The Pilgrim's Ogress 7: The Trouble with Butlers

Continued from Part 6

The story so far: Eccles and his Aunt Moly are on a pilgrimage. Now P.G. Wodehouse takes up the story.

"Oh dash it all, Aunt Moly," I said, "Do I really have to go and visit Uncle Thomas at Brentwood Castle? We're supposed to be on a pilgrimage. I've been looking forward to seeing the shrine of St Damian Thompson at Reading, and visiting my old chum Des Pond of Slough."

"Eccles, you woeful idiot," replied my aged relative, "Lord McMahon needs our help urgently. His whole life is in disarray, and he believes that his prize pig, the Empress of Brentwood, is dying."

"Well, needs must when the Devil drives, as the jolly old Bard puts it," I conceded. I summoned my manservant, Bosco, who shimmered in with some life-restoring Mystic Zuhlsdorf coffee.

"Excuse me for a moment, sir," said Bosco. "May I take the liberty of informing you that your new tartan biretta really does not suit you?"

"It really does not suit you, sir."

I am used to criticism from Bosco: usually it takes the form of remarks such as "May I remind you, sir, that you are not saved as I am, because Jesus has not chosen to visit you?" These I can safely ignore, as Bosco gets some strange ideas from his attendance at the Calvary Chapel; but when it comes to criticisms of my taste in headgear, then I feel I must put my foot down. Explaining coldly to Bosco that my biretta had been greatly admired by Ms Katharine Jefferts Schori, who writes the fashion column for the Episcopalian Times, I sent him off to buy some railway tickets for Brentwood.

What the well-dressed cleric is wearing.

We arrived at Brentwood Castle, where the door was opened by my uncle, Lord McMahon himself. "Uncle Thomas," I said. "Opening your own door, now?"

"Eccles, how nice to see you!" sighed my exhausted uncle. "It's my new butler, Liturgist. He's taken over the running of Brentwood Castle, and gives all the orders now."

"Ah, like the unjust steward chap in the Bible, what?" I had once won a prize for scripture knowledge at my prep school, and the parable of the cove in question (Luke 16, I fancy) was well known to me. "He fiddled a few things with his chief's debtors, and at the end the boss was very pleased with him. I'd have been furious."

The unjust butler.

"Yes, that's Liturgist. Everything has been changed in the running of the Castle. He's told the servants to disobey all my instructions. Here he is now."

Liturgist came in with a tray containing refreshments for Uncle Thomas, Aunt Moly, and myself. Instead of the usual whisky-and-soda, gin and wine that we had been expecting, we were served with strawberry milkshakes.

I looked in vain for my manservant Bosco to save the situation. Since the butler Liturgist had just broken into an impromptu dance, the Vati-can-can, Uncle Thomas hastily agreed to escort us to the pigsties, to see the Empress of Brentwood.

The Empress of Brentwood.

Knowing that Uncle Thomas regularly won prizes for his porcines, I had been expecting to see a healthy obese animal, but all we found was a scrawny-looking pig. The creature was clearly malnourished: instead of a well-balanced diet containing all that was necessary for nourishment, the poor beast was chewing on some old copies of the Tablet and minutes of ACTA meetings. It was looking decidedly the worse for wear.

A most unhealthy diet.

At that moment, Bosco, my "saved gentleman's personal saved gentleman", arrived, bearing a delicious dish of cupcakes, rhubarb crumble and custard, as recommended in Thompson's The care of the pig.

"Where did you get that food?" asked my Uncle Thomas. "Whenever I try to feed the Empress, my butler Liturgist gives contrary orders."

"I think we shall not be troubled by Mr Liturgist again," replied Bosco soothingly. "I have induced him to leave your employment, indicating to him that his unique talents would be more appreciated by Lord Paul Inwood, the son of the Duke of Cacophony.

"Bosco, I take my hat off to you!" I exclaimed.

