Top of the Christians

The Anglican Cranmer blog has published its new list of democratically-elected top UK Christians, and the winner is Nissar Hussain, the former England cricket captain who has been persecuted for his faith in the forsaken lands of the Islamic jihad (Bradford).

Last year I expressed my disappointment that Tony Blair did not make it onto the list (not to mention Tina Beattie, Thomas the Tank Engine and Fr Jack Hackett), but this year "our Tony" has been recognised as the truly pious, influential and rich warmonger that he really is.

The formal stage. Entrants later paraded in swimsuits as well.

Hilarity has been ensured by the inclusion of various other entertaining characters known to this blog: Giles Fraser, Tyson Fury, and a bunch of women "bishops" - well, it is an Anglican blog, and they take these things seriously. Of course there have been complaints about the results from those who don't understand the democratic process - not enough women, not enough ethnic diversity, hardly any Muslims, etc.

Not elected. Religious and disablist discrimination in action.

There are some excellent Catholics on the list, but no Catholic bishops. Vincent Nichols goes into the dustbin of history (oh dear, how sad, never mind) but none of his colleagues is famous enough to take his place. James MacMillan makes it, but Paul Inwood doesn't, in spite of - or perhaps because of - his contribution to the Year of Mercy. Again: oh dear, how sad, never mind, ch-ch.

Bad news for Catholic journalists too. Tim Stanley is deservedly there again, but where is Damian "cupcake" Thompson?

Damian starred in a major film this year, but still did not make the cut.

Actually, Spectatre's "Bond girl", Isabel Hardman, did make the list. She runs a coffee house at which Damian's cupcakes are served: a good read, but somehow I never spotted that she was slightly saved, as well.

So who are Eccles's tips for December 2016?

Prince George and Princess Charlotte.

The future Supreme Governor of the C of E (if it survives that long) is believed to say his prayers regularly, and he still has that "sweetness" touch which we find hard to associate with tough guys like Tyson Fury or Theresa May.

I won't include any other photos, as they won't be as sweet, but my other two tips are Jeremy Corbyn (the postal vote should swing it), and Stephen Fry (because he has to be on every list, darlings). You read it here first.

Make God in your own image!

There is an obvious explanation for recent reports that some women priests and bishops - Anglicans of course - would like to rewrite Christian liturgy to make God female: not only did God make Man in His own image, but many people would like to remake God in their own image. Here are some case studies.

God dictates the more boring bits of Leviticus to Moses.

Pope Francis writes: I see God as a rather confused old man, surrounded by some rather dodgy archangels (e.g. Kasper, the Father of Lunacy). God Himself, although traditionally described as a "Judge Eternal, Throned in Splendour", is really a much more humble character, who prefers to be enthroned in a rather spartan apartment, and is anxious to reassure people with the words, "WHO AM I TO JUDGE?" Most of what God says has been taken down by unreliable prophets and evangelists, and it suffers from translation errors.

God teaches Noah about gay marriage.

Fr Gerry O'Morrah, Irish Catholic priest: If there's any message that we should take from scripture and tradition, it is that God is really keen on equality, diversity, gay marriage, abortion, euthanasia, and cannibalism. There are examples of these throughout the Bible, all described in enthusiastic tones. He is the God of Death and Sex, and was known as such to the ancient Irish. The very fact that He placed a rainbow in the sky after the great flood proves to us exactly what His vision was for the world.

"Cake of Heaven - feed me from thy bounteous store."

Damian Thompson, Spectator journalist: God was described as a "blood-crazed ferret" by the Church Times, but in reality He is a much milder character, whose main joy is in listening to our worship, especially when we offer it in the form of Bach Chorales and Gladys Mills songs. Obviously, being the Almighty, He has no weaknesses, but His fondness for cupcakes and custard - the Cake of Life - almost amount to an addiction. Trust me, I know about these things.

A vision of Heaven.

Other writers have described God in these terms:

"He's a grumpy old man in a shed who likes harassing and insulting people."

"Well, dude, you just don't appreciate the fact that God likes to express Himself in the panoptically ironic semantics of patriarchal exclusion using Tzvetan Todorov's absolutely intersubjective formalism. The Bible would have been six times as long, except that the moderators got to it."

