Mummy, today we played lesbians!

Over now to Dothekids Hall, a school awarded the highest marks in an Ofsted inspection, unlike that nasty Grindon Hall Christian School, which was apparently punished because its 10-year-old kids didn't know about lesbian sex.

Little Nicky Morgan, 10, is coming home to her devoted parents. These happen to be a man and a woman, so she is already branded as a reactionary bigot. Why couldn't she have two men as her parents, with a surrogate mother that she never knew? That's the modern way to breed!

Ofsted-approved lesbian priestesses.

Nicky dear, what did you do at school today?

We played lesbians, Mummy, and then I lent some of my clothes to little Johnnie - I mean Jeanie - Nash, so that we could play transgendered awareness games.

That sounds lovely, darling! Did your teacher like the homework you'd done? That essay on "Magnetic Attraction"?

No, Mummy, I got it all wrong. She didn't want me to improve on Hawking's work by rewriting Einstein's field equations in order to derive a new Theory of Everything, uniting quantum theory with relativistic electrodynamics. She wanted me to write a story about the sex life of three lesbians in a loving multi-person marriage.

Can I tell you about my Theory of Everything?

Well, never mind, dear. How about the Translation exercise you were going to do in class? Before Ofsted turned up you were translating Goethe's Faust into perfect Latin hexameters, weren't you?

That's changed too, Mummy. It's "Transition" not "Translation". She got us to give hormone injections and surgery to Wilshaw, the School Dog, so that she's now become a girl dog and not a boy dog. It was very interesting and useful. Can I try it on Harry the Hamster?

A nervous moment for Harry the Hamster.

No, I don't think so, dearest. Do tell me, though, didn't the Bishop visit today? Did you manage to go to Confession with him?

Oh Mummy, you're so old-fashioned! We call it "Reconciliation" now, and dress up as witches! Ofsted told us to.

An Ofsted-approved Mass.

The Synod of Bridlington

As historians know, the twenty-first century was the beginning of the period known as the Dark Ages, a time of intellectual darkness and barbarity. The weather was harsh, and, thanks to a reliance on wind turbines and the energy generated by hamsters running around in little wheels, there were frequent periods when heat and light were no longer available.

The solution to an energy crisis.

Britain was subject to waves of invaders from overseas. Some came from Scandinavia in long ships, wearing horned helmets. Others came from Poland, armed with plungers, pipe cutters and wrenches; their only wish being to settle on these islands to unblock drains and mend leaking pipes. Still others came in from Muslim lands, showing a passionate hatred for sausages and women's rights.

Education was in decline. Whereas once all children knew Latin, Greek, advanced calculus, brain surgery, and the kings of Israel and Judah at the age of five, the majority of school-leavers in the twenty-first century were unable to read and write anything except text messages; they used numbers only for operating their mobile phones.

No longer a suitable gift for a five-year-old.

Religion was in a parlous state. Christianity was on the verge of dying out, or was being perverted into strange forms in the name of "modernization". It was illegal to refuse to bake a cake for a same-sex couple who wished to hold a "wedding", indeed it was even considered "extremist" to disagree with their redefinition of marriage. Catholic bishops had affairs with married women, the Anglicans allowed bishops to divorce and remarry, and the Baptists didn't even have bishops to show them how to behave.

Of the dreadful year of 2014, the monks wrote in the Anglo-Saxon chronicle, Ye power of ye Magick Circkle cometh not to an end, and a group of demons calling itself ACTA wieldeth influence in ye lande. In other news, ye Pope in Rome hath decreed that ye feast of Alle Saintes shall be on ye first day of November, yet ye rascally bishops, led, so they say, by ye mischievous Cardinal Nickels, have chosen to move it to the Sundaye. And now a quick look at ye weather: it is expected to be cold and dark for the next 200 years.

Ye synod starteth at Bridlington.

In the end, another synod was called, at the Yorkshire town of Bridlington, so that the Catholic Church in England and Wales might agree on the date of All Saints (they had originally planned to hold the meeting in Whitby, as on an earlier occasion, but all the hotels were booked up). The Scottish church did not participate: they were loyal to the pope, and celebrated All Saints on the 1st November; besides, they were more interested in what came after, namely the day of "A' Souls", named in honour of Alexander yclept Salmon.

The Lord smiteth Alexander yclept Salmon.

So Catholicism in England and Wales stood on the brink: would it show loyalty to Pope Francis the Humble, or to Cardinal Nichols the Cunning? Would a new St Hilda emerge to put to flight the forces of rebellion? Er, well, ...

The Deacon's blog

Hi, I'm Deacon Candide of the Diocese of Lancaster, and I run the very popular "Jesus loves fluffy kittens!" blog.

Jesus loves fluffy kittens!

My blog is a nice blog, and could offend nobody. You certainly won't find me being ordered to take a voluntary period of prayer and reflection! Nobody is going to tell me that my blog isn't suppressed but I need to bury it in concrete fifty feet underground!

No, no, no! These are not the stories anyone should be covering!

Of course, it isn't only fluffy kittens that I write about in my hard-hitting blog about the state of the Church today. I sometimes write controversial posts about bunny rabbits.

The lettuce community was offended by this picture.

