The five environmental mysteries of the Rosary

Today there is, apparently, Earth Hour, or St Mother Earth's Hour, to give it the official title. Not to be confused with Earth Day (April 22nd), and - no doubt - Earth History Month, Earth Awareness Week, etc. etc. for those who are really into environmentalism. Accordingly, the Vatican will turn off lights on St Peter's Basilica tonight. Let's hope they don't accidentally turn off the light on Pope Francis's medical support system, as well.

It has also been decided to add a new set of mysteries to the Rosary (well, if Pope John Paul II could do it, why can't Francis?) As usual it will consist of five mysteries, and they are as follows:

Calming the climate change storm.

In the first century, climate change was a big concern of the Roman Empire, and whenever the weather was unusually wet, dry, hot, cold, windy or calm, they knew that fossil fuels were to blame.

Feeding the 5000 on lab-grown burgers.

Locusts and wild honey were a popular Biblical food, introduced by St John the Billgates, but sometimes people wanted more than this. Turning down an environmentally dangerous offer of loaves and fishes, Our Lord came up with a better alternative, produced in His father Joseph's laboratory.

Replacing the barren fig tree with a solar panel.

When Jesus encountered a useless fig tree, which was producing no energy, He cursed it and replaced it with a solar panel, as the best way to Save the Planet. This is why Protestants often use the term "Solar Scripture".

Saying "just stop" when anointed with oil.

"Just stop oil" is probably one of the best-known Biblical commandments, and its origin is the anointing (John 12) when Mary of Bethany made an environmental blunder by using precious spikenard. Naturally, she was stopped in her tracks, and the oil was instead given to a third-world country, where it could be used without harming the environment.

Riding a donkey fed on methane-reducing Bovaer.

The true message of Palm Sunday is often overlooked. It was not simply that a King entered, riding on a donkey, as predicted in Zechariah 9: it was the fact that the crowd were shouting "Hosanna, blessed is he that cometh in the name of Mother Earth."

Usually five mysteries are considered to be enough. Pope Francis did not want to be so rigid, and he was proposing an extra mystery (any suggestions?) However, the fact that if he did so then Catholics would have to buy rosaries with extra beads dissuaded him. After all, nobody wants to be beaten up by angry nuns!

How not to break the Ten Commandments in church

Following the well-deserved triumph of "IDOLS" in the World Cup of Liturgical Abuses, perhaps because their use is so obviously a breach of the First Commandment, it seems only right to see which other commandments you (or your priest/bishop/cardinal/pope) may break during a standard service.

This one needs no introduction.

1. I AM THE LORD THY GOD: THOU SHALT NOT HAVE STRANGE GODS BEFORE ME.

Yes, we've just done that one. They don't come much stranger than Pachamama, even if Austen Ivereigh told us that she should be identified with the Blessed Virgin Mary.

2. THOU SHALL NOT TAKE THE NAME OF THE LORD THY GOD IN VAIN.

I don't think I've ever heard priests swear in church. One of the tests they make seminarians go through is to drop a heavy weight on their feet and see what swear words they come out with. If it's the F-word or the J-word (the name of our Lord), they're out and can only become Jesuits. If it's a more restrained "Thump! Blinking Heck!" then they are allowed to graduate. You will NEVER hear a bishop say worse than "Chase my Aunt Fanny up a gum tree!" even if someone puts tin tacks on his Cathedra. Try it and see whether I'm right.

Getting down to brass tacks, bishop?

3. KEEP THE SABBATH HOLY.

Well, round here they have suspended the Day of Obligation aspect to Sundays. Indeed, as part of social distancing or whatever, we are encouraged to go to Mass on a different day if possible ("keep Tuesday holy"). So now there is not the smallest sense of obligation about Sundays - you can if you wish watch a livestreamed Mass, or (for light relief) one of Bishop Barron's videos; but you don't need to.

4. HONOUR THY FATHER AND THY MOTHER.

It's fairly easy to keep this one in Mass, except for the occasional "Shut up, Gran!" when the old dear is talking during the homily. Or you may prefer "Speak up, Gran!" if it's Deacon M. preaching.

5. THOU SHALT NOT KILL.

Human sacrifices are not normally part of Mass, even in the Amazon. However, we have not yet seen Cardinal Marx's full plans for the German church.