"Of course He doesn't really exist, but if He did, He would definitely be a learned Professor of Zoology, and His Kingdom would be in Oxford. By the way, did I ever mention that I really hate Catholics?"

The Fall and Rise of Damian Thompson

I have long watched the career of Damian "blood-crazed ferret" Thompson with interest - indeed I contributed to the comments section of his "Holy Smoke" Telegraph blog as "Eccles", the brother of the idiot "St Bosco", until I was banned. Then I contributed again as "ThisIsNotEccles" - but the moderators were not fooled by my subtlety and I was soon banned again. Later I was cunningly "Incongito" - this was in the days before I got a secretary, Ecclesiam, to help me with the typing - but that didn't last long either... Anyway, the blog you're reading would probably not be here, were it not for my response to the activities of Brother Bosco on Damian's blog.

Supporters of Bosco protest at his banishment from Damian's blog.

As I have recorded elsewhere on this blog, Damian's blog was originally full of religious news and discussion, hence the nickname "Holy Smoke". Later, however, a distinct dumbing-down was noticed, especially after Damian started to write a Saturday column in the Telegraph. Less frequent were the references to Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor or the Ordinariate, and more frequent the mentions of cupcakes, custard, the pianist Gladys Mills, and the actress Noele Gordon. Occasionally, there were snippets of religious gossip, such as the plots against the Nuncio, and the prediction that Fr Alban McCoy would become the next (Catholic) Bishop of Leeds. This event has yet to come to pass.

Damnit, Damian! I'm a doctor, not a bishop!

Finally, however, Damian parted company "amicably" with the Telegraph, as we have recorded already; Jason the Mekon, ruler of the Treens of northern Venus, was brought in to dumb-down the newspaper further. Luckily Bryony Gordon and Bill Gardner, formerly of the Brighton Argus - and who better to write about Dull and Boring Day? - are still there to back up the few grown-up writers remaining at the Telegraph, such as Tim Stanley and Tom Chivers.

Gardner of the Argus's greatest scoop.

So what of Damian? Of course he was still doing casual journalism for the Catholic Herald and the Spectator, but otherwise he was alone in the world with his collection of 10 million CDs, his Gladys Mills piano, his royalties from the Fix - soon to be a major blockbuster starring Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz - and a significant pay-off from the Telegraph.

Damian received a substantial "Golden Cupcake" from the Telegraph.

Well, a few weeks later we learned that Damian had been given a real job at the Spectator. Of course, he had to begin at the bottom, as the tea-boy, but we all have to start somewhere, and the senior Spectator staff appreciated having their tea poured out by someone who could talk knowledgeably about Wagner, custard, Islam and of course Catholicism as he helped them to sugar. Promotion was inevitable: like the chap in H.M.S. Pinafore who "polished up that handle so carefullee, that now he is the Ruler of the Queen's Navee", we could sing about Damian, "At making tea so good an operator, that now he is an Ass. Ed. of the great Spectator". An Ass. Ed. is nothing to do with donkeys, but is an Associate Editor, which is a very grand position indeed.

Cristina Odone is called in to help Damian interview a new tea-boy (R).

So the story has a happy ending, and Damian is blogging on religious matters again at the Spectator's Coffee House - or Custard House, as it is to be renamed. In-depth articles are appearing:

Bravo, Justin Welby! Much better than Rowan Williams! (even Anglicans get it right sometimes, eh?)

Fr Jean-Marie Charles-Roux - the priest with the William Hartnell hairstyle (ah, comments on hairstyles make me nostalgic for the old Telegraph days) and

Even the atheist left realise that Richard Dawkins is a bigot (a bit of an open goal, that one).

Ad multos bloggos, Damian. Will I be allowed to comment on your posts though?

The Abbot of Amboise, a lookalike of Fr Charles-Roux.

Graven images

We had two particularly interesting reactions to the piece on the (British) Ten Commandments: one, from Archdruid Eileen, wondered how many commandments there really were, and what they were exactly (Beaker Folk and Catholics having a different way of cutting up those stone tablets into handy soundbites). Bruvver Bosco made a similar point in the comments to the piece:

Ha ha, you used the catholic ten commandments brother Eccles. Notice how the 2nd commandment has been changed. They got rid of that pesky "do not make or worship or bow befor graven images." My hats off to the catholic church. That takes guts to get rid of commandments they don't like. So come on all you faithful cathols...its Ok to bow befor any and all graven images. Hold on to them tight...that trip to hell can get breezy.

