Equal marriage

Now, children, I've been requested to teach you about equal marriage; more precisely, I've been threatened with the sack and the possibility of being banned indefinitely from teaching if I don't, so let's get started.

The owl and the pussycat - icons for equal marriage.

Yes, let's start with the owl and the pussycat. Edward Lear was a great campaigner for equal marriage, and his moving love poem was written as part of the struggle against a society which saw something unnatural in the romance between an owl and a cat. Note that, owing to persecution by the Catholic Church, they were denied a church wedding, and were forced to be married by a turkey that lived on the hill - evidently, a liberal priest in the mould of Giles Fraser.

Giles Fraser conducts a wedding.

Owls suffered a lot from persecution in the Victorian era: many became recluses, condemned by the intolerant society of those times as "Too wet to woo."

An owl, refusing to come out of the closet.

Let's move on now to the story of Alice in Wonderland. Can we have any doubt that she was in love with the white rabbit? Although initially underage, she made several attempts to "grow up," by eating and drinking various controlled substances, but her romance was always thwarted. In the end she gave up the struggle, and threw herself into a looking-glass in despair.

Alice - a victim of Victorian narrow-mindedness.

A more successful romance in the Alice books is of course the love story of the walrus and the carpenter, who celebrated their passion by dining on oysters (a well-known aphrodisiac).

Why can't we be married in church?

Now, children, do we have any more examples of equal marriage that we'd like to discuss? Pooh and Piglet? Yes, that's a very good example, Catherine. They spent a lot of time together, and they were obviously very much in love.

"Christopher Robin thinks I should marry a female teddy-bear. What a bigot he is!"

Well, that's all for today, children. I have to go and teach chemistry to the older children now, and of course same-sex attraction is a very important part of this.

One day a hydrogen atom met another one, and fell in love...

The Boat of Fools visits Blogfen

You stupid cat, you left the iPad at home.

This week our "Mystery Worshipper" attended the church of Blogfen, in which every parishioner is a distinguished blogger.

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What was the name of the service? Mass v. 1962.

Did anyone welcome you personally? Yes, when I arrived, they said: "We haven't seen you here before. What blog do you write? What's it about? I explained that I wrote the spiritually nourishing Eccles blog, and they let me enter.

Who conducted the service? Fr Tim Finigan, one of the famous "Finigan and Finnegan" team of priestly bloggers.

Fr Finigan discusses a question of hermeneutics with Fr Finnegan.

How would you describe the pre-service atmosphere? People were piously consulting their iPads. Looking at my neighbour, I could see that she was drafting a post for her blog eccentric.visitors.blogfen.com, although she hid the screen when I tried to read it.

What books did the congregation use during the service? No books! They all had iPads, smartphones, or laptops. One more traditionalist worshipper insisted on using an older computer.

A traditionalist worshipper, refusing to use a post-Vatican II computer.

In a nutshell, what was the sermon about? Fr F. explained the Hermeneutic of Rupture, which meant that, although worship was best conducted in line with traditional methods, it was necessary to reject some old-fashioned technology (here he glared at the blogger pictured above, who was now feeding a paper tape into his IBM mainframe).

The women all wore traditional mantillas at Mass.

Did anything distract you? Yes, there were some children present. They were mostly blogging away piously throughout the service, but occasionally they hit each other with their iPads.

A young blogger learns about bytes.

How would you describe the after-service coffee? In fact, full details were being written up for coffee.blogfen.com even as I drank it. We were served Musket Monk coffee, which had been sent as a present from a blogging priest in the USA whose name I didn't catch.

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Coming soon - we visit a totally different kind of service.

Anti Moly's Memiors

"Has you got any organs, Anti?" I asked my dere Grate-Ant Moly a few days ago.
"Well, we has got an old barrel organ in de attic," she said. "As you know, I was a virtouso performer of de Yakety Sax tune at Methoddist funerals, in my yuonger days. Also I used to take Bosco out into de street to make music, when he was a wee lad."

Dat's Anti Moly and my dere bruvver Bosco givvin a recittal in de street.

"Nope, I don't fink dat's what I meant, Anti," I explaned. "You see dere is a loony in Manchesster wot finks dat Jessus had both male and female organs. Dem's what dey calls hermenuetics. De Pop knows all about it."