6. THOU SHALT NOT COMMIT ADULTERY.

Well, since Amoris Laetitia, this commandment has more-or-less been abolished. Still, adulterous unions are not an intrinsic part of the liturgy. You might count a general condemnation of immorality here, so banners celebrating LGBT relationships, polygamy, or three-in-a-vat-of-custard nude wrestling are also out.

Fly this flag or you will be guilty of Custardophobia!

7. THOU SHALT NOT STEAL.

As Cardinals Becciu, Versaldi and Maradiaga are at pains to point out, they just borrowed the collection bags and took them home for safe keeping.

8. THOU SHALT NOT BEAR FALSE WITNESS AGAINST THY NEIGHOUR.

This really depends on the sort of Mass you go to. In a Novus Ordo Mass everyone is silently praying before the service. The Extraordinary Form people are gossiping away like nobody's business - in Latin of course.

9. THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOUR'S WIFE.

I think there's a footnote in Amoris Laetitia saying that this is now allowed (after accompaniment, discernment, and perhaps an evening out in an expensive restaurant). Still, it's really more trouble than it's worth.

10. THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOUR'S GOODS.

Originally this included male or female servants, oxen or donkeys, or anything that belonged to your neighbour. This is why most people do not bring their servants or animals to Mass, to avoid giving temptation to others who might covet them. Likewise, if someone sits down next to you and puts an ox or donkey within coveting range, then we advise you to go and sit somewhere else.

Avoid Palm Sunday processions if you are a donkey-coveter.

The National Trust takes over Animal Farm

With apologies to George Orwell.

"I am an old donkey now," said Benjamin, "and old enough to remember those days fifty years ago, when we had the sexual revolution, and threw Farmer Jones out of his farm. For he would not let the male animals mate with male animals, nor the females with females. What a great day for freedom that was! As a Catholic donkey, I was taught that such deeds were acts of grave depravity, but we should not speak ill of them."

Benjamin, the Catholic donkey.

Clover the old mare nuzzled up to him. "It was necessary at the time," she said. "We were told that Napoleon and Snowball were deeply in love, and suffered great persecution. Everyone said that a revolution was necessary. But it seems to me that the world is a different place now."

"My Catholic guides are very weak," said Benjamin. "Squealer the Jesuit Pig is enlisting the animals in a bridge-building programme, and we have new slogans. The motto 'VIRTUE GOOD, SIN BAD' that I learned in my catechism has been dropped."

Just at that moment, as though at a signal, all the sheep burst out into a tremendous bleating of "VIRTUE GOOD, SIN BETTER! VIRTUE GOOD, SIN BETTER!"

Things turn out badly for the sheep.

Clover led him round to the end of the big barn. "My sight is failing," she said. "But it appears to me that that wall looks different too. Are the Ten Commandments the same as they used to be, Benjamin?"

Benjamin read out to her what was written on the wall. There was nothing there now except a single message. It ran:

NATIONAL TRUST: MANOR FARM
ALL ANIMALS MUST WEAR RAINBOW BADGES
OR BE MADE INTO SAUSAGES.

FREEDOM IS SLAVERY. (Sorry, wrong book.)

However, there was worse to come. As the animals turned back, they saw Squealer the Jesuit Pig welcoming the famous Stephen Fry to the new "gay" farm. The creatures looked from pig to man, and from man to pig, and from pig to man again; but already it was impossible to say which was which.

Eccles issues an injunction

Rumours have been circulating that I, Eccles, am the mysterious "ECC" who took out an injunction to stop people telling the truth about me. Although my public image is that of a saved person, with a close personal relationship with God, there are stories going round that allege my participation in a threesome in a bath full of tomato ketchup.

Seen outside Eccles's house.

In the interests of protecting my privacy and that of my pet cats, my lawyers have instructions to make vicious threats against anyone using the following expressions on social media:

Eccles,
Threesome,
Tomato ketchup,
Camel,
Hedgehog,
Filthy pervert,
Stupid idiot in a red biretta,
ECC,
Lawyer,
Saved person,
Amoris Laetitia.

That should cover most eventualities.

Our lawyers have told ISIS to remove the message "It was Eccles all along!" from their flag.

Please note that although the jurisdiction of the court is England and Wales only, my lawyers will take particular delight in harassing people in Ireland (who may be unaware that they are no longer part of the UK), the USA (ditto, more-or-less), Antarctica (some penguins have been known to make ECC-like squawks), Scotland, North Korea, Mars, Alpha Centauri, etc.

