The synod of bishops will welcome (nearly) everyone

It's the day the whole Catholic Church has been waiting for: the Instrumentum Laboris for the forthcoming Synod of Synodal Bishops on Synodality (sponsored by Bud Light) is released. This is the result of lengthy discussions and the use of sophisticated AI (so NOT Austen Ivereigh), and the common theme is ALL ARE WELCOME.

As Cardinal Jean-Claude Hollerich points out, we need to welcome persistent adulterers, LGBTQSJ+- people, and even the bigamists! They may receive communion - indeed, why not let them act as Extraordinary Monsters of Holy Communion?

The Hell Choir (anag., 9 letters) is singing!

We must also welcome female deacons, and this includes transgender deacons and those who self-identify as cats. Give them a friendly stroke (the cats, that is) and a saucer of milk! Welcome any dead mice they have brought in to Mass!

But this is only half the story. Following representations from Pope Francis's best mates, we shall now be pleased to encourage:

* Abortionists,
* Child abusers,
* Rapists,
* Embezzlers, and of course
* Idol-worshippers.

I think this includes most of Francis's bosom pals. Hi, Emma, Marko, Gustavo, Giovanni, and the Pachamama club!

From the Austen Ivereigh Art Collection: we welcome the drunk addicted to custard pies!

Of course there are some classes of people that cannot POSSIBLY be welcomed. Anyone who wants to celebrate the traditional Latin Mass... anyone who asks embarrassing questions about Amoris Laetitia (bye, bye, Burke!)... all indietrists, backwardists, self-absorbed Promethean neo-Pelagians, faithful Catholics, ...

I hope the bishops have got the message now.

Late news. There is one category of Francis mates that we forgot to mention. And, for once, there is a Biblical justification to it, since Christ told us to feed the hungry. Yes, here we are!

We welcome the gluttons!

Is Pope Francis a Trad?

A Happy Epiphany to you all from me and Pope Francis. Most of the Catholic Church, and many Protestants, agree that January 6th is the correct date. But what is this?

A vicious attack on Pope Francis.

Mr Potato Head (as some people insist on calling him - not my invention) of the Where Pacha Is website was doing so well in his worship of Pope Francis, and this is really a turn-up for the books. Apparently, the American Devout Catholic Church preferred to cut short the twelve days of Christmas and celebrate the arrival of the three kings while they were still at the Royal Dead Sea Hotel, four days from Bethlehem.

This is modernism of which Pope Francis would approve, but of course he has not yet got round to moving all the important religious dates to Sunday (he is still wondering whether Good Friday should be conflated with Palm Sunday or Easter Sunday). So the Holy Father is clearly a Trad!

Not being sure what to do, I sent Cardinal Dolan only four ladies dancing, not nine.

Pope Francis's most recent doctrinal proclamation was an attack on crazy cat women, pointing out that by and large children are better than kittens, at least if they don't grow up liking the Traditional Mass. For one thing, they don't often bring dead mice and birds into the home.

Unfortunately, this may not be in total accord with the teachings of Mr PH.

Advice on child care?

Wise words indeed, but I am not sure what it means in the context of spoiled children. Mr PH is right of course in that the Catholic Church is now 50 years old - we have the Old Testament of 1965 to 2013, and the New Testament of 2013 to 2020 and beyond - but this is the first time I have seen the Novus Ordo compared to a plate of boiled cabbage.

"Arthur Roche was so shocked that his false teeth fell out. Come and get them, Arthur!"

Letters to the Pope

Dear Holy Father,

I have been reading your guide Amoris Laetitia a little at a time, and eventually got to Paragraph 226, where it advises married couples to try a morning kiss, an evening blessing, waiting at the door to welcome each other home, taking trips together, and sharing household chores. So this morning I gave my wife Doris a morning kiss, and this evening I gave her an evening blessing. She asked me why I was suddenly behaving so strangely and accused me of having an affair.

I stormed out and went to the Jesuit's Arms pub for a refreshing pint of Reese and Martin's Old Peculier. However, Doris did welcome me home with a traditional blow from her rolling-pin when I came back later, so I feel that the Spirit of Amoris Laetitia has entered our home.

I have decided to surprise her tomorrow by sharing the household chores.

Ricky Fathead.

"Another satisfied customer!"

