Dear Eccles, is it true that Fr Fisher stripped off his shirt during Mass, and shouted "I can take on any two of you traddies with one arm tied behind my back?" Or is this exaggerated?
Eccles: this story is completely exaggerated. Fr Fisher remained correctly dressed throughout Mass, and he would never have tried to face up to some of the more muscular women who attend Mass at Blackfen.
Definitely NOT Fr Steven Fisher.
Dear Eccles, is it true that Fr Fisher used his sermon to denounce the Extraordinary Form Mass, and to say that nobody who participated could ever be saved, in fact only he was saved?
Eccles: it is unlikely that Fr Fisher would go against the Spirit of Vatican II, which we all adore so, by reducing the role of Latin, since its importance was emphasised in the Vatican II document De liberalis comburendis. Moreover, I do not think he has claimed to be more saved than... well, me, for example.
Dear Eccles, is it true that Fr Fisher denied Communion to someone who refused to hold his hand out for it? Did he really use the words "Come on, stick those paws out, you dog!"
Eccles: this story seems to have been exaggerated, as well. Obviously in an EF Mass sticking out your grubby paws is a no-no, and Fr Fisher would be aware of that.
"Oh dear, I don't think Fr Fisher's going to like that."
Dear Eccles, is it true that Archbishop Peter Smith burst into the church while Fr Fisher was preaching and shouted, "You're a very naughty boy. Go to your shed!"
Eccles: Archbishop Smith is always very keen on correct liturgical behaviour, and he would naturally be horrified if he thought that one of his priests was anything less than a beacon shining in the wilderness. He has not intervened, so nothing can be wrong.
Dear Eccles, did Fr Fisher greet one of the stalwarts of the congregation with a cry of "You live five miles away! P*** off!"?
A welcoming church.
Eccles: No, Fr Fisher realises that even people who live as far away as Chislehurst have souls - of a sort - and should therefore be welcomed to the Lord's Table.
Dear Eccles, is it true that Fr Fisher has placed copies of the Tablet and Babes in Custard at the back of the church, "to fulfil a deeply-held spiritual need"?
Eccles: It seems unlikely that such filth would be introduced into a church, so I am afraid this is another misunderstanding.
Probably more spiritual than the Tablet, but still banned from Blackfen.
Look at me! Look at me! I'm rude and naughty!
Although her remarks were welcomed by the Guardian, the Tablet, and similar anti-Catholic organs, criticism came from an unexpected direction. Professor Richard Dawkins, the distinguished biologist, theologian, psychologist and poet ("There's not a bonnie bird that sings, But minds me o' my gene.") was unimpressed. "This lady is supposed to be a professor," he pointed out. "That is, a person universally respected for her erudition and dignity. She's just annoying Catholics in the hope that people will talk about her more. Perhaps she's got a book to sell; anyway, she's starting to give professors a bad name."
"I'll send her one of my professorial tee-shirts," says Dawkins.
Although Tina Beattie is "professor of Catholic studies" at Roehampton, this cannot be taken to imply that she is a Catholic, or that she supports Catholicism. After all, Professor Malaria, who holds the chair of Tropical Diseases, is not a supporter of tropical diseases: on the contrary, he regularly publishes hard-hitting "Diseases!? Arentchasickofem?!" articles in the Guardian.
Bishops: help the Justice for Tina campaign by inviting her to your diocese!
For those who gave up reading Tina's piece after five lines, on account of its clunky and turgid style, we are delighted to reprint the very last sentence, even if it is total gibberish:
How about a maternal church in which the shepherds smell of bruised, hurting and dirty women dying in childbirth?
Sounds great, eh? Still, this evening Tina Beattie was unrepentant. "Repentance? Isn't that a papist thing?" she said. "Not my cup of tea at all!"
Ancient stones - these are considered holy by many pagans.
Originally, it was thought that Pope Francis was hostile to the Ordinariate - simply because there are not many disillusioned Anglicans in Argentina - but he has now seen the wisdom of Pope Benedict's ideas, and is prepared to take them further.
