English Archbishops get tough

"Go ahead, make my day, Cameron."

In a sudden change of direction, Archbishops Vincent Nichols and Peter Smith, previously regarded as lovable fluffy bunnies who wouldn't say "Boo!" to a goose, have turned on David Cameron and told him in no uncertain terms where to stick his proposals for same-sex marriage.

A goose, one of many in fear of an archiepiscopal booing.

It is believed that the terrible two, "Dirty Vinny" and "Rambo Pete" have been watching their opposite numbers in Scotland, and decided to emulate them. The trigger was perhaps the carefully-written statement from "Big Joe" Devine, the "Mr Big" of Motherwell, which said, "Watch yer step, Cameron, ur I'll be givin' ye a Glasgae kiss, Jimmy, d'ye ken?"

Don't cross Big Joe Devine.

It has also been speculated that the sudden vehemence shown by the London archbishops is partly due to a change of diet. Instead of their traditional London fare of jellied eels, or pie and mash, the two bishops have been seen partaking of a nourishing meal of haggis O'Brien with neeps Tartaglia, washed down with Glen Toal whisky.

Other Catholic Bishops are preparing to enter the debate.

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The results of the 2011 census are now being released. The percentage of Anglican clergy believing in God is reported to be 20% (down 10% from 2001). On the other hand, the percentage of atheists believing in Richard Dawkins is a mere 5% (no change there, then).

What's happened to all my worshippers?

Four out of ten old ladies drink hair-restorer

A geust blogg from Damain Thopmson
 

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Up to 40% of old ladies drink hair-restorer, according to recent research undertaken by the University of Adelaide. My own informal observations bear this out, as Patient M, a ridiculously old lady who is also currently my guest in Castle Thompson - as is her great-nephew, a charming man called Eccles - has turned out to be a consumer of many unusual products.

My butler, Will Heaven, reports that Anti Moly, as Eccles calls her, began by drinking my supplies of gin and whisky, but, when he started to lock these up, she turned to other substances.

Did I mention that I have written a book on addiction, called The Fix? Do buy a copy. I am hoping that Eccles will agree to serialize excerpts on his lovely blog. Anyway, in my book I treat all sorts of addictions and obsessions: for example, there is a biologist in South America who is addicted to stories of clerical child abuse, having a whole laboratory wall decorated with stories from the Puffington Post and the New Yawn Times. Another strange addiction I write about is cinnabons, a sticky cake much loved by Yorkshire bishops.

Returning to Patient M, once she had run out of conventional alcoholic drinks, she drank a bottle of my Geoffrey Lean hair-restorer; then she went to the garage and drank my supply of Delinpol anti-freeze (much to the annoyance of Hannan my chauffeur). Finally, getting desperate, she drank a bottle of her own Possumgon, a product she uses to protect the roof of her Australian home from enthusiastic marsupials.

Her drinking is irregular, but when she decides to have a "binge" or "meltdown," she is often seen on the internet, posting insults on blogs (including my own). For some reasons she particularly hates Catholics, especially serious ones.

Patient M seems to be immune to poison, according to her nephew Eccles. The old photograph below shows M and her friend informing a visitor that they had added some arsenic to his drink, "To give it some bite."

Well, it's difficult to know what to do in such cases, but if enough people buy my book The Fix, I will be able to do some more in-depth research (Tenerife looks like a promising place to start).

New Year

Well a happy new year to everrybody from us in de Calumny Chappel wot is saved.

I asked Farver Arfur, our visitin preist, what new year revolutions he was gonna make and he got furiuos wiv me. "At 23.21 on December 31st you asked me what new year revolutions I was makin. I see dat you was implying dat my condduct is in some way less dan perfect. Insultin a preist in good stand-in like dat is a gross breech of Catacom Nubmer 2477 of de Cathlic Churhc, and we gonna have to punnish you. Does you want to be executted or burnt at de steak?"



Well I aint a Cathlic, so Farver Arfur aint got de morral high gruond here, and he had to give up de idea of testin out de new ax what he was givven for Chritsmas.