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Dear Mr Pope,

We are happy to enclose your new Alitalia Catholic Diamond Membership Card. In addition to priority check-in and an extra baggage allowance, this card allows you to stand at the front of the aeroplane preaching on any subject you like: your words will be recorded and broadcast to the entire Catholic world for discussion, clarification, retraction, re-interpretation, and parody.

The Catholic Diamond Membership Card is a very rare privilege, and you are only the third top Catholic to be blessed by receiving this. The other two are of course Tony Blair and Joe Biden, and I am sure that you are delighted to have joined the company of such people.

Luigi Bertorelli (Alitalia Club Membership).

Pope Francis has finally arrived!

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Dear Sir or Madam,

My husband Ricky Fathead has broken our washing-machine by attempting to wash the cats in it. His excuse was that Amoris Laetitia told him to do it. I am holding you personally responsible.

Doris Fathead (Mrs)

P.S. The cats are fine.

A victim of Amoris Laetitia.

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Dear Holy Father,

We are puzzled by the following statement by your henchman Bishop Farrell, who is about to become head of the Vatican's new office for laity, family and life.

Although between us we have 50 D.Phil.s and a variety of other qualifications, we wish to admit defeat and put on record our opinion that Amoris Laetitia is too confusing for us. We know you did not write it all - and indeed have not read it all - but its wording is often ambiguous, and likely to lead some impressionable Jesuits into heresy.

Dr Joseph Shaw and lots of very puzzled co-signatories.

---

Dear Mr Bergoglio,

My wife has now left me, taking the cats with her. I blame Amoris Laetitia. So I have decide to leave the Catholic Church and become a Tablet-reader instead. Ha!

Ricky Fathead.

Woman believes she is a bishop

Psychologists are struggling to cope with a wave of "identification" crises. First we saw the case of Bruce Jenner, fathering six children and then deciding that he was really a woman and should be called Caitlin - although to be convinced that he was female we'd really need to see photos of him getting off the sofa and doing the washing up.

Nano the cat.

Next, we saw the Norwegian girl Nano, who said that she was really a cat trapped in a human's body. It is not known whether she lives on a diet of Whiskas and voles, but to be fair, she does claim to hunt mice at night, so maybe she really is a cat. Who are we to judge?

However, another case that has come to our attention strains the limits of credulity even further.

Rachel the bishop.

Rachel Treweek, a 50-something speech therapist, has taken to dressing as a bishop, even referring herself as a "Lord Spiritual" and "Bishop of Gloucester". The UK being a tolerant place, nobody has challenged her when she goes around wearing bishop-clothes, especially as she shows better taste than the American "bishop" Katharine Jefferts Schori.

The case of women self-identifying as bishops is uniquely a late-20th and early-21st century phenomenon. Tell the great theological giants of the 16th century - Luther, St Thomas More, Henry VIII, Cranmer - that a woman could be a bishop, and they would have laughed at you (or, in the case of Henry VIII, cut off your head). Tell Jesus Himself, and He would patiently have sat down and explained the priesthood to you, possibly driving out any demons of which you happened to be possessed.

Candidates may attempt not more than three of these.

Ahead of the rest of the world as usual, Brighton school children are now asked to self-identify by gender/sex; so in addition to the perfectly normal male, female, tomboy, transylvanian, tri-gender, hidden agender, and twenty-odd further options, kids will now be able to choose tomcat, moggy, bishop, lord spiritual, and various other combinations. So please be sympathetic to poly-gendered feline bishops.

Tiddles is saved

This is a guest post from Eccles's cat, Tiddles, who was shocked to read an article by Jonathan Langley entitled Ten reasons it's okay for Christians to hate cats

Tiddles.

I could really have entitled this post "Seven reasons it's okay for cats to hate Christians", except that we cats are loving creatures, and do not bear grudges.

1. Cats get a bad deal in the Bible.

There is no Biblical mention of cats, in the sense of domestic animals, but lions and leopards are certainly there. Some impertinent chap called Isaiah says that the wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid. I consulted a focus group of twenty leopards, and none of them thought this was very likely. And lions have their pride, you know.

Another cheeky chap called Peter says that your adversary the Devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour. Well, I admit that we do like devouring things, but then so do humans. So why smear us cats?

Personally, I prefer Amos's "The lion hath roared, who will not fear?" or, in my case, "The cat hath miaowed, who will not fear?"

Remember, cats are naturally great hunters.

