An exclusive interview with Cardinal Roche

A slightly edited version of the Catholic Herald piece.

"Three plates of tiramisu will be enough, thanks. After all, it is Lent!"

Cardinal Roche is one of four English cardinals currently serving, and has just turned 75. Following the elevation of Timothy Radcliffe, his title of England's Worst Cardinal is now in danger.

CH: Your Eminence...

AR: Just call me "Holy Father" - after all, you'll be doing that in a few weeks, anyway!

CH: Holy Father, then. This year marks the golden jubilee of your ordination. Could you tell us about some of the wonderful things you've done over the last 50 years?

AR: Well, we 'ad it tough in Yorkshire, you know. No plates of tiramisu then - it were black puddings and chip butties for dinner, if we were lucky. If not, it were lumps of coal and wood shavings. But even when I were a few months old, I knew that I were going to end up as pope.

A young Arthur Roche discerns his vocation.

CH: So you gave up ice skating (© Damian Thompson) and became a priest?

AR: Yes, I were sent to the English College at Valladolid. I had no idea where it were, I thought it were somewhere near Barnsley, but it turned out to be in Spain, where they talk funny. Anyway, after I had learned everything there is to learn about being holy, I ended up in Leeds, where they put me in charge of organizing Pope John-Paul II's visit to York. Telling the pope and cardinals what they must do - well that were good practice for later life.

CH: And you ended up as Bishop of Leeds?

"Yes, my policy of closing down churches were very popular."

CH: And then Benedict XVI asked you to become secretary of the Congregation for Divine Worship and the Discipline of the Sacraments in Rome - and when Cardinal Sarah turned 75 you got his job?

"Aye, I were always very loyal to Cardinal Sarah."

CH: What advice would you give to those who want to remain faithful members of the Church and love the Latin Mass but find themselves restricted in attending?

AR: There is nothing wrong with attending the Mass celebrated with the 1962 missal.

CH interviewer falls on the floor in astonishment. Bravely carries on...

CH: But you have been trying to suppress it! (Note: the CH didn't actually point this out.)

AR: Ah, but that was before the Pope were taken ill. Of course we all want him to get better - after all I led the Rosary prayers in St Peter's Square on March 4th, and people said that my Italian was the best by a Yorkshireman since Geoffrey Boycott led a Rosary for England during the Headingley Test Match.

Eee, this Rosary's all a mystery to me, lads!

But the St Wilfrid Mafia told me that if I wanted to guarantee becoming the next pope I needed to change tack quickly. Otherwise we might end up with Parolin, Tagle, or some other unspeakable person (er, could you delete these remarks from the final transcript? Thanks!)

CH: Anyway, you have always liked the Latin Mass?

AR: Well, if they only knew that most days I order my tiramisu in Latin because it is the common language for all of us here! Which reminds me, perhaps another plate would be good after all - I'm feeling a little peckish now!

Anyway, I promise you, the TLM is safe with me! Except where it isn't, of course.

An interview with Arthur Roche

I was privileged to join Christopher Lambchop (of the Bitter Pill) and Christopher Whitebait (of the Fishwrap) in a sycophantic intervew of Uncle Arthur Roche, although I did not say much.

I also missed out on the photo.

Chris (one or the other): Your Eminence, what is it like being the most wonderful Catholic of our era, or indeed any era?

Arthur: I came from 'umble origins, Batley in Yorkshire. We used to live in one room, all twenty-six of us, no furniture, 'alf the floor was missing, and we were all 'uddled together in one corner for fear of falling.

Chris: And now, who'd have thought that you'd be drinking Château de Chasselas and stuffing yourself with cinnabons, eh, your Holiness?

Arthur: Aye, we 'ad it tough. But I worked my way to the top, first as a champion ice-skater, then Bishop of Leeds, then jobs in Rome, and - who knows? - will I be the next pope? I'm already sounding out little Austen Ivereigh to write a hagiography of me!

"I think I'd look better in white, Holy Father."

Chris: I guess you first came to the notice of those above when you started closing churches in Leeds, your Sublimity. Wasn't the DVD that you produced explaining this top of the charts in Yorkshire for two years, O saintly one?

Arthur: Yes, this was my finest hour in England. My idea has even been taken up by Pope Francis!

Chris: Could you explain that, your Vastness?

Arthur: All cardinals are assigned a church in Rome. Mine is San Saba. But the Holy Father has just sent me a DVD explaining that San Saba is to close, and all new cardinals are being given beach houses instead. Apparently, this was Ted McCarrick's idea.

Closing down.

Chris: A brilliant idea, your Rotundness. Now, tell us more about your plans to burn all TLM worshippers at the stake, if you'd be so kind, Mightiness.

Arthur: Some people are stubbornly opposing what the Church - well, Pope Francis not Pope Benedict obviously - has actually decreed.

Both Chrises: Sing adoration to Pope Francis!

Arthur: It's a very serious matter. In the end people have to ask themselves: am I really a Catholic or am I more of a Protestant?

