Terrorist outrage in Croydon

Following this week's terrorist outrage in Croydon, where a man by the name of Matthew Doyle was rude to a Muslim woman in the street (or at least claimed on Twitter to have committed this atrocity), the national security level in the UK has been raised to "a bit worrying". The Prime Minister called a meeting of the emergency HADDOCK committee to discuss the issue, before disappearing on holiday to visit yet more fish markets. The Croydon police have cancelled leave for all officers, and arrested Matthew Doyle after a 48-hour siege.

The terrorist outrage.

Round the world, people have expressed shock at the outrage. Pope Francis took some time off from washing women's feet to condemn the "blind violence" of Doyle's tweet. The main public buildings of Brussels were lit up in the colours of the Union flag in solidarity with Britain's suffering. As the Mayor of Brussels, M. Poirot, explained "We have had a few bad moments ourselves this week, but at least nobody dared to insult a Muslim woman!"

...and then the Guardian remembered that fools rush in...

Sir Simon Jenkins, already well-known on this blog for being wrong on every issue about which he has expressed an opinion, agrees that Brussels should be forgotten, whereas Croydon will be long remembered in the annals of terrorism. As he says, "The initial act is banal. The atrocities in Brussels happen almost daily on the streets of Baghdad, Aleppo and Damascus." He's right: do you get South London thickos being rude to Muslim women in Baghdad? No, of course not. We should be very scared.

Mrs Neva X. Isted, the victim of the outrage.

We wanted to interview the victim of the terrorist hate crime, Mrs Isted, who is currently in intensive care. However, it was pointed out to us that, under Islamic law, all opinions that she expresses must be provided by her husband. So much for that, then.

A prominent resident flees the terror tweets of Croydon.

Star Wars III: Revenge of the Smith

Our story is set a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. The Smith Lords are all-powerful, imposing their will on all intelligent life-forms. The cruel dictator, Darth Smithius, ferociously suppresses the old ways, which are still practised by the Latin-speaking Tradi Order - the ones who know how to use the Extraordinary Force. He drives them back as he imposes the Ordinary Force.

The all-powerful Darth Smithius.

The Tradi knight, Tim-obi Wan Fin-igan, is urged to flee the land of the black fens, and he takes refuge on the distant planet Thanetooine at the gates of Mar. Nearby, he finds another Tradi Master, Marcus Yoden, the custodian of the gates of Ram. Meanwhile, the black fens see the arrival of the young master Annoyin Stevefisher, who in those days has not yet turned to the Dark Side; he is considered to have been broadly neutral in the recent Clown Wars, when so many masses were taken over by puppets, clowns and liturgical dancers. The people of the black fens expect that the Extraordinary Force will be with him.

The temple in the black fens. Note the impressive array of light-sabres.

As we wait to see what Annoyin Stevefisher will do, we have a comic interlude, with various subsidiary characters such as the following:

The Wookiee cries in triumph, watched by the robots RAD2-D2 and CORM-3PO,

and of course this one:

Flabba the Shedd.

Back to the plot. In the black fens, Annoyin Stevefisher shows an instant hostility to the Tradi Order, rejecting the Extraordinary Force, and and driving many into exile. Nearly a year passes, and the black fens lie in ruins. It transpires that Annoyin Stevefisher has turned to the Dark Side. He even declares his intention to teach in a secondary school. From now on, he will be known as DARTH FISHER.

The dreaded Darth Fisher.

The power of the Smith Lords is now unchallenged, and the Evil Empire holds sway everywhere except on the planet Thanetooine. We shall have to wait for three more films before we see the Return of the Tradi.

A Plutonian visits Earth

This is Plutonian Astronaut Buzz Weeblezog reporting back on my recent mission to Earth. Following a recent visit to our beloved Pluto by a craft sent by the Earhlings, we took a trip to Earth to see whether intelligent life had started to develop there. When we last visited the planet, 50 Earth-years ago, the world was under the control of hippies, liberals, communists, and the Spirit of Vatican II, so we decided to come back later when their civilisation had developed beyond this.

