Archbishop Fisichella excommunicates the Pope

Following his claim that critics of the Pope faced automatic excommunication - the sort of "merciful" statement that we expect to hear a lot of in the next few months - Archbishop Fisichella, President of the Pontifical Council for New Evangelization, today revealed that he had excommunicated Pope Francis himself. It is believed to be the first occasion since the middle ages on which an occupant of the Chair of St Peter has suffered this indignity.

"Maybe I hadn't really thought this out."

Apparently the Holy Father was overheard commenting that he had greatly sinned, in his thoughts and in his words, in what he had done and in what he had failed to do, through his fault, through his fault, through his most grievous fault. "Now, if any other Catholic had said this of the Pope," said Fisichella, "perhaps Bones or Mundabor, then they would have been in deep trouble. So it is only fair to punish Francis for this vicious attack on himself."

LATE NEWS: Pope Francis has been forgiven.

Meanwhile, in Rome...

Yesterday, the start of the Jubilee Year of Mercy, was also the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. The Vatican chose to mark this by using St Peter's Basilica as a projection screen, showing a range of Pope Francis's favourite wildlife.

St Quasimodo of Notre Dame.

However, Disney, threatened by the possibility that the Vatican could soon be showing Tom and Jerry cartoons on St Peter's, has responded with a display of scenes from the Jungle Book.

Shere Khan the tiger.

Gosh, this year of Mercy is going to be interesting.

De weddin of Tom Chivvers

Tom Chivvers in his weddin graments

Anti Moly and me is still stayin at Castle Thopmson in Notting Hell, but we doesn't see much of our host Damain Thopmson, as he is lockin himself away in his studdy to work on his new book, de definitive boigraphy of Glayds Mills, de concert painist.

Damain is very fond of paino music, especailly de classics. De great Stehpen Huogh was round here recently playin a meldey of his favuoite concert pieces, such as "Where did you get dat hat?" (arranged by Rachnaminov) and "We wish you a merry Christmas," wiv de immortal lines about "We all likes figgy puddings," which was condenmed by Paul Inwood as bein thoelogically too complex for de modern Cathlic chruch.

Stephen Huogh

Anyway, Damain looked up from writin his definitive account of Glayds Mills's weight probblems, to tell us, "By de way, my colleageu Tom Chivvers is gettin married on Satturday." Anti Moly has got a bit of a crush on Tom Chivvers, because he is pollite, charmin and non-Cathlic, and she put down her gin bottle and fainted dellicately.

Damain went onto explain dat de lucky bride was called Pat, but, because Tom is in de forefront of libberal thinkin, and likes to shock de traditoinalists, he wasnt sure whevver it was a man or a woman.

When my dere Anti recovered, she decided dat she would emullate de story of young Lockenvar, wot is a Scots chap who interrupted a wedding to carry off de bride on his horse.

Young Lockenvar on a horse

Since Tom is an athiest, he wasnt gonna get married in a chruch, althuogh dere is chruches in Soho and de Plymuoth diocese dat will do same-sex marriages (we saw a card in a tellephone box, "Kinky Cathlic weddins, all tastes catered for. Ask for Farver Muriel"). Instead, he had hired de Allbert Hall, as dere was gonna be quite a lot of poeple attendin. He was gettin Stephen Hawkin to conduct de weddin, a proniment atheist wot knows all about big bangs; he has also been competin in de Parrylympics.

Anti aint gotta horse, so I suggested dat, bein Austrialan, she could ride to de Allbert Hall on a crocodile, or maybe have a cart pulled by a team of wombats. But in de end she managed to borrow a donkey, and rode off on her heroic missoin.

Old Molyvar on a donkey (note de bridal bouqeut)

Well, I went dere by more traditoinal means, gettin Dan Hannan, Damain's chuaffeur, to drive me to de Allbert Hall. He refussed to obey de "Keep Left" signs dat David Cameron has been puttin up everywhere, so we was nearly late.

As you can see from de pitcher bellow, de weddin was well attended. Is dat Edwina Curry in de photto bellow?

Tom Chivvers Weddin. De geusts is very happy.