The Calvary Chapel, with its graven image of a dove.

Regular readers of this blog will know that Bosco is a member of the Calumny Chapel, and he kisses a cement dove before he goes to bed each night. Apart from that, he is very tough on graven images - for example he threw out a photo of our Anti Moly just in case anyone in the house was tempted to bow down and worship it.

Not to be worshipped.

Still, as someone on a continuing spiritual journey, I do have a question to ask of the experts. "Graven" seems to mean "engraved" or "sculpted", like Bosco's cement dove. Are paintings and photographs evil? Or only if you worship them? Here's another test case, a 1938 painting of Catholic bloggers Fr Tim Finigan and Mrs Caroline Farrow as children (haven't they worn well?)

Does this break the 1st (or 2nd) commandment?

Our old friend Damian Thompson is known to worship cupcakes: indeed, he has written a book on addiction, and how he attended Cupcakes Anonymous meetings in a vain attempt to break himself of this habit. We did think he was now cured, but last time I went round to see him, I found him kneeling before the graven images below.

A clear breach of the commandments.

Well, the general consensus - Bosco and the Muslims aside - seems to be that making images is not the real problem, so much as worshipping false gods; and that is taken care of by the first commandment.

"He just worships that bicycle..."

Dawkins comes to dinner

The amateur theologian, Professor Richard Dawkins, has said that it was now possible to go to a dinner party and assume that no one was religious.

I assure you, Professor Dawkins, that I really am religious.

The explanation, of course, is simple: Richard is never invited to the sort of dinner party where he might meet people whose views would upset him. Since one of the missions of this blog is to help Richard Dawkins on his road to being saved, we invited him to dinner.

Our French cook, who had been in Genoa, prepared us a dish he called Shellfish Gênes, which we knew would go down well with the learned Professor.

So what other guests should we invite? We thought of Stephen Fry. After throwing up, we stopped thinking of him. No, we wanted people who would challenge Dawkins with orthodox religious views.

Kieran Conry - going bananas.

Although malicious people said that Kieran had sold himself for a mess of Pease Pottage (a witty joke based on his episcopal address), he is, after all, a bishop.

"Bishop, you've been getting criticised a lot on religious blogs recently, after your half-baked comments about one of your priests."
I don't read blogs. Especially not Eccles's blog, which insulted me seven times last month. I counted them.
"Yes, well some of the newspapers are less than enthusiastic about you."
I don't read newspapers.
"And the papal encyclicals appear to contradict many of your views."
I don't read papal encyclicals.
"And the Bible's teaching seems to contradict you from time to time."
I don't read the Bible.

Kieran's friends at ACTA are not universally loved.

We've been hearing a lot about the dissident Catholic group ACTA/ACTOR ("A call to outright rebellion"), and we invited a few members to our dinner party. They explained to us their latest plans for "making the Pope sit up and take notice of us". These include showing disrespect to all religious authority apart from God. "And even God had better watch His step, if He knows what's good for Him."

We're going to ignore the liturgy, and do our own thing. For example, we'll say "Yadda Yadda Yadda" instead of "through my own most grievous fault", just to make it clear that we don't have any grievous faults. We are also very keen on individual conscience, so out goes that dusty old Bible, and in comes a personal statement of morals. If my conscience tells me that it's all right to marry a porcupine, then I shall marry a porcupine, and clasp it to my bosom.

But think of the children...

We had thought of inviting Bill Gardner, the religious affairs correspondent of the Brighton Argus, but he was out delivering soup to the poor and needy. As it happens, my friend Damian Thompson was unable to come to the dinner party, having been upset by a shocking story in the Argus.

Another scoop for the Argus.

Well, a good time was had by all, and Dawkins was sent home having been exposed to some of the finest religious minds of our time (including several Tablet journalists). I asked him afterwards what it felt like to be surrounded by devoutly religious people all evening. "You're having me on, Eccles!" he replied.

