How to be a Christian and a politician at the same time

Many readers have written to me along the following lines:

Dear Eccles, I have been selected as prospective Conservative/Labour/Liberal Democrat/Buckethead candidate for East Cheam (or it may be Walmington-on-Sea), but I am worried that my religious views will make it impossible for me to succeed. Strangely enough, I am one of those Christians who basically believe in God, Christ, Sin, Redemption, etc. Can you advise me?

This is tricky, but I will try and explain what you must do. Well, you could become a DUP MP, where religious principles are actively encouraged, but this may not be possible in an English region such as Much-Binding-in-the-Marsh. So another strategy is required.

Tim Farron MP takes part in a charismatic service.

I also get letters from Muslims saying that they want to be Mayor of London but happen to believe in killing the infidels in order to end up with 72 virgins in Paradise. I explain to them that this is not a problem, as nobody will dare question them on the details of their faith. If they happen to take the Koran seriously then the BBC, Guardian, and other left-wing media will simply congratulate themselves on their tolerance of diversity.

So, how should the ambitious Christian proceed? Well, take someone like Theresa May or Michael Gove as your model. Support same-sex marriage, don't stick your neck out on pro-life issues, and remember that ONE DAY, PRACTISING CHRISTIANITY WILL BE ILLEGAL AGAIN, AND YOU WILL NEED TO MAKE A STRONG NOT-GUILTY PLEA.

"Only joking, folks!" Theresa May pretends to be a Christian.

Of course you will be asked by religious experts such as little Owen Jones of the Guardian, "But you're a Christian. Didn't God destroy Sodom and Gomorrah in the Bible? Doesn't that mean you want to burn all gays?" Or maybe "You're a Christian, aren't you? You don't like dismembering babies? What kind of monster are you, denying a woman's right to choose!"

Luckily, we have the modern Catholic Church as our model here. Fr James Martin LGBTSJ is our teacher on matters of homosexuality, and we now know from this great man that the rainbow brigade are above criticism, and should be allowed to do whatever they want, with whomever they want, whenever they want, without any comments being made. If you have not brought up your kid to be a transgendered gay activist with an interest in bondage and doing naughty things with geese (any Jesuit college can provide details) by the age of 8, then YOU ARE A BIGOT.

Hey, I've just received an invitation from Fr James Martin!

Likewise, Pope Francis in his unparalleled wisdom has appointed "philosopher" Nigel Biggar - who doesn't think that babies are human - to the Pontifical Academy for Life. (Sorry, this is often a satirical blog, but that appears to be a FACT.) The remaining members of the PAL are not yet finalized, but we expect that Peter Sutcliffe the Yorkshire Ripper and Gerry Adams of the IRA will become influential members.

"Help! It's someone from the Pontifical Academy for Life!"

Which brings us neatly back to politics. Good luck with your career, and, if you are asked about your beliefs, give a light laugh and say "Oh, we don't worry too much about moral issues in the modern church!" It's the only way you'll succeed.

Am I bringing joy into my life?

Having seen Pope Francis's ten tips for bringing joy into one's life, I thought I'd see how well I was doing, and, in cases where there was room for improvement, who I should take as my role model. If anyone wants another ten tips, then look here.

Attempt all of these.

1. Live and let live. I'm not very good at this, frankly. When I read of massacres in Iraq (for example), I do start getting annoyed, even though strictly speaking it's none of my business. Perhaps David Cameron (last seen staring at dead fish in Portugal) is a good role model for this one.

2. Be giving of yourself to others. I'm writing this blog, am I not? This is my mission to the slightly-saved, that they may become more-saved. I think I get a mark here.

3. Proceed calmly in life. Yes, I've read Desiderata too: Go placidly amid the noise and haste, etc. Yup, I'm fairly calm and placid.

Not going to lose my temper, but it was an Eccles cake I ordered.