The Plutonian space craft blasts off. (H/T @spockpuppet)

I regret to say that the Earth is still as barbarous as ever it was. I discovered an organization called Planned Parenthood whose sole purpose is to enable Earthwomen to destroy their young. These are then sold to distinctly dubious organizations: I could not determine whether the young were used for experiments, evil rituals, or simply cooked and eaten, but it seemed that all these are considered to be legitimate activities.

"Crusher" Debbie of Planned Parenthood. Never say she has no heart!

Religion continues to flourish on Earth, although there are many "God deniers". We found a big man dressed in white, whose job it is to guide a large group of religious people. This he does (mysteriously) by venerating communist artefacts - these celebrate a form of government that was very active when we last visited, and which killed millions of people.

The big white man has one overwhelming fear - that the world may end with something called "Climate Change". For us Plutonians the Earth is indeed very hot, although no more so than when we last visited. We do not yet have the big white man's comments on the killing organization Planned Parenthood.

The big white man thinks that he will be saved if he collects enough "Air Miles".

Elsewhere, we observed a strange tendency for male humans to attempt to breed with other males, or females with females, sometimes using a courtship ritual that involves waving a striped flag. Perhaps their knowledge of biology is not as advanced as we thought.

This was just a short visit, and unfortunately we mostly observed the Earthlings engaged in wickedness. Still, it is not all mass murder, although this does seem to be one of their most popular customs.

A rare indication that humans may be more advanced than animals.

Conclusion: the planet is not yet sufficiently developed for us to wish to make contact with its inhabitants. Except, perhaps, the cats.

Make God in your own image!

There is an obvious explanation for recent reports that some women priests and bishops - Anglicans of course - would like to rewrite Christian liturgy to make God female: not only did God make Man in His own image, but many people would like to remake God in their own image. Here are some case studies.

God dictates the more boring bits of Leviticus to Moses.

Pope Francis writes: I see God as a rather confused old man, surrounded by some rather dodgy archangels (e.g. Kasper, the Father of Lunacy). God Himself, although traditionally described as a "Judge Eternal, Throned in Splendour", is really a much more humble character, who prefers to be enthroned in a rather spartan apartment, and is anxious to reassure people with the words, "WHO AM I TO JUDGE?" Most of what God says has been taken down by unreliable prophets and evangelists, and it suffers from translation errors.

God teaches Noah about gay marriage.

Fr Gerry O'Morrah, Irish Catholic priest: If there's any message that we should take from scripture and tradition, it is that God is really keen on equality, diversity, gay marriage, abortion, euthanasia, and cannibalism. There are examples of these throughout the Bible, all described in enthusiastic tones. He is the God of Death and Sex, and was known as such to the ancient Irish. The very fact that He placed a rainbow in the sky after the great flood proves to us exactly what His vision was for the world.

"Cake of Heaven - feed me from thy bounteous store."

Damian Thompson, Spectator journalist: God was described as a "blood-crazed ferret" by the Church Times, but in reality He is a much milder character, whose main joy is in listening to our worship, especially when we offer it in the form of Bach Chorales and Gladys Mills songs. Obviously, being the Almighty, He has no weaknesses, but His fondness for cupcakes and custard - the Cake of Life - almost amount to an addiction. Trust me, I know about these things.

A vision of Heaven.

Other writers have described God in these terms:

"He's a grumpy old man in a shed who likes harassing and insulting people."

"Well, dude, you just don't appreciate the fact that God likes to express Himself in the panoptically ironic semantics of patriarchal exclusion using Tzvetan Todorov's absolutely intersubjective formalism. The Bible would have been six times as long, except that the moderators got to it."

"Of course He doesn't really exist, but if He did, He would definitely be a learned Professor of Zoology, and His Kingdom would be in Oxford. By the way, did I ever mention that I really hate Catholics?"