2. Humans don't recognize cats' kindness to them.

Humans don't appreciate the gifts we leave them. I recently marked Eccles's birthday by leaving a dead vole on his pillow - well, half a dead vole, actually, I got a little hungry - but he refused to show any gratitude. Then, one evening, when I was at a loose end, I jumped off the cupboard onto Eccles's lap, with the idea of sharpening my claws on him. He gave out a yell and got up, sending me flying through the air. No love and affection there!

Ailurophobic hate-crime.

3. Humans are insanitary.

I didn't want to mention this, but Jonathan Langley raised the matter. We cats do our little doings in a litter tray, or behind the sofa, or under the bed - somewhere nice and tidy. Humans send their waste products down a pipe, where they get processed into someone else's drinking water. Well, which do you prefer?

4. Human religion is daft.

The ancient Egyptians used to worship cats, but we don't see much of that these days. Oh no, it's "Tiddles, get back in the garden, you're not coming to Mass with me." Look at the word "Catholic" - it originally meant "addicted to cats", as with "alcoholic" or "chocaholic". But it is not reflected in their practices. When will cats be ordained to the priesthood? When will they even be allowed to take Communion? Has the Pope mentioned cats in his "Year of Mercy" speeches?

Even so-called "liberal" Catholics are anti-cat. Cardinal Kasper, a man who you would expect to be sensitive to feline issues, has refused to answer our e-mails or return our phone calls. Apparently, in the spirit of gradualism, he wants to ordain dogs first. Madness.

The good old days pre-Vatican II.

5. Humans are always fighting.

When female humans fight, they call it a "cat fight", probably because the combatants hiss at each other and scratch. Curiously, when male cats fight, we cats don't call it a "human fight", since head-butts, punches on the jaw and kicks in the sensitive parts are generally considered to be unsporting. You're more vicious than we are.

... and we don't have wars between cats of different beliefs.

6. Eternal life isn't a big deal.

The best religious deals on offer for humans seem to promise eternal life in some sort of paradise. We cats have nine lives, which makes us nine times more saved than humans. Do I need to say more?

7. Finally...

We are sweet.

You are not sweet.

When the professor got stuck in the snow

We don't normally do book reviews on this blog (apart from books of the Bible as part of the Eccles Bible Project), but I recently read "When the professor got stuck in the snow" by Dan Rhodes, and its spiritually nourishing subject means that it deserves a review.

The book.

The basic premiss of the story is that an atheist professor by the name of Richard Dawkins is on his way to Upper Bottom (cue some very subtle but rather impolite wordplay here) to address the Women's Institute, when he gets stuck in the snow and has to find temporary accommodation with a retired Anglican vicar called Potter.

We see therefore the development of several dramatic themes, which make this one of 2014's great tragic novels about the sorrows of a senior academic in good standing. Even When Tina Beattie was taken to a Latin Mass and When Hans Küng was given a papal encyclical for his birthday cannot compare with the book's atmosphere of sheer misery.

Professors are tragic people.

As a close friend of the Regius Professor of Rocket Science, New Testament Greek, and Human Flourishing, I know that professors are, by and large, deeply tragic people. Especially science professors, who may be extremely brainy about things like genes and memes, but may not have much of a clue about real life. (Of course there are many exceptions.)

So our hero Professor Dawkins - often confused with the man in the wheelchair - is cast as an innocent creature, one who will face the vicissitudes of Fate while raging blindly against the world.

Professor Dawkins heads for Upper Bottom.

On his journey, Dawkins has many adventures, but it's bad form to include too many spoilers, so I will be a little vague here. However, I can reveal that he is called in to save a cat having difficulty with childbirth. Will he earn headlines such as "GODLESS BUT CARING ACADEMIC BRAVES SNOW TO DELIVER KITTENS" or will he be too late, and have to settle for "ATHEIST VISITS DEAD CAT"? Will he deliver the kittens, or be forced to euthanase the mother, perhaps by feeding her into a large antique mangle (for want of any more convenient device)? You'll have to read Chapter 14 to find out.

The professor meets many challenges to his faith - or lack of it - on the way. We have all wondered why, if Charles Dickens's theory of evolution is correct, there are no hairy fishes flapping around the water's edge. Dawkins can answer this question, and in fact gets very tired of answering it.

His rival, A.C. Grayling - better hair, but he hasn't done the experiments.