As a very rich man, Eccles is prepared to keep this game going until he dies of old age, and even afterwards, so don't expect to see any books with titles such as "Eccles - the world's greatest hypocrite" or "Ketchupgate and other sex scandals of the 21st century".

Eccles's lawyers, Messrs Ass, Donkey and Ass.

Letters to the Catholic Herald

SIR,

I was horrified by the rude and offensive article from Damian Thompson, entitled "Can Bad Catholic Music be stopped?" I have always regarded Damian as a very meek and mild writer, without a harsh word to say about anyone; hence, this sudden meltdown came as a shock to me, and, may I add, to my fellow-members of the Royal Association of Bad Catholic Musicians. In particular it caused distress to Bernadette Farrell (lovely lady, she rehearses all her hymns with the aid of a kazoo before releasing them to a delighted public), and of course The Master of the Queen's Bad Music, Sir Paul Inwood C.H. C.H.

Rehearsing a new hymn "Lord, aren't we jolly super, pip-pip".

Damian Thompson's views have obviously been formed by too much listening to classical music (he mentions Haydn, Parry and Vaughan Williams, which are names totally unknown to me and my fellow bad composers). Damian doesn't appreciate that the youth of today want religious services in which the music is produced by guitars - electric, of course - the hymns are all about what a wonderful time we're having, and there is the opportunity to do the kiss and cuddle of peace after a spell of liturgical dancing and a sermon about how God likes football.

Get lost, Damo!
Yours in The Light of the Lord,
Doris Muzak (Ms)

Damian Thompson and Paul Inwood do a "gig" together.

SIR,

I'm puzzled that an eminent Catholic historian, Tim Stanley, doesn't seem to understand the role of historical drama. In his review of Downton Abbey, he complains about the historical accuracy of some of the scenes. For example, he thought that the episode where an army of Daleks broke in and exterminated Lady Mary was unrealistic, as there are no recorded accounts of Dalek-extermination among the upper classes in the 1920s. He has obviously forgotten the 1922 Dalek Invasion of Hull, where the whole town was reduced to a wasteland (not very different from today's Hull), including - and this is the key fact - the Duke of Prescott's ancestral home, "Puddings".

Davros returns as a woman - note the unconvincing rubber mask.

Academic historians - especially Cambridge ones - should be aware that nobody cares about history. If Julian Fellowes chooses to invoke the atmosphere of the 1920s by writing dialogue such as "I wear a fez now. Fezzes are cool!" or "EX-TER-MIN-ATE", then we should accept his Tolstoyan skills for what they are, rather than heckling from the sidelines.

Dr William Misery-Guts.

Tim Stanley comments on the latest episode of Downton Abbey.

SIR,

Your correspondent is critical of ACTA's role in influencing the bishops of England and Wales before the recent Synod, apparently sharing the view of many traditional Catholics that ACTA is a quasi-Masonic organization with aprons, rolled-up trouser legs and funny handshakes. Whether or not it is (and I have promised not to divulge ACTA's secrets on pain of having my heart torn out by giant vultures), I am anxious to make it clear that we do not dance naked at the full moon - well, not all of us - we do not sacrifice babies to the god Pan, and we certainly do not stick pins into wax dummies of Cardinal Burke.

It may help your readers to understand us if I mention that we do not attend church and we do not believe any of the standard Catholic teaching. So in that respect we are exactly the same as any other Tablet-reading Catholic.

Andrew Bowman
Lead author of the ACTA report "The smell of the donkeys".

"You fool, I ordered sheep! How will I get a donkey round my neck?"

SIR,

As a very well-known bishop, I am getting increasingly embarrassed by your page of "Bishops' Engagements". My Dean has remarked to me that, whereas some bishops are able to record "Pilgrimage to Lourdes", "Blessing of the camels at the zoo", "Mass in memory of St Tharg", etc., all that I can find to list is "Watching television", "Going to a football match" and "Pub crawl". It would be best if you could omit this feature altogether.

+Paresseux, Bishop of... well, never mind.

The Scottish bishops disaster

By William McGonagall

'Twas in the year twenty-fifteen
That strange events in Scotland were seen:
The Nationalists' hopes began to burgeon
Because of a bonnie wee lass called Sturgeon,
Who was bound to do well in the General Election
Because of a mood of disaffection.

The Catholic bishops were all very fine,
Except perhaps for Keith O'Brien.
Of the rest I would mention especially
Philip Tartaglia and Leo Cushley.
Devine was divine, and as for Toal,
There was quite a high chance of saving his soul.

Trouble ahead: Leo Cushley makes a new friend.

