Tobit

Today we have a new recruit to the Eccles Bible Class, namely Graham Norton, a TV "celebrity", who described Catholics defending traditional marriage as "rats trapped in the corner of a barn". In order to help the poor man learn some manners, it was decided that he should come along to this month's lesson, which covers the book of Tobit. Hello, Graham!

Tobit (also called Tebbit).

Now, Graham, we don't have any rats for you in the book of Tobit, although there is a fish that attempts to devour the foot of Tobit's son, Tobias. Some good comes of this, as after overcoming the fish, Tobias is told: If thou put a little piece of its heart upon coals, the smoke thereof driveth away all kind of devils, either from man or from woman, so that they come no more to them. We'll try that one on you later, Graham!

Tobias (also called Toby).

Still, let's start at the beginning. It's a bit of a tangled story, as both T senior and T junior are referred to as Tobias. To avoid confusion, we'll call them Tebbit and Toby (or young Toby). Now they are both righteous chaps, living in exile in the Telegraph blogs Nineveh. Two problems are dealt with in this book:

1. Tebbit goes to sleep under a swallow's nest, gets hot dung in his eyes, and goes blind. I suppose the modern equivalent is watching Graham Norton on television. Only joking, Graham!

2. In faraway Rages, a city of the Medes, a lady called Sara has got problems with demons. Indeed, her seven husbands have been killed by Asmodeus "at their first going in unto her". Don't snigger at the back, there, Fry.

Asmodeus, the demon of lust (from his Facebook page).

So off goes Toby ("On your bike!" says his father, in some translations), and he meets the fish. Fortunately, he is under the protection of the angel Raphael, which means that he is going to win through in the end. He marries Sara, his kinswoman, and drives away the demon by burning the fish's liver in his bedroom. Of course, the bedroom smells of burnt fish for a long time afterwards, but this is a small price to pay for married bliss. Raphael binds the devil, and we hear no more of him. Do spare a thought for Raguel, Sarah's father, who digs a grave for Toby only to find that it isn't needed.

Toby goes back to see Tebbit, and uses the fish's gall to cure his father's blindness. Many years later, Tebbit dies, and Toby leaves Nineveh - which is doomed, as we'll see later when we reach Jonah - to return to the land of the Medes.

Toby and the fish.

Now, this is a great book of fish recipes, but that's not really the point. One of the themes - sorry, Graham, it really isn't your day - is marriage. And when the third night is past, thou shalt take the virgin with the fear of the Lord, moved rather for love of children than for lust, ... that sort of thing. Chapter 4, old Tebbit's advice to young Toby, is also hot on charity, wisdom, avoiding pride, praying, voting Conservative, etc.

Ah, Dawkins, I see your hand is up. I think I know what you're going to say: "Fish gall doesn't cure blindness, there are no such things as demons, or angels. Giving alms isn't going to benefit you personally. There's nothing wrong with a bit of lust." Shall we make it easy for you, as you're a beginner? Look at some of the instructive moral teaching, don't worry too much about the supernatural elements for now - I know they give you a headache - and leave it at that. Oh, and here's your guardian angel to escort you home.

John Cornwell? Doesn't he write rubbish books about popes called Pius?

Same-sex marriage preparation

Dave and Nick on their wedding day.

Hello, I'm Father Pat, and you must be Dave and Nick, eh? I'm so glad that you could drop round for some pre-marriage instruction. Since it became the law that churches must marry any couple requesting it (human rights, wasn't it?) we've been welcoming all sorts of people. You're very much in love, aren't you?

Dave: Yes, it was love at first sight. We began with a simple coalition, but now we want to go the whole way.

Pat: And what do your families think?

Nick: Well, mine are mostly supportive. Dave's family is more traditionally-minded, though. There's Auntie Maggie for one. I don't think she'll be leaving us much in her will!

Uncle Norman won't be coming to the wedding.

Pat: Now, the church has put together a marriage service for you, as we had no real choice, once the police had shot Cardinal O'Brien and Lord Carey. There are some really fine Biblical readings here.

Dave: Yes, I'm a little unhappy about Genesis 19, describing the fall of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Pat: Oh, all weddings have this now, so you're not being discriminated against.

Mrs Lot, an unfortunate wedding guest.

Nick: Also, the reading from Matthew 19. Do we have to have the bit where Christ says that marriage is between a man and a woman?

Pat: I'm afraid so. Also Romans 1, where St Paul gives us a pep talk on morality. Now tell me, are you planning to have children?

Dave: Oh I do hope so. I came from a large family myself. I had nine brothers, and what tearaways we were, eh? Especially Boris.

Ten very naughty children.

Nick: Yes, they drank too much and then did a lot of damage - trashing schools, hospitals, universities, railways, banks,... But in the end, Dave always knew that he'd pay for it.

Pat: Well, that's water under the bridge now. Let me show you a photo from a wedding I conducted last week.

You may now kiss the bride.

Dave: I think I can handle that part. Of course the bit we're really nervous about is the honeymoon afterwards.

The honeymoon.

Pat: So romantic.

Nick: We see ourselves as a modern Romeo and Julian.

Dave: Or Tristan and Isidore.

Nick: Or Napoleon and Joseph.

Booming Voice: PATRICIA! AREN'T YOU FINISHED YET?

Pat: Blimey, it's the missus. O.K. we'd better end now.

Song from Twelfth Night

When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.

