Pope Francis upset by "More tea, vicar?"

It has been reported that the 2020 Pontifical Yearbook, the Holy See's annual directory, has dropped the title of "Vicar of Christ" from its description of Jorge Mario Bergoglio, relegating it to a footnote - and we know from Amoris Laetitia that nobody trusts footnotes - as a "historical title".

More tea, vicar?

Francis has similarly lost some of his other titles:

* Boss-man of the Catholic Church;
* Mr Infallible;
* Grandmaster of the art of Papa-Slappa;
* The Big Cheese;
* Holiest Man in the World;
* Bouncer Bergoglio (from his days in Argentina);
* The Fat Controller;
* Mr Sunshine;
* Big Frank;
* Mother Nature's Favourite Son;
* Humblest Man in the Vatican 2013-2020;
* Santo Subito. 

It is said that Francis didn't like to be called "Vicar of Christ", as it sounded too much like "Vicar of Christchurch", which would make him an Anglican clergyman from New Zealand (or possibly Dorset), subsisting largely on cups of tea from grateful parishioners. However, it has always been a definite solecism to ask the Pope, "More tea, vicar?"

Choir Practice at St Ngaio's, Christchurch.

Just as it is bad manners to refer to someone by a pronoun xe doesn't want (Xe will be very offended), it is wrong to mis-title the Holy Father, Pope Francis, Deputy God (are we still allowed to use these titles?) So no more tactless references to "Christ" - they confuse him.

The Fall and Rise of Damian Thompson

I have long watched the career of Damian "blood-crazed ferret" Thompson with interest - indeed I contributed to the comments section of his "Holy Smoke" Telegraph blog as "Eccles", the brother of the idiot "St Bosco", until I was banned. Then I contributed again as "ThisIsNotEccles" - but the moderators were not fooled by my subtlety and I was soon banned again. Later I was cunningly "Incongito" - this was in the days before I got a secretary, Ecclesiam, to help me with the typing - but that didn't last long either... Anyway, the blog you're reading would probably not be here, were it not for my response to the activities of Brother Bosco on Damian's blog.

Supporters of Bosco protest at his banishment from Damian's blog.

As I have recorded elsewhere on this blog, Damian's blog was originally full of religious news and discussion, hence the nickname "Holy Smoke". Later, however, a distinct dumbing-down was noticed, especially after Damian started to write a Saturday column in the Telegraph. Less frequent were the references to Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor or the Ordinariate, and more frequent the mentions of cupcakes, custard, the pianist Gladys Mills, and the actress Noele Gordon. Occasionally, there were snippets of religious gossip, such as the plots against the Nuncio, and the prediction that Fr Alban McCoy would become the next (Catholic) Bishop of Leeds. This event has yet to come to pass.

Damnit, Damian! I'm a doctor, not a bishop!

Finally, however, Damian parted company "amicably" with the Telegraph, as we have recorded already; Jason the Mekon, ruler of the Treens of northern Venus, was brought in to dumb-down the newspaper further. Luckily Bryony Gordon and Bill Gardner, formerly of the Brighton Argus - and who better to write about Dull and Boring Day? - are still there to back up the few grown-up writers remaining at the Telegraph, such as Tim Stanley and Tom Chivers.

Gardner of the Argus's greatest scoop.

So what of Damian? Of course he was still doing casual journalism for the Catholic Herald and the Spectator, but otherwise he was alone in the world with his collection of 10 million CDs, his Gladys Mills piano, his royalties from the Fix - soon to be a major blockbuster starring Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz - and a significant pay-off from the Telegraph.

Damian received a substantial "Golden Cupcake" from the Telegraph.

Well, a few weeks later we learned that Damian had been given a real job at the Spectator. Of course, he had to begin at the bottom, as the tea-boy, but we all have to start somewhere, and the senior Spectator staff appreciated having their tea poured out by someone who could talk knowledgeably about Wagner, custard, Islam and of course Catholicism as he helped them to sugar. Promotion was inevitable: like the chap in H.M.S. Pinafore who "polished up that handle so carefullee, that now he is the Ruler of the Queen's Navee", we could sing about Damian, "At making tea so good an operator, that now he is an Ass. Ed. of the great Spectator". An Ass. Ed. is nothing to do with donkeys, but is an Associate Editor, which is a very grand position indeed.

Cristina Odone is called in to help Damian interview a new tea-boy (R).

So the story has a happy ending, and Damian is blogging on religious matters again at the Spectator's Coffee House - or Custard House, as it is to be renamed. In-depth articles are appearing:

Bravo, Justin Welby! Much better than Rowan Williams! (even Anglicans get it right sometimes, eh?)