4. Have a healthy sense of leisure. As the saying goes: sometimes I sits and thinks, and sometimes I just sits. Is this healthy? Obviously the Holy Father isn't recommending sloth, is he? It's having a healthy sense of work that I find difficult.

5. Sunday is for families. Ha ha ha, every day is for families, especially when you have an aunt who keeps running out of gin and ekes it out with anti-freeze and toilet-cleaner.

6. Find ways to employ the youth. Anyone who makes approaches to youth, saying "Would you like to earn some money, little girl?" is likely to end up being questioned by the police. For similar reasons, I suppose, boy scouts no longer offer a "Bob-a-Job" where they would clean the car, cut the hedge, walk the dog, tidy the kitchen and cook dinner, all for the sum of 1 shilling (5p). So I fall down dismally here. Who is my role model? The Guardian, which employs Owen Jones (age 8)?

... and the Guardian is looking for a left-wing feature-writer.

7. Respect and care for nature. Yes, on the whole. Respect, rather than reverence, or worship. So I bow to cabbages, but do not genuflect in front of them. I retrieve lost-looking spiders from the bath, and put them in my aunt's bed. Yes, full marks here.

8. Stop being negative. No, I won't! Ah... that was a trap, and I fell into it. All right. From now, I'm just a boy who cain't say "NO", so my role model is Oscar Hammerstein II, who wrote these words for Oklahoma!

I cain't say No!

9. Respect other's beliefs. This is a toughie. Where do we draw the line? Atheists? Muslims? Satanists? Mormons? Baptists? Perhaps I get half a mark for ecumania here, as I get on rather well with some (but not all) Catholics, Anglicans and Baptists, for example. Perhaps we need to look to Cardinal Nichols, who offered flowers at a Hindu altar. Cardinals are never wrong.

10. Work for peace. This is one I understand, and appreciate. How sneaky of the Pope to slip in something Christian at the end!

The Verdict.

Who advises the Pope?

Marco Tosatti has written an interesting piece for Vatican Insider, giving the names of those people to whom Pope Francis talks and listens. However, the article is implausible from beginning to end - nobody with any sense ever listened to Piero Marini - and we are happy to provide a corrected list.

Tony Flannery.

Tony Flannery has long known that he was right all along, and the rest of the Catholic church in grievous error. The author of many books, such as Why I excommunicated Pope Benedict, Enda Kenny - man or God? and Come back to Me: my invitation to the Catholic Church. As a Redemptorist, Flannery is subject to the three vows of poverty, chastity and obedience (no, really). By bringing him back into the inner circle, can Pope Francis be signalling a change of direction?

Damian Thompson of the Telegraph.

One of the first questions a pope asks himself is, "Where can I get good custard?" and fortunately Pope Francis can now draw on the expertise of the Telegraph's custard-crazed ferret. Since Damian is also able to advise on cupcakes, Bach, addiction, and the best way to stop Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor hanging around making a nuisance of himself, he is rapidly becoming indispensable.

The Spirit of Vatican II.

Pope Francis does of course have a hotline to Heaven, but his first point of contact is Loftus, the Spirit of Vatican II. This angelic being explains to him all the things that were not actually written down in the Vatican II documents, or even agreed, but which were "in the spirit". Pinocchio Masses, replacing Gregorian chant by Estelle White's Moses I Know You're The Man and liturgical dancing - all these were what almost-Saint Pope John XXIII had in mind as urgent priorities when he called the Council.

Boris Johnson.

The Pope has a number of secular advisers, whose job it is to help him with public relations, to avoid gaffes, and to speak his words carefully, bearing in mind that they will be repeated and interpreted by people of all shades of opinion. These advisers include Boris Johnson, Prince Philip and Gordon Brown. As a result, we are unlikely to see the Pope stuck on a zipwire, asking Archbishop Philip Tartaglia "How do you keep the natives off the booze long enough to go to Mass?" or referring to bigoted women.

Catherine Pepinster.