After a series of adventures, often involving unconventional means of transport, Dawkins does indeed reach Upper Bottom, just as Scott did eventually reach the South Pole. However, his non-faith is severely questioned on the way. Sometimes he is 6.9 out of 7 sure that there is no God, but at other times he weakens, and it is only 6.8 - a significant difference.

As for what happens next... well read it yourselves. I enjoyed the book very much - even the rude bits.

QUAERITUR: What do I do if my priest is a loony?

QUAERITUR: For the last 2 weeks we have had a visiting priest, while Fr M is away in Barbados (or it may be Grimsby, I don't know). This one started badly, with "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ,and the love of God,and the consolation of the Holy Spirit be with you all." Consolation? Have we come to a service of Holy Consolation, then? Still, it could have been worse, he might have said "Confusion" (which was obviously in his mind) or even "Conflagration of the Holy Smoke..."

A loony priest.

In the Catholic Church, the service books are there for a purpose. Consider the history of Bishop Arthur Roche: it turns out that, after all he was neither a retired figure-skater nor a cinnabon-addict (these were little stories invented by an obscure journalist called Damian Thompson). (In this spirit of honesty I must also admit that the claim that my Auntie Moly drank a bottle of Damian's hair-restorer was also slightly exaggerated.)

Back to Uncle Arthur. One good thing he did was to produce a new and accurate translation of the Missal, to replace the 1960s free-format fantasy on a theme that was scribbled down in a restaurant in the aftermath of Vatican II. The new translation annoys the Tablet, so it must be good. Now, if someone has bothered to provide a translation, and print it in a book, and if the bishops tell you to use it, you should at least stick to the text, Father.

+Arthur also got a reputation for closing churches. Not a Damian Thompson invention.

At three times in the service the priest is supposed to say "The Lord be with you." This wasn't good enough for Father Calamity, who insisted on saying "The Lord is with you." This is cheating, a little, as it invites the reply "And with your spirit". But he saved the worst until the end:

"The Mass is ended. Go in Peace." (Not quite right, but not too bad.)
"Thanks be to God."
"And thank you too." (WHAT???)

A natural reaction at this stage.

FATHER E replies:

Well, there are several possible courses of action here:

(1) Walk past him as he stands outside at the end of the service, and say nothing apart from a polite "Good morning".
(2) Talk to him about his eccentric behaviour, politely pointing out that he should stick to the printed words.**
(3) Potter around after the service, lighting votive candles, until the priest has gone.

**In Anglican churches, remoulding the liturgy in your own image may be perfectly OK, of course. Still, I do know a Baptist who, after attending an Anglican service, cornered Rowan Williams and taxed him with some alleged theological error in his sermon. Good luck with that one.

You will probably find that (3) is the least likely to endanger your soul. If Fr M is still away next week, you may wish to try a different church. Of course, this is sometimes considered to be provocative behaviour, and may lead to Fr Catastrophe's leaving the priesthood altogether and buying a rainbow cat, but you are not really to blame here.

The sort of cat that may suit a wayward priest.

The Spirit of Magna Carta

As readers will be aware, today is the anniversary of the signing of Magna Carta - a little-known Vatican II document - by "King" John XXIII, who had been forced to make concessions to the powerful barons of the Church (known in those days as bishops). Since Magna Carta has long been regarded as the main origin of the rights enjoyed by modern Catholics, it may be helpful to explain exactly what these are.

King John XXIII checks the Magna Carta.

It was agreed:

1. That the following sins were no longer to be considered as serious, or to be punished by eternal damnation: murder, theft, adultery, false witness, coveting neighbours' oxen.

2. That no Catholic could be forced to sing "Shine, Jesus, shine," "Lord of the Dance," "If I were a butterfly," or anything by Paul Inwood.

3. That no Catholic could be forced to attend clown masses, puppet masses, gay masses, or masses with liturgical dancing.

The same applies to Dalek masses.

4. That retiring collections should be optional (the official position of "burly chap who stares menacingly at you until you have coughed up money for CAFOD to squander" being abolished).

5. That masses need no longer be in Latin, but the common people were allowed to worship using vernacular expressions such as "Eee, by gum", "Yaki da, boyo" and "Cor, strike a light, guv!"

6. That the "Kiss of Peace" was strictly optional, and anyone seen prodding his neighbour in order to intimidate her into a kiss would be considered guilty of assault.