It's time to mock Charlie Hebdo

Although this blog is primarily for spiritual nourishment, we do occasionally tease the arrogant and powerful; likewise, we receive criticism in good humour.

For example, if Pope Francis insults my mother by calling her a self-absorbed promethean neopelagian, then I do not feel it necessary to punch him. In fact, since he was once employed as a nightclub bouncer, he probably packs quite a good punch himself.

Pope Francis demonstrates the Catholic "punch of peace".

Likewise, if a deacon from Hell devotes a blog post to a character assassination of me, simply because I don't have a high opinion of Bernadette Farrell, then I take it in good humour, simply making a few cryptic references to idiots in garden sheds.

Now, how should we react if people insult Jesus, Mary, etc.? In Chesterton's The Ball and the Cross, there is the distinct suggestion that we should fight them:

The glass fell in ringing fragments on to the pavement, and Evan sprang over the barrier into the shop, brandishing his stick.
  "What is this?" cried little Mr. Turnbull, starting up with hair aflame. "How dare you break my window?"
  "Because it was the quickest cut to you," cried Evan, stamping. "Stand up and fight, you crapulous coward. You dirty lunatic, stand up, will you? Have you any weapons here?"
  "Are you mad?" asked Turnbull, glaring.
  "Are you?" cried Evan. "Can you be anything else when you plaster your own house with that God-defying filth? Stand up and fight, I say."
  A great light like dawn came into Mr. Turnbull's face. Behind his red hair and beard he turned deadly pale with pleasure. Here, after twenty lone years of useless toil, he had his reward. Someone was angry with the paper. He bounded to his feet like a boy; he saw a new youth opening before him.

Never mind this blog: here's something much better to read.

Obviously we do not approve of fanatics murdering cartoonists, even talentless prats who couldn't make a decent joke. Still, if Cardinal Vingt-Trois had horsewhipped the Charlie Hebdo editor on the steps of Notre Dame, many would have thought it no more than he deserved. Cartoons about the Virgin Mary giving birth, or Jesus being sodomized, deserve some response. Curiously, a lot of the Charlie Hebdo stuff is sexual: I suspect that its staff pinched most of their ideas from toilet walls.

So, Cardinal 23 definitely shouldn't have been ringing the bells of Notre Dame in memory of Stéphane "Charb" Charbonnier and his bunch of talentless freaks - a gesture mocked in the new issue of Charlie Hebdo:

"What made us laugh the most is that the bells of Notre Dame rang in our honour," the editorial stated. "We would like to send a message to Pope Francis, who, too, was 'Charlie' this week: we only accept the bells of Notre Dame ringing in our honour when it is Femen who make them tinkle."

No, it's a gesture they don't appreciate. What they appreciate is tasteless abuse.

Charb has some awkward questions to answer at the Pearly Gates.

Got that? Je ne suis pas Charlie. Charlie Hebdo is a blasphemous Christ-hating pile of garbage, written by some very creepy people indeed. As you see from the picture above, Charb himself wore a shirt which his mother bought him when he was a teenager. Also, he couldn't even shave properly. A Peter Pan character stuck in the 1960s. A man whose hobbies included pulling the wings off butterflies and writing on toilet walls. His only friend was a pet rat called Eric, and even Eric decided he was too repulsive and ran away.

A bunch of fools sticking up for radical secularism.

Ring the bells of Notre Dame for the thousands killed by Boko Haram, or for the millions killed by abortionists. Given the quality of French driving you might even ring them for the thousands killed in road accidents. Just don't honour people who insulted your God.

The Bells! The Bells!

All right, rant over. Let Chesterton have the last word. Our duellists, Evan MacIan (Catholic) and James Turnbull (atheist) have reached France.

