He's not the anti-Messiah, he's just a very naughty pope. What have the Roman popes done for us, apart from preserving traditional worship and teaching, and giving leadership to the worldwide Church? It's every Jesuit's right to have babies if he wants them. But ... you can't HAVE babies, Jim! Don't you oppress me!And of course...
You can wear a smart suit, or dress like this if you prefer.
Being a hermit is not always easy. There is the true, spiritually nourishing, story of St Honoratus, who went to the Îles de Lérins off Cannes to seek seclusion as a hermit. However, he was too good at it, and soon lots of disciples turned up to see how he did it. As he sat in his cell, he was constantly interrupted by cries of "How's the hermit life going?" "Are you doing it now?" "What happens next?" "Peace and quiet are wonderful, aren't they? I said PEACE AND QUIET ARE WONDERFUL, AREN'T THEY?" And so on.
So if celebrating Mass as we recommended doesn't seem to be working, and you do decide to self-isolate, here are some useful tips.
An axe. In case anyone comes visiting. A sign saying "UNCLEAN!" should keep most people away (it certainly works for us in Mass), but there will always be Mr Nosey from church who insists on doing the Sign of Peace with poor unsuspecting hermits. That was one of the famous sufferings of St Honoratus.
Food. Get stuff that lasts a long time. Eccles cakes are like Tolkien's dwarf bread, and will keep for months. Meat doesn't really last: you may have thought of buying a hippopotamus and cutting a piece off every day, but we really wouldn't advise it. And nor would the hippopotamus.
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Toilet paper. 20 rolls per day should be sufficient. Or use the collected works of Richard Dawkins (which is better than they deserve).
Hand wash or soap. Well, if you're on your own, there's really no need to wash at all, and nobody will notice that you smell like a [offensive stereotype deleted]. Still, do scrape off a layer of dirt every month or so.
Spiritually nourishing reading. From the depths of our hearts by Pope Benedict XVI and Cardinal Sarah, is a good choice, because it winds up so many people. Wounded Shepherd, by Austen Ivereigh, one of the people wound up by our first choice, is probably a waste of time, and should join the Dawkins books (see above). The Bible's quite a cracker too - plenty of sex and violence, some jolly psalms for you to sing while washing your hands (if you're fed up with singing "Happy Birthday to you"), and a truly apocalyptic ending, where St John goes to Patmos and unmasks the criminal.
Pontius Pilate sings "Happy Birthday to you".
Happy hermitting!
Judge.
It's a pity they abolished hanging. Unlike Peter Cook, I do have enough Latin to be a judge, and I would have loved to be able to sentence some screaming villain - or preferably someone totally innocent - to death by hanging. I look really nice in a black cap. Also, a judge is the boss in his own court (sorry, no inclusive language on this blog). Fawning barristers address him as "My Lord".
And in this modern era, judges can sentence people to death once more. Oh, not terrorists who kill hundreds of people, there's no fun in that. Still, they can sentence helpless children to death, by removal of water, nutrition, even air, if some doctors say it is the right thing to do. Then they watch the parents suffer! But they won't let judges wear a black cap.
Doctor.
I wouldn't be a very good doctor. A priest came to see me complaining of clergyman's knee (this was one of those rigid priests who still thought that kneeling was an appropriate activity). I helped him by taking out his appendix out with a carving knife: the operation was a success but the patient died.
In the bad old days doctors had the Hippocratic oath, so abortion was out, and euthanasia was also forbidden. Especially the unwanted euthanasia of a child, where the parents were fighting for his life. Not any more! No matter if the whole world is shocked - the Pope, the Italian ambassador, the President of Poland, sundry other Americans, etc. Even Kim Jong-un said "Crikey! I wish I'd thought of that!"
Policeman.
Hello, hello, hello! I want to join the police force to maintain law and order, to serve the causes of justice, and to help the public. So I could spend the night standing outside a child's hospital room, making sure that nobody came in and interfered with him by giving him oxygen or water! Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho!
Bishop.
SITUATIONS VACANT. ARCHBISHOP OF KNOTTY ASH. Would suit someone who is vaguely interested in Catholicism (no previous experience necessary). Warning - if you're the sort who likes to give a moral lead on subjects such as putting children to death, then this job is not for you. No, we're looking for someone who will network well with non-Christians, and definitely won't rock the boat.
And don't even think about becoming Cardinal Archbishop of Elephant and Castle, as you have to have your spine removed as part of the terms and conditions of employment.
As Jesus said, "Well you *could* stick up for the weak and helpless, but I don't advise it as it might make you unpopular."
"I now declare this death camp open."
Eccles talks to a lawyer.
Later, I was shocked to see that I had been personally insulted. A friend of mine who has spent a lot of time in court without ever being convicted - he is a solicitor - saw the blog and said, "Father Eccles, you could really cash in here!" It seemed like the appropriate action for a priest in good standing to take, for after all, does the Bible not tell us to "Sue the Lord thy God for all acts of God, and sue thy neighbour if he offend thee"?
Still, I am a poor priest, and not rich enough to sue anyone. Besides, I'm not sure that expressions such as "silly", "toad" and "fish-face" are really actionable. My friend says that "silly fish-faced toad" might be worth a sum in the region of 20p, but I am not so sure.
This is not Eccles.
Worse than that, I found my actions being discussed on the entire blogosphere, as unspeakable people rushed to the defence of the wicked shameless criminal - a self-confessed mother of three. Six people turned up at Mass wearing "We like mothers" tee-shirts, I have been told to "put a sock in it" and I have been accused of being possessed by the spirit of Enda Kenny. Also - horror of horrors - e-mails have been sent to my bishop. And you know how bishops get excited if someone they've never heard of tells them that they have had a Twitter squabble with one of their priests!
My bishop reacts to an e-mail.
Worst of all, a sanctimonious deacon wrote a blog post saying that he didn't agree with me, or anyone else, because he was a much better person than any of us. Still, he would say a prayer, asking that we would all become as virtuous as he was.
Anyway, stuff this for a lark. I apologise to the entire universe for whatever it is I never did.
Kind Regards,
Rev. Eccles.