"I would be most grateful if you did so, sir," replied my faithful employee. "As I said, it really does not suit you, sir."

Continued in Part 8.

Eccles is hacked.

I was sittin at de computter yesterday, planning de next bit of spiritaul nuorishment for my long-sufferin readers, viz. an in-depth analysis of de book 1 Kings for de Eccles Bibble project, when I noticed dat de pitchers on my blogg was all disappearin.

Wot is left when your pitchers has gone.

In de words of de Tridentine Mass Cui Bono? wot means "As a benefit to whom?" (Or, in de translatoin done by Mgr Bassil Loftus in the 1960s, "Whose is dem bones?" - I fink he was referrin to Ezekiel 37.)

So we has to look at all de usual suspects.

"Well, if you've all got alibis, we must look elsewhere..."

Reely, the fust on my list of suspects should be my dere Bruvver Bosco, wot is a saved pusson like me. He and I aint never seen eye-to-eye, which is odd as I often just echoes what he is sayin. However, Bosco aint got de technical know-how to hack a saved pusson's blogg: he once spent three weeks unable to logg on to his own blogg cos de CAPS LOCK key was on. He cuoldn't phone de technical support cos he mistook de TV channel changer for a mobile phone.

So it aint Bosco. Nor Anti Moly, whose laptopp aint workin since she threw it at Mgr X. Pell De Mons, de local Cathlic priest.

Bosco shares in his little bruvver's sorrows.

Could it be our dere friend Damain Thopmson, alias Captain Custard? A careless reeder of dis blogg might say dat he was bein mocked occasoinally; more careful reeders knows dat he is learnin a lot from my blogg, and his own little blogg is soundin more and more like a paroddy of mine.

Archbishop Nichols points de finger, but I fink he is wrong.

De fertile mind of Eccles thought a bit more about people who might not apprecaite his writins. Could dear old Richard Dakwins be exasperated by de Eccles Bibble Project, which is forcin him to read a book of de Bibble every week after havvin had it explaned to him by an expert? We is comin up to Sollomon, what was a wise (and slightly saved) pusson - maybe de Professor is scared dat he may be reveeled as not bein very wise himself?

Eccles, come clean now - is it wise to cut babies in half, or not?

Well de list of suspects is long, as dere is many wot doesnt luv poor Eccles. We can rule out Basil Loftus, Giles Fraser, and de staff of de Tablet, as dey aint viscous pussons, dey is kind and luvvin, even if dey is wrong on most fings.

Well, my fust break was when I found a biretta lying round de house. Can it be a clue?

Wot can dis mean?

To be continued...

---

For dem wot cares, I is gonna repare de most recent blosts, and de most poppular, but de rest is gonna be like de Bibble, and have no pitchers.

Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity. Eccles. 1:2.

Writing to your M.P.

Not the best way to start your letter.

At this time many people will be writing to their Members of Parliament about the issue of same-sex marriage. We offer a few tips, designed to help you write the most effective and persuasive letter.

There are many ways to start the letter: "Dear Sir" or "Dear Madam" is the traditional way, but it may lay you open to a charge of transphobia. "Dear Humanoid" is safe enough, and may be used if you are uncertain of the exact species of your M.P.

Dear Humanoid.

Alternatively, you may wish to use the M.P.'s name, but be careful: Sir Archibald FitzHaggis of that Ilk should be addressed as "Dear Archie" or "Dear Spotty" if you know him well enough, but NOT "Dear Ilk." Starting your letter "Harriet, you old cow," "Dave, you slimy creep," or "Gordon, you lazy toad" is unlikely to endear yourself to the M.P. in question.

Next, you may wish to explain how religion influences your views on same-sex marriage. For example, if you are a Christian of some sort, then you probably want to uphold Christ's own views on marriage (unless you are Giles Fraser).

How many mistakes can you spot in this picture (not counting Giles Fraser)?

