The Book of Brexodus, Chapter 4

Continued from Chapter 3

1. It came to pass in those days that the high priests and scribes spake out, telling the faithful whether to remain in the land of EUgypt.

2. First there came Welby, he that they called Cantuar, saying, "God doth not tell us how to vote," although some suspected that he himself was advising God to bless Cam-aaron rather than Bosis.

Bosis and Cam-aaron argue over their destination.

3. Next there came many holy bishops, such as Cormac the old Cardinal and Vincent the new Cardinal.

4. Unlike Welby, they had been told by God in a dream that they should remain in EUgypt.

5. Yet herein lies a mystery. For the high priests of the land held a meeting in the Halls of Hinsley, at which there were two vexing matters to be discussed.

6. The first was simple: for it was asked, "What shall we do about the shameful doctrines of Tina, she that they call the Beauty?"

7. And the high priests were as one on the matter, for they said "Let us sweep this under the carpet."

8. Thus they purchased a carpet, woven from the finest cloth, and they swept all reports of Tina underneath it.

Bishop Arnold of Caphod consulteth the "Carpets'R' Us" catalogue.

9. However, on the second matter, that of the flight from EUgypt, the holy bishops were unable to agree. For it seems that God had not vouchsafed unto them all the same dream.

10. So after agreeing to say nothing of these matters, the bishops went their various ways.

11. Some went to the house that is called public, where they consumed fine ales, some to sleep in the library underneath copies of the rag that is called Tablet, and some to indulge in more holy activities such as the reading of blogs.

12. Finally, there spake out a high priest of the temple of Welby, an aged man called Carey.

13. And lo! Carey said that he wished to flee the land of EUgypt, and that indeed he was voting for Brexodus.

14. Which is proof that even in the temple of Welby there are those to whom the Lord speaketh new words through the blogs of saved persons.

The martyrdom of George Carey.

Continued in Chapter 5.

Book about Church of England to be pulped

A new book about the Church of England, That Was The Church That Was, by spiritual giants Andrew Brown and Linda Woodhead, has been withdrawn by the publishers because of "a disputed passage about a Christian leader". Damian Thompson has made some valiant efforts to discover what the fuss is about, but only this blog has the real story.

This book is dynamite!

In fact, there are several allegations that the Church of England is desperately trying to suppress. The first concerns its founder, Henry VIII, who is as much a figure of veneration to all Anglicans as St Peter, and the man who earned the title Fidei Defensor, which his successors bear so proudly.

It is claimed that Henry VIII was a nasty piece of work who tended to cut people's heads off whenever he felt like it, and treated at least four of his six "wives" rather badly. If this gossip were to leak out - and so far only readers of this blog know it - then the Church of England would be forced to close.

The skeleton in Justin Welby's cupboard.

Of course, dead people can't sue, and the publishers are really more worried about revelations about living Christian leaders. Take Prince Charles, for example. There are claims that he was a less than totally faithful husband to his first wife, Diana. (We can discount claims that his own father conspired to kill her, either with MI5, Amnesty International, or the Mothers' Union.) Still, this man will - in thirty years or so - become Supreme Governor of the Church, and if the secret ever leaks out...

Will Mo get his chance to be the first Muslim head of the C of E?

Other shocking stories circulating about senior Anglicans include rumours that Archbishop Rowan Williams has converted to druidism, that Archbishop George Carey supports assisted suicide, and that Canon Giles Fraser doesn't really believe in either the Devil or the Virgin Birth. If any of these turns out to be true, then the C of E may as well close down now and give most of its churches back to the Catholics.

The Archbishop of Stonehenge.

As Damian Thompson puts it: "For the time being, the Church of England is being protected from this atrocious book by somebody’s lawyers. But for how long?"

Celebrities ask for assisted death

A group of celebrities has written to the Telegraph "demanding" that politicians agree a plan to legalise assisted dying. And if nothing is done, then they'll scream and scream until they're sick. They can, you know. Apparently, 25 people a year travel abroad to be killed (compared with, say, the 1700 who are killed in road accidents), so action must be taken to make their self-destruction easier.

Eric Idle. Obviously an expert on the morality of killing people.