But 'tis often thought that Catholics
Should be careful when dabbling in politics.
Bishops, you may write your flock a note
But don't tell 'em exactly how to vote.
When making our choice most think it better
To ignore the tedious "Bishops' Letter".

Alas! The bishops had been gammoned
By Nicola Sturgeon and Alex Salmond.
They fell into a hopeless passion,
And expressed themselves after this fashion:
"She may have got enormous feet,
But her voice is low and sweet -
Aye, she's a' the world to me;
And for bonnie leftie Nicky 
I'd lay me doon and dee!"

Bonnie Leftie Nicky.

I must now conclude my lay,
And tell the world what many men say.
Bishops are blessed, and they know how to pray,
But in Scotland, as in England, they
Sometimes don't take care what they say.
Respectfully, I warn the episcopal classes:
"Your conduct sometimes rather crass is.
Worship God, and say your Masses,
But don't trust any political lasses,
Or people will say you're a bunch of asses!"

Wiser than some bishops.

Sister Judy Piranha on free speech

Cis transit gloria mundi!!?? That's part of the Latin liturgy, you know!!?? And it means that the world's a glorious place full of cis and trans people!!?? No longer do we divide up the human race into male and female in that stuffy old Biblical way!!?? We are all either cis or trans - unless we choose not to be of course!!?? Get used to it: cis is boring, trans is fun!!?? Who would want to be male, just because their parents told them they had to be??!!

Sister Judy Piranha.

Here's little Judy back again, one of the famous "Nuns on the poor broken-down donkey", and I'm here to stand up for sister (or brother??!!) Niamh McIntyre!!?? Yes, she's the plucky girl who protected Oxford from the threat of Stanley Tim and Neil O'Brendan!!?? They wanted to discuss her uterus, and that's a no-go area!!?? (Luckily for any babies, eh??!!) Niamh's a brainy girl - she got into Oxford!!?? And the same goes for cuddly Squirrel Nutkin!!?? He's at Cambridge, so he must be nearly as brainy!!??

Squirrel Nutkin demonstrates against free speech.

So what was the debate all about, eh??!! Well, nasty bigoted sexist cis male pig Tim wanted to debate with nasty bigoted sexist cis male pig Brendan!!?? See the problem??!! Two perfectly ordinary people!!?? Nobody to represent the BLT community!!?? No womb at the inn!!?? Not even a token lesbian transsexual human-duck hybrid, and Heaven knows there are plenty of those ready and waiting to quack!!??

Of course the real problem is the subject!!?? Abortion!!?? A right extracted from nasty sexist King John by those lovable cuddly barons, who forced him to sign the Magna Cum Laude!!?? An inalienable human right recognised by the founding fathers, who signed the American Declaration of Intransigence!!?? Why - didn't we fight Adolf Hitler in order to win abortion rights for all women??!! I know I did!!?? And hasn't Pope Francis said how much he admires abortionists??!! Well, actually he hasn't but I'm sure he will, when our "Nuns on the donkey" have a word with him!!?? And the Prophet Emma Barnett has got a hot-line to Jesus, and He told her "Spare those poor weak helpless abortionists!!?? Suffer little abortionists to come unto Me!!??"

Judy Piranha goes off to confront the Pope.

But the issue goes further!!?? Why should we allow people even to discuss whether debates can be held??!! HANDS OFF MY EARS!!?? I don't want to hear nasty bigoted chauvinist males talking about the right to debate!!?? THEY DON'T HAVE FEMALE EARS, DO THEY??!! So how can they know what misery their words cause to Sister Judy (or maybe Brother Judas if I'm having one of my trans days)??!! JUST SHUT UP, MEN!!?? Got that??!!

This is how I like my men!!??

The Pilgrim's Ogress 4 - the guilt of Titus' Grandma

Continued from Part 3

Eccles's Anti Moly takes up the tale.

After my stupid nephew escaped from the Tablet headquarters in Hammersmith, he wanted to go to Blogfen, a woeful traddy parish somewhere near Sidcup. Eccles had heard that there was a meeting there in honour of Titus' Grandma, to which Catholic bloggers were invited. My nephew somehow thought that he would be welcome.

This is Titus, but we never met his Grandma.

It was quite difficult to get to Blogfen, because our donkey, Micky, carrying the emergency gin supplies, wasn't allowed on buses or trains. Also, Eccles wanted to go incognito, as he had heard that a lunatic from Croydon was out for his blood; so he dressed up as a clown and pretended to be his brother Bosco. We missed the religious events, but arrived in time for the party.