Mentioning that you are a Catholic may be counterproductive if your M.P. has been reading the inane ramblings of Richard Dawkins. It may be safer to say you are an Anglican, and hope that the M.P. will feel sorry for you. Claiming to be a Muslim may be very effective, especially if you offer to go round to the M.P.'s house with some friends to explain yourself further. If you happen to be a Scientologist, Jehovah's Witness, Mormon or Druid, then forget it: your M.P. won't even read the rest of the letter.

So that's agreed, then. We'll say we're Methodists.

Some other persuasive arguments you may use:

Blackmail. Say you know all about Eulalie (this is the P.G. Wodehouse ploy). There are many macho-looking M.P.s in mining constituences who design lingerie in their spare time. If you're called "The Thug of Gritville" you may not want your feminine side to be known. (Of course, being a thug is an equal-opportunity role, and there are many female M.P.s who rejoice in nicknames such as "The Battleaxe of Milton Pangle." Use your initiative here.)

Our "Peggy" range is selling well too.

Money. Most M.P.s love money, and will do anything for a little extra cash. The simple words "I have long respected you, and felt that your life would be enriched by the gift of a duck house" will go straight to the heart of your M.P.

Essential equipment for an M.P.

Embarrassment. It may seem excessive, but you could threaten to throw yourself under the M.P.'s car, or simply to turn up on the M.P.'s doorstep with a particularly ugly "love child." There is a problem here, in that most M.P.s, having no sense of shame, are not easily embarrassed.

Well, I hope that has been useful. Probably, it will also be helpful to send a copy of the photo below to your M.P., just to convince him completely.

If he sings "Where's your mother gone?" again, I'm going to be sick.

Great religious bores of today

You know how it is when you get on the bus and someone comes and sits down next to you, even though there are lots of empty seats...

I'm an atheist you know, I don't believe in any of that "sky-fairy" nonsense, I've been reading a brilliant book by that man Dawkins he's an Oxford professor, he was a very famous biologist you see, discovered genes, or DNA, or memes, or something, so he knows what he's talking about.

Genes, or DNA, or memes, or something.

Anyway he's now become an expert on theology, and he points out just how vile Catholicism is, they brainwash the kids you know. See those children over there, going to St Mary's School? You can see that they're mentally scarred by the prospect of ending up in Hell. Oh well, maybe it's because they've got a French test today, anyway, they're not looking very happy, are they? Dawkins says that's worse than child abuse and he's right. He's written lots of books with long words in them, you must have heard of him he's married to that woman on Dr Who...

That woman on Dr Who.

He got up, and another man sat down next to me...

Hello, I'm a deacon you know, you can tell that because I'm wearing a biretta, I'm just as good as a priest really but you'd be surprised just how many priests look down on us and give us all the dirty jobs to do. I do baptisms you know, they're safe in my hands, you don't see many of my baptisms going wrong.

A baptism gone wrong.

The same goes with funerals, they often give me funerals to do because I never smile, but I read a big book about how to do funerals, and the main thing to remember is to stand well back so that you don't fall in the grave, it upsets the bereaved if the deacon falls in the grave. Note that I am wearing a biretta on my head. My wife ironed it, in fact she irons my head flat every morning so that the biretta will fit on top. I've also got a dalmatic, but I don't wear it on the bus, it's white with black spots, because my wife saw a film "The 101 Dalmatics" and this gave her the idea.

The 101 Dalmatics.

I can do exorcisms as well, even though deacons aren't supposed to. I woke up last night and saw the ghastly demon Ek-al-Byar leering at me, and saying "You're not a proper priest," but I said "Begone!" and turned the light on. It had turned into an old coat hanging on the wardrobe door. You see what powers I have...

Finally, another man wanted to share his grievances with me...

You're interested in religion, are you? Did you know that Pope Paul VI was replaced by a replica in 1967? Look at these photos, it proves it.

  

The real Paul VI (L) and the impostor (R).