As many will remember, the prime mover for the "Why can't people be bumped off?" campaign is Lord Falconer. Note that a falconer is one who has control of a certain bird of prey, which is used to kill off weaker creatures - sorry, "assist weaker creatures to die" - and it is possible that Charlie Falconer is merely reverting to the traditions of his ancestors.

Set phasers on "assisted dying"! Patrick Stewart joins the campaign.

Of course, not all the signatories to the Telegraph letter are actors. Oddly, Stephen Fry is absent (which must automatically invalidate the list). Some of them are very eminent: one signs himself as Lord Rees of Ludlow OM, so that you know that he is a Very Important Person indeed, and not just any common or garden Lord Rees who wouldn't know one end of a telescope from the other. The fact that Martin Rees knows his Mars from his Albireo means that we should take his opinions on assisted dying more seriously than those of a man with no telescope. Lord May of Oxford OM, who has been Chief Scientific Adviser to the UK Government (yes, one man who knows all the science there is to know), is another who was wearing his "I've got an OM" tee-shirt when he signed the letter.

Lord Rees of Ludlow OM demonstrates the use of a telescope by putting it to his ear.

Fortunately, there appear to be no Catholics signing this infamous letter with the stench of death about it - how nice to be able to praise Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor for being a wise and moral Christian! There is one senior but retired Anglican who - as is well known - has gone over to the dark side: namely, the Humpty-Dumpty lookalike, George Carey. O George, time for a refresher course in Christian morality, you poor deluded buffoon. We've done this before, but this picture is worth another airing.

George Carey dresses up as the Angel of Death.

Is the Church of England like ISIS?

There has been an angry debate between Joseph Shaw and Geoffrey Sales over the question whether the best way to understand ISIS is by studying the Church of England. As usual, it is left to Eccles to rule on this matter.

The dreaded CofE flag (to interpret this, reflect a little).

We do have some anecdotal evidence. Said Mrs Enid Shavius, 84, "I was sitting peacefully at home, when a dreadful man knocked on the door and said he was the 'vicar'. Before I knew where I was I was offering him a cup of tea and listening to his readings from the collected sermons of George Carey. When I woke up, he had disappeared, taking my ginger biscuits with him."

If you see this man, do not invite him in for tea.

Said another witness, Colonel John Vendimus, 76, "I was disgusted to see one of those Anglican women in the street, dressed in the sort of ridiculous costumes that they are encouraging them to wear these days. I didn't give my life in the Boer war to see women being degraded in that way."

Anglican women wearing a degrading and unbecoming costume.

Finally, Miss Maureen Latin-Mass, 55, complained that an aggressive woman came round to her house, demanding "something for our jumble sale - it's in aid of the Anglican Church's Mission to Seafarers". She had to give the woman an old scarf, a pot of turnip jam and an unwanted copy of The God Delusion before she would go away.

The Mission to Seafarers did well this year.

So there we have it - evidence that the Anglican Church has a policy of systematic extortion and repression. Just like ISIS, in fact.

Let's talk about the weather

Yesterday's post about the devils of ISIS was a little vitriolic, so let's talk about something gentler. Following a suggestion of leutgeb, this post will be all about the weather, which seems to have been typical of an English summer - sun and heavy rain. We invited some of our favourite religious figures to comment.

Tina Beattie, Roehampton.

Whenever I see a flash (!) of lightning or hear the bang (!) of thunder, I am reminded that the phallocentricism of neo-orthodox theology risks reducing the Mass to an orgasmic celebration of homosexual love, from which the female body is excluded. It makes me very cross, even if I remembered to bring an umbrella with me! We Tablet directors have concluded that the only answer is to ordain women, liberalise the abortion laws, and drop the God-centred aspects of religion in favour of human flourishing! By the way, if anyone would like me to give a lecture in a prestigious place - say, the Scunthorpe under-7s Bible Class - I will be glad to accept. But don't tell the local bishop beforehand - he might try and stop it!

Michael Campbell, blogger, bishop and controller of information.