Marginalised under Pope Benedict XVI, Catherine Pepinster of the Tablet now plays a valuable role in telling Pope Francis what he actually said. An off-the-cuff remark that perhaps now is not the time for the Church to begin burning homosexuals becomes, after a little interpretation, a firm pledge that the pope will soon be welcoming "gay" bishops and their partners. Similarly, the Pope's comment that he was kept awake by a crying baby when he slept in his humble apartment at the Hotel Casa Santa Marta (5 stars) becomes a promise that the Catholic Church will soon change its mind on abortion.

Owen Jones.

Owen Jones of the Working Classes (seen above with a bottle of working-class champagne) is there to help the Pope avoid the extravagance and pomp of his predecessors. With his deprived background (Oxford University and the Independent), Jones is the ideal person to help Pope Francis with his "humility" campaign. "The party's over," he says, "or at least we're running low on champagne!"

Eccles.

Eccles, seen here with a liturgically-correct (he claims) green biretta, is the ideal person to consult if one wants to be saved. Pope Francis was already a regular reader of his blog, and met him in Rome at the time of the last conclave, disguised as a cardinal. Eccles's instructions are clear: Tell me what saved popes do, and he is already formulating an action plan.

No gossip please!

Galilee, AD 32. The Man known as "Our Lord" has spoken out against the temptations to gossip: it is believed that He was referring particularly to recent work by those well-known religious bloggers Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.

St Matthew the blogger, with another scoop.

Several news items first revealed in religious blogs are known to have irritated Our Lord. For example, St Matthew posted an in-depth investigation of His ancestry, tracing it back to King David - his blog post "Jesus the Toff" is considered to be in bad taste, challenging as it does Our Lord's claims to be born of quite humble origins, and certainly not as well-off as, say, Owen Jones.

Another gossipy post "What happened to the gold?" reveals that Our Lord's father accepted gifts from three wise men on His behalf, and promptly decamped to Egypt in order to avoid having to declare them on his tax return - ironically, he was only in Bethlehem for tax reasons in the first place.

The Magi Circle - is their loot now in an Egyptian bank vault?

St Luke the blogger is also known to have offended Our Lord, by tactlessly revealing details of the famous "Jerusalem" incident, when He was 12 years old and played truant. It was claimed that He was found three days later, asking questions of some mysterious "doctors" in the temple.

Even St John the blogger, who is generally regarded as being particularly close to Our Lord, has not scrupled to spread gossip about Him. Most recently, Our Lord has been accused of stealing a donkey and riding it into Jerusalem. Some people have also been shocked to learn that He washed His associates' feet. (It seems that He did not wash any women's feet, because it is generally considered unchivalrous to suggest that a woman's feet are dirty...)

Is this linked with the vandalism of a row of palm trees?

Other church leaders have repeated Our Lord's criticism of gossip. Most recently, Archbishop Judas Iscariot has preached a sermon condemning religious blogs. Some malicious bloggers have retaliated by suggesting that ++Judas has something to hide - for example, there are persistent rumours of dodgy financial transactions involving a sum of as much as 30 pieces of silver.

Two wealthy Arabs, in traditional costume, watch events with interest.

As St Mark, another leading blogger, put it, "Writing blogs is generally thought to be a sure way to get on the fast track to sainthood. But if it is going to be condemned at the highest level, then I may give it up, and take to travelling. I've always wanted to see Alexandria."

Alexandria: disillusioned bloggers visit the lighthouse.

What class are you?

Don't have time to use the BBC calculator to find out which social class you are in? Don't trust your butler to do it for you? Let us help.

Am I tourist class? Business class? First class?

Simply match yourself against one of these profiles, and see which one you have most in common with.

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Sorry, I could only find an old photo.

You live in a big house in London, with your husband and some dogs. Whenever you visit someone they force you to listen to a piece of music (always the same one, in fact). Your picture is on all the postage stamps. You really enjoy watching reruns of Morecambe and Wise on TV, but instead they make you attend Royal Variety Performances, where you are bored to death by Ricky Gervais and Marcus Brigstocke. Upper class.