Note how the impostor has his ring on the wrong hand. They exploited the confusion caused by Vatican II to smuggle a demon onto the throne of St Peter, so it's been Sede Vacante for the last 45 years. Look at the way Pope John-Paul II behaved - first he murdered John-Paul I, and then he bought himself a bent crucifix. It's clearly evidence that he was a demon.

Shocking behaviour by a Pope.

What's more the Mormons posthumously baptised John-Paul II, so that proves he wasn't a true Catholic. And the present Pope is the same. But I have been reading the prophecies of the end of time, and I can tell you there will be only one more Pope after the present one - probably an Englishman called Vincent - after which there will be Armageddon, and then we'll see the present Catholic church destroyed like it says in the book of Revelation.

The rightful Pope, Pius XIII.

Oh, is this your stop? Well, it's been nice hearing your views...

The worst Church buzzwords

In response to Fr Lucie-Smith's Catholic Herald article listing ten words and phrases that should be banned from religious life (e.g. "elephant in the room," "outreach" and "guideline"), we have asked a more liberal "Doctor of Immoral Theology" to provide a list of buzzwords that annoy him.

---

A traddy priest aggressively wearing a biretta

biretta: in the modern church there is no place for old-fashioned vestments (terms like "chasuble" and "maniple" are equally verboten). It is best if a priest shows that he is no different from other people, so saying Mass in jeans and tee-shirt is recommended. Perhaps a discreet clip-on dog-collar if you want to show you're "staff."

hermeneutic: anyone using this obscure piece of jargon (and that includes Popes who should know better!) marks himself out as someone who is not fully committed to the ideals of Vatican II. If the church is to proceed to ordain women as priests, to endorse abortion and euthanasia, and to allow gays to marry in church - all explicitly recommended by Vatican II - then we need to crush rebels who stand in our way.

kneeling: a most unhealthy custom, leading to arthritis and lumbago. Churches should withdraw all kneeling facilities, and allow the customers to sit down throughout the Mass (perhaps standing for hymns, to allow self-expression by waving arms and doing the occasional jig).

The Last Supper. Only one traddy apostle is kneeling!

Latin: Do we need to say more? The language of Satan. Banned by Vatican II. Who wants to hear a Mass in which abominations such as de gustibus non est disputandum or caveat emptor can be found? Or even veni, vidi, vici?

novena: not a decent English word, is it? All to do with praying on nine consecutive days - if that's not a sign of obsessiveness, we don't know what is!

Gregorian chant: Largely done away with, and replaced by the pioneering work of the blessed Paul Inwood, but it still survives in some pockets of resistance. Ugh. Moreover, Graham Kendrick tells us that he feels insulted that people are attempting to introduce Fulge, Jesu, Fulge as a Gregorian chant.

Pope Gregory I - you can see that he's up to no good

consubstantial: A word re-introduced into the new English translation of the liturgy. Not a word you'll hear in the street! "I hear you're feeling a little consubstantial, Mrs Peppermint! Aren't the tablets working?" What nonsense!

fasting: These days we don't fast, or eat fish on Fridays, or regard Lent as a special period of abstinence. It smacks of an eating disorder if you don't tuck into a healthy Jumbo Offalburger on Fridays (unless, of course, you are a vegetarian, in which case we truly respect your sincere beliefs, but do make sure you get enough calories). Lent's a period for stuffing ourselves with Easter eggs - why do you suppose they are in the shops at that time?

Pope: A chauvinist old fogey in Rome too full of his own distasteful ideas. Don't mention him in polite circles! The word "Vatican" is equally taboo, unless followed by "II."

God: Too controversial a figure in the modern Catholic church. If we are to be able to dialogue with atheists and Anglicans, we must not insist on this. If we must refer to a possibly nonexistent supernatural creator, then the term "sky-fairy" is recommended. We don't want Diarmaid McCulloch or Stephen Fry to laugh at us!

Not a necessary part of modern Catholic theology