Or, as portrayed by the Seven Ages of Man...

---

When that I was but a little boy called Knowles,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
They found my childish essays full of holes,
For the rain it raineth every day.

---

When as a young man, known to all as Tim,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I told Obama what I thought of him,
For the rain it raineth every day.

Sir Henry Morton Stanley in Africa

---

Then as a young-ish nerd by name of Tom,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I split infinitives with great aplomb,
For the rain it raineth every day.

---

When that I was but a balding chap called Dan,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I spoke and all the Europeans ran,
For the rain it raineth every day.

---

When that I was an addiction-crazy Dame,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I wrote six blogs essentially the same,
For the rain it raineth every day.

The Fix: How book-plugging is invading our lives and changing our world

---

When that I was but an aged man called Norm,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
My trolls were lefties from the lower form,
For the rain it raineth every day.

---

When that I was but a basket-case called Lean,
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,
I wrote no facts, just propaganda green,
For the rain it raineth every day.

A nuclear power station. (Are you sure you've got that right, Geoffrey?)

How to blogg like Damain

Bosco and me we is very keen on Damain Thopmson's blogg, and especailly I likes de one he does on Friday nihgt, when he chooses a randdom sellectoin of topics like David Cammeron, Doctor Who and Richard Charters, and weaves dem into a coherrent narrattive. So I fuoght I'd do de same this time.

SADO-VACANTISSM

Bosco and me we has heard dat se Chair of St Peter is vacant, and dat de last real Pop was Pius XII. Here he is, rellaxin in de gruonds of de Vattican.

Dat news has sure come as a grate surrprise to Pop Bennedict. "Well, bless my sole," he said. "I seems to be an Antipop. I better ressign at once and let someone else take over. I wonder if I is allowed to keep de red shoes?"

Bosco is waitin in de wings for de white smoke from Rom, but he have got a specail Pop shirt in scarlet dat he can wear. So if dey phons him from Rom and says, "You is de new Pop, buster, has you got a shirt to wear?" he aint gonna be fuond wantin like de foolish vergers in de Bibble.

DEMMON LOVERS

In de Calumny Chappel Bosco and me we is often given spiritaul exxercises to occupy ourselves in de service. Dis is really to stop Bosco from shoutin, "You aint saved buster," at vissitors, and allows de uvver folk to get on wiv singin de hynms about how wearin golden crowns is gonna be cool.

Our spiritaul reading is very varried. Dere was a great story about St Thommas de Tank, who duobted de truth of de resurectoin and was turned into a train. Den we quite likes de blessed Winnie de Pau from de land of milk and honney. Bosco also gets spiritaul comfort from de tale of Allice in Wonderland wot got attacked by a bunny rabit. Here is anuvver story we read recently, which was about our Anti Moly's shcool days in Pottymouth.

But dis week by mistake dey gave us a peom to read, what was called Xannadu. Dis have got some hard words in it and we didnt reely understand what it was about. Dere was somefink about a stately pleasure-dom, which suonds a bit like Farver Arfur's churhc, where he does his cosstume holly-man stand-in stuff, tellin poeple dat dey is all sinners wot can never be forgivven.

Allso dere was a bit in de peom about a woman wailin for her demmon lover.

When I got home I greeted my Anti Moly wiv a luvvin kiss. Well actaully I blew de kiss from de uvver side of de room, as I doesnt normally want to get too close, dem brokken noses takes a long time to heal.

"Is you wailin for your demmon lover, Anti Moly?" I asked.
Anti burst into tears, and said "Oh Goerge, Goerge, why did you leave me and become a Cradinal?"
"Cheer up, Anti," I said. "We just heard dat de Pop is an Antipop, so dat probbably Cardinals is Anticradinals, and de poor man will be commin back to you soon."

We now has a lotta poeple waitin by de telephon. Bosco wants his call from de Vattican to say he is de new Pop, and Anti Moly wants her Anticradinal to telephon and say he is commin to lay his heart at her grate big feet.

TEN NINE FIVE GOOD FINGS ABUOT ANTI MOLY

Some people finks dat my Anti Moly needs rehabillitatin, as if you reads dis blogg carelessly you may get de impression dat she is a bad-temperred old woman wot spends all nihgt on de Internnet insultin poeple. So I has taken it uppon myself to find 5 nice fings to say about her. It was gonna be 9, like de 9 Commandments we has in de Callumny Chappel Bibble (Bosco says de one abuot bearin false wetnurses was a mipsrint), but I ran out of ideas.

1. Anti Moly knows more Austrialan sware words dan anyone else I has met.
2. Aldough she aint saved, and she dont like de words "good" and "evil", she aint never murrdered anyone. How many poeple can say dat, Bosco?
3. Anti can drink a whole bottle of gin wivvout any change in her behavvior.
4. She got enuogh stammina to stay up until 5 a.m. bloggin every nihgt.
5. Anti's dog Cerberrus loves her very much, but she aint reely a dog pusson. We asked de vet to recommend a cat for her, and he said dat a pole cat was de anwser in her case. Dese are pussy cats from Polland, and dey will give Anti lots of luv.

Lord Tebit, what is annuvver Tellegrahp blogger, has got one, wot was givven him by Micheal Foot. So Anti is in distingiushed companny.

Well dere we are. I hope dis proves dat Farver Arfur aint got a monolopy on bein charittable.

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.