"Yes, France!" said Turnbull, and all the rhetorical part of him came to the top, his face growing as red as his hair. "France, that has always been in rebellion for liberty and reason. France, that has always assailed superstition with the club of Rabelais or the rapier of Voltaire. France, at whose first council table sits the sublime figure of Julian the Apostate. France, where a man said only the other day those splendid unanswerable words"—with a superb gesture—"'we have extinguished in heaven those lights that men shall never light again.'"
  "No," said MacIan, in a voice that shook with a controlled passion. "But France, which was taught by St. Bernard and led to war by Joan of Arc. France that made the crusades. France that saved the Church and scattered the heresies by the mouths of Bossuet and Massillon. France, which shows today the conquering march of Catholicism, as brain after brain surrenders to it, Brunetière, Coppée, Hauptmann, Barrès, Bourget, Lemaître."
  "France!" asserted Turnbull with a sort of rollicking self-exaggeration, very unusual with him, "France, which is one torrent of splendid scepticism from Abelard to Anatole France."
  "France," said MacIan, "which is one cataract of clear faith from St. Louis to Our Lady of Lourdes."
  "France at least," cried Turnbull, throwing up his sword in schoolboy triumph, "in which these things are thought about and fought about. France, where reason and religion clash in one continual tournament. France, above all, where men understand the pride and passion which have plucked our blades from their scabbards. Here, at least, we shall not be chased and spied on by sickly parsons and greasy policemen, because we wish to put our lives on the game. Courage, my friend, we have come to the country of honour."

Of course, times have changed. And Charlie Hebdo isn't exactly Voltaire, is it?

What to say if you meet a priest, bishop, pope, etc.

There are many occasions on which you may suddenly encounter a person in holy orders: coming out of church is an obvious one, but you may also meet a cleric in the supermarket, the betting shop, or even leaving the public toilets. There is an I-Spy scoring system, for such encounters: the Catholic version of the game gives you 1 point for a deacon, 2 for a priest, 4 for a monsignor, 10 for a bishop, 20 for an archbishop, 50 for a cardinal, and 100 for a pope. Double points if you can name him.

Apologies to Anglicans reading this: I don't know how many canons make an archdeacon, or whether a rural dean is worth more than either. Does anyone?

Mgr Guido Marini and an unidentified pope. 108 points.

Often, you will encounter your lucky cleric on leaving church, just after hearing him preach a sermon. Commenting on the homily is one way to break the ice. If you meet the reverend gentleman in less salubrious circumstances, it may be better to avert your eyes, and pretend you did not see him.

Anyway, here are few gambits that we have tried, with some success.

Deacons.

1. Good sermon, Deacon. I particularly liked the way you refuted the arguments of Fr Timothy Radcliffe. What a numpty, eh?

2. Good morning, Deacon. I'm so glad to hear that the geraniums in your potting-shed are flourishing.

Reading St Paul's epistle to the Geraniums.

Priests.

1. Father, your sermon made me wonder about adiophora. Would you say that 1 Corinthians 8 was helpful on this issue?

2. Father, I keep confusing good and evil. I couldn't tell from your sermon, but maybe you know. Which side are we on?

Bishops.

1. My Lord, how refreshing to hear the Donatist heresy explained by someone who actually knows what it was.

2. Good to see you, Bishop: you're not nearly as overweight as the man in the Spectator was claiming. Pity about the sermon.

Cardinals.

Congratulations on your first prize in the pie-eating competition!

1. Good day, your Eminence. How are we poor laymen to survive if the Church is a ship without a rudder?

2. Good morning, your ex-Eminence. Who are you going to push into the Chair of St Peter next time round?

Don't worry, your Eminence, those men in white coats are your friends. Just get into the van.

Popes.

1. How good of you to drop in to St Tharg's, Holy Father Emeritus. Of course we're not all familiar with the major German philosophers, but your homily sounded very smart.

2. Hell's Teeth, Holy Father, how are we supposed to keep smiling after what you just called us?

No platform for extremists!

Oxford Undergraduate: As an Oxford Undergraduate, I am very anxious to make sure that any views that I disagree with get a fair hearing, i.e., none at all. After all, isn't that how education works? For example, a college which must remain nameless (Christ Church) wants to hold a debate on abortion, involving two "cis" males...