Well I has been keepin you on tenterhocks, but now I can reveel de identtity of de blushin bride, Pat. Well, Tom he is wot dey calls a geek or a nerd, and it turns out dat PAT is a laptop computter (PAT is Personal Applied Technology). Dis explanes a certian cryptic remark dat Damain's butler, Will Heaven, made, when he told Muvver Odone de cook, "I saw Tom wiv PAT on his lap again." Tom got de idea from a flim of Walt Sidney, and I fink dis is what de Chivvers fambly will look like in 15 years from now.

Tom Chivvers fambly, 2027

When Anti Moly learnt dat her successfull rivall was a computter, she said "Dat's reely woful," and decided to cancel de elopment. So Tom's weddin went ahead as planned. I aint often sentimenttal on dis blogg, which is normally written to provide spiritaul nuorishment, but I do fink de happy couple is made for each uvver. Readin his blogg, I has sometimes even wondered whevver TOM is de name of a computter, as well. Thinking Opinion Machine, maybe.

De Satturday colunm

I'VE WRITTEN ANOTHER BOOK

Birds do it, bees do it, even Russell Brand does it

Russell Brand is a smug git, isn't he? But he talks sense about drugs. In fashionable Notting Hill circles, they say that no dinner party is complete without some E, cocaine or cannabis (just don't try lighting up a cigar). I am sure that the working men of Barnsley are no different, relaxing sociably with a fix of heroin after they complete an all-night shift at the local tripe factory. (Most of my readers are from London, and will not have heard of Barnsley, but it is a northern town. Lancashire, I think. Tripe is a delicacy much enjoyed by people who use Twitter.)

I talked to Paul Bearer, my local undertaker, and he confirmed my impressions. "Of the under-21s who are brought in dead to our establishment, over 90% had been taking drugs." Again, we may be making a hasty generalization here, but I think this figure is typical of the population as a whole.

In my new book I'm in a fix, I discuss Brand's other addictions, including the much-publicised Sachs addiction.

Obviously Sachs in moderation cannot harm you, and often, when I am feeling depressed, I relieve my spirits by telephoning the man who brought us "Manuel"; when he answers, I wittily reply "I speak Eenglish. I leaarn it from a boook,"  "No, eet ees no a rat, eet is a filigree Siberian hamster," or "I know nar-theeng!" in a cod-Spanish accent. Then I burst out laughing and put the receiver down. The last time I did this I heard Mr Sachs saying "Oh, it's just that crazy man from the Telegraph again," so I knew he was as amused by the joke as I was.

But of course Brand, in collaboration with that other supposedly cutting-edge wit, Jonathan Ross, found that he could not control his Sachs-drive. Please buy my book, and I'll tell you more.
 

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There's no one like Dame Teksako Itchipowda

I've just discovered a promising young composer called Franz Schubert, who will probably be new to most readers. Here's his photo.

The legendary Dame Teksako Itchipowda performed his last three piano sonatas at the Southbank Centre on Monday ("piano" is a technical term used by some musicians to refer to one of those big instruments with a lid that lifts up. My friend Stephen Hough also plays one, but frankly he's not very good at Schubert). Dame Teksako is a neighbour of mine, and I often follow her into the supermarket, playing excerpts from Schubert sonatas to her on my piano-accordion, while she hunts for her essential supplies of baked beans and toilet rolls. She pretends not to recognise me, of course, but I expect she is secretly flattered to be adored by a Telegraph journalist.

There's an unfinished chapter about Schubert in my latest book, The Fish (a reference to his famous trout quintet, which he also arranged for a double bass: that's also some sort of fish, I believe). It's a little-known fact that it was Schubert's addiction to haddock that killed him.

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What might have been

I realised yesterday that we are approaching the first anniversary of the death of a prominent member of Al-Qaeda. Osama Bin Laden and I were at school together; he was one of the most gifted intellectuals I’ve ever met. Alas, he was unable to discipline his brilliant mind, while also lacking the social skills to mingle with ordinary people. He could orate, dazzlingly, on the Koran, the novels of Barbara Cartland, or the Thomas the Tank Engine canon. Moreover, he loved founding unusual sectarian groups, such as the “Tory Islamic Nudists" and the "Jihadists for Geoffrey Howe," which today have only a handful of members.

