Pope's doctors admit "we should have removed the spleen."

The surgeons who removed Pope Francis's semi-colon this week have now admitted that they removed the wrong organ. "We see now that we should have removed his spleen, and probably also the gall bladder in which he stores up all his bile," they said.*

*The board at the foot of the papal hospital bed said "pain in the backside", but this was not a medical diagnosis.

As Evelyn Waugh would have put it: A typical triumph of modern science to find the only part of Francis that was not malignant and remove it.

The pope's behaviour has been increasingly bizarre in recent weeks.

Francis has returned from hospital full of venom and bitterness, and it took him just two days to issue a new Motu Proprio "Traditionis Custodes" (an anagram of "Ass! Idiot! Destruction!" but that is probably just a coincidence). Subtitled "Why Benedict is wrong and I am right", the papal scribbles begin with the phrase Guardians of the tradition, the bishops in communion with the Bishop of Rome, showing that the pope could have had a successful career as a comedian if he had wished.

"Nobody's ever called me a guardian of tradition before!"

So, apart from the obvious question "Quis custodiet ipsos traditionis custodes?" we serious Catholic commentators need to ask some fundamental questions:

1. What is he doing?
2. Why is he doing it?
3. Will he get away with it?

Two popes doing what they do best.

Now the pope's reasoning behind the repeal of Summorum Pontificum without even waiting for Benedict to die may be seen as just another case of loutish bad manners (like refusing to answer the Dubia, slapping pilgrims, snubbing Cardinal Zen, etc.) but in fact it is dealing with one of the worst crises in the church: the popularity of the traditional Mass.

I'm sure that these things are randomly chosen.

After all, there can be nothing more serious! Child abuse, idol-worship, the persecution of the Church in China, Fr James Martin's sodoministry, Devout Catholic Biden's abortion mania, the widespread embezzlement of Vatican finances, the squandering of Peter's Pence on dirty films, heretical papal documents, ... all these are trivialities compared with the use of the same Mass as our grandparents used before Vatican II.*

*Did you genuflect when Vatican II was mentioned? I did. Fun, wasn't it?**

**Remember that Vatican II changed nothing at all. Which is why everything has changed.

The cunning plan:

1. Blame the traditional Mass for causing a schism.
2. Cause a schism by banning it.

"All right, lads. You know where he lives. You know what you have to do.

Priests: if you wish to celebrate a Mass in the Extraordinary Form, it is very simple now: all you need is for your bishop to ask the Pater Sanctus for a signed letter giving permission (one for every time you wish to celebrate). Pope Francis is very good at answering letters (ask Burke, Brandmüller, etc.) and will gladly take time off from his Pachamama devotions to scribble you a note.

Curiously, some bishops are actually giving Pope Francis (and his evil side-kick the sinister Dr Rauci) a shock, by saying that they will continue to allow Latin Masses as before. Some really are "Traditionis Custodes" after all. Amazing!

"Muscles" Barron prepares to celebrate the Extraordinary Form.

Incidentally, all this was foreseen two months ago in the writings of the Prophet Eccles.

The curse of St Gallen

There's not much spiritual nourishment in this post, I'm afraid. At the beginning of April I was rushed to hospital in an ambulance - I was throwing up even when I hadn't just been reading something by Ivereigh, Martin, or Faggioli - and it turned out to be the Curse of St Gallen, or gall stones (Cormacus Murphius Oconnus, as doctors call them).

Number 1: choose the next pope.

It was all very exciting, as I hadn't spent a night in hospital since childhood - when they took out my appendix by traditional methods involving a bottle of rum as anaesthetic, and lots of leeches. This time I had one of those modern MRI scans, which is a bit like sitting in a nuclear reactor being bombarded with intense magnetic fields; these are supposed to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow, or at least tell them where every proton in my body is. So they had to operate.

Hospitals are very noisy places - don't expect any peace and quiet there. Apart from being woken up at 3 a.m. for readings of temperature and blood pressure, I had to put up with neighbouring patients playing their radios at full volume, until the nurses pointed out that this was worsening the death rate.

Worst of all was a mad Pole who shut himself behind his curtains and started screaming at his mobile phone, obviously unaware that these things are amplified, and you don't need to be directly audible in Krakow. What can a peaceful saved person do? Well, I scribbled "Quiet please!" on a napkin and chucked it over the curtain. Probably I got a direct hit, as he came rushing out looking very angry, while I seraphically pretended to be half asleep.

The dawn of keyhole surgery.

Anyway, no rum and leeches this time, it was all going to be done by keyhole surgery. The idea is that they make four little keyholes in your stomach, insert the keys, and then turn them, as you might wind up an old clock. Fantastic.

So now I am at home, convalescing. Has anything spiritually nourishing happened in the last week or two? I gather that Pope Benedict managed to upset all the right people, that Pope Francis has been kissing the feet of infidels, and that the Dubia still haven't been answered. Business as usual, then.

N.B. Without a gall bladder, I should be producing less bile directed at atheists, heretics, modernists, LGBT activists, etc. So from now on it's fluffy bunnies and rose petals...

The new gall-free Eccles blog.