Next time I'll invite one of those Indian fakers...

Clash of the Titans.

Yes, already they're calling it the Debate of the Century. Peter Hitchens and Damian Thompson, acknowledged experts on addiction, discuss the question: Whose book is better?

Peter Hitchens prepares to confront Damian Thompson.

For those who don't have time to listen to the Spectator podcast, we present a transcript of the debate between the two greatest intellectuals of our day.

DT: Well, I should point out straight away that I'm an expert on addiction, as I've written a best-selling book on the subject. I don't normally plug it, but it's called The Fix.

PH: I've written a best-selling book too. It's called The War We Never Fought: The British Establishment's Surrender to Drugs.

DT: Well, my book's better than your book. My friend Cristina says so.

PH: No, my book's better than your book. You see, I claim that addiction doesn't even exist.

DT: What? How dare you say that! I hate you!

Damian Thompson, modelling the new Michael Voris wig.

PH: Well, I'm sorry, but any addicts you see are purely a figment of your imagination.

DT: Look here, mate. Your brother Christopher may have been a lunatic left-wing atheist, but he was still much cleverer than you.

PH: Well, your sister Emma may be a lunatic left-wing atheist, but she's still much cleverer than you.

Emma Thompson expresses concerns over her brother Damian's latest meltdown.

DT: I'll get you for that. Wait until I write my Saturday column.

PH: Look, calm down, Damian. And please stop throwing cupcakes at me.

DT: I'll ruin you, as I did Johann Hari, David Cameron, and Keith O'Brien. Nobody will take you seriously again.

(Storms out, slams the door, and knocks over two secretaries, a security guard and a passing Monsignor. Returns to Telegraph Towers to launch a barrage of Twitter abuse and hostile blog posts. Phones Telegraph hit man and orders him to pour custard through Peter Hitchens's letter box.)

Preparing to fill Peter Hitchens's house full of custard.

PH: Sigh... it looks as though I'm not going to get that job on Telegraph blogs, after all.

Britain's bishops lose their AAA credibility rating

The Catholic Church in the UK was in crisis today, as it was revealed that the Vatican had decided to downgrade its bishops' AAA credibility rating to a lowly CCC.

Bishop Tom Burns: sometimes a card, but never a cardinal.

Several factors had contributed to this lack of confidence in the British bishops, starting with some rebellious comments from Cormac Murphy-O'Connor and Kieran Conry, and culminating in a deranged outburst from Bishop Burns.

Kiero fiddles while Tom Burns.

Indeed, Tommy Burns, of the People's Republic of Menevia - a socialist state that somehow escaped the collapse of communism in 1990 - courageously took the opportunity of the Pope's retirement to put forward his own views on Catholicism. Had he expressed such opinions in 2008, it would probably have prevented his promotion from Bishop of the Farces to Bishop of Menevia.

Bishop Burns told the Tablet, a well-known organ of Protestantism: "Conservatism has had its day. It doesn’t work. Despite all Benedict’s efforts, the Church is losing its place in society." Bishop Burns rightly considers that a "place in society" is very important, and he is definitely miffed because he misses out on so many social events.

A Royal Garden Party. Alas, no Tommy Burns!

In a moment of sudden self-awareness, Burns called for a "root and-branch review of the method of appointing bishops." It is thought that he was apprehensive that a lunatic with a totally absurd view of Catholicism might end up being appointed to a diocese such as Menevia.

Annoy the Pope and win an evening out with Tina Beattie.

As a side-effect of his meltdown, Tom Burns is now a hot favourite to win the Tablet's new prize competition, Annoy the Pope and win an evening out with Tina Beattie. However, expert opinion suggests that a whole evening with the biggest bore in modern British Catholicism may be more than even he can stomach.

Keith O'Brien dances with Flora McHaggis.

Meanwhile, in Scotland, another contestant for the Tablet's prize, Cardinal Keith O'Brien, has made it clear that he has "no plans to marry" Miss Flora McHaggis, a leading piper, even if a new Pope is elected who would permit him to do so. "But I'd like the option," he explained.

---

Pope Who?

