Luckily Hannan de chuaffeur was avialable (sometimes he is away wiv his part-time job in Brusells, which involves makin speeches to empty rooms), and he drove me to St Cristina's.

Poor sick Damain

"Eccles," said Damain to me, "you is a loyal follower of my blogg. I was finkin dis weekend of writin a Saturday colunm about De Fix, Joanne Hairy, addictoin to medicine, De Fix, De Ordinariate, recent books by Tellegrahp bloggers, De Fix, and addictoin to cupcakes. Do you fink dat's a good idea? Maybe I could add somefink about addictoin to computters too. Dat way I cuold secretly plugg De Fix and noboddy wuold notice."

Well, dat seemed OK to me, but I was very worried by Damain's terrible addictoins. Some schoolgirls had bruoght him a get well soon present, you see.

Cupcakes for Damain

We will have to see what we can do to "fix" our dear Damain.

---

I must remember to blogg about my Anti Moly some time. She got into bad truoble for nude sunbathin, so she is still in custardy.

Anti Moly sunbathin

I has blotted out de rude bits, cos we saved pussons doesnt put pronography on our bloggs. But it reely is a woeful situatoin.

Celebrity endorsements

A new papal encyclical "Liber Fixus"

The Pope reading "The Fix"

Liber Fixus beati Damiani mirabilis est, et omnes fideles emptores sint (II euro apud Vaticani Emporium, cum "Vita Sanctae Cristinae Odonis"). Addictio problematicalis est, et Damianus infallibilis est, cum scribit calico-libae et cannabum*.

Paolo Gabriele

Nunc Paolo Gabriele, meus servus, in vinculis est, quia de multis addictionis passus est.

Oh hang it, they've just arrested Cardinal Google too, the one who does all my Latin translations. Still we're near the end, and my message is simple. Buy Thompson's book, to understand the real evils of the XXIst century. Blessings upon you all.

*of cupcakes and cannabis

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John Prescott writes

I used to be addicted to pies

I consider it a great honour and privethedge to be allowed to contribute a small testimonacle about Damian Thompson's book, "The Fix." In the days when I was the second most powerful man in Britain (responsible for so many portfailures at the same time that I never got round to dealing with any of them), I saw many examples of addition in the Cabernet. That creepy nancy-boy Mandelson, for example, addicted to lying, cheating and drinking blood - in the end we sent him to Brussels, the only place where this was considered normal. Then there was Brown, addicted to violence and brutality - we tried making him Prime Minister, but this didn't cure him.

You're nicked, sunshine!

As you may know, I am hoping to become an elected police chief. In this, I have the full support of the criminal fratality, who say that they have always thought of me as a "Pig," and are confident that I will do nothing to upset their traditional way of life. However, I shall certainly make it a priory to deal with addition, and maybe even subtraction as well!

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Lord Justice Leveson writes

I just can't stop asking questions

Some of you may have heard of the Leveson Enquiry, which I have been running since 1997. It started off as an enquiry into the death of Princess Diana, and I am pleased to say that Mohamed Fayed was finally able to leave the court without a stain on his straitjacket. It then turned into an investigation of Tony Blair's addiction to declaring war on unlikely countries at the drop of a hat (thanks to him, we are still technically at war with Finland, New Zealand and the Vatican, but we expect to surrender any day now). Now new evidence has emerged, and we are investigating phone-tapping, e-mail hacking, and all the other standard methods by which journalists get stories - apart from simply making them up, of course.

Rebekah Brooks - addicted to evil

I hope that Damian Thompson's excellent book will help poor Rebekah Brooks come to terms with her many addictions, which go far beyond mere cupcakes.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking of joining forces with Damian Thompson, and launching a far-reaching enquiry into all aspects of addiction. I had promised my wife to give up enquiries, but another year or two can't hurt, can it?

Summer quiz

Send your answers to the following questions to Bruvver Eccles, c/o Castle Thompson, Notting Hill, London by 8th June 2012. The winner gets a copy of Damian Thompson's latest book (can't remember the name right now). The judge's decision is final.