The first step will be to set up an Pagan Ordinariate church in London. This is already proving difficult, simply as there are no convenient stone circles at hand. It is thought that it will be necessary to import some, and install them in a convenient open space, perhaps just in front of Westminster Cathedral.
The Twelve Apostles (Ilkley Moor). Will they move to Westminster?
Some aspects of Pagan Worship may be hard to assimilate into the Catholic Mass. For example, it was thought at first that taking off all one's clothes and dancing in the light of the moon was too far from established Catholic tradition. However, having been shown examples of liturgical dancing at Liverpool Cathedral and elsewhere, the Pope no longer believes that this will be a problem.
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Liturgical dancing (alternatively, the choir may perform a Gregorian chant).
Following the "Stonehenge II" council in the 1960s, human sacrifices are no longer part of mainstream pagan worship, but they are still be allowed for "traddy" pagans who request it from their local Archwizard. For such traditionalists to join the Ordinariate, suitable provision will be made in the Catholic liturgy. A papal encyclical De Humano Immolando is in preparation, which will clarify this issue. Many other Pagan traditions should be assimilated with little trouble.
A Catholic "cage" mass, where the priest pretends to be a budgerigar.
Reactions to the Pope's proposal have been mixed. Said the Tablet, "This is the sort of brilliant idea that we would never have seen when we were crushed by the iron jackboot of Pope Benedict. It takes the emphasis away from God, and focuses it on ourselves, so it must be good."
After all, this is very similar to some existing Catholic Masses.
On the other hand, pagan leaders are furious that the Catholic Church is attempting to "poach" its believers without any consultation. Said Arch-Pendragon Getafix (formerly Jim Tharg), "It's a disgrace. They're even asking Paul Inwood to publish a Pagan setting of the Mass, including animal noises and the sounds of witches screeching - apparently, this will only require minor modifications to his existing work."
Monsignor Snape prepares for Mass.
Finally, the "Magic Circle" of Catholic bishops in England and Wales is also showing enthusiasm for the idea of a Pagan Ordinariate. Archbishop Nichols has long had excellent relations with Rowan Williams, a druid who rose to a senior position in the Church of England, and he is therefore expected to be very responsive to the idea of Pagan Patrimony.
We'll now sing "All things bright and beautiful."
Ladies' hurling. Of course the Vatican wants to stop it.
June 5th: Still in a state of open warfare with the Vatican. Went to the Ballydancer post office to collect my mail - they won't deliver it to the house since I poured a plate of Irish stew over the postman, mistaking him for my bishop.
My letter of complaint to Pope Benedict has been returned, marked "Gone away!" Apparently there's a new pope, called Francis. They kept that one a secret didn't they? I expect they did that to confuse me and my secret society CRAP - The Catholic Revolutionary Association of Priests.
The new Pope (in front, with giant fish). But nobody told Tony Flummery, did they?
June 6th: Read the Tablet. Very good, as is the National Catholic Reporter. They're taking up my case against the Vatican. "Justice for Flummery!" suggested that nice woman, Catherine Peppermint. They also suggest writing to Basil Loftus, who can always be relied on to say something to irritate Catholics.
June 7th: I am a great admirer of Enda Life, our Taoiseach, so I went into the street with
a banner "Enda Life for Jesus." Enda's a fine Gael, the finest you ever saw. My brother Frankenstein
works for him, you know. At the moment we are all campaigning for lots of lovely abortion in Ireland - if that doesn't annoy Pope Benedict Francis,
I don't know what else will!
Enda Kenny plays "When Irish eyes are smiling" on a giant tin of shoe-polish.
June 8th: Spent the day working on my latest book, Judas Iscariot - the first rebel against the Vatican. The man was an inspiration to us all.
June 9th (Sunday): Said Mass at Ballydancer. It seems that there is a new translation of the Missal. It's terrible. I got as far as "consubstantial with the Father" and then fell to the ground in a fit, foaming at the mouth. It seems that I'll be spending next week in the Ballydancer Infirmary. I'll bet that the Vatican doesn't send anyone round with grapes.
