The Blog, by Franz Kafka

Nobody has identified Kafka's reference to the Governor (below): some say he is intended to represent a bishop, others that he is a headmaster or a vice-chancellor. In the end, it doesn't really matter.

Someone must have been telling lies about Josef K.: he knew he had done nothing wrong but, one morning, he was arrested. As he switched off his computer and prepared to leave the house, there was a knock on the door and a man entered. "Who are you?" asked K. The man did not reply directly, but told K. that he was under arrest. "Arrest?" asked K. "By whose authority?" The man explained that he came at the order of the Governor, who was unhappy with K.'s blogging.

The Governor.

The Governor was man who held great power over him. "What have I done wrong?" asked K. "That's something we're not allowed to tell you." Another man entered and added, "Go into your room and wait there. Proceedings are under way and you'll learn about everything all in good time. Meanwhile, you'll stop blogging, if you know what's good for you."

"I've done nothing but tell the truth on my blog," explained K. "He admits it," said the first man. "Make a note of his confession." "He doesn't have the Governor's authority to tell the truth on his blog," said the second man. "He'd have done much better to write a totally uncritical blog, saying 'More kudos to the Governor!' every time his master did something remotely praiseworthy."

More kudus!

"What will happen to me?" asked K. "We can't tell you that," said the first man. "Any punishment will be entirely voluntary, although of course you won't be able to escape it. We can't even tell you how long it will last, as that's a secret known only to the Governor."

"People were complaining," said the second man. "Who were they?" asked K. "We're not allowed to tell you," replied the man. "Just accept your punishment without resisting." "Well, it will give me an opportunity for prayer and reflection," said K. "I know the Governor doesn't go in for that sort of thing, but I do find it helpful."

An opportunity for prayer and reflection.

"Look," said the first man. "Will you stop bringing religion into everything?" "You might consider the case of Tina B.," said the second man. "She blogs, but she follows a totally uncontroversial liberal secular agenda. As a result she is worshipped as a demi-goddess. Nobody ever told her to shut her Kuchenloch."

"We're not here to help convicted criminals," added the first man kindly, "but let me tell you something. You made the mistake of blogging under your own name, so that your enemies could track you down. Now you're in deep trouble. Why, you didn't even password-protect the most controversial posts."

K. was reminded of the case of the famous blogger Bruvver E., whose passion for the truth was legendary. Nobody knew or cared who he was, apart from an obsessive man in the South of England, who had run up a huge telephone bill by phoning up random people called Eccles and screaming "Aha!" at them.

Mr E.C. Cleese? Aha! Your secret is out!

"Will I see the Governor?" asked K. "I must plead my case. After all, I was merely pointing out certain dangers that threaten us all." "See him?" asked the first man. "Of course you can't see him. He has issued a statement saying you are guilty, and that is final. Just accept that his high status means that his decisions can't be questioned." "You should have appealed to his vanity," said the second man. "Even if his own writings might be rejected by Bryony G. as being too banal, you must always praise him."

K. became silent - for a long time...

Damian's Last Post

From Saturday's Daily Telegraph, or possibly not.

As most people will know by now, Damian Thompson is leaving the Daily Telegraph after an entirely amicable beating up by "self-content officer", "editor-in-chief" and "supreme commander", Jason Seiken. This blog has been given exclusive rights to the Dame's last Telegraph column, the one that was never actually printed.

Jason Seiken - he wants you to consume great content. Or something.

Just what is happening at the Telegraph? Mekon lookalike Jason Seiken has sacked nearly all the staff and from now is going to write the entire newspaper himself. However, all is not lost: reports are coming in that my friend Brainy Gordon is still on board. Brainy is known for her tasteful memoir The wrong knickers; some have compared her descriptions of the angst felt by young ladies seeking men to Jane Austen at her best ("Fie, Mr Bingley! You have sent me the bloomers of Lady Catherine de Bourgh by mistake!"). Brainy is said to be working on a sequel, to be called The wrong bra, or My cup runneth over. My spies tell me that she is in line to become the new business editor of the Telegraph.

Professor Gordon. The badge reminds her how to spell her own name.

I myself am moving on to pastures new. After giving the best years of my life to the Telegraph and recruiting such star bloggers as James Delingpole, David Lindsay, Martin Salter, Gerald Warner, and George Pitcher, I have decided to take my talents elsewhere. Of course I do have my regular column at the Spectator, in which I introduce readers to composers they may never have heard of before, such as the "three Bs" - Bach, Beethoven and Mozart - but this hardly pays enough to keep me in CDs.

So I am currently weighing up various offers: the Australian Pottymouth Gazette, incorporating Rolf Harris's Kangaroo-tying Weekly, is looking for a new correspondent specialising in Catholicism, cupcakes and custard, and I may be in with a chance there. Alternatively, my old friend Cardinal Vincent Nichols has been getting a bad press lately - mostly from me - so I am thinking of offering my services as his new press officer.

Of course, since he suppressed the Protect the Pope blog, Bishop Campbell has also started feeling unwanted. I have written to him, offering to revive the PtP blog, leavening its usual heretic-smiting with a few witty anecdotes about Gladys Mills and Noele Gordon (mother of my friend Brainy!) We'll see if he bites!

