Comedy award for Martin and Ive

The popular comedy duo, Martin and Ive, has just swept the board in the prestigious Francis Awards, defeating Cardinal Becciu's solo routine ("I would have been pope if only the press hadn't kept telling the truth about me"). So it seems only fair to share some of their finest jokes with our readers.

As with Morecambe and Wise, one of the duo has short fat hairy legs.

Let's start with Jimbo's comments on the Holy Spirit.

Great gag, Jim!

You see, unlike Vatican II, which was only inspired by the Holy Spirit, this new Vatican III is managed by the Holy Spirit. Take note, it wasn't Pope Francis waking up with a hangover one day and saying "How can I best undermine traditional Catholic teaching? I know - get a lot of heretics to write in, together with moaning Minnies with grudges, and turn the lot into an Even Newer Testament, saying it was inspired by the Holy Spirit." No, the Trinity in His Wisdom decided that the time had come to throw away 2000 years of teaching and start again!

Ivereigh explains blasphemy.

Yes, for 2000 years the disciples, saints, popes, doctors of the Church, etc. have been committing blasphemy. Simple doctrine like "No murder", "No adultery" and "No theft" can't be regarded as set in stone. Especially not adultery, which became "OK" again after Amoris Laetitia.

Note the way that the great comic Austen turns round Catholicism in order to parody it. In the old days it was blasphemy to subvert Catholic teaching, but now - ho ho - it is blasphemy to insist on it.

One more joke from Ivereigh to finish off? Yes, why not?

A new reversal of Catholic teaching.

The recipe is the same here, but still effective. It is modernism to reject modernism - have I got that right? What popes said in the past has to be interpreted using the totally contradictory wibbling of the present incumbent. But we must remember that Austen is an Oxford don - at Camp Hall (memo: check name), and this is what we call Oxford humour, and like "alternative" comedy, is not usually funny.

I've got it - contra-Chestertonian, that's what these guys are. GKC was a master of paradox, saying things that seemed absurd but turned out to have wisdom in them. Jim and Austen go in the opposite direction.

Anyway, congratulations on your "Francis" award, team!

"We wuz robbed."

False communications to be rebranded as jokes

In the UK (and probably other countries) legislation is being formulated to prevent false communications on social media - you know, statements like "Covid-19 is best treated with a dish of prunes and custard", "Vaccines make children big and strong", "Joe Biden is a Catholic". These may even be punished by a term in prison.

As it stands, even joking could be punished. No more "While hunting in Africa, I shot an elephant in my pyjamas. How it got into my pyjamas I'll never know." Unless it really happened.

The answer is simple, of course. All false statements are to be rebranded as jokes, usually introduced with "I say, I say, I say!"

I say, I say, I say, this is a real bishop!

Catholics have seized on this with alacrity. Whenever Pope Francis stands up to speak, there will be a loud chorus of "I say, I say, I say!" alerting people that a new piece of doctrine joke is expected.

"Dico, dico, dico, no one can exclude themselves from the Church, we are all saved sinners!"

This device will also be useful when we look at statements from the German Synodesynodesynodekartoffelsalatsynodesynode, their own Synod about Synods about Synods...

"Ich sage, ich sage, ich sage! Let's get the Church to bless homosexual couples!"

So the panic is over. You can what you like, provided that you brand it as a joke. This lets Boris Johnson, Keir Starmer, Nicola Sturgeon, Joe Biden, Justin Trudeau (fill in your own names here) off the hook, as nobody will take them seriously.

"I say, I say, I say, horses really appreciate LGBT propaganda!"

Of course everything you see on this blog is simply the complete and unvarnished truth, so we shall not be using the "I say, I say, I say" formula. Others are not so lucky...

A Morecambe and Wise tribute act: the tall one with glasses and the little one with short fat hairy legs.

My night of horror with Damian Thompson

By Milo Yourehopeoulos.

I'll never forgive my parents for naming me after a chocolate drink.

I owe a lot to Damian Thompson. Without him I would just be a talentless nobody who wears silly glasses and stands alone in the corner at parties. As it is, I am an internationally-renowned blogger with a keen following amongst the illiterate Tuttifrutti tribe of the Amazon jungle.

But there is a sinister side to Damian, as I discovered the night he invited me to stay at his castle in Notting Hill. Things began badly when he insisted on plying me with cupcakes and custard, no doubt in a vain hope that this would cause me lose control. He doesn't drink alcohol, and I didn't find that his home-made non-alcoholic hemlock wine "Château Blood-crazed Ferret" was much of a substitute.

Damian spends many weekends at the National Custard Museum.

"I've got a DVD called The Life of Brian," said Damian. "It's the in-depth story of Haversack Brian, the 103-year-old composer who wrote three symphonies before breakfast every morning. My friend Stephen Hough has arranged his longest symphony, the eight-hour Vandal Symphony, for playing on the piano with one finger."

We put on the DVD, but it turned out to be a religious film about some prophet called Brian, so Damian angrily ripped it from the DVD player and threw it at Cormac the cat. Resisting my host's increasingly aggressive demands that we should stay up all night singing Bach cantatas together, I retired to the spare bedroom.

"Dear Mr Cleese, I wish to complain..."

There were approximately 500 copies of Damian's magnum opus, "The Fix" in the spare room, so I picked one up and soon found myself sleeping peacefully. However, at around 3 a.m. I was woken by a knock on the door.

"Moli, I mean Milo," said Damian in a whisper. "Would you like to come and listen to my collection of Gladys Mills CDs?" I knew that my host had been a fan of Mrs Mills from an early age, and that he sometimes sobbed himself to sleep listening to her masterpieces. But at 3 a.m. this was really too much.

