How to kiss the Pope's ring

Many distressed Catholics have written to me along the following lines:

I had an audience with the Pope last week, and I attempted to kiss his ring, to show my loyalty to the Magisterium, to the Church, and to the Seat of St Peter. However, Pope Francis snatched his hand away, muttering something like "He's not going to touch my Precioussss!" and forced me to kiss his other hand instead. What can I do?

Missed the target area!

Well, the most charitable explanation is that the Pope is saying "Kissing the Pope's ring is an important ritual, but I don't want to make it too easy." Any claims that he really thinks "It's all about me!" would be most unfair (which is why we mention them).

We therefore recommend that you grab the Pope's right hand in yours, and drag it to your lips. (Perhaps saying "Pleased to meet you. Have you come far?" will distract him enough to make this possible.)

Remember, however, that Francis used to be a bouncer, and may attempt to throw you over his shoulder. Please do NOT take this as a challenge and throw the Pope over your own shoulder. Leaving the Pope sprawling on the ground is probably an excommunicable offence. Anyway, it's definitely the sort of thing that self-absorbed Promethean neo-Pelagians would do.

Another possible explanation is that Rome is full of pickpockets and other shifty characters, and the Pope is scared that the ring might be wrenched off his hand when he isn't looking. In that case the lucky thief might set himself up as Pope - and although he (or she) would probably do a better job, that is just not the accepted away of transferring papal power. Get yourself elected by a conclave, like the rest of us have to!

Kissing the Pope's red nose is also forbidden.

The Debate of The Century

We are pleased to provide a transcript of the Debate of The Century, where a biologist and a theologian debate the existence of God. We hope it is more successful than last week's Debate of The Century, where a nuclear physicist and an art critic debated the existence of the Higgs Boson.

That's the biologist, Richard Dawkins (right), relaxing with an unidentified friend.

And that's the theologian, Rowan Williams (right), with a poor beggar who does't have any proper clothes.

The referee is Sir Anthony Kenny, who is a black belt in Judo, and able to stop the two protagonists from killing each other.

Let the debate commence!

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Dawkins: Let me say first of all, as a trained biologist, that snakes cannot talk. I wrote a thesis in animal behaviour, and spent 3 years trying to persuade a serpent to say "Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?" but it never got further than "Dawkins, you're an idiot." See? I've refuted one of the main tenets of your faith. Admit it, Beardie. Go on, admit it.

Williams: Thank you, Richard. May I say that this is a most useful and constructive contribution to our dialogue. In one sense, are we not all struggling to articulate an awareness of our own idiocy? Let me bring in philosophy for a moment.

Dawkins: Philosophy? That means "stamp-collecting," doesn't it? I've never had any time for it.

Williams: Well, in a very real sense it means that. But, if I may go further, it is also to do with the fundamental problems of our existence. Are we really here? I may be sticking my neck out here, but I like to think that, in many ways, there is something to be said for the theory that we are.

Dawkins: Talking of stamps... when I put a letter in a red box and it is magically transported to another place, am I supposed to deduce from that the existence of a postman? No, it is the genetic code in the envelope causing it to move of its own accord.

Williams: Perhaps I could venture to bring in Jesus Christ here, since we were talking about religion earlier?

Dawkins: Who?

Williams: Well, He appears later on in the Bible, and in a very real sense may be regarded as a somewhat relevant and meaningful person in the context of Christian thought.

Dawkins: Oh I stopped reading after Genesis. What a load of rubbish that was. What's the point of it? It was written by King James in 1611, anyway. What did he know about evolutionary biology? Look, we were all living in the Dark Ages until Darwin came along with his ground-breaking book called, um, "The Origin of the..." er... Oh my God, what's it called... it's on the tip of my tongue...

Williams: Species?

Dawkins: Yes, I like making speeches, and love having huge crowds of adoring teenagers saying "Richard, how can one man be so brilliant?" Have you ever read Genesis? That God chap. What a monster, eh? Took Adam, ripped his rib out, and made a woman out of it. When I was a research biologist I was able to show that it wasn't possible to make a whole woman out of a man's rib. All I could make was a rather nice table lamp. And even then I had to buy the wires and the bulb. Well, that proves that you Christians know nothing.

Williams: Well, it's not my job to preach to you, but...

Kenny: We're going to have to wrap this debate up soon, but do you have any final philosophical points to make? Does Occam's Razor tell us something?

Williams: Ha ha, I'm afraid I don't use Occam's Razor. And when I read the works of Bernard Shaw, I realised that Shavian philosophy was not for me either.

Dawkins: Well, I must be toddling off now, I've got a "Dawkins Youth" rally to attend. Don't think I'm one of those dreadful atheists, I'm just a humble agnostic who wants the Pope burnt at the stake. (Exit)

Williams: I thought that went very well, didn't you? In one sense we are all saying the same thing about religion, and sharing some very positive dialogue about whether God really exists. It reminds me of the General Synod.