Someone fixed this to my hospital bed! I suspect the CDF.
When you're sitting in church, and you're trying to search for a meaningful theme in the service,
You may find that it seems you've been having bad dreams, and they're certainly not for the nervous.
Warning - Damian Lundy ahead.
For it's Walk in the the Light, with its words very trite, that they've got as the hymn for procession:
At its music banal you are starting to snarl - finding it hard to control your aggression!
Then things get even gorier - Kyrie and Gloria, sung to a setting by Inwood -
Which destroys all the sense. What could make you less tense? Well, you feel that perhaps a large gin would!
An antidote to Inwood.
The priest's got no biretta, he thought it was better to dress in a cape and deer-stalker,
While the deacon's emphatic, he'll wear no dalmatic; he's dressed like a long-distance walker.
Father Holmes prepares for Mass.
The Epistles of Paul, we don't have them at all, though he wrote of some truths sempiternal.
What we get in their place makes you green in the face - it's a page of Dan Brown's book (Infernal!)
Well, you hope that the preacher will be a good teacher, but instead they've wheeled in Tina Beattie,
Who's at war with the Pope, and there isn't much hope that they're going to sign a peace treaty.
Lest we forget...
She has often been banned, and you do understand that her words must be treated with caution:
All traditions are wrong, let us sing a new song: women priests, same-sex marriage, abortion!
Then it's on to the creed, and it makes your heart bleed, when you see all of the bits they've omitted:
For the priest isn't sure he believes any more, so it's best not to get too committed!
An uncontroversial edition of the creed.
Well it's time for some prayer. Yet again you despair - for we pray for Hans Küng, not Pope Francis.
A collection they'll take, but first - not a mistake - we'll be getting liturgical dances!
A guitar twangs away, to our increased dismay, with some rubbish the player has brought in.
Six girls leap to their feet, do the Liverpool beat, which is mainly suggestive cavorting.
A liturgical can-can.
They come round with the plate, you're obliged to donate, though you really had thought of refusin'...
For the case they support is to buy vintage port for a transgendered bishop called Susan.
Well the rest of the Mass is just equally crass, like the bit where you cuddle your neighbour,
When you know very well she would see you in Hell, for two pins, with the aid of a sabre!
The kiss of peace.
When it's time to receive, you just cannot believe that the priest simply said "Come and get it!"
So you stay in your pew, feeling more and more blue, for you certainly think "Just forget it!"
Now it's Shine, Jesus, Shine! - oh, that hymn's really fine - as the song that we sing when it's finished:
Shine on me, shine on me, dum-de-dum, dum-de-dee... At the end you feel strangely diminished.
The worst is yet to come...
So you head for the door - Father'll be there for sure, with a greeting (he's likely to gabble it);
BUT right down the aisle, there's a huge unsold pile of a scurrilous rag called the TABLET!
From this sight you retreat, running into the street, for it's evil in print, you reflect as you sprint, heading into the town, to the pub where you drown... all your sorrows in beer, for the Tablet brings fear, of a hideous curse, yes, an evil, far worse, than you previously met, and you're really upset, by the demons within, which may lead you to sin, and destruction which can't be amended...
Read my new column in the Tablet!
But the service is past, and it's freedom at last, and next week you begin again, with a new priest (called Finigan?) so thank goodness this nightmare song's ended!
He striketh them as wicked men in the open sight of others. Job 34:26.
Nowadays it is considered permissible to use an iPad to read the scriptures or the liturgy, provided that you don't annoy your neighbours with bright lights, etc. (Try not to use a Tablet, as it isn't considered to be very Catholic.) We understand that the sermon you missed was a fascinating meditation on the sixteen sacred documents of Vatican II, together with a recently-discovered 17th document Decree concerning the sacred pastoral dogmatic constitution on the apostolate of the renewal of priestly mission through the divine ministry of the ecumenical activity of social communication with the laity. It beats anything you'll find in the Bible, you must agree.