Anti Moly told me I was an idoit (dem's creul words, Anti), and went on to reveel dat de time has come to write her memiors, becuase she has lived a very interrestin life, and it is only rihgt dat de humman race shuold be able to read all abuot it. At pressent all she does is reveal little snippets of her autoboigraphy on uvver poeple's blogg, which of cuorse is much more interrestin dan discussin de actaul topic of de blogg.

"But you is very busy, Anti, pickin fights wiv Cathlics 24/7," I said. "Why doesnt you get someone to gohst-write de book?"
"Dat's a good idea, Eccles," said Anti Moly. "I can tell dem de story about how I trekked in de Himalayers lookin for de Dolly Llama, and got mistaken for de Abonimable Snowman. Also de true facts about my romances wiv Hermann Gorring and Cradinal Pell. Den dey can write it up propperly."

Anti is still very cross becuase George Pell refusses to admit dat he ever knew her, but she is tryin to console herself wiv anuvver admirrer, wot comes ruond to drink cammomile tea wiv her (dat's a code word we is now using for cream de menth, cos we doesnt want people to fink she drinks a lot).

We has tried askin St Cuttley, de cellebrated novelist, author of de best-cellar "Thopmson takes charge," to gohst-write Anti's memiors, but he has very pollitely declinned, cos de stresses of copin wiv his fambly is keepin him too busy.

I mentoined to Anti Moly dat dere is a tallented writer wot keeps donkeys on de Costa Blanca (Spane), and wot is very used to writin under false names, but she went into a fit of historics and I had to give her some more cammomile tea - if you knows what I mean (dere is a sutble clue below).

So we is still finkin abuot a gohst-writer. Dere's a cosstume holly man called Peter Mullen wot has retired now, and mihgt be availlable. Or else dere is Damain Thopmson, wot dont seem to be doin very much dese days.

I spose I might try writin up Anti Moly's memiors myself, but I is reely quite busy wiv dis blogg, wot gives spiritaul nuorishment to many poeple who wants to be saved.

I is concluddin today wiv a jolly pitcher of a dove, as authenticatted by Anti Moly de grate orthinologist. I fink it is saying "Ho Ho, you aint saved!"

Bird watchin

My Anti Moly, who is a keen reader of dis blogg, said to me, "Eccles, dear, why doesnt you tell your faithfull public about me bein a keen birdwatcher, wot can tell a koot from a cookaburrer even when I has been drinkin? I fink it will stop dem from mockin me all de time. I is a twitcher, you know."

"I has notticed," I repplied. "Maybe you should lay off de gin a bit, Anti?"

She hit me wiv a fryin pan at dat point, I fink she been watchin too many Tom and Jerry cartons. So I went off to look at some old phottos dat Anti Moly has kept.

Dat's a photto of my dere Ant as a young girl in de 1930s (she's de one on de right), starin at a bird and sayin confiddently, "Um, dat's a rare speceis of albbatross, but dem traddy Cathlics likes to prettend dat it aint." Dat's in de days before Goggle and Wikkipedia, so she cuoldn't be omnicsient, like she is now. But even in dem days she had a wide knowlegde of our fevvered freinds.

Here is anuvver photto of my Anti as a young girl, watchin a bird. She says it may be a very big duck.

De bird watchin habit she got explanes de followin photto, which she has by de side of her bed for senttimental reasons.

She tells me dat it is Cradinal Pell, as a yuong man, trying to win Moly's affectoin by gettin her a Norwegain Blue parrott as a birfday present. I fink de parrott must have died.

I asked my Anti Moly wot was her favuorite bird, and she said, "Dey all tastes nice if you cooks em properly. When I was yuong my Mom used to give us stewed doddos, but den dey became extinct so we had to stop eatin em." She did confess a waekness for vulltures, cos dey picks over de remanes of corpses. Dat's a bit like what Anti Moly does when she comes to Damain Thopmson's blog and she replies to debates when everryone else went home six months ago.

Of course when I asked Bosco wot his favuorite bird was, he explaned dat to be saved you has to worhsip cemment doves like we does at de Calumny Chappell.

Dat's my dere bruvver Bosco wiv what he says is a real dove. But Anti Moly, de expert orthinologist, is sure dat it's a barn owl, so I dunno what to fink. Has Bosco and me been kissin cemment owls by mistake? If so, can we still be saved?