Our donkey, also in disguise.

The event was very strange. There was an old man called "Lofty" present, who said he had come along in order to shut down as many blogs as possible. He also had an interesting theory, based on turning over several pages of St Luke's Gospel at once, that Jesus was only on the Earth for one week - Born on a Monday, Baptised on Tuesday, Retreated on Wednesday, Did His ministry on Thursday, Crucified on Friday, Rose on Saturday, Ascended on Sunday. Lofty spent most of the party exchanging scowls with someone they called the "LMS Chairman", and in the end the two of them went outside for a punch-up and never came back.

Eccles asked me to republish this photo of Basil Foltus as a young man.

Eccles says he will always look at Tina Beattie in a new light, as a result of the Blogfen party. As a leading Catholic thinker, she had come to the meeting, and Eccles, who is a little infatuated with her, asked her to dance. It was woeful seeing "luvvly Tina" and my idiot nephew Eccles tango-ing to a Gregorian chant, but this was supposed to be an occasion for getting to know new people.

Hans Küng was there too, and I thought he and I might dance, so I went up to him to ask. Silly me, it was his statue! Apparently Fr Finigan, the host of the party, had been given a copy of the original statue, and had not yet found a good home for it. Well, after a bottle or two of gin, it was an easy mistake for me to make.

Woeful - this man refused to dance with me.

Several more traddy bloggers were also present, many from the Brighton area. I remember talking to a man called Bones; he had come with his friend Blakey from Brighton, who kept saying "I 'ate you, Gardner", although we never discovered who this Gardner man was.

Bones (with an unusual cross) and Blakey.

But the person I remember best, because he talked for three hours without interruption, was someone they called "The Archbishop of Corby". I jotted down a few gems of his conversation, such as, "Make sure you understand the question you're asking, Ma'am, but it seems you prefer a black and white answer to a labyrinth of conditional logic gates you won't even acknowledge, as it's a question of objective disordering circumstances and Noachide/natural moral law, exposing your ignorance of intention/motive and circumstantial factors." This was in response to "Would you like another cup of tea, your Grace?" from a lady in a mantilla.

Sitting on the naughty chair.

Ah well, I slipped under the table shortly after that, and don't remember much more. Such is life, eh? What's more, they played Gregorian chant all afternoon, and not the music I wanted to dance to. Woeful.

This is the sort of music I prefer.

To be continued by another author.

Eccles and his sockpuppets

Brilliant detective work has at least revealed that Brother Eccles is a master of sockpuppetry. In addition to running 500 Twitter accounts - his ambition is to run the whole of Twitter single-handed - he also manages to write 200 different blogs on (mostly) religious subjects.

A Vatican-approved guide to puppetry.

Here are examples of some of the blogs that Eccles maintains. You will notice that they all have exactly the same style.

The Eccles Catholic donkey blog.

Today I took Vincent, the most troublesome of my 24 donkeys, on a walk to the Bar Moli in Finestrat, where we shared a bottle of gin to celebrate the feast of St Jude. Unfortunately, he was unable to walk home again, so I had to carry him back. Then when we got home, he logged onto Twitter and started insulting random people. I should never have given him his own computer.

The Eccles paranoid Chaplain blog.

What people don't realise is that deacons are priests. So priests should stop feeling superior to us. You wouldn't let me into your Superior Clergy Club, would you? Even though I made myself a biretta. What's more I don't want to hear anything from mothers who stay at home with babies. I'm a mother too, you know. Well, a father. And I stay at home all weekend. Except when I go out. I hate you all, especially the puppetmaster Eccles.

St Joan Blogger.

Hello, everyone, this is Auntie Joan, the writer, biographer, historian, poet, humourist, Olympic cyclist, brain surgeon and Renaissance woman. Auntie has had a very exciting week, as Pope Francis phoned her up to ask if she had any advice to give him on how to write encyclicals. Auntie told him, "Write everything in the third person, as it produces a vibrant prose style." Auntie is taking part in a discussion with Pope Francis on Vatican Radio soon, and she will make every effort to prevent the Holy Father from saying anything embarrassing - that should be easy, because he probably won't be able to get a word in edgeways!

The Eccles "Holy Smoke" blog.

Maria João Pires - found herself playing Mozart's 4th horn concerto.