Eccles: Cis?

OU: This means males who are not really females thinking they are males: tragically, Tim Stanley and Brendan O'Neill really are males. Therefore, they are automatically prejudiced against a woman's right to cut her baby to pieces. Eccles, do you think we should allow extremists a platform?

Two extremists, looking for platform 9¾.

Eccles: How else are they going to catch trains?

OU: Be serious for a moment, Eccles. Should extremists be allowed to tell us their views, so that we can decide whether they are extremists or not?

Eccles: It's never really bothered me. The real extremists - the ones who think the gas chambers were a pretty neat idea - never really get very far in the UK. The "jihad" bunch don't organize debates on "Should we cut the heads off unarmed women and children?" as they know they'd lose. So they run off and join the Satanic State nutters.

OU: But there are extremists everywhere, Eccles! For example, those people who tell you that gay marriage is not actually marriage at all! They disapprove of same-sex unions and rent-a-womb babies! They refuse to make cakes bearing political slogans about the right to wed anyone or anything we wish! I've suffered myself, you know - I wanted to have sex with my washing-machine in Tom Quad, but the porters stopped me!

Tom Quad - washingmachinophobic hatred at its worst!

Eccles: That's shocking. You're another Alan Turing. They should make a film about you with Benedict Cumberlandsausatch.

OU: Quite so. They've even made me lock my washing-machine away in a garden shed.

Eccles: I expect it will become a relic to be venerated, like the famous Shed of Turing. Anyway, haven't we wandered away from the point?

Turing - made a Turing machine out of paper tape in order to decipher Elgar's Enigma variations.

OU: Quite right. The point is that there are extremists everywhere, and they're not yet being beaten up by us peace-loving tolerant liberals! In fact we are so peace-loving and tolerant that we have asked for the debate to be cancelled, so that we aren't forced to go and beat up the participants!

Eccles: You're being very reasonable there. By the way, do you know why the college is called Christ Church? Could it be something to do with Christianity?

OU: Christianity! I was away the day we did that at school, but it's extremism, I know it is. I must consult my friend Freda M'Speech on this one. A few peace-loving threats, and we should be able to eradicate the religion for good. Now, leave me in peace, I just typed "Abortion" into Google images*, and I'm not feeling too well... How dare Google allow people to find out what abortion is really about?

*Don't try this at home. Seriously.

Is the Universe under threat?

Regular observers of the (Catholic) Universe have been shocked recently on sighting some new intruders, which many regard as a serious threat to civilisation as we know it.

The late Sir Patrick Moore attempts to explain the Universe.

Although the Universe contains several bright stars, which - in accordance with this blog's policy of never being nice to anyone - we shall not single out individually, astronomers have long known of the existence of other strange objects. One such is the large gas cloud known as McDonagh's Nebula, named after the distinguished eco-theologian, whose endless sermons on why Jesus hated global warming and genetically-modified wheat shed very little light on the Heavens.

The Universe, in more peaceful times.

However, what has caused significant distress recently is the emergence of a small group of red dwarves - these are ancient, decayed bodies, and generally not very bright. These particular ones are collectively known as the cluster of ACTA. Professor Joseph Kelly, a leading expert, is said to have dismissed the sighting as a reflection of "diversity", and so far the red dwarves, although irritating, are not believed to be a permanent threat to the Universe. Scientific theories predict that that they will eventually collapse into a black hole and never be seen again.

A black hole. Note how it leads to a distortion of all teaching nearby.

Similarly, a sighting of the dwarf star Loftus in the constellation of the Basilisk shocked many people a week or two ago: although it was very prominent in the 1960s, it was not expected to flare up again, and many astronomers had regarded it as extinct. Because of its distinctly eccentric orbit, many do not regard Loftus as a truly Heavenly body.

Finally, one astronomer complained of the Fifty Sheds of Gray.

