An unreligious baggage writes about Christmas

A guest post from Apollyon Toynbee of the Guardian.

Christmas comes with good cheer. The tragedy is the religious baggage.

I love Christmas! It's the time of year that all we Guardian writers are filled with good cheer, as we migrate to our villas in Tuscany and take part in all the usual traditions. Hot cross buns! Easter eggs! Drinking ourselves sensible!

I watch "It's a pretty rotten life", that movie in which a rich capitalist decides to kill himself, and we all cheer him on. (I turn off before the last bit, which is about a fascist creature called an angel, who stops him.)

I also watch "A Christmas Carol" in a special feminist version in which Ms. Scroogy goes to Bob Snatchit's House and steals all his food becase he is a SEXIST PIG.

No religion in any of these films, you will notice!

Disgusting!

No, it's the attempt by Christians to hijack the event with their nonsense about a baby being born in Nazareth, or wherever it was. Why, they've even hijacked the traditional name "Christmas", deciding to call their imaginary baby "Christ". I haven't gone into this in detail, but it seems that they also worship other imaginary children called East and Pente!

My atheist great-grandfather, Gilbert N. Sullivan, a classical scholar and also president of the humanists, called Christmas “Mithras' birthday”, because Jesus usurped this winter festival from him. (Hang on, Eccles, she really said that!) Of course the shops refused to sell him Mithras' Birthday cards, which just goes to show the level of bigotry in our society.

And don't get me onto the subject of the three "kings" bringing gold, frankincense and myrrh, when - so they tell me - ordinary citizens can't afford these luxuries and have to rely on myrrh banks! I blame Rishi Sunak.

In general, I am very tolerant of religions, provided that they are practised behind closed doors where nobody can see them. (And no cheating by making silent prayers in the streets! My friends in the Police have stocked up with tear gas, rubber bullets and tasers, just in case anyone tries to pray while thinking - or do I mean tries to think while praying?)

The anti-prayer task force has spotted a lady praying silently!

No, at this time of year I show my religious sensitivity by wishing all my Muslim friends a "Happy Hanukkah", since I know that in their gurdwaras they are celebrating that moment - sacred to them at least - when Krishna did whatever it is he did.

Admittedly, they sometimes utter a discreet "Ali Baba!" ("God is great") as they go about their traditional stabbing activities, but we can overlook such solecisms because we all believe in diversity!

Confucius he say "This is brilliant, Polly!"

Christianity is the worst, though. I dug into the Guardian bag of insults and out came "homophobic", "transphobic", "pro-life", "preaching" and "smashing and decapitating a vast statue of Athena". So there we are!

Give me the badly behaved quarrelsome gods of Valhalla, the Greeks and Romans. (Hang on, Eccles, she really said that as well!)

But worst of all, is the fact that organized religion has robbed us of the right to bump off Grandad when he's being a nuisance (The "right to die"). A lot of these do-gooders wear crosses - an instrument of torture - but whenever I suggest to them that I should be allowed to crucify Grandad Gilbert, who has a nasty dose of arthritis, they hurriedly change the subject.

So Christmas comes with good cheer, enjoy it. But know that it also comes with grandparents - I mean, religious baggage - that we should shed!

Will this do? I have recycled some of the best bits from my 2006, 2015, 2019 and 2021 articles on the subject, but there are one or two new bits as well. Apollyon.

From the desk of Katharine Viner (Editor). Not bad, Polly, but couldn't you have mentioned the fact that Christianity was invented by bronze age goatherds like C.S. Lewis (I think it was)? Love, Kathy.

It's a wonderful life

One of the most popular Christmas films ever is "It's a wonderful life" telling the story of George Bailoglio, of Buenos Aires Falls. After a long and complicated life he becomes Pope, but things go badly for him, and he is criticised on all sides. Should he end it all?

George Bailoglio with Ted McCarrick his guardian angel

His guardian angel persuades George to look back at all the lives he has affected, and to see how things would have turned out if he had not come to Popersville.

There's James Martin SJ, no longer an influential LGBT activist and part-time priest, but in a much lowlier job, acting and dancing.

There's Matthew Festing, no longer in retirement and relaxing over a glass of port, but the powerful Prince and Grandmaster of the Sovereign Order of Malta, forced to fight endless battles with Al Boeslager, the condom king.

No, don't hang yourself!

There's Austen Ivereigh, no longer a famous writer of toadying biographies and self-styled expert on the papacy, but simply a failed journalist sleeping in a cardboard box.

There are cardinals Cupich, Tobin, Farrell, Wuerl, Kasper, Marx, Coccopalmerio, Sch... (all right, thirty other names omitted), all demoted to the rank of acting subdeacon responsible for the boiler, on account of their heresies.

There's Professor Massimo Faggioli, no longer a highly-revered academic whose lectures attract sometimes more than three students, but simply a gelato salesman who harangues passers-by with his latest theories.

Professor Faggioli at work.

There's Henry Sire, no longer the multi-millionaire author of The Dictator Pope, soon to be a major movie starring Tom Hanks, but the unread author of The Pretty Good Pope Really, the story of Cardinal Sarah's pontificate.

There's the Vatican staff, employing ten times as many people as before, all fielding questions of the form "Did the Pope really say that?" and "Did the Pope really do that?" So many would otherwise be unemployed.

Anyway, in the end George Bailoglio realises what a great influence has had on people's lives, and decides not to end it all. "If Benedict can live into his 90s then so can I!"

A happy ending for everyone.