Although I do not approve of humour on blogs - or indeed anything but the most tedious platitudes as a rule - it may be that the following hilarious story might make an exception. It was raining hard in Lancaster last week, and one of my deacons came to ask my advice on a moral dilemma. He had discovered an outbreak of cannibalism in my diocese - in particular his parish priest had been eaten by some members of ACTA - and wondered whether it was appropriate to mention it on his blog. However, he voluntarily slipped on the damp pavement and fell into a puddle, voluntarily ruining his vestments and breaking his leg. How we laughed at his voluntary misfortune! I think he's in for a period of voluntary prayer and reflection, don't you?

Damian Thompson declines a cupcake at the Mad Hatter's tea party.

It's been very hot lately, hasn't it? My spies in the Vatican tell me that this is because Pope Francis is finally getting to grips with the English weather. Whereas Pope Benedict was satisfied with the traditional mixture of rain, cloud, more rain, and fog, the man that his intimate friends call "Pope Francis" is determined to impose his own South American weather on the Catholic church. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that a new bishop, with responsibility for weather, had been appointed, with instructions to pray for sunshine! I have even heard the name of Fr Ray Blake mentioned - it is no secret that while at Brighton he has produced significantly more good weather than they get in northern cities such as Luton.

George Carey (2nd left) is corrected on a matter of theology.

A lovely day, isn't it? Of course, as the Bible says, if you don't think it's a lovely day then you are not appreciating God's creation to the full, and should take medical advice as to whether to carry on living! Trust me, I know all about these things, I was once an archbishop.

Paul Inwood, composer and liturgist.

Here's a little something you might like to sing at Mass. Don't forget your ukelele!

The sun has got his hat on, hip-hip-hip-hooray!
The sun has got his hat on and he's coming out today... ch-ch!

Assisted Dying on the Orient Express

"That was a strange case, Hastings, mon ami," said my friend Hercule Poirot. "I was taking the ad Orientem Express to the mysterious east (Margate), to consult my friend Fr Tim Finigan on a curious question of hermeneutics, when we were held up by two or three snowflakes on the line - apparently, they were the wrong kind of snow. Still, there we were, marooned in some uncharted wastes near Faversham, with no hope of rescue for several days."

Somewhere near Faversham.

The chef de train summoned Poirot to one of the compartments, where there lay the dead body of a fattish man in his early sixties. One could tell at a glance that he was dead: there were stab wounds and bullet holes in various parts of his body, a rope round his neck, an empty bottle of pills by his side, and the marks of a blunt instrument on the back of his head. "His name is Charlie Falconer, and he was some sort of gangster," commented the train guard. "Could it be suicide, M. Poirot?"

Charlie Falconer in happier times, singing the Nightmare song from Iolanthe.

Poirot examined the body carefully. "I think not, mon vieux. Someone evidently helped him on his way. The worse case of assisted suicide that I have ever seen. We must find an explanation for his death."

An eager, fresh-faced man joined them. "Hi! I'm Tony!" he said. "I used to be something big in politics, but now I go round the world making money. Also I've been bringing peace to the Middle East. Charlie was an old friend of mine, and I gave him a job once."

"I have heard of you, Monsieur," acknowledged Poirot. "You are a pious Catholic who supports abortion and same-sex marriage. Can you think of any reason why M. Falconer could have opted for assisted suicide?"

Tony gives Pope John-Paul II some tips on becoming a saint.

"Well, he had a sore throat, and he didn't like train journeys, and England did badly in the World Cup, and he was worried about his pet hamster, Miliband, and he scratched his car against the gatepost last week, and they'd run out of gin, and he thought it might rain later, and..."

"I understand. All perfectly good reasons for a doctor to recommend assisted suicide. Now, let us see if there are any likely suspects." At that moment, a strange character entered the compartment.

John Birt. Formerly of the BBC.

"EX-TER-MIN-ATE! EX-TER-MIN-ATE! AS-SIST SU-I-CIDE! AS-SIST SU-I-CIDE!" screamed Lord Birt, for it was indeed he. This was a man who had been Director-General of the BBC, an organization that had employed megastars such as Jimmy Savile and Rolf Harris. During his rule, it was said that more people had switched off their televisions and said "I can't go on!" than ever before.

"There are indeed marks of extermination on Charlie Falconer's body," said Poirot, "but they may have been inflicted after death." He was then joined by a bumbling figure dressed as an Anglican archbishop.

"And if my sermons don't finish them off, a good swipe with the crozier will do it."