Take a look at this ancient video that someone sent me. It shows the pianist Maria João Pires in a terrible dilemma. She was expecting to play a Mozart Piano Concerto with the Amsterdam Concertgebouw, but when the orchestra started, she found that they were playing his 4th Horn Concerto. Resourceful to the last, she grabbed a French horn from a member of the orchestra, and gallantly blew her way through the concerto. Said the orchestra member, a Mr Flanders, "I've lost that horn - I know I was using it yesterday. I've lost that horn, lost that horn, found that horn ... gorn."

The same thing happens to me sometimes. I have prepared an in-depth article on custard for the Telegraph, when the editor comes to my desk and says, "Damian! It's Catholicism this week." Being an experienced journalist, I take out my blue pencil, change all the references to custard, add something about the impending murder of the Nuncio, and - voilà! - in 5 minutes I have the piece that I was asked for.

The Protect-the-Eccles Pope blog.

The Tablet ludicrously misreports Bishop Conry's meeting with ACTA to discuss their recommendation of abortion as a human right, in an attempt to ban the Bible in all English dioceses, while Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor's refusal to attend a SHAG week in Rome sends out mixed signals to Enda Kenny, according to the BBC.

Protect-the-Eccles Comment: Phew! This one's too much for me.

The Hermit of Cottingley blog.

The autumn colloquium of the British Province of the Confraternity of Catholic Clergy was very well attended, but some delegates found that it was disruptive to hear cries of "Let me in, I'm a deacon!" outside the window, as we sang Gregorian chants in the bar at night. From now on, the Confraternity has agreed to admit deacons as well, except for ones who are obviously insane.

See? All these well-regarded blogs were really by Eccles, all along.

1 Samuel

In the white corner, Brother Eccles, implementing the Eccles Bible Project. In the black corner, an atheist called Richard who is struggling to say say just one intelligent thing about religion. Today's topic: the first book of Samuel. I was going to do both together, but there's too much action.

Samuel - became a prophet at an early age.

Whereas most babies cry in the night and wake their parents, Samuel is himself woken in the night by God, and told to get prophesying. Actually, he does rather more than that, as he will soon become the last of the Judges, and when he's a bit older he leads the Israelites against the Philistines.

The Philistines have stolen the Ark of the Covenant, which is the most holy thing the Israelites have, and taken it to the Temple of Dagon, who may well have been a fish-god. A bad move, as Dagon's idol is first knocked down, and then vandalised.

Dagon - we'll agree with Richard that this is not a god to be worshipped.

The Philistines start to suffer from "emerods" which is a nice word for a most disgusting condition (piles); we never did this bit at school, as all the boys would have sniggered.

To cut a long story short, the Israelites get their Ark back, and under Samuel's leadership stay faithful to God, and prosper. We're only in Chapter 8, and Samuel's task is almost done. He is getting old, and the Israelites have had enough of judges. They want a KING.

"Had enough of judges" is a popular sentiment, even in these days.

So we get to the story of Saul, who starts off as something of a goodie, and ends up as something of a baddie - and dead. We see him first looking for his father's asses (or donkeys, as Americans would have it).

One of Saul's father's donkeys.

Being able to deal with asses is a great qualification for a monarch, even these days, and so Samuel anoints Saul as king. The Philistines are still causing a lot of trouble: nowadays "Philistines" tends to refer to those who hate culture, so it is no surprise that they don't get on with the man who now comes upon the scene - David, a skilled harpist.

David demonstrates his secret weapon against Philistines.

David, who is going to become a major figure in Jewish history, has another weapon, of course: a sling, with which he despatches the giant Goliath. After that, Saul becomes very jealous of David, especially as it becomes clearer that David is to succeed him as king. Saul wants to kill David, who goes into exile.

David wants to take flight, but there are questions over his hand-luggage.

However, Saul's son Jonathan is a great friend of David; also, in fact, his brother-in-law. At this point some silly people who have never had proper friends will tell you that it is something to do with homosexuality, but that theory doesn't make sense given all the other information we have.

The rest of the first book of Samuel contains a lot of the squabbling between Saul and David. Saul has definitely gone over to the dark side at this point, and Samuel makes a surprise comeback, when the Witch of Endor recalls him to warn Saul that there's trouble ahead.

So it all comes to a head at the end of 1 Samuel, when the Philistines defeat Saul and Jonathan in battle at Mount Gilboa, and they both die. Things have gone rather badly under King Saul. Will King David do any better?

A Philistine inscription: "When I hear the word culture, I reach for my sword!"