Eccles (for it is he): You're more of a Protestant?

Omnes: SHUT UP, ECCLES!

"The dissolution of the monasteries? We're calling it Traditionis Custodes."

Pope Francis refuses to meet the Mayor of Whitby

Councillor Heather Coughlan, Mayor of Whitby, has reacted angrily to reports that Pope Francis will be meeting with Patriarch Kirill of Moscow, but has, as yet "no plans to visit Whitby".

Nicene Nice one, Kyrill.

"What is it with Francis?" asked the mayor angrily. "He's happy to talk to Lutherans, Anglicans, Orthodox - even Catholics sometimes. But he refuses to consult Whitby town council when it comes to discussing an alternative date for Easter."

In fact, Pope Francis's negotiating position with Patriarch Kirill is more wide-ranging than this, being based on three demands (the fourth was considered to be "a step too far"):

1. Use the Gregorian Calendar.
2. Drop that stupid alphabet.
3. Stick "Filioque" in the Creed.
4. Get involved in gay masses, clown masses, and liturgical dancing.

Many of Whitby's most famous inhabitants, such as, er, Captain Cook and Dracula, are known to have favoured the current method for deciding the date of Easter; this was agreed at the Synod in A.D. 664 and has survived the changes brought on by the Reformation, Vatican II, etc.

A tense moment at the Synod of Whitby.

If a new date for Easter is agreed now, then it is likely that Yorkshire will go it alone, sticking to the present means of calculating it. After all, what's one more schism between friends? It is thought that both John Sentamu (Anglican Archbishop of York) - who signs himself John Ebagum, using the Roman word for York - and Marcus Stock (Catholic Bishop of Leeds) are strongly supportive of the plan for a Yorkshire Easter.

As far as the Catholic Bishops Conference of England and Wales is concerned, they would like to move Good Friday to a Sunday (cf. Epiphany and Ascension), but have not yet worked out how this would fit in with all the other plans under discussion. For Prime Minister David Cameron the important thing is that Easter Sunday should become an even more important shopping opportunity, the exact date being unimportant.

"Are you sure this is an Easter egg?"

We 'ad it tough before Vatican II

In 'onour, er, honour of Yorkshire Day, here is the original version of the Four Yorkshiremen sketch.

Eee, one 'ad it tough. A Yorkshireman flies t' flag.

Aye, them were difficult days when I were a lad. We'd go to church and t'priest wouldn't even look at us. Kept 'is back to us and said 'e were too busy lookin' towards God. We 'ad to face in t'same direction as 'e did. Aye, we used to dream that 'e'd turn round and grin at us, like priests do these days.

What's more, t'service were in Latin. Very confusin' that were. We'd go to furrin parts like Lancashire or Benidorm for our 'olidays, and t'Mass were still in Latin, rather than t'vernacular. Aye, I paid ninepence for a Yorkshire-Lancashire phrase book, and I never got to use it in t'church. What a waste that were.

Silly games at t'altar? Luxury!

And we didn't 'ave no guitars, or even a recorder. They got someone wot 'ad actually 'ad music lessons to play t'organ. Called it more reverent. And when we 'ad 'ymns we didn't get modern stuff, just Gregorian chant and sometimes music by dead people known as composers. You lads wi' your Paul Inwoods and Damian Lundys don't know 'ow lucky you are.

We 'ad to sit through 'omilies on religious subjects too. None of your bishops' letters tellin us all about 'is trip to t'grotto at Lords, or t'priest explainin' t'cultural significance of t'rape scene in Game of Thrones. No, we got Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. Like it or lump it.

T'kiss of peace.

We didn't have t'kiss of peace neither. If you wanted to grope t'lasses you 'ad to go down t'pub for that sort of thing. Nowadays t'kids just won't keep their hands to themselves, will they?

Aye, we was poor and 'umble in t'worship, but we had God, didn't we? You tell that to t'young lads of today wi' their clown Masses, their transgendered awareness Masses, and their puppet Masses, and they just won't believe you.

Aye, and t'bishops used to support their deacons in them days, too.

Dat's enuff bloggs

Hands off Pippa!
By Cristina Noode

Leave Her Royal Hotness alone! She's just a 28-year-old girl doing what all teenagers do at her age - going to wild parties in Paris, getting drunk, and shooting the odd gendarme! Only confirmed anti-monarchists could possibly see anything wrong with that! Which amongst us has not been a little wild in their younger days?

In my days editing the Catholic Herald it was normal to see Damian "six gun" Thompson striding in after a hard night's drinking and poker with "Wild Bill" Oddie. One day he explained that they had just shot a policeman, having mistaken him for "Doc" Chartres, and they were terrified that the lawman might have been a Catholic.  We glamorous young girls all wanted to be Damian's "moll" and shoot up the Magic Circle bishops with him, but he rejected all our advances. Later, we all became boringly respectable housewives of course.

