From Russia with Hate

The scene: KGB Headquarters, Moscow. In walks agent 666, "licensed to kirill", Vladimir Mikhailovich Gundyayev, code name Patriarch Kirill. He gives dear Miss Moneyrouble an affectionate greeting, and she tells him that "V" wants to see him.

"Ah! Agent 666, I've been waiting to see you, " says V, who is sitting, as is customary, without a shirt on, supposedly to impress the peasants with the near 70-year-old's virility. "Sit down, and have a vodka martini. Stirred but not shaken, wasn't it?"

The name's Kirill. Patriarch Kirill.

Kirill is too polite to contradict V - or rather he knows that it would be unwise. V goes on to outline the plot.

"You've been a reliable agent ever since you joined us in the KGB in good old Andropov's day. I remember your joking that too much writing subversive literature would make your Andropov! Remind me what you've done since."

"I've been underground for 40 years now, Comrade V, rising gradually in the Russian Orthodox Church. We recruited Dr Nyet and Bishop Ernst Stavrovich Blofeld, and then took over the SPECTATOR organization..."

"Yes, yes, well done, 666."

Kirill again, only without the fancy dress.

"Now, as you know, 666, the Ukrainians have invaded Mother Russia, and we are at war. It is your job to bring the entire Christian world onto our side. What can you do?"

"No problem, V. I will make a speech describing our enemies as 'evil forces' and saying 'we must not allow dark and hostile external forces to laugh at us'. I pinched that from one of Pope Francis's sermons about the Latin Mass."

"Yes, yes, we are certain to win the propaganda war. President Macron has already phoned me three times in order to surrender. But I am worried by Pope Francis. He broke with tradition and invited himself round to the Russian Embassy for tea."

"I see: there's a serious danger here, supreme commander. What if Pope Francis comes out on our side? Then the whole Catholic Church will be against us!"

"You have trouble with rigid neo-Pelagians? Why, so do I!"

"I think we're safe until his next aeroplane interview, 666. But keep up the good work. By the way does that cross on your hat really turn into a guided missile? I must compliment Q."

Not to be continued. I hope.

How to have a good Mass in Time of Plague

Whether or not he is one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Plague, in the form of the Coronavirus, is making a severe nuisance of Himself, and it is important to know how we should take precautions against him when attending Mass.

"When's Climate Change turning up?"

Celebrate ad orientem. Celebrating versus populum obviously increases the risk that the priest may catch something from the coughing congregation, and should be suspended.

Use only Latin. Try saying something liturgical in Latin, and then try saying the same thing in Vernacular. You will see that when speaking Latin your mouth does not open so widely, and thus the risk of transmitting and receiving germs is reduced. Those traditionalists knew a thing or two!

99% of doctors say NO to holding hands for the "Our Father".

Avoid bad hymns. Scientific studies have shown that singing "Gather us in," "Lord of the Dance," "Kumbayah," or "Shine, Jesus, Shine" puts a strain on the vocal muscles, as well as the brain, and makes one more susceptible to viruses. Safest of all is Gregorian chant, which can mostly be sung with the mouth closed.

No more sign of peace. I was lucky this morning, in that the choir belted into the Agnus Dei very quickly, and only two people had a chance to share their germs with me (three more were left fuming, as I switched off my friendly expression and tried looking pious instead). In general, a simple handshake can transmit 100000000000000000000000 bugs, so be warned. Grinning distantly is safest, but kicking your opponent neighbour will also work if he insists on physical contact.

"Peace be with you."

Wear earmuffs. This will protect you against bad doctrine in the homily far better than handwash and a face mask would.

Remove all pests from the church. Traditionally, illnesses have been transmitted by pests. So clear your church of all rats, spiders, Jesuits, and anything else that may carry disease.

Ban dancing. Bad news for Tagle, the Dancing Cardinal, but it's obvious that prancing around like a teenager in a disco is going to spread germs widely. So stop!

Spot the ninny. (Hint: they are all ninnies.)

Stay at home and watch it on television. Yes but, as I have explained before, this will only allow you to watch Heaven on television, rather than attend in person. So don't do it for very long.

