The fable of the mediocre shepherd

Once upon a time there lived a group of shepherds, whose leader was a man called Vincent. These shepherds had the care of various flocks of sheep, having been told to guide them and keep them safe. However, there were never totally agreed on how this should best be done.

"I am the mediocre shepherd."

Now it came to pass that there was to be a World Shepherds' Conference, also known as a Synod, to which Vincent was invited. The shepherds were going to decide on the best way to keep their sheep saved. Some of the world's worst shepherds (many of whom had lost half their sheep to the wolves) would be there: old "Godless" Danneels of the Mafia Club, whose sheep usually found themselves at the bottom of a lake wearing concrete boots; "Lozza" Baldisseri, who did not want the shepherds to read books; "Rhino" Marx the wolf in shepherd's clothing; and so on.

A very important shepherd.

Vincent had his own ideas on how to look after sheep, which involved them getting involved in activities normally condemned in the Shepherds' Bible. However, in order to promote "honest dialogue" as a "process of discernment" - and lots of other phrases that weak leaders use when they can't rely on their own principles - he had a brilliant idea: ASK THE SHEEP HOW THEY SHOULD BE GUIDED.

"As a member of ACTA, I support Shepherd Vincent's initiative."

Replies flooded in from the sheep, as well as certain wolves, hyenas and jackals who thought their own votes would be helpful:

"Let the sheep wander freely into the swamps."

"Hold special "massings" of the sheep to which wolves are also invited."

"Do not feed the sheep on grass, but let them devour other sheep."

"Do you think that the horse's head in the Pope's bed will be persuasive, Wally?"

Anyway, Vincent was incredibly impressed by the wisdom of his sheep, although their views went totally against the advice given by the original Good Shepherd. He vowed to recommend these new ideas to the Synod. Meanwhile, some of the wiser sheep began to be very worried...

Anti-Catholic professor has another meltdown

A well-known anti-Catholic professor has managed to outrage millions of decent people yet again. In a Guardian article for which it is said she received a fee of "approximately thirty pieces of silver", Tina Beattie contrived to have one of her famous meltdowns, showing her contempt for the Pope and the Catholic Church, while rejecting their teaching on contraception and abortion.

Look at me! Look at me! I'm rude and naughty!

Although her remarks were welcomed by the Guardian, the Tablet, and similar anti-Catholic organs, criticism came from an unexpected direction. Professor Richard Dawkins, the distinguished biologist, theologian, psychologist and poet ("There's not a bonnie bird that sings, But minds me o' my gene.") was unimpressed. "This lady is supposed to be a professor," he pointed out. "That is, a person universally respected for her erudition and dignity. She's just annoying Catholics in the hope that people will talk about her more. Perhaps she's got a book to sell; anyway, she's starting to give professors a bad name."

"I'll send her one of my professorial tee-shirts," says Dawkins.

Although Tina Beattie is "professor of Catholic studies" at Roehampton, this cannot be taken to imply that she is a Catholic, or that she supports Catholicism. After all, Professor Malaria, who holds the chair of Tropical Diseases, is not a supporter of tropical diseases: on the contrary, he regularly publishes hard-hitting "Diseases!? Arentchasickofem?!" articles in the Guardian.

Bishops: help the Justice for Tina campaign by inviting her to your diocese!

For those who gave up reading Tina's piece after five lines, on account of its clunky and turgid style, we are delighted to reprint the very last sentence, even if it is total gibberish:

How about a maternal church in which the shepherds smell of bruised, hurting and dirty women dying in childbirth?

Sounds great, eh? Still, this evening Tina Beattie was unrepentant. "Repentance? Isn't that a papist thing?" she said. "Not my cup of tea at all!"

Costume holly men

Bosco have been gettin very excitin about dem wicked Cathlics, especially costume holly men wiv gold cupps, like dis one. We in de Calumny Chappel knows dat we has found Jessus, we has even saved him a space in de car park, but we doesnt need no gold cupps.

And here's annuver costume holly man. I thuoght at first it was Bosco teechin in de Calumny Chappel Sunday School, but he explaned to me dat it is a Cathlic preist called Abrahham dicsiplining his kid who did somefink wicked like readin de Bibble. Well you gotta be firm wiv kids.

In de Calumny Chappel we doesnt have costume holly men, we has passtors. I fought dat was like spahgettis, but Bosco explaned dat it means shehperds. Now dat may seem like blassphemy, cos Jessus is de sheperd, not Pastor Noodle. So perhaps we had better go back to calling dem fathers instead, most of them got lots of kids and not many has got sheep.

Still, bein a shehperd suonds like more fun dan bein a father. In de Bibble dey sits in de fields and every so often an Angle comes along and says "Ullo, shehperds. Has you been saved?"

Anyways, Bosco is off to Seel Beech again soon, wiv me and Anti Moly. My bruvver have got a new job in de retale trade, he is wot dey call a fast-food magnet like Mr Wallmat and Mr Macdonnald (for Brittish readers, dis is like Lord Assda, or King Burger who is de prettender to a thron somewhere, maybe it's Germmany).

Bosco's job is to stand in de street, but he gotta keep his mouf shut, poeple who wants an ice-creem doesnt like it if you says "Git lost bruvver, no ice-creem for you, you aint saved." Still, Bosco is only doin it for dere own good, dey gonna needs lots of ice-creem if dey ends up in de Lake of Fire.