Bishop Campbell asks for an extra helping of custard.

One of the great things about my blog is the number of daughter blogs that it has inspired. I regularly read Mundabor's blog, although I don't really understand his references to Pope Quisling and the Sodo-Nazis - I think they must be some sort of rock group.

I even read Bosco's blog!

Then there are Catholicism Pure and Simple, Eccles is Saved, All along the watchtower, the donkey man, etc. Of course my favourite blog of all is On the Side of the Angels, written by my great friend the Archbishop of Corby.

Dude, aren't you homologising the contradictorily monolithic contextualisms of mimetic space, by disregarding the tensely granulated actualities of logocentric wholeness?

So, what else is happening at the Telegraph? There's still a strong religious presence, both from the slightly silly wing of the Catholic Church (Tim Stanley) and the Monster Raving Pelosi church (Cristina Odone); Geoffrey Lean (aged 107) is there to warn us of the dangers of a new technology called the "horseless carriage"; and Dan Hodges is ready to give his expert opinion on the World Cup (apparently England are hot favourites), UKIP (not likely to get any MEPs), and Ed Miliband (a man of impeccable table manners).

The affable Dan Hodges.

Although I am sorry to let my blogging sheep wander unattended, I have every confidence that they will continue to generate click-bait by writing controversial articles, such as "Do Muslims cause climate change, or should we be blaming Steve Gerrard?"

So, farewell to all the readers of my blog, most of whom were banned long ago by my zealous team of Sri Lankan "muddlerators" (thanks, Eccles!) as soon as they said anything intelligent. I'm not generally in favour of euthanasia, but I've arranged for the last remaining trolls - mainly mollusc-molesters, Dawkinsites, incognito deacons, Fabian teenage girls, and of course a coach-load of "Phil" sockpuppets - to be sent to the Lord Falconer Death Camp, as they clearly cannot live without me. Byeee!

Freed from the evil Telegraph Empire, Damian looks 20 years younger already!

Learn Latin, or play Bingo

First, Josephus Shavius of the Latin Mass Society teaches us a new word.

Josephus Shavius, Oxford's answer to Maria Barba.

Today's Latin word, often used by those interested in the traditional Latin Mass, is Loftus, meaning a buffoon or clown.

Loftus, a clown (nominative),
Lofte, O clown (vocative),
Loftum, a clown (accusative),
Lofti, of a clown (genitive),
Lofto, to a clown (dative),
Lofto, by with or from a clown (ablative).

The plural form is Lofti, Lofti, Loftos, Loftorum, Loftis, Loftis.

O Tempora! O Lofti!

A good example of the use of Loftus can be found in Cicero's famous cry against a plague of superannuated priests writing nonsensical essays: O Tempora! O Lofti! This is usually translated as O (Catholic) Times! O Clowns!

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Next, as Damian Thompson's blog becomes even more like a parody of this one, there is still one good reason to read it.

Damian Bingo!

Yes, make yourself some Bingo cards similar to the one above, and tick off the themes as they (inevitably) appear in Damian's Saturday column.

Noele Gordon, grandmother of Bryony (just for you, Damian).

Anti wins a prize

As you all know, my Grate-Anti Moly is a grate admirrer of de fammous blogger Cuttley, who she describes as "saintly, piuos, holly and wise, and not like dat clique of traddy Cathlics." Indeed, when Bosco knocked de head off a stateu of St Peter a month ago, she had anuvver head made, so dat she had an iddle of Cuttley to worhsip. Here it is again.

Anyway, de Tellegrahp held a compettition "Complete de folowwin in not more than 12 extra words: 'My favuorite Tellegrahp blogger is X X becuase ...' and win a stateu of him or her."

Dat's a real chalenge. Does you go for de meek and humble Delingpol what is always warnin us about crabon emmisions? Perhaps de intelect of Broiny Gorddon is what excites you? Or de beuaty of Mary Riddle? Dere is our old freind Damain Thopmson who has done more dan anyone else allive to warn us about de evil Joanne Hairy. Or perhaps you likes Stephen Huogh what plays de pianner in pubs? Or dere's Nomran Tebit and Daneil Hannann, what knows about currant afairs, what a pity dey never went into politicks. Pussonally, I likes wise old Goeffrey Lean who has been an envroinmental coresspondent for 80 years and knows about de dangers of horseless carraiges.

"I's gonna win dis," said Anti Moly. Dis is what she entered.

"My favuorite Tellegrahp blogger is Tom Chivvers becuase he is kind, freindly, cheerfull, cheeky, handsome, sensible, and not a Cathlic."

Anti won, and here is de stattue dat dey has just delivvered. It goes well wiv de stattue of Cuttley.

Of course Tom Chivvers aint saved, but we has high hopes of gettin him to come along to de Calumny Chappel some time, dressed as a clown.

I has just got time to show you a fambly snapp. Dis is my Anti Moly gate crashin de royal weddin of Willaim and Katte, disgiused as a nun (she is de old one wot looks cross). Some time I is gonna have to find out how dis happened. Anti Moly says she was dere incoggnito as a seccret agent to prottect de happy cuople, but it's more likely dat she was simply runnin away from de pollice and took a wrong turning.