Brexodus 14: Maysis maketh a deal

Continued from Chapter 13

1. For four months after the departure of King David Davis and Bo-sis the son of John, the mighty leader May-sis continued to guide the children of Bri-tain.

2. And a new prophet was appointed, Dominus the Raabi, who was to speak with Michael Bar-Nier, the servant of Pharaoh Juncker of EUgypt.

May-sis performeth a dance to please the people.

3. So, as the winter approached, Maysis announced an agreement that would make everyone equally happy: that is, not at all.

4. First, the children of Bri-tain would stay exactly where they were, but would be told "Guess what? Thou hast left EU-gypt."

5. Next, there would be an end to the brutal chastisement with whips, which so grieved the people. Henceforth, the children of Britain would be chastised with scorpions.

St James of Bond suffereth chastisement from a scorpion.

6. For these blessings, as for many others, such as the throwing of the Irishites into the sea, the children of Bri-tain would pay nine and thirty baskets of precious stones.

7. But to the astonishment of May-sis, the people refused to accept that a new era of happiness was dawning.

8. First there were the Gray Lingites, the Adonais, and others, who spake out saying "Give us a People's Vote, for those who voted last time were not people, but mere serfs."

9. "And let us vote many times: let our Nay be Nay, and let our Yea be Nay as well."

10. Then there were the Corbynites who spake out, saying "We care not what happeneth, provided that we are given the keys to the Street of Downing."

11. And many of the advisers of May-sis fled in disarray, including Dominus the Raabi, who had still not determined what exactly he was supposed to be doing.

12. And May-sis sought for another adviser, and the lot fell upon St Stephen Bar-Clay, for he alone was slow off the mark while the others fled.

Finally, the voice of the Mogg is heard in the land.

13. So at last, there came the mighty voice of Jacob Gogg-Magogg, saying, "Well, actually, don't you know, mine honourable friend hath lost honour and I feel that, on balance, it is time to cast her into a deep pit filled with savage dogs."

14. Thus Gogg-Magogg wrote to the chairman of the mighty council that is called 1922, saying, "Alas, my confidence in May-sis is departed. Here is a short list of 300 people who could do a better job."

15. And May-sis waited to see how many more letters were sent to the council of 1922: for her fate depended on this.

Continued in Chapter 15.

Ernst Stavro Blofeld SJ - hero or villain?

A Damian Thompson special. Already Austen Ivereigh and Robert Mickens are rushing to Blofeld's defence, so it must be good.

Ernst Stavro Blofeld SJ is a priest living in New York, who has cornered the market in heresy and world domination. As editor-at-large of the SPECTRE magazine, he is the most famous Jesuit in the United States; probably the most popular, too. And also the most disliked. Hated, even.

Fr Blofeld, author of The Jesuit Guide to World Domination.

What is there to dislike about this scrupulously polite Jesuit? Compared with the activist Fr Goldfinger ("You expect me to talk? No, Cardinal Bond, I expect you to die.") he is not particularly liberal. Yet, in middle age Fr Blofeld has moved to the left, and embraces the fashionable consensus on almost every issue that alienates conservative Catholics.

Although he does not have a good head of hair, I know that Fr Blofeld is fond of custard and the music of Gladys Mills, so... I'm sorry, I thought I was still writing for the Telegraph. This is the Catholic Herald, isn't it? Start again.

"You only live twice" - a typical heretical teaching from Fr Blofeld.

Blofeld's sex life (I thought that would get you reading again) is a mystery to all. When he joined the Jesuits he was asked whether he was a virgin and said no. However, he has not been known to sleep with members of either sex, although he has expressed himself anxious to build bridges with the LGBT community (this is an obscure Jesuit expression, and nobody would explain to us what it means).

The truth is that Fr Blofeld is, like many of us, a victim of the culture wars. His obsession with world domination has caused him to ally with the destructive side in every Catholic debate, alienating himself from Catholics who honestly disagree with his political opinions. This is not the true nature of Ignatian spirituality, which rarely concerns itself with firing nuclear missiles, destroying satellites, or holding the world to ransom.

"The name's Martin. James Martin." (You're getting confused, Damian.)