A young Jorge Bergoglio receives a cake from Gladys Mills, watched by Damian Thompson.

"Go away, Damian," I groaned. "I want to sleep!"

"Just one CD, Milo," pleaded Dr Thompson, and then, when it was clear that I wasn't going to take part in his disgusting rituals, "all right, you'll see. I'll ruin you. You'll never work again! You'll become a second Austen Ivereigh!"

So as you see, that perpetually-smiling face conceals the heart of a fiend.

I'm sorry to have to put all this on record, but people have started to forget who I am, and it's important for gay Catholics with no talent to stay in the news. Ask Fr James Martin.

Eccles gets a Blaised throat

Yesterday was the feast of St Blaise, and February 3rd is a very appropriate time of year to celebrate him, since he is the one to go to for throat problems. I myself have had various coughs and colds throughout this winter, so I went up after Mass yesterday to have my throat blessed.

St Blaise with 4th century medical equipment.

Now, what outcome should I have expected? If Jesus had healed me in person, then I would have leapt up rejoicing; but clearly one expects slightly less from a retired Irish priest fumbling around with two candles, even if he is somehow appealing to St Blaise for help.

Still, for a few hours I did feel quite a lot better: no coughing and only a slightly sore throat. Maybe it was psychological, or maybe Fr Jack had managed to invoke a minor miracle.

Now, the Bible itself doesn't have many positive things to say about throats. For example, there's Psalm 69: I am weary of my crying: my throat is dried: mine eyes fail while I wait for my God.

St Paul (Romans 3) is also somewhat discouraging: Their throat is an open sepulchre; with their tongues they have used deceit; the poison of asps is under their lips. Who is he referring to? Well, all of us, it seems.

Cleopatra prepares to take delivery of an asp.

So here we are at a new day. The throat is slightly better, perhaps, but still not cured. Perhaps someone can advise me: is the St Blaise cure simply a matter of time? Or should I put this one down as a failure (like when, as a child, I asked God to mend my bicycle lamp and He refused)?

Well, there's always Lourdes, I suppose, but it seems a long way to go for a cough.

Elton John tells us about Jesus

Sir Elton John, the musician, best known for his song "Scandal in the Wind", gives us this in-depth of analysis of Jesus, and what He would have said and done if he had "been alive today".

Jesus was basically a very Christian sort of person, you see; of course, he would have dropped the awkward bits of Christianity, such as claiming to be the Son of God, and perhaps gone in for a more touchy-feely version of the faith, perhaps influenced by Buddhism. Maybe he would have become a Jedi knight, and preached a good wholesome creed such as "May the Force be with you" (et cum spiritu tuo, Ed.) before hitting people with strip lights.

Elton John, with Jorge Bergoglio and Damian Thompson, in the 1970s.

Probably, Jesus would have come out as a gay man and entered into a civil partnership and then marriage with John, "the beloved disciple". Next, by means of a mysterious procedure which probably involves women somewhere along the line - but this isn't important - they'd have produced a couple of bizarrely-named sons, perhaps called Jeffrey Elton Messiah-John and Dwight Furniture Messiah-John.

Jeffrey Elton Messiah-John.

Of course Jesus was all about love, compassion, forgiveness and having a really kinky time - especially when this means that two or more people of the same sex - or hey, even different sexes! - can get together and do what they like. My old friend Jorge (like me he changed his name to something cooler) has stripped his church down to the bare bones, and when he said "Who am I to judge?" his real message was "Elton, get your trousers off!"

More from the historic meeting of Damian, Jorge and Elton.

Of course what Jorge needs to do now is to appoint lots of gay priests, especially married ones. It's what Jesus would have wanted, and I know that this is one of the pope's main priorities. I have offered my services as an adviser on spiritual matters, along with other great minds such as Catherine Pepinster and Nancy Pelosi, and I expect to be given a humble role - perhaps as Cardinal John, head prefect (and milk monitor) of the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith - just as soon as the pope gets round to reading my e-mail!

Elton plays "Scandal in the Wind".

Cameron consults the comedians

After a memorable pub meeting with Stephen Fry to discuss the burning issue of LBGTOMG rights in Russia, David Cameron has realised that it will be best if all his policies are formulated by comedians from now on.

Don't touch the food - Fry's with everything.

Naturally, "Dave" is in constant touch with many LBGTBLT activists, and he has lost no time in setting up a "war cabinet" to advise him.

"Ern, I'm very worried about Vladimir Putin."

Since the cause of LBGTBBC rights is paramount, it seems that Cameron will be left with no alternative but to declare war on Russia. Luckily, the army is ready to go.

"I assure you, it will all be over by Christmas, Prime Minister."

Meanwhile, the problem of Gibraltar will not go away, and Britain may find itself fighting wars on two fronts simultaneously (that is, excluding Afghanistan, the Vatican, and any other skirmishes we are currently committed to). Luckily, an expert on Spanish affairs is advising the prime minister.

"I will negotiate with Señor Rajoy, Prime Minister."

Finally (and after all, this is primarily a religious blog), Cameron has now explained why he has refused to take any advice from leading religious figures on matters such as same-sex marriage. Apparently, he found it impossible to take Archbishop Nichols seriously, dismissing him as a "mere comedian". Instead, he consulted a highly-respected Irish cleric, but didn't understand the advice he was getting.

"They've mistaken me for Tony Flannery again!"

Following his lengthy exposure to comedians, "Dave" has been trying to relaunch his own double act in the hope of recovering some of his lost popularity; however, it has been generally received with prolonged booing.

Dave cracks a joke, while Nick keeps a straight face.