Your application for the position of Pope

From the Human Resources Department, Vatican City

Dear Mr England,

Thank you for your application for the position of administrative officer, grade 12 (commonly known as Pope). Although the position is not actually Sede Vacante, unless you believe those cranky websites that say there has been no valid pope since the Council of Trent, we are of course aware that the current Grade 12 officer may retire at any time, and so it is advisable to keep a pool of well-trained people in reserve.

As you rightly surmised, the "conclave" at which popes are "elected" is merely for show, and the real business is the responsibility of Human Resources.

A trainee pope (possibly the next pontiff but three).

Your CV is indeed an impressive one, with a 2.1 degree in Politics, computer training, and "on the job" experience serving soup to homeless people. However, there are some clear gaps in your profile, which you may wish to remedy before re-applying in five years from now.

LATIN. You do not mention any Latin skills, but this is de facto the lingua franca of the Catholic Church (see the Vatican II documents) - indeed, we would be grateful if your re-application were to be made in Latin. This also helps us weed out applications from Latinophobes, especially smart Alecs who think we should be using Esperanto.

KISSING FEET. An important part of a pope's job is to kiss people. Whereas politicians tend to harass babies in this way, a pope is more likely to find himself kissing ugly and deformed people, not to mention the feet of complete strangers. Actually, this is not a difficult skill to learn, and we advise you to practise this on the London Underground. However, we bear no responsibility if an ugly deformed stranger decides to kick you in the face.

Excuse me, sir, you seem to be particularly ugly. May I kiss your feet?

RELEASING BIRDS INTO THE AIR. We have had some problems with this, recently, when Officer Francis refused to do a proper health and safety risk assessment before sending a hapless dove into danger at the hands of a seagull and a crow. Releasing a bird may seem easy, but we do demand that you attend an official training course before endangering doves in this way.

BLOGGING. Although your blog is generally excellent, it is not usual for popes to make a spectacle of themselves in this way. So far it seems you have resisted the temptation to post pictures of the baked beans on toast that you had for lunch, or pictures of yourself cage-fighting, but be warned we shall have to give your blog a nihil obstat before it can be accepted as an official papal document.

WELCOMING CHILDREN. You may wish to reflect on how you would react if confronted by the following situation. No hints!

An everyday problem for a pope.

Best wishes,
Cardinal Paperclip,
Human Resources, Vatican City.

Bad Hymns 23

We are delighted to welcome Estelle White today, who has received so many nominations for the Eccles Bad Hymn Award that she should have been interviewed much sooner.

E: Estelle, nice to see you. Let's start with The Perfect Face, which starts "Hullo clouds! Hullo sky!"

EW: Actually, it's "I saw the grass, I saw the trees," Eccles. But your version is just as good.

Hullo clouds! Hullo sky!

E: Oh yes. Saw, not smoked, the grass, eh? And then you saw the boats along the shore?

EW: Yes, I was on holiday in Great Yarmouth.

I made my way into the town,
To the busy crowded streets:
The shops and stores and alleyways,
Through the squalor and the heat.

E: Still, you had a nice day for it, eh? By the way, this is a hymn, isn't it?

Note the reference to bacon (which will be important later).

EW: Well, I'm coming to that. You see, I was very unhappy because I had seen the perfect face:

Of a real and proper man:
The man who brought me from the dark
Into light — where life began.

E: I'm guessing that this has something to do with Christ, although you never actually mention Him? Still it had a very strange effect on you.

EW: Yes, every face I saw after that, including my own, was hideous to me:

The lines of envy around their lips
And the greed and the hate in their eyes.

Your face isn't much to write home about, now, is it, Eccles?

E: Cruel words, Estelle. Do you think God wants us to regard all his creation as hideous?

An ugly face (pulled specially for this blog).

EW: Too bad, I just can't stand "ordinary" faces any more. Eek! Put that mirror away!

E: Well, let's move on to what may be an even worse hymn. This one's all about grass, as well.

Autumn days when the grass is jewelled,
And the silk inside a chestnut shell,
Jet planes meeting in the air to be refuelled,
All these things I love so well.

EW: I'm also fond of raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens. But apparently that hymn has already been written.

Brown paper packages tied up with string...

E: Now what I look for in a hymn is a little spiritual nourishment. Do we get round to mentioning God at all?

EW: Aaagh, I knew I'd forgotten something! Still, there's always the chorus.

E: So I mustn't forget, no I mustn't forget
To say a great big thank you.

Although it isn't clear whether you're thanking the people who made the jet engines, or what.

EW: You'll like verse 2:

Smell of bacon as I fasten up my laces
And the song the milkman sings.

E: Help, I don't understand you at all, Estelle. Why do you have bacon in your shoes? And what is this song he's singing?

Estelle White's milkman, Ernie, sings a merry song.

EW: This isn't really your sort of hymn, is it, Eccles?

E: No, but Estelle, thank you for coming, and don't worry too much about the lack of religious content. It goes down very well with modern congregations, I'm told.

---

Previous entries for the Eccles Bad Hymn Award:

Lord of the Dance.    Shine, Jesus, shine.    Enemy of apathy.    Walk in the Light.
Kum Ba Yah.    Follow me.    God's Spirit is in my heart.    Imagine.    Alleluia Ch-ch.
It ain't necessarily so.    I, the Lord of sea and sky.    Colours of day.    The red flag.
Go, the Mass is ended.    I watch the sunrise.    Bind us together, Lord.    Our god reigns.
My way.    Ding-Dong! The witch is dead.    If I were a butterfly.
Journeys ended, journeys begun.    The Galilee song.