So leave Pippa alone! She may be a wild teenager now, but one day she may be a respected Catholic blogger for the Telegraph!

Excusez-moi, officer, je suis en retard pour la Messe à Notre Dame.

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Cameron the Eurosceptic
By Daniel Nannah

The time has come for UKIP supporters to lay down their arms and admit that David Cameron's Conservatives are the only party likely to take us out of the EU within the next five years.

Already Dave is making rebellious rumblings against EU tyranny. Indeed this week he decided to go head-to-head with the Prime Minister of mighty Varicella. By threatening to oppose an EU Directive on subsidies for hamster-farmers, Dave has shown that he is not afraid to hit the Varicellan hamster-fur industry where it hurts.

Our Eurosceptic policies are being noticed. Whenever I stand up in the European parliament and suggest that we expel all foreigners from the EU, I am listened to avidly. Indeed, most of the foreigners take my advice and leave the chamber immediately. Last week, however, my speech met with unexpected results, for a man came into the chamber, carrying a bag of tools. Somehow I must have received a blow on the head, for when I woke up I was sitting on a pile of rotten cabbage in the Brussels Municipal Dump, but - and this is the important thing - I was still giving my controversial speech on Van Rompuy - why does he smell like a dead weasel? 

Dave is in town, and he's in a mean mood. So Brussels, beware!

David Cameron, getting to grips with Johnny Foreigner.

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Parishioners! Arentchasickofem?
By Peter Numell

In my days as a Parish Priest in the Yorkshire village of Ebor-Gum, the one thing I dreaded was my parishioners. Nowadays, as Anglican Chaplain to the Guild of Usurers, Money-lenders and Blackmailers, I mix with a different class of person, and they are not usually interested in religious matters. But even in my days as Honorary Canon to the White Slave Industry life was peaceful compared with the horrors that awaited me in Yorkshire.

In Ebor-Gum I had proposed some simple changes in our form of Sunday worship - I just wanted it to start each week with a ceremonial burning of homosexuals on the village green - and the parishioners treated me as if I had wanted to do something outrageous, such as introducing the happy-clappy doggerel of Graham Kendrick. Well, I withdrew my plans in the face of their implacable opposition, and reduced the burnings to an occasional event in my own back garden.

Then again, I thought it would be helpful if we were to show our ecumenical side by storming the local mosque, decapitating the Imam, and putting his head on a pole with a label "LOSER". You wouldn't believe the fuss my plan caused. Now I display Father Abdallah's head in a glass case in my sitting-room, where it is much admired by visitors, but we Christians should not be forced to hide our lights under bushels in this way.

Shall we go down to the pub, vicar?

Some uvver Tellegraph bloggs

Holy Water Shortages
By Geoffrey Anel

As the world's oldest environmental correspondent, and the sole survivor of the 1913 conference which found that the sinking of the Titanic was due to atmospheric carbon dioxide, I was invited to a prestigious Climate Change congress in Rome this week. There I discovered that Pope Benedict XVI is so concerned about water shortages that he will be banning the use of Holy Water in Catholic churches so as to minimize the Holy Spirit's "Hydrogen footprint".

For many years the Catholic Church has been known for its indifference to green issues. Indeed, the carbon dioxide produced by this Easter's Paschal candles has caused sea levels to rise by no less than six feet, and (so I am told) the town of Adelaide has completely disappeared underwater. Will Benedict XVI go down in history as the Green Pope? We can but pray to Gaia that it will be so.

For our children's sake, stop this waste now!

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It doesn't matter what notes you play
By Stephen Oh-Hug

Occasionally, when you are performing a concerto at the Carnegie Hall, or possibly the Royal Albert Hall, your attention will wander for a moment and you will think, "Am I supposed to be playing Rachmaninov or Tchaikovsky right now?"

Well, you'll be pleased to know that it doesn't really matter. The great pianist Alfred Brendel said that under such circumstances he would wing it for a while, perhaps simply playing an embellished version of Pop goes the weasel until the orchestra gave him a clue what he was supposed to be doing. Then he would come back to the score as if nothing had happened. Provided that he kept a straight face, none of the audience would ever notice.

Alfred Brendel in conversation with André Previn

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Why we owe so much to Chris Huhne
By Tom Vichers

As a fully-paid-up pro-Gay Liberal Atheist, I see it as my duty to wind up the Telegraph's largely conservative readership. So today I am focussing on the achievements of Chris Huhne, one of my real heroes. Who can doubt that if he had been prime minister, he would have legalised cannabis, heroin and opium, which, after all, are no more harmful to the teeth than coffee with sugar? Then again, there are some parts of the British countryside that do not yet have their own wind turbines - why oh why should the Yorkshire Dales be deprived in this way? It can only be attributed to the fact that Chris Huhne was forced out of office by the forces of reaction (Inspector Norman Plod).

Unfortunately our picture editor could not find a photo of the great man, but here is a photo of his ex-wife going for a spin.

I was only doing 30 m.p.h., officer.

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Continued here.