Did nobody tell Sister Ruth that we don't have a "dress-down Friday"?
One or two part-time religious correspondents remain. At the Telegraph there is John Bingham, who does "social and religious affairs", whatever that might be - it's not as silly a title as "strategic events coordinator", which was how Tom Chivers used to earn his daily crust - and of course there is also the notorious Damian Thompson, who writes about religion and custard.
Damian Thompson chats to an old friend.
Then newspapers such as the Guardian can always pump something into Sir Simon Jenkins in order to get a foaming-at-the-mouth rant, blaming religion for everything from HS2 to the World Cup fiasco.
Of course, religion is increasingly irrelevant to modern life. When the Catholic Church decided to canonize Popes John-Paul II and John XXIII, nobody turned up, and the Pope was left talking to an empty St Peter's Square. When the Anglicans decided to ordain women as bishops, nobody really cared one way or the other: the dead bodies on the floor of the synod were just an accident caused by someone's finger slipping while he was cutting sandwiches.
Even Michelle Obama's moment of honesty went unnoticed.
There do remain "niche" newspapers for the religious maniac: the Church Times,
which is running a feature on How To Cut Sandwiches At A Synod Without Killing Ten
Passers-By; also, numerous Catholic papers such as the Tablet, which
publishes articles such as Which Pope Do We Hate The Most?
Then there's the Catholic Times with
its comedy column
Loony Lofty and his Hilarious
Heresies Re-interpretations of Scripture.
Of course, Ruth Gledhill was a national institution. Being the daughter of vicar, the niece of a Pope, the great-aunt of a Chief Rabbi, and the uncle of an Imam, she has religion in her blood. We shall not see her like again.