In other news, speculation is growing as to which name the next Pope will take. According to a recent poll, the current front-runners are:

1. Cormac;
2. Kieran;
3. Tom;

"Doubting" Tom calls for a root and-branch review of the method of appointing apostles.

4. Hans;
5. John-Paul, John, Paul, or Paul-John;
6. George-Ringo;
7. Damian;

St Damian cured this dog of a cupcake addiction.

8. Z;
9. Eccles (saved);
10. Ye.

Pope Ye: he (also) hath shown strength with his arm.

Saint of the Week

St Damian the Obscure.

A member of the order of St Custard, St Damian is another medieval saint about whom many astounding legends have grown up.

Damian is believed to have come from humble stock, his ancestors having been ferret-farmers near Reading. Damian himself was a learned man, and was sent to Oxenford to study for a degree in HHT (History, Hairdressing and Theology), the most prestigious degree offered at that time.

Father Sidney James, Damian's tutor in theology and hairdressing.

In those days Damian was something of a lady's man, breaking the hearts of many virtuous maidens who came his way. However, he resolved to devote himself to God, and in particular the maintenance of traditional Catholic values.

Cristina Odone - after meeting Damian she devoted her life to good works.

At that time the Council of Trent was meeting, and Damian - a traditionalist who adhered to the Sarum Rite - was anxious to fight its modernist tendencies with all the powers at his disposal. Indeed, his polemics brought him to the attention of Cardinal Murphy, who attempted unsuccessfully to procure his excommunication.

Cardinal Murphy admits defeat.

In his later years, Damian took a less active part in church politics, although he maintained a pious and virtuous life; his contemporaries noted that he was a master of the German art of Schadenfreude, and that his enemies were invariably cast down. For example, the miraculous downfall of Christopher the Hun is generally attributed to the intervention of St Damian.

Conclusive proof that Christopher the Hun was not driving his chariot.

Damian's final years were spent in madness. Each week he sent out a deranged letter to his disciples, written in green ink, in which he discussed random topics such as cummerbunds, hairdressers and custard, but nobody could bear to read them. He eventually succumbed to a surfeit of cupcakes.

Prayer to St Damian: O blessed St Damian, who saved the Church in its hour of peril, intercede for us, that we may be blessed with a good head of hair, that we may avoid unseemly fatness, and that we may avoid all forms of addiction. Help us to write, as thou didst write, even when we have nothing to say. Amen.

A day in the life of Damain Thopmson

A blood-crazed ferret

I shudder into wakefulness as my alarm clock rings (today it plays my friend James MacMillan's cantata "The Lord smote Glasgow Rangers"). Giving my teddy-bear, Benedict, a quick hug, I leap out of bed and get dressed. Breakfast is a simple affair of cupcakes and coffee.

Telegraph cupcakes. Can you spot Cristina Odone, Tim Stanley and Ed West?

Of course on Sundays I omit breakfast and go straight to the Oratory to look for liberal and modernist tendencies in the Latin Mass, but on weekdays I go to Telegraph Towers where I hold the highly important job of Editor of Telegraph Blogs. This means that all the bloggers kow-tow to me, bring me cupcakes, and laugh at my jokes. The only person I have to fear is the Telegraph's Editor, Tony Gallagher, who is a West Ham United fan, and regularly says things like "I don't like your face, Thompson, you little squirt. Beat it!" But now I've stopped blogging on religious topics, he doesn't kick me so often.

One big happy family of bloggers

Like most journalists, I spend most of the morning reading the papers, insulting people on Twitter, and swapping silly jokes. But Friday is my big day, as I have to write a Saturday column for the Telegraph's distinguished readership of London lawyers and retired colonels. So I look for pictures of fat people with silly hair or strange clothes, and weave a hilarious (or as my brainy friend Tom Chivers says "an hilarious") narrative about them.

Arthur Roche, always good for a laugh

The lost sheep?

My Telegraph column also provides the material for a very witty blog. It attracts comments from the intellectual elite, who post under names like GI Joe, Mahatmacoatmabag, An Aussie Carrot, Chap With Wings, Molybdenite, Cutley in Florence, Ernest Chaussette, and The Great Stalin. Most of these names are real, but I suspect that one or two may be made up!

