The diary of a nobody

June 4th. Represented Ballydancer in a hurling match. The aim was to hurl as many insults at the Vatican as possible in 90 minutes. I managed to keep ranting for the whole period without taking a breath. "Well done, Father Flummery!" said the spectators.

Ladies' hurling. Of course the Vatican wants to stop it.

June 5th: Still in a state of open warfare with the Vatican. Went to the Ballydancer post office to collect my mail - they won't deliver it to the house since I poured a plate of Irish stew over the postman, mistaking him for my bishop.

My letter of complaint to Pope Benedict has been returned, marked "Gone away!" Apparently there's a new pope, called Francis. They kept that one a secret didn't they? I expect they did that to confuse me and my secret society CRAP - The Catholic Revolutionary Association of Priests.

The new Pope (in front, with giant fish). But nobody told Tony Flummery, did they?

June 6th: Read the Tablet. Very good, as is the National Catholic Reporter. They're taking up my case against the Vatican. "Justice for Flummery!" suggested that nice woman, Catherine Peppermint. They also suggest writing to Basil Loftus, who can always be relied on to say something to irritate Catholics.

June 7th: I am a great admirer of Enda Life, our Taoiseach, so I went into the street with a banner "Enda Life for Jesus." Enda's a fine Gael, the finest you ever saw. My brother Frankenstein works for him, you know. At the moment we are all campaigning for lots of lovely abortion in Ireland - if that doesn't annoy Pope Benedict Francis, I don't know what else will!

Enda Kenny plays "When Irish eyes are smiling" on a giant tin of shoe-polish.

June 8th: Spent the day working on my latest book, Judas Iscariot - the first rebel against the Vatican. The man was an inspiration to us all.

June 9th (Sunday): Said Mass at Ballydancer. It seems that there is a new translation of the Missal. It's terrible. I got as far as "consubstantial with the Father" and then fell to the ground in a fit, foaming at the mouth. It seems that I'll be spending next week in the Ballydancer Infirmary. I'll bet that the Vatican doesn't send anyone round with grapes.

Someone fixed this to my hospital bed! I suspect the CDF.

St George

April 23rd is St George's day, so if your real name happens to be Jorge Mario Bergoglio, or if you are English, Greek, Catalan, Bulgarian (and a whole lot more), or live in Preston (yes, really), Genoa, Rio (and a whole lot more), then you will be dancing in the streets today!

Of course, if you are a dragon, you will not be celebrating.

Some people who will not be celebrating quite so enthusiastically are the good folk of Bury St Edmunds. Until the middle ages, Edmund was the patron saint of England (he blogged under the name On the side of the Angles), and like George he was a martyr. Still, there is nothing to stop you wearing a sugar-beet in your button-hole on November 20th if you do wish to honour this great Suffolkman.

The Vikings win this round.

Georgia, Egypt, Romania, ... but not Ireland, of course, where St Patrick is celebrated. He's known for driving all the snakes out of Ireland, which seems to be slightly easier than driving all the dragons out of England - unless there weren't very many in the first place. But we must not forget Preston.

St George's church, Preston. Note the absence of dragons.

Ethiopia, Portugal, Iraq (???) ... Anyway, the villain of our story is the Emperor Diocletian, who for some reason didn't like Christians. "Nasty, vile, bigots!" he called them. Nothing changes much, does it? So on April 23rd 303 he tortured St George a little, just to make things more interesting, and then decapitated him. Probably a simple death from Viking arrows would have been more enjoyable.

St George, as seen by the Vatican.

Well, let's see the St George's flag, in its most usual manifestation - at least in England. Whenever the England football (soccer) team is in distress, which is every two years or so, the whole nation prays to St George - which is tough luck if the opponents are India, Ukraine, Serbia, ...

St George, pray for us all.

De return of Bruvver Bosco

My darlin bruvver gettin ready to visit a sacred shrine

Well, it was over 6 months since we heard much of my big bruvver Bosco (we left him in Callifornia sittin on a pole), but now we got news dat he is in England. Bosco tellephonned me and said "Eccles, I is goin to de Ollympic Games in London, so dat I can sabbotage de Vatican Ollympic team by throwin banana skins under dem. Dem costume holly men aint gonna git any meddles wiv me around."

Well I looked around, but it didn't seem dere was much of a Vatican team. Dey has recriuted Arthur Roche, de famuos ice-skater, but dat will be for de next Winter Ollympics, it seems.

Farver, is you sure dis is an Ollympic event?

Still, we did find some worryin signs of iddle worship, and I fink Bosco needs to come along and do some smitin.

Iddle worshipper seen in London

Bosco decided not to go to London, which is a grate pity, as we was all reddy to kill de fatted calf for de prodigious son. In fact we aint got a fatted calf, but Anti Moly was gonna make him a Cronish Pastie instead - bein a crone herself she got de authentick recipe. However, Bosco decided to go to Wallsingham, which is a holly place in Norfolk. Dey gots lotsa shrines dere, like Angliccan, Cathlic and Orthoddox, wot is all unsaved poeple, and Bosco was plannin to open a branch of de Calumny Chappel dere to show de piglrims what really saved poeople looks like.

Bosco is alreddy startin to make his mark there. De Cathlics has got a Slipper Chappel at Wallsingham, and Bosco bein a witty sort of pusson has left lotsa banana skins outside it - de ones he was gonna use for de Pop's Ollympic team - so dat all de piglrims is now slippin over, and swearin in a way dat piglrims doesnt often do.

A piglrim on de way to de Slipper Chappel

It seems dat Bosco aint too impressed by Wallsingham so far. "Iddles everywhere!" he screemed. Bosco, dere, if you is reedin dis blogg, perhaps you could comment from de perspecktive of a saved pusson, wot you fink of dis Sattanic iddle wot I seen in London?

Sattanic iddle seen in London

The Bishop's Letter

Your bishop

My dear brothers and sisters in Christ,

As you know the Pope has asked me to become the Secretary of the Congregation of Divine Worship and Discipline of the Sacraments in Rome (or Vice-Pope for short), and it is with great reluctance that I am leaving the good people of Leeds for pastures new, when my work is still undone.

The Vatican of the North

The Holy Father was concerned that I might find the Vatican a little claustrophobic, after the magnificence of Hinsley Hall, but I told him that we should all be prepared to make sacrifices in order to serve God to the best of our abilities.

My successor as Bishop of Leeds has not yet been appointed, but I shall bequeath to him my collection of padlocks, guaranteed to fit church doors of any size, so that he may continue to close churches in the diocese on a regular basis.

Encouraging local industry in Allerton Bywater

In a spirit of Christian Charity I shall ignore one caustic remark made by Damian Thompson, namely "I hope Gammarelli has stocked up on XXXL archiepiscopal rig..." Although I am no longer the slim and athletic ice-skater that I used to be, my enemies will find that I can still be very slippery on occasion.

A problem in the 2012 CBCEW Ice-Skating Championships

By the way, I still have 5,000 copies of my most recent video nasty, "The Leeds diocese - what can we close next?" in case anyone would like one.

God bless you all.
++ Arthur Roche, Vice-Pope elect.

Saying farewell to the Bishop