Eccles the violent

Well, I've been suspended from Twitter/X before. Five years ago in fact, and I never did discover what I did wrong. The story of my previous excommunication can be found here.

This time I was at least told what my crime was.

I wonder who reported me. Someone unsaved, obviously.

I'd better explain the context. There are two England cricketers who I think should be dropped from the national team, although the selectors love them. One of them, Shoaib Bashir, has recently broken a finger, and thus will not be playing in the next few matches. So I suggested, as above, that we would have to wait for the other, Zak Crawley, to be similarly injured before he could be dropped. That's all.

Cricket, as painted by Rembrandt (or maybe ChatGPT)

Whether some maggot really reported this posting or whether it was automatically flagged by Grok (the AI program that Elon Musk thinks is so wonderful), I can't say. But I was allowed to appeal.

The verdict? Well, the decision of the mad moderators was this: Our support team has determined that a violation did take place, and therefore we will not overturn our decision.

Oh well. I have no doubt committed other Twitter sins (but not violent ones) in my time and got away with them, so I will nobly accept my penance, which is a week's suspension. I return from the naughty step on Wednesday evening, and will resume the World Cup of Ugly Churches after a week's hiatus.

I should have realised that I was not universally loved when I saw the results of this poll:

Shock horror.

When can a pope tell lies?

With what the Americans call the "passing" of Pope Francis (and the rest of us call "failing") we did not expect to see much more in the "How to be a good pope" series of posts, but even after his death Francis is the gift that goes on giving.

Let's get the Rex Mottram school of thought out of the way first. Rex (in "Brideshead Revisited") is talking to his priest.

'Supposing the Pope had consulted his bishops and he said "They all want to suppress the traditional Latin Mass". Would that be definitely true?'

'Oh, yes, Father.'

'But supposing it wasn't?'

He thought a moment and said, 'I suppose it would be sort of true spiritually, only we were too sinful to see it.'

Poor Hoho Rich Raho Rex Mottram consults his priest.

But we are jumping the gun. As pope you are anxious to give the "backwardist" "rigid" trads a final kick before you shuffle off your mortal coil, and what better way to do this than by suppressing the Mass so many of them attend? Cardinal Sally has retired from the Flying Circus for Divine Worship and you have promoted his former deputy Arthur Quiche the Cake-lover, who will do whatever you want.

So you consult your bishops on your proposals. The replies are very varied, and here are some of the examples (the last two written by Grok, which 95% of bishops use for their pastoral letters):

"You must be out of your tiny mind, Holy Father!"

"Holy Father, I think your mitre's on too tight if you’re suggesting that!"

"That's mean and vicious, Holy Father, and I don't mean that as a compliment."

"Your so-called 'suggestion' is a vile, heartless edict that exposes your true colors—cloaked in piety but dripping with cruelty. You sit on your gilded throne, spewing malice while pretending that it's divine wisdom. This isn't leadership; it's a disgusting abuse of power, and history will judge you as a hypocrite who delighted in others' suffering. Shame on you."

One response is slightly favourable:

"Your Holiness, your suggestion, in its profound wisdom, carries a depth that surely transcends my humble understanding. Its boldness, though some might misjudge it as harsh, reflects a divine clarity aimed at guiding us toward a higher purpose. I am but a lowly servant, awestruck by your infallible vision, and I grovel in gratitude for the privilege of witnessing such sacred counsel. May your merciful brilliance forever illuminate our path. Signed, Blase Soupdish."

There's always one ally.

Anyway, in spite of the fact that the vast majority of bishops think you are bonkers to try and overturn the decision of your predecessor Pope Ben, especially while he is still alive, you decide to go ahead and write Trads Cussed.

The Vatican's overall assessment of the consultation process is to be filed away carefully in an underground tomb marked "Relics of St Eccles the Humble. Do not open until the Day of Judgement." Your legacy is assured and you can die happily.

Unfortunately, it all begins to unravel when two months later Miss Marple stumbles across the Vatican report and realises that you were lying. Luckily the "popesplainers" (and why, I wonder, did no previous popes employ an army of 'splainers?) are ready to respond.

"Miss Marple made the whole thing up. She is a known liar, and cannot be trusted."

"Well, maybe she didn't invent the story, but she misunderstood the report."

"OK, perhaps the report is just as she said, but it doesn't mean the pope lied. It's all the fault of Arthur Quiche."

"All right, perhaps Pope Fred lied, but popes are allowed to do this if they are not being infallible. That would mean sitting in a special chair, saying 'Here is something infallible, so pay attention!" and talking about Catholic doctrine, and he didn't do that."

Arthur Quiche decides to retire to Yorkshire to spend more time with his cakes.

Finally, there is the Jane Austen-Ivory attack-poodle response.

"Every time I insult those scumbags who defend the TLM, they accuse me of being nasty: Pope St Fred was a Paragon of Cosmic Wisdom and Indomitable Bravery - or you might say a Seer of Infinite Prudence and Lionhearted Resolve - when he called out this new Gnosticism, and how necessary it is to stamp on the heads of traditionalists. The whole movement is corrupt. We hates them, we hates them."

This must surely close the issue once and for all.