Today's Gospel was fun, wasn't it? All about the walk to Emmaus. We should take from it the message that walking is good for you, nice healthy exercise, and a good way to get fresh air. And if you meet someone on the way, why not be nice and offer them a high-fibre low-carbon Fairtrade vegan sandwich? That's the true message of Easter!

Four young ACTA members study my controversial article about kittens.

Nihil obstat.

Mass for the Twitterati

Priest: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Worshipper 1: Very good. I'll retweet that. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Troll 1: Why don't you just crawl off and die? I'm going to kidnap your hamster and make it into a pie.

There's no use looking sweet. They're out to get you.

Worshipper 2: Just block him, Father.

Troll 2: Admit it, you're a sockpuppet of Eccles living simultaneously in Brighton, Corby and Spain.

Worshipper 3: Amen.

Worshipper 1: Very good. I'll retweet that. Amen.

Worshipper 4: I've got a dreadful cold and the bus was late and there was a dirty old man on it smelling of haddock.

Worshipper 5: So the restaurant said "Yes, we do take-aways" and I replied "O.K. then, what's 97 minus 61?"

Worshipper 6: ROFL. Or do I mean LOL?

Worshipper 7: 46. No - it's 36.

Troll 3: All Catholics are vile you know. Richard Dawkins calls them "faith-heads". Which proves it.

Worshipper 2: I'm blocking you too.

Richard is wearing his "tasteless shirt of the day".

Priest: If I may continue?

Troll 2: Eccles has got 4 young daughters and 4 donkeys. I have the evidence.

Priest: The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.

Worshipper 8: Shouldn't that be "fellowship"?

Worshipper 9: No, Catherine. When did you last go to Mass?

Worshipper 8: 95% of Tablet readers no longer attend Mass. I blame Arthur Roche - he did the new translation.

The guilty party.

Troll 2: Arthur Roche wouldn't let me become a priest, so I put on a biretta and sang rugby songs outside his bedroom window at 3 a.m.

Worshipper 2: I've blocked you.

Worshipper 3: And with your spirit.

Worshipper 1: Very good. I'll retweet that. And with your spirit.

Priest: Is the right answer!

Worshipper 1: Very good. I'll retweet that. Is the right answer!

Troll 1: Then I'll steal the Eccles cakes from your kitchen and jump on them.

After a troll attack.

Worshipper 10: Have you seen the "Our new heresy of the week" column in this week's Tablet?

Worshipper 11: No, my father won't have it in the house.

Priest: Brethren, let us acknowledge our sins, and so prepare ourselves to celebrate the sacred mysteries.

Worshipper 2: I've blocked you, Father. No, that can't be right.

Troll 4: Mysteries? You mean Agatha Christie? ROFL.

Priest: Oh, why do I bother?

Worshipper 1: Very good. I'll retweet that...

Pope's new book upsets Christmas traditions

The Christian world was reeling this week, with the publication of Pope Benedict XVI's new book Jesus of Nazareth - things you never knew, which attempts to get to the heart of the Christmas story.

Father Christmas did not fly to Bethlehem in a reindeer-drawn sleigh (the Pope reveals).

The traditional Thought for the Day gospel narrative - which asserts that Father Christmas flew to Bethlehem in a sleigh drawn by reindeer, climbed down the chimney of the stable in which Jesus was lying, and gave Him gifts of gold, frankincense, myrrh, a teddy bear, and a train set - is revealed to be in error.

It is also explained that Jesus was not born on 25th December 0 A.D. (or 0 B.C., to add to the confusion), because the year 0 never existed, and anyway Jesus was a Leo and not a Capricorn - a fact known to professors of astrology for many years, and explained in the books of C.S. Lewis. However, a fragment of the Gospel of Isaiah, beginning: "Leo: I've already explained the main points, but beware a tall dark stranger called Judas" is believed to be a forgery.

Mince pies - not the Messiah's favourite food after all?

Another shocking revelation from Pope Benedict is that Jesus was not particularly fond of mince pies, and, as a new-born baby, he was not eating solid food anyway. Moreover, kosher mince pies would have sold out in the Bethlehem shops by Christmas, and the supermarkets would have already been stocking Easter eggs - a custom persisting to this day, in fact.

The tradition of slumping in front of the television at Christmas to watch the 200th re-run of an old film is also claimed to be non-Biblical. The Holy Family did in fact possess a television set (donated by the wise men who came from the East), but the reception in Bethlehem was very poor, and the Holy Family were too busy entertaining visiting angels, shepherds, wise men, and drunks who had come to the wrong door of the inn, to watch television.

The Railway Children - perhaps Joseph video-recorded this film for later?

Finally, Pope Benedict claims that, contrary to tradition, there were no oxen, donkeys, possums, llamas, gorillas or hippopotamuses present at Jesus's birth. "Some scholars think that Joseph may have had a pet hamster called Justin," he writes, "but even this was disputed by St Augustine."

No room for Nellie at the inn.

Critical reaction to Pope Benedict's book from outside the Catholic Church has been fairly predictable. Professor Richard Dawkins commented "I haven't read it, but it's vile. So's the Pope. So are all Catholics. Aaaaggggh!" and "Father" Giles Fraser said "This book would make me ashamed to be a Christian, if I were one."