False communications to be rebranded as jokes

In the UK (and probably other countries) legislation is being formulated to prevent false communications on social media - you know, statements like "Covid-19 is best treated with a dish of prunes and custard", "Vaccines make children big and strong", "Joe Biden is a Catholic". These may even be punished by a term in prison.

As it stands, even joking could be punished. No more "While hunting in Africa, I shot an elephant in my pyjamas. How it got into my pyjamas I'll never know." Unless it really happened.

The answer is simple, of course. All false statements are to be rebranded as jokes, usually introduced with "I say, I say, I say!"

I say, I say, I say, this is a real bishop!

Catholics have seized on this with alacrity. Whenever Pope Francis stands up to speak, there will be a loud chorus of "I say, I say, I say!" alerting people that a new piece of doctrine joke is expected.

"Dico, dico, dico, no one can exclude themselves from the Church, we are all saved sinners!"

This device will also be useful when we look at statements from the German Synodesynodesynodekartoffelsalatsynodesynode, their own Synod about Synods about Synods...

"Ich sage, ich sage, ich sage! Let's get the Church to bless homosexual couples!"

So the panic is over. You can what you like, provided that you brand it as a joke. This lets Boris Johnson, Keir Starmer, Nicola Sturgeon, Joe Biden, Justin Trudeau (fill in your own names here) off the hook, as nobody will take them seriously.

"I say, I say, I say, horses really appreciate LGBT propaganda!"

Of course everything you see on this blog is simply the complete and unvarnished truth, so we shall not be using the "I say, I say, I say" formula. Others are not so lucky...

A Morecambe and Wise tribute act: the tall one with glasses and the little one with short fat hairy legs.

World leaders come to the aid of the Vatican

Mahmoud Abbas of Palestine and Benjamin Netanyahu of Israel have led the world in offering a reassuring hand to the Vatican, as the storm-clouds of war gather over it. A climate of fear threatens Rome, but the politicians' joint message to Pope Francis is the need for the Catholic Church to make peace in this time of turbulence.

Apologies for the clichéd prose style - I'm hoping for a job with Crux.

Reports have come in that other world leaders hoping for Nobel Peace Prizes - Vladimir Putin, Kim Jong-un, Bashar al-Assad - even Meryl Streep - are also offering to intervene before the pope "goes nuclear".

Cardinal Müller (R) - found his horse's head in his bed.

Latest reports indicate that Cardinal Müller, prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, has been made an offer he couldn't refuse. After originally offering to help the pope with those five terribly difficult dubia questions, he has now done what is known in theological circles as a "reverse ferret" and claimed that Amoris Laetitia is “very clear” in its teaching, everyone understands what it means, no need to ask the pope any questions, move along there please, ...

Said Syria's Bashar al-Assad, "Our intelligence reports indicated that Pope Francis has been stockpiling Sarin nerve gas, and is prepared to use it on the four cardinals (and indeed their numerous supporters). As a humanitarian I want to make sure we never get to that stage."

Wacko, chaps! Off to blitz the jolly old dissidents!

Vladimir Putin added, "Owing to a misunderstanding of how the Order of Malta functions, it appears that the Vatican is planning a major invasion of Malta, led by Generalissimo Spadaro of the pope's own Wormtongue Division (the 'old innumerates'). We want to bring the parties involved back to the conference table, to see whether the 'von Boeselager affair' can be settled without bloodshed."

The Vatican's Doomsday Clock approaches midnight.

A Lattin Mass

Anti Moly and me we is still stayin wiv Damain Thopmson, who is a really luvvly man. But on Satturday mornin I woke up in my bed in Castle Thopmson to find a pink horse's head in it, which I is fiarly sure wasn't dere de night before.

I summoned Will Heaven de butler, who shimmered in wiv a tray contianing a glass of milk for me and a hair-restorrer and gin cocktail for Anti Moly, what sleeps in de next room. "I sees dat Sir has been contacted by de Gay Maffia," explaned Mr Heaven. "Dey is very poppular in de Cathlic churhc nowaddays, especailly in de Plymouth diocese. No duobt dey is invitin you to go to de Church of de Assumption and St Gregory in Soho for a gay Mass. Dis may be an offer you can't refuse. Play your cards rihgt and Vincent Nichols will give you de kiss of peace."

Damain, howevver, had uvver plans, and on Sunday we trailed into de London Horrortree. I had planned to wear a togga, as dey say dat when in Rome you gotta do what de Romans do, but Damain said it wasnt usaully done. He hisself wasnt wearing a togga, just his superman costume. In de week he is mild-mannered Damain Thopmson, but at weekends he is like a blood-crazed ferret.

Anti Moly disgraced herself almost immediately. "Why has dat woeful priest got his back to us?" she screeched. "Aint dat typical traddy Cathlic rudeness?" Damain explaned in hushed tones dat traddy preists doesnt like to look at de congreggatoin, especailly when Anti Moly is among dem, as it makes dem feel ill.

De preist was wearing a beretta, which he took off to make annuoncements, e.g. "Will you keep dat old bat quiet please, Dr Thopmson?"

After a while, I got fed up, cos I didn't understand wot was goin on, so when de preist puased for breath, I stood up and sang "I am de Lord of de Dance, said He," which is a famuous hynm about Jessus dancin wot we sings in de Calumny Chappel. Anti Moly had been drinkin Damain's hair-restorrer since 8 a.m. and she jioned in de Dance wiv me.

But apparently in de Lattin litturgy, dis is not what dey does, so I got one or two funny looks from de traddies. Sometimes deys sings de Gregorrian chant, "Ego Dominus saltationis sum, dixit," but dat's all.

After de Mass we went back to Castle Thopmson, where Muvver Odone, de cook, was doin us raviolli for lunch. She alternates between passta and piza, she aint got much imaginatoin. After all dat dancin, Anti Moly said she was so hungry she could eat a horse, and so I left her chewin her way frew de pink one I was givven.

Love de neihgbor

Ullo dere Bosco, well de trail of Jessus's missin millions seems to have gone cold, but maybe we will come back to it later. Bosco he took a big dose of Fruitcakol before goin to bed last nihgt, and he kissed his cement statue of St Goliath dat I made (it was sposed to be St Peter but I got de scale wrong and it came out 10 feet tall). As a result he had a grate nihgt's sleep, and only woke up three times screemin dat he wornt saved.

We went to de Bibble class, and was introduced to Sister Judy of de Holy Smoke convent, dis was part of de Cathlic instruxion, apparently dey doesnt beet up nuns like we does in de Calumny Chappel, dey even welcoms dem. We gave Bosco some more Fruitcakol meddicin, and dere werent many probblems.

Today's Bible text was "Love de neihgbor as yousself". Dats very controvershal, as our neihgbors keeps comin round at 4 a.m. to say "Shut up Bosco we is tryin to sleep" and we retalliates by superglooin dere grabage bins so dat dey cant use dem. Probbably "Love de neihgbor" is an error in de Cathlic Bibble dey translats it funny sometimes. We is gonna studdy de Sermen on de Mount soon. I looked up de word mount, it means a horse, is we reely gonna have Jessus gallopin round de church, Bosco?

Here's a photo we took of Bosco at his Bibble classes, dat's Father X. Pell de Mons and Sister Judy of de Holy Smoke convent, prayin togevver for de sole of my big bruvver Bosco (dat's him behind if you didnt know).