1. When Richard Dawkins appeared on Mastermind, his special subject was:
(a) chickens;
(b) theology;
(c) Dr Who assistants;
(d) manure.

2. The title of Damian Thompson's new book is:
(a) The Fox;
(b) The Fax;

(c) The Fecks;
(d) The Fix.

3. Which of the following is not a Catholic in good standing?
(a) Tina Beattie;
(b) Sr Margaret Farley;
(c) Hans Küng;
(d) All of them.

4. Vincent Nichols prays nightly for:
(a) red shoes like the Pope has;
(b) a red hat like Cormac Murphy-O'Connor has;
(c) a red revolution;
(d) a red-shirted football team.

5. Which addiction is NOT mentioned in Damian Thompson's latest book?
(a) cupcakes;
(b) cannabis;
(c) hair restorer;
(d) the Internet.

6. Which Telegraph blogger is this?

(a) Nasty Norman Tebbit;
(b) Cheeky Tom Chivers;
(c) Magnificent Mary Riddell;
(d) Dashing Damian Thompson.

7. Sr Margaret Farley's next book will be called:
(a) More abortions, please! A Catholic looks at pregnancy.
(b) Did we misjudge King Herod? The Massacre of the Innocents reappraised.
(c) Go and sin some more: a new look at good and evil.
(d) Why the Pope is not saved, but I am.

8. Polly Toynbee's real name is:
(a) Polly Technic;
(b) Beelzebub Toynbee;
(c) Mary Louisa Toynbee;
(d) Polyphema, Gran Signora de Toscana.

9. John Sentamu will not be the next Archbishop of Canterbury because:
(a) he has rather traditional beliefs;
(b) he's, well, er, slightly dark-skinned;
(c) he's got some front teeth missing;
(d) his dress sense is, well, er...

10. Damian Thompson's next book will be:
(a) Gladys Mills, the official biography;
(b) How I learned to love the Magic Circle;
(c) Celebrities and their hairstyles;
(d) 1,000,000 essential CDs.

11. What is the solution to the "Vatileaks" mystery?
(a) The butler did it.
(b) The Pope did it.
(c) The Reverend Green in the chapel with the lead piping.
(d) Father Brown will tell us.

12. What does this picture show?

(a) a rather plain woman bishop in the Church of Scotland;
(b) a licensed killer about to finish off the notorious Rosa Klebb;
(c) a typical resident of the Bahamas;
(d) an entrant for the "wrestling the old lady" event in the Highland Games.

It's Fix Weekend

From the Sunday Telegraph

Britain continues its four-day celebration of Damian Thompson's "The Fix," a work widely regarded as God's "Third Testament," and already a runaway best-seller.

God save the Dame

Yesterday, we heard Katherine Jenkins singing "God Save the Dame," and today a mighty flotilla of boats has been assembled, including several state-of-the-art ships from the British Navy. It will process down the Thames while loyal readers of Damian Thompson's blog wave flags.

A mighty flotilla

There will also be street parties, where cupcakes will be served in honour of Dr Thompson's message: why don't heroin addicts try cupcakes instead?

An alternative to heroin

As "The Fix" sells its 50-millionth copy, Damian Thompson himself is thinking of ways of spending his newly-acquired wealth. We learn that he has his eyes on a small palace in London, currently occupied by an elderly couple who may be happier in a care home.

A house fit for a blogger

However, not everyone appreciates Dr Thompson's book. A spokesman for the Guardian newspaper said "This is a typically fascist book from a right-wing nutjob who wants to repress the workers by claiming that addiction isn't a disease. Obviously he wrote the book in order to pursue his hidden agenda of closing down Alcoholics Anonymous. Almost certainly the book is sexist and homophobic as well. Did Che Guevara die in vain?"

Daddy, are you sober enough to read me a story from "The Fix"?

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Bruvver Eccles writes: in fact moving Damain to a bigger huose aint gonna be dat easy. As a Cathlic he naturally has a large collectoin of iddles dat he kisses regularly, and he will want to take dem wiv him.

De iddle room