Eeek, my lunch just kissed me!

7. That the barons would be allowed to celebrate Ascension Day, Corpus Christi, etc. on any day that suited them, rather than using the same ecclesiastical calendar as the King.

Such hard-won rights continue to this day, so we are indeed lucky to have Magna Carta.

Christians get ready to observe Ramadan

We are guided today by a brilliant observation from the Catholic Bishops of England and Wales:

Of course! The time has come to combine Ramadan and Lent into one great period of abstinence, to be called Ramalent, or Lentadan, or something. Rentalamb. Whatever. Maybe we can get the Jews on board too, and combine Lent with Yom Kippur as well. We've agreed to eat no bacon on Fridays - see how much common ground we have already? Crumbs! The Middle-East crisis is as good as solved, even without the efforts of Tony Blair!

A new-look Catholic cat.

For Christians, Lent is the time when Christ went into the desert and met the Devil - or, according to Giles Fraser, didn't meet the Devil. If only Matthew, Mark and Luke had been Guardian-readers they'd have known that such a thing was impossible! Mohammed of course did not meet the Devil, or even Giles Fraser, but his followers still recommend Ramadan as a period of fasting, at least until it gets dark, when Muslims can PARTY!

See? Muslims love liturgical dancing, just as Christians do!

Mgr Ronald Knox wrote a fine piece, Reunion all round, about the possible inclusion of Muslims, Jews, Atheists, etc. into the Church of England (where they would hardly be thought of as unusual). One of his best recommendations was that Muezzins should awake people in the morning by intoning simple, non-controversial messages from church towers, such as:

Early to bed, and early to rise,
Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise!

"Mohammed said 'An apple a day keeps the doctor away.' Are you Catholics happy with that one?"

Indeed, other messages are possible. The Anglicans might wish to use the well-known statement of faith, which applies to every issue they discuss (it was first published in Private Eye, I think):

On the one hand...
On the other hand...
In a very real sense...

while the Catholics may simply shout out:

Who am I to judge?

One of Westminster's finest mosques (prop. Imam Nichols).

Anyway, these precise reforms are probably further down the line; although the Tablet, as usual, is in the vanguard, and is already tipping Jihad John as the next bishop of Arundel and Brighton. Meanwhile, we Christians can prepare for Ramadan with a clear conscience, knowing that we are now eligible for 72 virgins in Paradise (offer available to men only) as an alternative to an eternity in Abraham's bosom.

Only cute pets can go to Heaven

As is usual nowadays, Fr Federico Lombardi has clarified the off-the-cuff remarks of Pope Francis that all God's creatures are saved. "What the Holy Father really said," he explained, "is that all cute animals are saved." The offer does not apply to the Hound of the Baskervilles, for example; and pit bull terriers will still end up in the pits of Hades.

Cute enough to be saved.

It was explained that, whereas Jesus died to save humans from their sins, animals as such do not have a great idea of the difference between Good and Evil, being in that respect something like Members of Parliament or Guardian-readers. For instance, how do you tell the difference between a good crocodile and a bad crocodile when it's biting your leg off? Moreover, it would be inconvenient to have crocodiles wandering round Heaven, even ones equipped with angels' wings.

An optimistic crocodile sings "Amazing Grace".

C.S. Lewis once said that a Heaven for mosquitoes could be combined with a Hell for humans. Nowadays, modern teaching has largely abolished the idea of Hell, and Good and Evil are replaced with Niceness - see the Niceone Creed for details. Nevertheless, being able to decide whether one is saved simply on the basis of one's Cuteness applies only to animals, and not to humans. For example, many of the saints were not at all cute.

John the Baptist - as un-cute as Russell Brand but still saved.

Fr Lombardi added that simply possessing a cute pet was not an automatic guarantee for salvation: the pet itself would have to abandon its owner in the afterlife. Cats, for example, will do this without any scruples.

Only one of these is saved. Can you work out which it is?

According to Biblical teaching, God has decided that sheep are saved, and goats are not; this does indeed follow the principle of "cuteness", as goats are not generally regarded as cute animals. Indeed it is hard to imagine Pope Francis trying to gain credibility by walking around with an unsaved goat round his neck. Q.E.D.

The Pope poses with a saved creature.