Christians and antisocial media

Deacon Tommy, the most miserable man on the Internet, explains how social media brought him friendship.

Could this be the real @pontifex?

It's no secret that I am a keen user of Twitter, which is a wonderful vehicle for insulting and upsetting people. In particular, I find that anonymous Twitter profiles raise my blood pressure. Of course I don't often throw bricks through the windows of other tweeters, or make trouble with their employers, but it is something I would like to be able to do if push came to shove. But now I have relented, and this is due to an anonymous profile that goes by the name of @pontifex (for those whose Latin is as bad as mine, this means Bridge-Builder, so I naturally assumed that he was some kind of civil engineer).

The wobbly bridge - a clue to the identity of @pontifex?

This @pontifex uttered a Tweet that was sent on to me: Dear friends, please pray for me during my pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Naturally, I gave him the usual treatment: I sent him a nasty message, and blocked him on Twitter. I have a friend who is an IT expert, and he managed to track down @pontifex to the Vatican; after a bit more snooping we had the confidence to send the following to @pontifex: Hello, @pontifex, or should I call you Giuseppe Melchiorre Sarto? Does your employer know you Tweet in office hours?

My Archbishop, Smiffy, and others from the CBCEW, trying to work out what they think of civil partnerships.

However, @pontifex was fully understanding, and his kindness and charity moved me to tears. Yes, it really did. Or it may have been the onions in the shed where I do my antisocial media stuff. @pontifex said that he'd heard about me, and he was going to offer prayers on my behalf. Being a humble person, he lives in a shed as well, so there is a bond between us.

The humble shed in which @pontifex lives.

Actually, I think @pontifex had come across my blog "Catholic Vizzes", where I make witty personal attacks on priests, members of Catholic Voices, and anyone else who is more popular than I. Maybe I shouldn't mention this, but a certain bishop to the west of the Pennines told me that he wished his own deacons could be as charming and restrained as I am!

So in my general crusade for peace, I have decided to accept that @Pontifex is (nearly) as good a Catholic as I am, and my latest theory is that he is Br George Pontifex, a monk from Cambridge. Still, I gather that he also uses a "sockpuppet" title, Pope Francis, and this definitely not the name he was born with!

Deacon Tommy (with help from Agatha Christie) gets the measure of Eccles.

Eccles visits the wilderness

Prayer and relfection is a great way to spend Lent, but for a saved pusson like me it's a bit too easy. Therefore, I asked my bishop - a man of great spiritaul insights - to recommend somefink extra, as befits a trully saved pusson.

"Eccles, you is right," he said. "Go ye forth into the waste lands of the world, where the word of God is never heard, and bring em spiritaul nuorishment."

A place for prayer and relfection.

"Not Croydon again!" I remonstarted. "Even Jesus didn't spend forty days locked in a shed wiv a deacon."

"Nope," said +Thingummy, "I have something even worse for you. Do the words 'custard', 'hair salon' and 'Gladys Mills' suggest somefink to you?"

"You want me to visit Damain Thopmson's blogg?" I gasped. "You know, Croydon isn't so bad, reely. Even deacons in sheds is almost human."

A nightmarish vision, caused by playing the "2048" game too long.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, I registered on Diqsus as "ecclesiis" (for it is Eccles, I is), and went along to the holy smoking wastelands.

Is David Cameron a saved pusson?

That was the title of Thopmson's blost, in which the author gave an in-depth analsyis of the spiritaul state of our Prime Minister, concluding with the mysterious comment: "Personally I don’t care if Dave is a Chinese frog-worshipper..." (I spose he means Chinese-frog worshipper,as it don't seem very likely that Dave is reely Chinese).

David Cameron communicates with his deity.

As usual, Damain didn't have enough material to last him to the end of the piece, so he includded some stuff about Charles Hawtrey, Monty Python, and Vaughan Willaims clibming up his wall.