If the engaging Fr Blofeld really cannot see the problem, then perhaps he should be learning, rather than teaching, fearless methods of self-examination.

It Looks Nothing Like Pope Francis - the winners!

There are numerous pictures, models, effigies, etc. of Pope Francis in circulation, most of which look nothing like the Holy Father. As Pope Francis prepares to pack his bags and flee to Argentina, we present some of the worst, with thanks to various contributors.

A new "Looks nothing like Pope Pius XIII" line will be on sale soon.

Shine, Jesus, Shine!

A "gay" couple celebrate their (undersized) designer baby.

"But I prefer a good fudge."

Look more like a space alien than a pope.

Change the name on the base, and it can be anyone you like.

---

Whereas, we all know that Pope Francis is really the actor Jonathan Pryce.

Jonathan Pryce.

Except that Pryce (or possibly Francis) was once a James Bond villain.

Pryce (or Francis) in "Tomorrow never dies".

The blogs that upset Father Rosica

Father Rosica, a long-time admirer of this blog, has identified for us some of the Catholic blogs that, in his opinion, have filled the internet with venom and vitriol (a Basilian expression meaning "they disagree with me, and they express their opinions without fudging them").

Fr Rosica - tipped to be the next James Bond as he tackles the evil BLOGGER.

"I was reading a blog called the Gospel of St Matthew," explained Fr Rosica, "and there was this most unpleasant contributor called John the Baptist. He was writing things like You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?, which you will agree turns the Bible into a cesspool of hatred!"

"There's another Person there, who says things like Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which indeed appear beautiful outward, but are within full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness. That sounds like a direct attack on my Salt and Vinegar media empire!"

The Salt and Vinegar media Empire expands into corporal nourishment.

"Apart from the infamous St Matthew site, and the related Mark, Luke and John blogs, I also wish to mention a blogger called Paul," continued the salty cleric. "He has written a series of blog posts, called `Epistles', that show him up as an obsessed, scrupulous, self-appointed, nostalgia-hankering virtual guardian of faith and liturgical practices! (Yes, I admit it, Pope Francis lent me his thesaurus, so that I could dig out more insults for ordinary Catholics...)"

"There's a particularly nasty blog called '1 Corinthians', where he lists people who will not inherit the Kingdom of Heaven: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor abusers of themselves with mankind, nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners. I shall advise my friends to respond in the most Christian way possible, by consulting their solicitors!"

"Nor liberal Catholics, nor Tablet-readers, nor Jesuits, nor Professors at Roehampton, ..."

No wonder the good Father Rosica is cross...

How do I write a good encyclical?

You may think it will never happen to you, but perhaps one day the world will knock on your door demanding an encyclical. This may be because you have been elected Pope, or possibly because the editor of the Telegraph would like a few hundred space-filling words from you on any subject that takes your fancy. So here is a guide to writing encyclicals.

"Once upon a time..."

1. Choose a good title. Maybe you should do this last, when you have seen what you have actually written, but usually two or three words in Latin, expressing some deep philosophical idea, will do. CAVE CANEM, perhaps, or ILLEGITIMI NON CARBORUNDUM. Or you can use Italian, as Pope Francis did in his recent piece O SOLE MIO. (Memo: check the title.)

It has been noticed that James Bond movies are also a good source of encyclical titles: "You only live twice", "Tomorrow never dies", "The world is not enough", "Skyfall", etc. Given a good title, the encyclical virtually writes itself.

2. We'll assume that you're addressing this encyclical to faithful Catholics, with an eye to its being approved by liberals such as Hillary Clinton, Giles Fraser, etc. who will cherry-pick the bits they like. You can spice it up with lots of non-dogmatic stuff - e.g., your favourite recipe for rice pudding - knowing that this is not part of the Magisterium of Catholic teaching. There is no need to point out that those who wish to cook rice pudding in a different way are not automatically heretics. Although they probably are.

A non-heretical rice pudding.