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Owen Jones.

You grew up in the rough tough gritty wastelands of Stockport, the scion of a deprived family (a humble local authority worker and an IT lecturer who were forced to work in order to make ends meet). You went to a run-down polytechnic - well, Oxford, actually - and you write a column in the second-most-depraved newspaper in Britain. Not interested in girls. Working class, obviously.

---

Old enough for a bus pass.

You are 76 years old, but still forced to work in order to make ends meet. Although an immigrant from South America, you recently moved into a tied cottage in Rome, and tend to dress simply. You have met many interesting people in the course of your work, and also Cormac Murphy-O'Connor. Very keen on religion, but not much of a hymn-singer. Lower-middle class.

---

Is this one of your best friends?

Originally from Wales, you became an MP, and then one of the most senior politicians in the country. Interests include pies, croquet-playing, Jaguar cars, and claiming toilet seats on expenses. No obvious achievements when in politics, but was rewarded with a seat (well, two seats) in the House of Lords. Middle class.

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Do you like to dress up as Mrs Hudson in your spare time?

Born in the slums of Reading, you reached Oxford University on sheer brilliance after writing a prize essay about custard. At one stage you worked for the Catholic Herald, but now, instead of bringing religion into every conversation, you prefer to blame addiction for all the evils of the world. A brilliant pianist who is at much at home with the toccatas and fugues of Gladys Mills as the honky-tonk tunes of Johnny Bach. Intellectual, upper middle class.

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The Johnson twins

Coming from a privileged background, you attended Eton, and initially went for a job in journalism. After that everything started to go wrong, and in your degraded career you became first an MP and then a local government official. Occasionally, like the disgraced rector of Stiffkey, you appear in the public eye in a humiliating position. Evidently suffering from an incurable addiction to publicity. Upper middle class, but vulgar.

Well, I hope that helped. Not much spiritual nourishment today, sorry.

New Dr Who series

Ian McKellen - a politically, correct Doctor for the 21st century (with silly hat).

A new series of the children's programme Dr Who has just been announced. In recent years, the show has been known for telling kids as young as six years old about homosexual time-travellers and lesbian lizards, and now it has been decided to take this further in a series of exciting adventures in which the Doctor takes on the forces of Christianity galaxy-wide.

Fr Magister - the Doctor has a long history of fighting clericalism.

In next week's story, Dr Who and the Cyberbride, the Doctor arrives on the planet Mondas, where he falls in love with a handsome Cyberman. The two of them approach the Bishop of Mondas, requesting that he tie the knot for them, but owing to the nasty bigoted social conditions pertaining there, the Bishop is forced to refuse. The Cyberman had set its heart on a Church wedding, and so the Doctor is forced to part from his lover and continue his lonely voyage through Time and Space.

Get me to the church on time! Cyberbride, with bridesmaids

Later in the series, we see the Doctor arrive in 21st Century London. In a story entitled Trouble with Archbishops, he meets a crazed dictator called Dave, who is attempting to change history, although opposed by a group of religious maniacs. Confusion is caused by the intervention of a gang of comedy Bishops - the Archbishop of Greater London, The Archbishop of London, the Archimandrite of the Metropolitan Line, the Metropolitan of the Archimandrite Line, the Patriarch of the North and South Circulars, the High Priestess of Hyde Park, and the Bishop of London - each of whom claims to be a valid minister.

The Doctor's new assistant, Owen (aged 10), even more irritating than the late Adric.

Finally, the Daleks are brought back, yet again, in an adventure Wedding of the Daleks. Davros, their creator, has finally realized that Daleks will be able to breed on their own if he makes female ones as well as male ones. He teaches them a new catch-phrase, CO-PU-LATE, CO-PU-LATE , and insists that from now on all Dalek romances are to be heterosexual. This is where the Doctor turns up, and with a stirring cry of "Gay rights for Daleks!" takes on the forces of bigotry, reaction, etc.

Mummy, is Giles Fraser still on?