The Good David Shepherd.
That aside, lifting one leg up into the air when the score reaches 111 (Nelson) is a mere cricketers' superstition, and you should have known better than to do it when the priest said "Lift up your hearts."
I asked Father Christmas for an iPad, but instead he brought me three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree. Are any of these permissible accessories in church?
The iPart in a pear tree.
Well, not really, although they might supplement the choir, which is having some trouble with that latest Paul Inwood chant, "Alleluia, cluck, cluck!" However, we do try to discourage worshippers from bringing their presents along to Mass. Our own deacon managed to disgrace himself this week, taking out his new electric razor for a quick shave during a moment when we were supposed to be praying silently. "Jeshush shaves," he said, and then fell over. I think he's been overworking.
The tongue deviseth mischiefs; like a sharp razor, working deceitfully. Psalm 52:2.
When the priest said "Let us offer each other the sign of peace," my neighbour pinched me on the bottom. Is this what they mean by "some other appropriate gesture?"
Well, it's very much the done thing in Italy and Spain, and indeed, you might be offended if they didn't offer you such a courtesy. However, the further north you go, the less acceptable such gestures become. In Brighton, they kiss each other and go "Mwah! Darling!" In Croydon, they rub noses.
The Brontë sisters - too far north for inappropriate gestures.
But by the time you get to northern wastelands such as Lancashire and Yorkshire, folding the arms and saying "Aye, lass!" is considered to be the limit to which intimacy can go.
Doing my first Tweet 4U all, ROFL.
Thank you. Well the papal procession is just entering the 14th century Chapel of Friar Stephen the garrulous. I can see Cardinal Pepperoni, Custodian of the Papal Tablet - there was some fuss there, because the Holy Father didn't really think that it was Catholic enough - and next to him Archbishop Cento E. Quaranta, the Secretary of the Congregation for Microblogging.
A pre-Vatican II computer.
It was originally thought that the Holy Father would be using the Vatican's medieval mainframe computer, XIMENES (the "Inquisitorial Engine," as it was known), but finally modern technology was chosen for this historic moment.
Well, all the characters involved in this ceremony have now entered the chapel, a total of 140, apparently. The Pope, dressed in mitre, fanon, and other papal robes, is saying a short prayer, blessing the computer and the internet as a whole.
It's not clear what the Pope will do next. Perhaps he will catch up on the blogs that he relies on to know what is happening in the world - Damian Thompson, Eccles, Father Z, and so on, first? I know that he is keen to see the photo of a fried egg that Father Z ate for breakfast this morning.
A breakfast fit for a pope. Will Benedict be uploading this photo?
Perhaps the Pope will go onto Facebook first, and update his status: "Infallible" is all very well, but more details would be welcome. No, he's removed his mitre, and, seating himself in the swivel chair once used by St Augustine, he's logging on to Twitter.
In the background we can hear the choir performing Bach's Cantata Domine Defende Nos Contra Fenestram Caeruleam Mortis (Lord, Defend us from the Blue Screen of Death).
For death is come up through our Windows (Jeremiah 9:21).
Well, Pope Benedict is shielding his hands as he types in the papal password. He had trouble when he went to the Vatican cashpoint to withdraw some beer money last week, and noticed Hans Küng standing behind him in the queue. The Holy Father was very worried that Professor Küng had seen him type in his PIN... It could be embarrassing now if the Pope's arch-rival were to hack into his account and start making "infallible" statements.
Advisers have been on hand so that the Pope does not inadvertently choose an easily-guessed password. BENEDICT, VATICAN and IAMTHEBOSS would have been a little too obvious.
White smoke indicates that HABEMUS PIPIENDUM.
Yes, the moment has come. Pope Benedict has spoken to the world, a message of greeting and blessing. Already 1 million people are retweeting it, Richard Dawkins is composing some smartass reply, and second-rate comedians like Eccles are trying to think of jokes to make.
And the Pope is now dismissing us with the traditional words Ite, Pipiendum est!