"Hello, everyone, I'm George," said the man, who was wearing a strikingly silly mitre and carrying a large blunt instrument. "I am man of deep Christian principles. Can I be of assistance to you as you seek to end your life in a truly Christian way?"

"No! No!" said Poirot. "I wish to live to be 130. Indeed, if Agatha Christie doesn't sort out the chronology of her stories, I may be forced to."

At that moment the compartment began to fill up with other well-intentioned supporters of assisted death: apparently, the House of Lords had organized a day trip to Margate for all its most irritating members.

Ian Blair as seen in "Hello (Hello, Hello)!" magazine, deals with the old and Sikh.

"You've all been very helpful," said Poirot. "Of great assistance, in fact..."

Carey on Killing

A new film in the long-running "Carey-on" series, has been produced, but it has been seriously panned by the critics, and it may not go on general release.

Entitled "Carey on Killing", it stars Sid James as Sid Falconer, the dodgy proprietor of the "Zap-Yer-Grandad" Assisted Suicide Company.

Sid Falconer and Bishops Wilson and Carey come to a patient's assistance.

Glamorous support is provided by blonde bombshell Rosie Harper (Barbara Windsor), who tells the House of Lords that the "moral and Christian" approach to sick and dying people is to push them over the edge.

Saucy boy! Wait till I tell my bishop!

A key role is played by Archbishop George Carey (Bernard Bresslaw), who, sick and tired of promoting orthodox Christian doctrine (or at least an Anglican version of it) decides to go out in style!

George Carey dresses up as the Angel of Death (non Angeli sed Anglici...)

It is a pity that this film is so poor. Our own personal favourite amongst the Carey-on films was "Carey on Praying" in which George Carey was molested in Canterbury Cathedral by Peter Tatchell (a comic role played by Kenneth Williams) when he tried to defend the traditional family. This film simply does not compare in terms of spiritual nourishment.

"Infamy! They've all got it infamy!" says Tatchell.

Eccles verdict: do not go and see this film. The characters are totally unbelievable.

Same-sex marriage preparation

Dave and Nick on their wedding day.

Hello, I'm Father Pat, and you must be Dave and Nick, eh? I'm so glad that you could drop round for some pre-marriage instruction. Since it became the law that churches must marry any couple requesting it (human rights, wasn't it?) we've been welcoming all sorts of people. You're very much in love, aren't you?

Dave: Yes, it was love at first sight. We began with a simple coalition, but now we want to go the whole way.

Pat: And what do your families think?

Nick: Well, mine are mostly supportive. Dave's family is more traditionally-minded, though. There's Auntie Maggie for one. I don't think she'll be leaving us much in her will!

Uncle Norman won't be coming to the wedding.

Pat: Now, the church has put together a marriage service for you, as we had no real choice, once the police had shot Cardinal O'Brien and Lord Carey. There are some really fine Biblical readings here.

Dave: Yes, I'm a little unhappy about Genesis 19, describing the fall of Sodom and Gomorrah.

Pat: Oh, all weddings have this now, so you're not being discriminated against.

Mrs Lot, an unfortunate wedding guest.

Nick: Also, the reading from Matthew 19. Do we have to have the bit where Christ says that marriage is between a man and a woman?

Pat: I'm afraid so. Also Romans 1, where St Paul gives us a pep talk on morality. Now tell me, are you planning to have children?

Dave: Oh I do hope so. I came from a large family myself. I had nine brothers, and what tearaways we were, eh? Especially Boris.

Ten very naughty children.

Nick: Yes, they drank too much and then did a lot of damage - trashing schools, hospitals, universities, railways, banks,... But in the end, Dave always knew that he'd pay for it.

Pat: Well, that's water under the bridge now. Let me show you a photo from a wedding I conducted last week.

You may now kiss the bride.

Dave: I think I can handle that part. Of course the bit we're really nervous about is the honeymoon afterwards.

The honeymoon.

Pat: So romantic.

Nick: We see ourselves as a modern Romeo and Julian.

Dave: Or Tristan and Isidore.

Nick: Or Napoleon and Joseph.

Booming Voice: PATRICIA! AREN'T YOU FINISHED YET?

Pat: Blimey, it's the missus. O.K. we'd better end now.