3. When we come to the more dogmatic stuff, then Catholics are expected to take it seriously. So anything you say about sex will be regarded as important, because that's all that most people think of when you mention moral teaching. Reminding people of what previous writers have said - especially if it is obviously good sense - will earn you kudos too. So, point out that, in the words of Aquinas, "God sent the almond tree to flourish in the wilderness. However, extracting cyanide from it and using it to poison your neighbour is a neo-Pelagian habit, and should be rejected."

Warning! There's a neo-Pelagian about!

4. Be brief! You may have been spammed with 200 pages of pro-genocidal propaganda from an atheist friend called Schnellzug, but there is no need to copy and paste it into your encyclical (the same goes for viagra adverts and offers of untold wealth from the widows of Nigerian dictators). Stick to the point: "STOP SINNING," "READ THE BIBLE," "STAY SAVED," "BRUSH YOUR TEETH" - that sort of teaching is clear and orthodox. There is no need to mention carbon dioxide more than 12 times - in fact most popes managed to avoid mentioning it at all.

5. Don't be pretentious. "The people of the world are in pain, and the Earth itself cries out with a bad headache." Who do you think you are? Leonardo Boff? Similarly, Yoko Ono-style advice such as "When you go to bed tonight, take a hedgehog with you. You will not sleep, but the hedgehog will love you" is a waste of time, and very dubious theology.

A grateful hedgehog.

Well I hope that was helpful. Get encycling, guys!

The life of a secret nun

With the news that Pope Francis has killed the fatted calf for the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (the "prodigal nuns"), some readers have contacted me, saying "Who are these ladies? They don't look like nuns at all. Could they be the Women's Institute?"

"F" briefs the secret nuns.

Let me make it clear at the outset that I will have no truck with any jokes about their unusual habits. Now, where we?

The secret - or plain-clothes - nuns are an elite order of Catholic agents. They go around in "mufti", and are in most respects indistinguishable from ordinary members of the public. Their director, "F" has given some of them a "Licence to Pray", although this is only permitted in emergencies. One of their most famous agents is "Double-six seven", 667, or Jackie Bond, who often introduces herself by "The name's Bond, Sister Bond".

In England, "M" entertains some less prestigious "uniformed" nuns.

Some of the films in which Sister Bond's exploits have been recorded are Dr Küng, From Eccleston Square with Love, You're Only Resurrected Once, On His Holiness's Secret Service, and The Man with the Golden Vestments. Fans of the Bond series will remember another recurring character, the eccentric Cardinal K, who provides our heroine with the latest in a series of improbable new doctrines produced in his laboratory. Many of them don't work properly, or have undesirable side-effects.

Cardinal Martini - shaken but not stirred.

One question remains though: why are all "F"'s secret agents old ladies in their 70s? Wouldn't a younger agent be better able to thwart the plans of Ernst Stavro Dawkins or Rosa Toynbee? Sister Bond admits that this might be so, but maintains that it is all part of her disguise as a harmless old woman, whom nobody could possibly take seriously; and so far this is the case.

The Diakonia of Beauty

Continuing our exploration of the Cannes Festival we came to an event of spiritual nourishment.

The sacred festival of beauty. The "off" of the soul (!?)

This event is organized by the local diocese in conjunction with La Diaconie de la Beauté. At first I thought this was something to do with deacons, who are often beautiful creatures with beautiful minds, but in fact a Diaconie is better translated as Diakonia, which is concerned with the poor and needy.

Now, who are the poor and needy in this context? Well, as far as I could ascertain, they are actors. The sort of poor and needy actors you see at the Cannes Festival.

Brother Bosco blends inconspicuously with the beautiful people.

Indeed, one of the events (next Thursday if you can make it) features Michael Lonsdale, a.k.a. Sir Hugo Drax, the villain of the James Bond film Moonraker. Not poor, not needy, not even a poor actor.

Possibly not a saved person.

Another event that the church is organizing is a Concert inter-religieux "Les Trois Religions". Apparently the three religions - which seem to be regarded by some as interchangeable, equivalent, and all as good as each other - are Christianity (yay!), Islam (hiss!) and Judaism (somewhere in between on the Eccles "how saved is you?" scale). I guess that if a passing fakir had walked in and wanted to lie down on his bed of nails, he would also have been welcome.

