The Book of St Richard, Chapter 18

Continued from Chapter 17

1. So it came to pass in the year of Our Lord two thousand and thirteen that Richard decided to write the story of his life.

2. And he entitled it An Appetite for Honey. For he was exceedingly fond of honey.

Richard encourageth a bee to make honey.

3. But his publishers changed the title to An Appetite for Wonder, in the hope of selling more copies, yeah even unto the man who hateth honey.

4. Meanwhile, Richard had been promised his own Book in the new edition of the Bible (that which is called Bible II), but he was not due to obtain any royalties from it.

5. Moreover, he had his own message for the world, namely, "I am the cleverest person who ever lived, and it is a scandal that I am not yet Sir Richard Dawkins, member of the Order of Merit, and Knight of the Garter."

The wicked man himself thinks only of honey.

6. "For I am a man of authority, having disciples under me: and I say to this man, Go, and he goeth; and to another, Come, and he cometh; and to my servant, Do this, and he doeth it. For their brains have been washed."

7. So Richard published his book, and many men mocked, saying "Ha ha."

8. Next, it came to pass that Richard planned a great journey, by means of a huge bird made of metal, which is called Aer-o-plane.

9. And he said, "I shall carry with me a quantity of honey, lest a famine strike me down during the flight, and my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth." For he was still exceedingly fond of honey.

10. And those who knew more about these things, some of whom were holy and learned men, said, "Think ye that it is wise, thus to challenge the laws of man?" But Richard heeded them not.

Think ye that it is wise, my son?

11. And it came to pass that a man, whose name was Dundridge, said unto Richard. "Oi! thou canst not take thy honey with thee on the flight. For it may be the fabled honey of Bin Laden, which goeth 'Bang!'"

12. And Richard was exceeding wrathful, and spake, saying, "Dost thou not know who I am? I am Professor Richard Dawkins, FRS, he who invented genes and memes, and whose watches are repaired by a blind man. Know ye that my honey goeth not 'Bang!' For is it not written: Out of the pie came forth meat and out of the honey pot came forth sweetness?"

13. But Dundridge took the honey from the hands of Richard, and put it in a large box marked "SWAG", along with nineteen bottles of water, a vial of gin, some cream that protecteth the skin from the sun, and, as it happens, a bottle of nitroglycerine.

14. And Richard was exceeding wrathful and shouted in a loud voice: "WOE IS ME! BIN LADEN HATH WON!"

15. But the friends of Richard clubbed together, and brought him many gifts of honey, so that thenceforth Oxford was indeed a land flowing with milk and honey.

Richard receiveth many jars of honey.

16. And, ever since then, the third day of November has been a day on which men light bonfires, and put a "Richard" on top, and explode pots of honey, so that they forget not the grievous sufferings of Richard.

Continued in Chapter 19.

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The Book of St Richard started here.

A homily from Fr Arfur

Hello, it's wonderful to see so many people in the church of St Daryl the Apostate this Sunday. It's been a busy week, with four festivals in a row: All Oween, All Saints, All Souls and today - as decreed by the Bishops' conference - All Fools Day.

Fr Arfur

Well the events of Thursday 31st October are best forgotten, and the person who shouted "Great zombie costume!" at Fr Phil when he came into church would be well advised to apologise. Although they weren't to know that he had just tripped over his cassock and fallen into a puddle while practising his liturgical dance steps on the way to Mass.

On Friday we celebrated All Saints: we looked at the track records of the saints throughout the ages and decided that we could probably do better than that bunch of dreadful traddies. Yesterday was All Souls, and it was good to see that at least three people under the age of 70 turned up to Mass. We apologise to old Mrs Moly Bendite for wrongly claiming that she was dead - still, at least a night in a coffin seems to have done her no permanent harm.

So, we come to today, All Fools Day, on which occasion we remember fools throughout the ages.

The bishop gets into the spirit of All Fools Day.

Now, as I was preparing for Mass, I read the sad story of Richard Dawkins, who is furious because a jar of honey was confiscated from him at airport security. Naturally, he blames religion for this, although this time it is our Muslim brethren - the late Mr Bin Laden - rather than the Catholic church that is responsible. But in a real sense are we not all responsible for the fact that the land of Dawkins is no longer flowing with milk and honey?

Never mind, Richard, the bees in your bonnet will make you some more honey!

Now today's Gospel reading contains just one message for us: it is a story about Zacchaeus, a person of restricted growth, climbing a tree. Members of our differently-heighted community have naturally condemned it as Achondroplasiaphobic Hate Crime, so we'll move on.

A piece of offensive bigotry.

As you may know, the Bishop's Conference is urging you to respond to a survey on divorce, same-sex marriage and contraception. I do urge you to take part in this - there are 666 easy-to-answer questions, and it should not take you more than about three weeks to finish it. With a new man in the Vatican, we naturally expect a total rewriting of Catholic teaching, and Pope Francis is anxious to be told what he should believe from now on. Perhaps he has already phoned up some of you to ask your advice?