The Diakonia of Beauty

Continuing our exploration of the Cannes Festival we came to an event of spiritual nourishment.

The sacred festival of beauty. The "off" of the soul (!?)

This event is organized by the local diocese in conjunction with La Diaconie de la Beauté. At first I thought this was something to do with deacons, who are often beautiful creatures with beautiful minds, but in fact a Diaconie is better translated as Diakonia, which is concerned with the poor and needy.

Now, who are the poor and needy in this context? Well, as far as I could ascertain, they are actors. The sort of poor and needy actors you see at the Cannes Festival.

Brother Bosco blends inconspicuously with the beautiful people.

Indeed, one of the events (next Thursday if you can make it) features Michael Lonsdale, a.k.a. Sir Hugo Drax, the villain of the James Bond film Moonraker. Not poor, not needy, not even a poor actor.

Possibly not a saved person.

Another event that the church is organizing is a Concert inter-religieux "Les Trois Religions". Apparently the three religions - which seem to be regarded by some as interchangeable, equivalent, and all as good as each other - are Christianity (yay!), Islam (hiss!) and Judaism (somewhere in between on the Eccles "how saved is you?" scale). I guess that if a passing fakir had walked in and wanted to lie down on his bed of nails, he would also have been welcome.

Gratuitous cat-picture from Cannes to make the blog more popular.

We did drop in to one event of this festival; it was a concert called De Marie-Magdeleine à François et Claire d'Assise, which might reasonably be expected to have some religious content. However the bit we heard consisted of rock music and a man singing (if I understood it correctly) about Earth and Water. I guess the pagan wing of the Church would have appreciated it.

The angel of the diakonia.

Now, when we landed in Nice, I tried to emulate the great Father Z. and take a picture of the aeroplane seat in front of me - that sort of thing always makes a blog popular. However, by mistake, I was facing ad aquilonem rather than ad orientem, and so I took a liturgically-incorrect photo out of the window. Mea culpa.

Cannes, as seen from my plane.

Should we pray in public?

There's recently been a fascinating - no, not fascinating, what's the word? - ah yes, mindless debate on Twitter, over the question "Should we pray in public?"

Ignore him, he just wants attention.

Those who are a little weak on understanding wheel out Matthew 23 at this point, and start mumbling about phylacteries and Pharisees (which are two distinct things, as it happens). There is a subtle point here, athough their fuddled minds rather miss it. It is obviously wrong to feel that you are somehow better than others because you call yourself "A miserable sinner" or "On the side of the angels"; however, joining in public prayers is not quite the same thing.

We mustn't pray the Angelus - there's a painter watching!

The Angelus itself is basically a Catholic prayer (although used by some other denominations) and all to do with the angel greeting the Blessed Virgin Mary. This is generally regarded as an important event, and no decent person of any faith would mock it, or even mock a prayer that commemorates it. Of course, it is a fine Twitter tradition to mock Christianity, and if you do so, you need to use lots of swear words and insults, as otherwise people won't take you seriously.

Personally, I find this whole "praying in public" business very distasteful, don't you? When the intercessions begin in church, I generally ignore them, and just turn to the Tablet cryptic crossword puzzle instead. Hmm - Nice debt rearranged - how we hate him! (8). Any ideas, there? Anyway, I don't like people to know I'm praying, so I do it privately at home. Well, of course I don't usually bother. Life's too busy, know what I mean?

A nasty traddy cat, praying.

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To finish off, we have a guest post from Sister Wendy Beckett. This was posted as a comment on Damian Thompson's blog, and immediately deleted by the muddlerators.

Custard for David Cameron.

In this charming 21st century painting by Adams of the Telegraph school, we see an updating of the Belshazzar's Feast story, in which a ruthless dictator lets his gluttonous instincts get the better of him, shortly before his inevitable downfall. The use of custard in this context, traditionally presented in a "rainbow" tin, is an astute reference to the dictator's obsession with same-sex marriage, which was one of the causes of his downfall.

There is a message in this painting for all of us, I think: namely, that custard, although one of the staple foods of life, can be misused and misapplied. St Paul warns us that someone who has turned to the dark side will feed on custard to his own destruction. Incidentally, the painting is one of a pair, as Adams later went on to depict the cupcakes of Clegg.

As we gaze on this beautiful painting, shall we meditate on the fate of Cameron, and say a prayer, possibly one involving custard? I think so.