Gratuitous cat-picture from Cannes to make the blog more popular.

We did drop in to one event of this festival; it was a concert called De Marie-Magdeleine à François et Claire d'Assise, which might reasonably be expected to have some religious content. However the bit we heard consisted of rock music and a man singing (if I understood it correctly) about Earth and Water. I guess the pagan wing of the Church would have appreciated it.

The angel of the diakonia.

Now, when we landed in Nice, I tried to emulate the great Father Z. and take a picture of the aeroplane seat in front of me - that sort of thing always makes a blog popular. However, by mistake, I was facing ad aquilonem rather than ad orientem, and so I took a liturgically-incorrect photo out of the window. Mea culpa.

Cannes, as seen from my plane.

The Pilgrim's Ogress 5: The Spy who Saved Me

Continued from Part 4.

Ian Fleming takes up the tale.

"Get 007 over here at once," said F to his secretary, Cardinal Munnipenni. "He's the only person who can deal with this crisis. Tell him to leave his aunt behind - I will brief him on his own."

A few days later, Eccles arrived in Rome, having been flown in from a secret mission somewhere in South London. Ignoring flirtatious glances from Munnipenni (they still had a few such problems in the Curia) he went straight into F's office. "The name's Eccles, Brother Eccles," he exclaimed.

Pope Francis (sitting) briefs Eccles.

"Bless you, 007," said F. "I'm afraid we're out of dry Martini - he died last year."

"So I heard," replied "Eccles. I was shaken but not stirred by what he had to say."

"Now, we're sending you back to England on a special mission. According to the Protect Me blog, there have been a number of disturbing incidents in your country. A sinister organization called ACTA is determined to destabilize the Catholic Church, and we'll need you to go undercover and infiltrate it."

Tipped to be the next "Bond girl".

"What will it involve, sir?" asked Eccles. "Any good-looking girls that I can collaborate with?"

"Probably not this time, Eccles," said his boss. "Most of the members seem to be over 70 years old. Now, to join ACTA you will need to sign its mission statement, all about how you are inspired by the Second Vatican Council, but - and this is the important thing - there is a mysterious supplementary paragraph to sign up to, as well. This is top secret, and we don't know what it contains. We want you to get hold of a copy of it - it could be dynamite!"

"How do I make contact with ACTA?" asked 007.

"We have sent three other agents already, but they've all disappeared mysteriously. Probably they were spotted as being our people, because they didn't know the passwords or the funny handshakes; or maybe they rolled up the wrong trouser-leg. You'll need to be careful, Eccles."

"Anything else you can tell me, sir?"

"Yes, there have been one or two other mysterious incidents, recently. We don't know if they are related. For example, a priest who was supposed to interpret Catholic teaching in sign language turned out to be producing total gibberish."

Warning: total gibberish.

"Ah yes, I heard about him, poor fellow. Was there anything else?"

"It's a long shot, but at Saatchi and Saatchi in London they have put a blasphemous representation of Mary and Joseph on display. We don't know whether there's a link to ACTA."

Not Joseph and Mary.

"I'll get back to England straight away," promised 007.

"Before you go, drop in on C. He'll issue you with some equipment for your mission."

"C" with Zuhlsdorf^TM "Mors Vobiscum" liturgical beretta.

007 said his goodbyes to F, and went to see the man they called "C" or "Cormac".

"Now, Eccles, listen carefully," said C. "You'll be going in disguised as a priest. What I am giving you looks like a mobile confessional, but it is programmed to recognise voice patterns. Once someone says the words 'Miser Peccator', the confessional is flooded with an evil gas, sending the sinner to sleep."

The booby-trapped Portofess.

Thanking C for his gift, although wondering how he would ever persuade ACTA members to admit that they might have sinned, Eccles made his way back to England and rejoined his aunt.

To be continued by another writer.

No exemptions for Christians

Following a brilliantly original High Court decision by Mr Justice Langstaff that keeping holy the Sabbath day is not a "core component" of Christian belief, and that Christians may henceforth be forced to work on Sundays, we asked a few other High Court judges to explain Christianity to us.

Mr Justice Dredd.