Well, the day draws on, and in the evening there are many options open to me. Sometimes I stand outside Victoria station selling copies of my new book The Fix to commuters. "Big issue!" I shout, as I think that addiction is indeed a big issue for all of us. Many commuters agree, and some are so impressed that they give me 50p, saying "Get yourself some tea, young man," without even taking a copy of my book.

Did I mention that I have written a book?

This is the book of which the great Clive James, writing in the prestigious Wallamaloo Possum-Breeder's Gazette said "Some wonderful books have been written on the subject of addiction. If you want something totally different, try this book instead." Praise indeed, I'm sure you'll agree!

Another thing I may do in the evening is go home to Notting Hill, and play one of my 50,000 CDs. I am a very cultured chap, and I have 94 recordings of James MacMillan's Orchestral Variations on Donald, where's yer troosers? Often I lie in my bath, playing games with my plastic duck, Donata, and singing along to James's immortal music.

Before I know it, it's 9 p.m. and time for bed. A quick anonymous phone call to one of my enemies (e.g. Austin Ivereigh or Johann Hari), with a burst of demonic laughter, and we've reached the end of a perfect day. Off to bed with my teddy-bear!

Good night, Damian!

Do-it-yourself Thompson blog

Instructions: pick one item from each section, and combine them. Then Voilà! you have your Saturday column. Never mind if it doesn't make sense - it isn't supposed to!

The Mormons are addicted to cupcakes, which is why Archbishop Mennini required a specially reinforced piano stool.

The Scientologists
The Mormons
The chattering classes
The luvvies of Silicon Roundabout
Societies that believe in Hell
Left-wing, T-shirt-wearing nuns
Countless millions of computer addicts
American schoolchildren
The middle classes in Hyderabad
The overeducated American elite
Teenagers at a school in Xiaogong, central China
Several gay Hollywood stars
Members of Alcoholics Anonymous
Orange-skinned celebrities
Opus Dei

wield immense influence in Hollywood,
are extremely interested in money,
could never be part of the Church of England,
are keen on assisted suicide,
value their subsidised office spaces in east London,
would never be invited on Thought for the Day,
could enter an Andrea Dworkin lookalike contest,
self-medicate with sugary snacks,
are following the IV Drip Diet,
are snorting their ADHD medication,
have discovered party drugs,
are taken out of the local gene pool,
are anxious to join the Ordinariate,
would never visit old people in care homes,
might consider submitting to Pope Michael of Delia, Kansas,
are addicted to cupcakes,

Opus Dei could could enter an Andrea Dworkin lookalike contest, although Noele Gordon wandered naked into the showers at my health club.

although
but
which is why
and

Polly Toynbee
Tom Cruise
Eric Sykes
L. Ron Hubbard
Mitt Romney
Umair Haque
Dr Rowan Williams
Jeremy Paxman
Mark Easton
Edward Elgar
Archbishop Mennini
Lord Foulkes
Sir Paul McCartney
Beethoven
Richard Chartres
Mrs Gladys Mills
The Prince of Wales
Noele Gordon
Canon Brian Brindley
Edward Heath
Queen Victoria
Johann Hari
Jenny Jones
George Clooney

was known for being seriously overweight.
dabbled in the occult.
comes across as a ranting lefty.
acquired a reputation as a self-regarding young windbag.
secretly supported gay marriage.
wandered naked into the showers at my health club.
is the sort of person who would say "an hotel."
should not work for the BBC.
captures the English spirit with unmatched subtlety.
could promote clever, holy traditionalists.
drank too much whisky and attempted to dance with a 70-year-old lady.
bought aubergine hair-dye from a lesbian collective farm in Northern California.
wrote a set of piano variations on God Save the King.
never obtained a doctorate from the LSE.
should never be introduced as "Your highness."
had an indestructible perm.
required a specially reinforced piano stool.
took claret fortified with Scotch whisky.
wrote a Te Deum to celebrate Louis XIV’s victory against the English and Dutch.
supported the vandalism of GM crops.
poured Bird's Custard over a plateful of chips.

The luvvies of Silicon Roundabout are snorting their ADHD medication, but Edward Elgar bought aubergine hair-dye from a lesbian collective farm in Northern California.