Osama was a much-misunderstood individual. I tried to convert him to Catholicism, but he confessed that he could never accept the idea of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary; also, he did not think that women should be allowed into church with the men. How history might have been different if we could only have agreed on these minor theological details.

I don't have much about Osama in my latest book, The Fez, but I do discuss in detail the question why so many people are addicted to silly hats.

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Doctor Who?

For many years, Alastair Campbell has been referred to as a "spin-doctor," but does he really deserve this title? I have been unable to find any evidence that he obtained a Ph.D. from a reputable university, or even from the London School of Egomaniacs. My editor asks me to point out that you wouldn't get Conservatives deceiving people in this way.

Indeed, leading intellectuals such as Richard Chartres tell me that they are very worried about this proliferation of undeserved "Doctor" titles. Here's another example.

Did you spot that sinister-looking chap with the glasses in the picture above? He calls himself "Doc," and is a senior executive for the Disney Corporation. I spoke to his P.A., a Mr Dopey, who refused to provide any proof of his boss's qualifications. Do you think that "Doc" is lining himself up as a possible candidate for Rowan Williams's job? I hope that someone will warn Her Majesty.

In my new book "Jim'll fix it" I write a hard-hitting chapter about how people can be addicted to qualifications - whether it be a B.Sc., an M.A., or a Ph.D. My conclusion: they're killing themselves by degrees. I thank you.

Anti needs exercisin

We is still havin trubble wiv Anti Moly. We fought dat she was enjoyin a nihgt of passion wiv a chap who calls hisself Demnos de Fuol Fiend (dere was shouts and screems all de nihgt, even more dan dere usually is when she's bloggin), but we may have got dis wrong.

She came down to brekfast, where Bosco and me was tuckin into our brekfast serials, Wheety Halos, which is wot saved poeple eat, as good prepparation for when we wears halos in Heavven.

In fact Bosco was tellin me an interrestin story about how he once spent 2 minutes at de Musuem of Torcher in Dissneyland, and how a giant duck appeared and said "Ullo, I is Donnald." Bosco ran away in fear, dis told him all he ever needed to know abuot de Cathlic churhc, dey scares poeple wiv giant ducks.

We was greeted wiv a "Mornin, cobbers!" from Anti Moly in her usaul screechy vioce. Den she continued, "YAHAHAHAHA, WE IS DEMNOS AND WE IS IN CONTROL," in a much deeper vioce.

"Is you practisin ventrilloquims, Anti? You can use Eccles as your dummy," said Bosco, showin a most un-bruvverly atittude towards someone who is just as saved as he is. "Or is you speekin in tongues as we saved poeple does, like sometimes I does a good impressonation of Addolf Hittler?"

"I fink it's a sockpoppet, Bosco," I said. "Anti is prettendin to be Alfred Hadock again."

Just den de tellephone rang. "Hello, I is a preist in good standin," said a familliar vioce. "I does blessins, curses, conffessions, weddins, funnerals, exercisms, grave diggin, dog-walkin, light garddenin duties and small plubming jobs at cut-price rates. I has got singed tetsimonials from Collonel Gaddaffi and de Pop in Avingon to say dat I is a reel preist. Wuold you like to buy some sharres in de Vennezeulan Dodo-farmin Company? Dey is sure to go up, dodo meat is very poppular these days."

"I AM DEMNOS FROM THE DEEP PITS OF HELL," boomed Anti Moly, then, "Traddy RC sockpoppet click, pretty sad, eh?" in her usaul vioce.

"You got someone dere who needs exercisin," said Farver Arfur. "As a preist in good standin I is traned to recoggnise de symtpoms. I has even got me own bell, book and candle. I will come ruond later. Keep de pattient under seddation wiv lots of gin, but save some for me too."

So we is waitin for furver devellopments.

We aint had many phottos of Bosco lately, so here he is hidin in a drane. What he does is shout "YOU AINT SAVED BUSTER, JESSUS IS LOOKIN FOR YOU" at de kids goin to school. Dey fink it's a vioce from Heavven, and some of de kids bursts into tears and runs away screemin. De kid we got here is just about to be sick into de drane, well Bosco, de path of rightoeusness aint always easy, is it?