Well, that's all we have time for. Just a reminder that there will be a retiring collection in aid of ACTA, the organization that is attempting to bring the church back into the 1960s, where it truly belongs!

The ACTA magazine - affiliated to the Tablet.

De Satturday colunm

I'VE WRITTEN ANOTHER BOOK

Birds do it, bees do it, even Russell Brand does it

Russell Brand is a smug git, isn't he? But he talks sense about drugs. In fashionable Notting Hill circles, they say that no dinner party is complete without some E, cocaine or cannabis (just don't try lighting up a cigar). I am sure that the working men of Barnsley are no different, relaxing sociably with a fix of heroin after they complete an all-night shift at the local tripe factory. (Most of my readers are from London, and will not have heard of Barnsley, but it is a northern town. Lancashire, I think. Tripe is a delicacy much enjoyed by people who use Twitter.)

I talked to Paul Bearer, my local undertaker, and he confirmed my impressions. "Of the under-21s who are brought in dead to our establishment, over 90% had been taking drugs." Again, we may be making a hasty generalization here, but I think this figure is typical of the population as a whole.

In my new book I'm in a fix, I discuss Brand's other addictions, including the much-publicised Sachs addiction.

Obviously Sachs in moderation cannot harm you, and often, when I am feeling depressed, I relieve my spirits by telephoning the man who brought us "Manuel"; when he answers, I wittily reply "I speak Eenglish. I leaarn it from a boook,"  "No, eet ees no a rat, eet is a filigree Siberian hamster," or "I know nar-theeng!" in a cod-Spanish accent. Then I burst out laughing and put the receiver down. The last time I did this I heard Mr Sachs saying "Oh, it's just that crazy man from the Telegraph again," so I knew he was as amused by the joke as I was.

But of course Brand, in collaboration with that other supposedly cutting-edge wit, Jonathan Ross, found that he could not control his Sachs-drive. Please buy my book, and I'll tell you more.
 

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There's no one like Dame Teksako Itchipowda

I've just discovered a promising young composer called Franz Schubert, who will probably be new to most readers. Here's his photo.

The legendary Dame Teksako Itchipowda performed his last three piano sonatas at the Southbank Centre on Monday ("piano" is a technical term used by some musicians to refer to one of those big instruments with a lid that lifts up. My friend Stephen Hough also plays one, but frankly he's not very good at Schubert). Dame Teksako is a neighbour of mine, and I often follow her into the supermarket, playing excerpts from Schubert sonatas to her on my piano-accordion, while she hunts for her essential supplies of baked beans and toilet rolls. She pretends not to recognise me, of course, but I expect she is secretly flattered to be adored by a Telegraph journalist.

There's an unfinished chapter about Schubert in my latest book, The Fish (a reference to his famous trout quintet, which he also arranged for a double bass: that's also some sort of fish, I believe). It's a little-known fact that it was Schubert's addiction to haddock that killed him.

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What might have been

I realised yesterday that we are approaching the first anniversary of the death of a prominent member of Al-Qaeda. Osama Bin Laden and I were at school together; he was one of the most gifted intellectuals I’ve ever met. Alas, he was unable to discipline his brilliant mind, while also lacking the social skills to mingle with ordinary people. He could orate, dazzlingly, on the Koran, the novels of Barbara Cartland, or the Thomas the Tank Engine canon. Moreover, he loved founding unusual sectarian groups, such as the “Tory Islamic Nudists" and the "Jihadists for Geoffrey Howe," which today have only a handful of members.

Osama was a much-misunderstood individual. I tried to convert him to Catholicism, but he confessed that he could never accept the idea of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary; also, he did not think that women should be allowed into church with the men. How history might have been different if we could only have agreed on these minor theological details.

I don't have much about Osama in my latest book, The Fez, but I do discuss in detail the question why so many people are addicted to silly hats.

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Doctor Who?

For many years, Alastair Campbell has been referred to as a "spin-doctor," but does he really deserve this title? I have been unable to find any evidence that he obtained a Ph.D. from a reputable university, or even from the London School of Egomaniacs. My editor asks me to point out that you wouldn't get Conservatives deceiving people in this way.

Indeed, leading intellectuals such as Richard Chartres tell me that they are very worried about this proliferation of undeserved "Doctor" titles. Here's another example.

Did you spot that sinister-looking chap with the glasses in the picture above? He calls himself "Doc," and is a senior executive for the Disney Corporation. I spoke to his P.A., a Mr Dopey, who refused to provide any proof of his boss's qualifications. Do you think that "Doc" is lining himself up as a possible candidate for Rowan Williams's job? I hope that someone will warn Her Majesty.

In my new book "Jim'll fix it" I write a hard-hitting chapter about how people can be addicted to qualifications - whether it be a B.Sc., an M.A., or a Ph.D. My conclusion: they're killing themselves by degrees. I thank you.