So I asked de same quetsion of Anti Moly, and she gave me a strange repply, viz. "Yer heid's fou o mince. So why wiz awa' an bile yer heid red carded?" Sometimes she finks she got Scotch ancesstry - she says she is rellated to sevveral clans, such as de Bells, de Dewars, de Famuos Gruose, de Glenfidditch and de Macalan. Dis belieif comes on specailly at de start of de year, cos she can cellebrate Hoggmany, which is when Scotch poeple goes to sleep for a week.



Of cuorse de Austrialans has also got a good tradditoin of makin whisky, dey got names like Wallabby's Armpit, Glen Didgeridoo and Pottymouth Hag Distillery.

Eventaully we persauded Anti Moly to make a new year revolution, to be nice to everryone. "You is right, Eccles, you nubmskull," she said. "From now on I aint gonna call poeple woeful traddy Cathlic sockpoppets, or at least not more than twenty times a day." Well, it's a start, I suppose.

We aint heard much from my bruvver Bosco (Pop Bozodict) lately. He had some trubble writtin a pappal bull what didnt want to be written, and is now restin for a while.



We finks it may be one of dem Cyberbulls wot we is allways bein warned abuot.

Farver Arfur at churhc

Our friend Farver Arfur dont live ruond here pernamently, so he dont have a churhc of his own. Todday he was standin in for Fr X. Pell de Mons at our local Cathlic churhc, cos Fr Pell was away bein treeted for nervuous exhaustoin. Dis may be becos Bosco tried to set his prebsyterry on fire as an eccumanic gessture.

We was gonna go along to see what Fr Arfur had to say, but we had probblems wiv Anti Moly, who was up all nihgt wiv roflitis. "Tee hee hee, sky faireys," she giggled. "A relligoin invented by bronze-age goat hurds, ha ha ha. De Pop's got red shoes, hee hee hee. Get goggling!" Den her mood changed to traggedy. "Pretty sad, eh. Woefull. Waaaahhhhh."



Dis is a book dat I was gonna get Anti Moly some time, it mentoins her old admirrer, Herrman Gorring, wot fuond her too agressive for his tastes. But maybe we shuoldnt stir up past trageddies.

I suppose you is gonna say dat we dealt wiv Anti Moly's roflitis probblem by givvin her gin, dat's de sort of mallicoius comments dey is allways makin about my Grate Anti. Nope, in fact we gave her a bowl of vintage mallt Austrialan whisky, it's called Glenn McGrath.

So we was late for de churhc, and we turned up just as de folks was leavin. Usaully dey gets a large congreggation of unsaved poeple, but dis week all we saw was Farver Arfur standin outside de churhc talkin to one old lady. De rest must have seen him commin.



We listened to de freidnly wellcome dat Farver Arfur was givvin to de sweet old lady.

"Madam, at 10.10 a.m. todday, you said 'I has greatly sinned in my thuoghts and in my words, in what I has done and in what I has failed to do, thruogh my fualt, thruogh my fualt, thruogh my most grievous fault.' I is gonna take dat as a confession, and hold it against you for de rest of your life. Poeple like you shuoldnt be allowed in de churhc."

As de old lady burst into tears and hobbled away, Farver Arfur explaned dat dis week he was preechin about sheeps and goats. He is compilin dossierrs on all de poeple he knows, so dat he can tell dem dat dey is all goats.

Bosco and me aint goats, indeed Bosco is a hihgly resppected figger at de Calumny Chappel. He has been givvin instructoin to de kiddies Bibble class, so dat some of dem may get saved like us. De kids was asked to draw a demmon, and dis was de best entry. Dere is somethink wrong wiv it, but I aint worked out what it is.



I aint mentoined Bosco's lycanthroppy todday. We is hopin dat until de moon is full we can keep it under controll. As you see from de pitcher bellow, Bosco is allmost managin to lead a normall life. Dont my bruvver look sweet?