"A prohibition against killing isn't a core component of Christian belief," explained Mr Justice Dredd. "Trust me, I'm a judge, I know these things. If an employer asks a Christian to murder one of his competitors, then the Christian has no right to object on grounds of conscience. It is true that under company law, murders are only permitted if the details are fully disclosed to shareholders at the annual general meeting, but this is not usually a problem."

Judge Dredd went on to explain that he was a great fan of the James Bond films, in which Bond, a pious Catholic, had been given a licence to kill. He had observed that Agent 007 never let his faith stand in the way if it became necessary to blow up the underwater lair of a crazed megalomaniac whose aim was to take over the world, and so he knew exactly what Christianity taught about murder. For that matter, adultery was also occasionally part of the job...

This is all the Law and the Prophets.

Another judge was quick to concur. "There's this commandment about worshipping graven images. Well, we can't give Christians any exemption there, either. Suppose they want to become Conservative cabinet ministers, a noble calling if ever there was one. They would need to kiss all sorts of things en route, including a graven image of David Cameron. They can't expect some sort of exemption, can they?"

Bow, bow, ye lower middle classes! Worship me!

Finally, we asked a Very Senior Judge indeed.

A Very Senior Judge indeed.

Speaking up for Judge Langstaff, a Very Senior Judge indeed agreed that He also expected His employees to work on Sundays; indeed, it was a popular myth amongst the laity that many of His priests only worked on Sundays.

It's no use, Father. You'll have to work Sundays from now on.

So there we have it. Our Lord Langstaff's Summary of the Law is backed by the highest Authority indeed.

New Hymns 2

Today we are truly honoured to welcome King David, warrior, sex symbol and - as author of the Book of Psalms - the Paul Inwood of the 10th Century BC. Now, your Majesty...

D: Hey, it's not "Your Majesty!" Call me Dave.

"Dave," working on a psalm.

E: Yes, OK, Dave. Now I know you've had some embarrassing moments in your time, especially when Signor Michelangelo of the Italian paparazzi published a nude sculpture of you, but let's put that to one side now, and talk about your psalms.

D: Well, one likes to think one has a role as a Defender of Faiths, you know, and my psalms do seem to have gone down well with many in the Jewish, Christian and Muslim communities.

E: Still, they obviously need a little "refreshing" for modern audiences, and so that's why you're here today, I understand.

D: Yes, I was wondering about my Psalm 23 (as translated by King James himself): The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. Can you suggest something, Eccles?

A sheep, being sickeningly sweet.

E: Well, my general rule for modern hymns is, don't say too much about God, it's better to sing about yourself. And we could perhaps adapt the tune of "On Ilkla Moor Baht 'at," as Ilkley's a good place for sheep, I'm told.

The Lord's my shepherd, I'm a sheep:
I like to eat the grass and go "Baa Baa-aa."
The Lord's my shepherd, I'm a sheep,
The Lord's my shepherd, I'm a sheep.
Chorus: I like to go "Baa Baa!" 
I like to go "Baa Baa!" 
I like to go "Baa Baa!"

This sheep isn't as sweet, but he is on Ilkley Moor.

D: So how do you see the subsequent verses developing?

E: Well, as any modern hymn-writer will tell you, you only need to change one or two lines to get a completely new verse. So Verse 2 could be:

He makes me lie down in a field:
I like to eat the grass and go "Baa Baa-aa."
He makes me lie down in a field,
He makes me lie down in a field.
Chorus. I like to go "Baa Baa!" (x3)

D: My psalm is quite popular at funerals, you know, probably because of the lines: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Double-O-7, why have you brought me to the Valley of the Shadow of Death?

E: Well, Dave, have a go yourself.

D: O.K.

When in the Valley of Death's Shade,
I like to eat the grass and go "Baa Baa-aa."
When in the Valley of Death's Shade,
When in the Valley of Death's Shade,
Chorus. I like to go "Baa Baa!" (x3)

E: Magnificent, Dave! You've managed to drain out almost all the theology, and to leave just some comfortable stuff about sheep. Kevin Mayhew will be knocking at your door any time now, begging for the publishing rights.

You make a table for me, Lord...