So I rolled up my trouser legs - sorry, I meant sleeves, I was thinking of ACTA for a moment - and took a look at the comments section. It seemed to be populated mostly by the resident troll, one "Phil", posting anti-Cathlic sentiments under half a dozen different usernames. There was one or two other trolls around, mostly based in South America, so clearly there was a crying need for the contributoins of a saved pusson.

The new avatar of Ecclesiis.

I challenged a few of the nastier comments of "Phil", offered a cup of tea to anuvver pusson who was gettin a bit incoherent, and basically shone the light of my widsom on the poor desolate blogg, wot had seen better days.

In less than one hour, all my posts had been deleted, and I had been banned.

Well, we knew that the muddlerators on the blogg were creul unsaved pussons, and that even the bloggs editor had no control over em. But this was quick work. Apparently, Phil is a pusson wiv a mark on his head like Cain, wot says he is under specail protectoin.

So I has given up on the wilderness of Damain, and has decided to convert pagans instead. Phew, at least it's nearly the end of Lent.

A pagan dances round a stone circle.

How to address the clergy

If you are reading this blog, you probably encounter clergy on a regular basis - whether Catholic, Anglican, Orthodox, or something else - and indeed you may even be a person of the cloth. However, you may not be precisely sure how to address them, and how to treat them.

A deacon or "Reverend Mister". Often he has a second job, e.g., burglar.

Deacons are customarily accorded the "Reverend" title, which means that they should be revered, or held in reverence. When two deacons meet, they say things like "Oh how I revere you!" or "No, I revere you more than you revere me!" Of course being a deacon doesn't make you immune to hypocrisy (you have to be a bishop to achieve that level of purity): I once knew one who had enough planks in his eyes to make an entire shed.

Murder at the vicarage! All in a day's work for a priest!

So we come onto the priesthood, where again "reverence" is the appropriate reaction. Priests come across many sins in their daily round, of which murder is perhaps the most common. The priest above was an Anglican, but the same applies to Catholic priests, of course. Some (particularly the Catholic priests) are addressed as "Father". Not "Dad", not "Pop", just "Father".

Fr Brown. (The raised umbrella on a dry day is a liturgical error.)

After that it gets complicated. There are lots of clergy with titles such as Canon Street, Metropolitan Line, Marble Archdeacon, etc. but I think we'll move straight on to Monsignor.

Mgr Ronald Knox. What is it about the clergy and crime?

These chaps used to be regarded as Very Reverend, or in some circumstances Right Reverend, but have now been downgraded to "Reverend". Since future Monsignors will have to be at least 105 years of age, it won't matter how you address them as they won't be able to hear you anyway.

Bishops, then...

You address a bishop as "My Lord", although they are also "Right Reverend". This shows that they are the bosses, are always right, and should obeyed under all circumstances. In return for your squirming in their presence, they undertake always to be loyal to the Pope, the Queen, the Magnificent Archdruid of the Luminous Feet, or whatever the big cheese in their church is called.

Four young members of the dissident group ACTA, turned away by a faithful bishop.

Archbishops are a bit more senior. I was told "Say 'Your Grace', Eccles, when you meet Archbishop Nichols," but the poor man looked disconcerted when I began "For what we are about to receive..." So this one is a mystery to me.

Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor ("His Eminence").

Cardinals are "His Eminence" or "Your Eminence". This is a bit of a come-down, really, as being "eminent" is less impressive than being "reverend", surely. It's not much better than just being a celebrity, like Eminem. Still, these are the princes of the Church, so should be regarded as eminent in the same way, as, say, Prince Harry.

A Pope, with birds of pray.

Popes are very busy men, asked to give many off-the-cuff newspaper interviews in addition to their ecclesiastical responsibilities. If you meet a pope - perhaps performing papal duties at your local bird sanctuary - call him "Your Holiness". This is to emphasise that he's not merely eminent, like a cardinal, but is in many ways a saved person. If he then says "Bless you!" it would be discourteous to point out that you didn't sneeze.