Fr Jean-Marie Charles-Roux - the priest with the William Hartnell hairstyle (ah, comments on hairstyles make me nostalgic for the old Telegraph days) and

Even the atheist left realise that Richard Dawkins is a bigot (a bit of an open goal, that one).

Ad multos bloggos, Damian. Will I be allowed to comment on your posts though?

The Abbot of Amboise, a lookalike of Fr Charles-Roux.

And with your spirit

In which Fr Xylophone analyses a sacred text.

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Caesar adsum jam forte. Brutus aderat. Caesar sic in omnibus. Brutus sic in at.

These words, from the Book of the Prophet Dogrel, are best read in the original Latin; not surprisingly, they are used only in the traditional Roman rite. For the benefit of my more stupid readers, I will translate them as follows: Caesar, I am present now, by chance. Brutus was present. Caesar, thus in all things. And Brutus (is) thus in.

Julius Caesar listens to the word of God. In Latin, of course.

The passage begins as a divine message to Caesar, asserting God's presence. Adsum, adesse, adfui, I want you to learn this verb before our next Mass, as there will be a small test as you come into church. Obviously God has manifested Himself in various ways (cf. Hebrews 1:1: In the past God spoke to our ancestors through the prophets at many times and in various ways), and here He is addressing Caesar, the great-uncle of the man who sent Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem.

It is the "by chance" that brings us up short. I think we must regard this as Divine irony. For He leaves nothing to chance.

God does not play dice.

What are we to make of the next sentence, where Brutus is introduced? Is this the celebrity conspirator, who inspired one of the shortest verses in the Bible: Et tu, Brute? Well possibly: but more probably he symbolises Brutality: the Devil, say, or perhaps the National Catholic Reporter [aka Fishwrap].

So the Lord is telling Caesar that, although He is present, there is Evil present too. The message is repeated again in different words, a literary device known to experts as Repeating again in different words.

This reading reminds us of the importance of God's grace. Without it, we are vulnerable to the attacks of Brutus.

Drop that dagger, Mr Brutus!

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Numinous Nun Tea

For those who say they don't drink coffee [and this is something you would need to mention at Confession, so be careful!] the Numinous Nuns offer their own brand of tea.

A numinous nun serves tea.

Numinous Nun tea is blended by the Little Sisters of the Pot, a traditional Catholic order founded by St Camellia Sinensis. Order yours now!

Do not accept any other tea, especially not the soul-rotting rubbish that is on sale at StarWars.

The President of the StarWars chain of tea shops. Not numinous!

The Book of St Richard, Chapter 1

1. Now there was abiding in the town of Nai-rob-i a woman, named Jean Mary Vyvyan Dawkins, whom some called "Selfish Jean," wedded to a man, named Clinton John Dawkins.

2. This man was an an agricultural civil servant, and drank many cups of tea in the service of the King.

3. And he was a man of great power and might, who controlled the supply of animal manure to the peoples of the land of Ken-ya. And their crops grew in abundance.

4. Now it came to pass that an angel of the Lord came down to visit Jean, and said, "Congratulations, you shall give birth to an atheist."

5. "And you shall call him 'Clinton Richard,' after his father; and he will be known as 'Richard,' or, to his enemies as 'Dr Bonkers.'" However, he shall not drink many cups of tea in the service of the King."

6. "Still, you must train him well, so that, like his father, he may devote his skills to seeing that the people lack not a goodly supply of manure, that which is called s'hit."

More manure.

7. And so Jean gave birth to her son, and laid him in a manger, for she had hopes that the family's pet lion cub might consume such a repulsive child.

8. But the Lord watched over young Richard, and he was not consumed. And Jean wept, saying that a curse was come upon her family.

9. Now it came to pass, when Richard was eight years of age, that he went with his parents to a far-off land called England, which is to say, "The land of the heroic but sometimes rather gullible."

10. And he studied amongst the doctors and sages in a place called Ound-le, which is to say "An academy for the sons of gentlefolk, or at least rich folk."

11. And Richard was told of the ways of the Lord, and he learnt of many wondrous things, such as the fact that Salathiel begot Zorobabel, and Zorobabel begot Abiud. However, some say that he rather missed the point of St Matthew's Gospel there.

12. He also learned from the Book of Matthew that the hen doth gather her chickens under her wings, a piece of wisdom that he retained in his heart. 

13. For later he was to write a scholarly thesis on the subject of chickens, that all men might say "Truly this is indeed a learned doctor, for he knoweth the way of the chicken."

14. But one day, when Richard was still a child, the Devil entered into his heart, and he said "ROFL."

15. Which meaneth, "I have considered all the arguments for the existence of God, and chosen to ignore them. Let us dance the dance that is known as Yakety-Sax."

16. And thus he made his way to Ox-ford, the land of the doctors and wise men. Although some say that there were wiser men at Cam-bridge.

Continued in Chapter 2.