Tag Archives: clergy

January 9th

On this day in 1493 Columbus sailed the ocean and stopped to do a pee.

Do I look like a pretty mermaid, you twat?

That is a lie, although I’m sure that he did at least one pee on this day, but he didn’t stop to do it. What happened was that as he was sailing near the Dominican Republic, or to be more precise about the name of the Island itself, Hispaniola, he was one of the first people to see not one, but three manatees. What did he have to say about this sighting? that they were “not half as beautiful as they are painted.”

Yes, that’s right, Christopher Columbus was an idiot who thought that the manatees were mermaids. Thankfully, for the sanity of the manatees, as far as we know neither Columbus nor any of his sailors attempted to have sexual congress with the manatees. Not because they weren’t all a bit sexually frustrated, but because as they thought they were mermaids, they had no idea where they should put their willies and were too embarrassed to ask.

All in all, this sighting tells us a lot about sexual frustration, being at see

There are no photos of Mermaids, only paintings. This is because they are not real, dirty sailor boys!

for months on end and how desperate sailors must get if they can see a manatee – not the prettiest of animals – and actually think that it is a woman, albeit a half fish, half human woman. We should note that Columbus said they weren’t half as pretty as they were painted, not, as any sane person would say “they’re a bit bloody ugly”. Actually that’s unfair to sane people. Sane people would not think for one second that a manatee was a laydee. Ergo, sailors are mentalists who would probably shag anything that stayed still for long enough. What a bunch of dirty boys they are.

Today was the birthday of a chap called Josemaría Escrivá. Since 2002 he’s been known as St Josemaría Escrivá de Balaguer y Albás. He was a Spanish priest, the founder of Opus Dei and according to Pope John Paul II who canonised him he should be “counted among the great witnesses of Christianity.”

Like buggery should he. Opus Dei is a well dodgy movement. Of course the members would say that they are not and anyone who says they are has an agenda. But given that in the late sixties all c.50 male members of Opus Dei had volunteered to join the “Blue Division” in 1941, one might poke ones tongue out at the Opus Dei bunch and say “yeah, well what about your agenda, ha!” The Blue Division was a collection of Portuguese and Spanish volunteers who joined the German army in their fight against the Soviet army in the Eastern Front.

Opus Dei say they are not political, as did Josemaría, but the evidence is that for all their claims of apolitical holiness, they are extremely anti=communist and have got into bed with some rather dodgy people as a result of this.

Some of you might say that there’s nothing wrong with anti=communism, but being chummy with Franco? Allegedly claiming that Hitler wasn’t so bad as he was anti-communist and probably didn’t kill 6 million Jews (only 4 million, which is but a tiny amount. Not!) and popping over to stick your tongue up Pinochet’s arse? In short, it’s difficult to see either Josemaría or the whole organisation are as neutral as they claim.

This man was dodgy as fuck

It’s also clear that Josemaría was a bit of an elitist, thought he was above the Vatican and basically did not live the life that one might expect of a man who’s now a saint. He lived in luxury and he was a stranger to compassion and charity.

So, how did he get made into a saint if all this is true? I dunno, maybe the fact that JPII was also not all that fond of the communists had something to do with it. That and the fact that try as they might to be decent, a lot of the Catholic church and the whole of the Vatican are as bent as a 10 bob note.

Should we celebrate his birthday with joy? Should we fuck. He was a vile man and when he got made a saint, the RC church might as well have been seen kneeling down to suck Hitler’s dead cock. That’s how bad it was. So screw him and his happy birthday. He sort of makes me want to believe in heaven and hell, because I like the idea of a saint being poked in the arse by a laughing Satan in a pit of fire.

Please note that any offence given to Opus Dei or it’s batshit nasty members is totally non-accidental. Thank you.

Oh! Just a wee bit more. Opus Dei is well secretive, which is probably because it’s a cult. And old Josemaría had some super cool stuff to say about women. He told wives that it was their job to look purty for their husbands at all times and not try to be all clever and shit as that wasn’t very feminine of them. In short Opus Dei hates women. That hasn’t stopped Madonna from allegedly joining up with them, but then she is, much as I love/hate her, a bit of a stupid cow.


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March 1st

On this day in 1692 a good old-fashioned witch hunt got under way with the first trials of honest to badness alleged witches in Salem, Massachusetts. The trials weren’t limited to Salem, the infection went a little further afield, but they started in Salem Village.

How to get people hanged (1) lie on the floor and flail about a bit like a silly bint

The first three women brought to trial were Sarah Good, Sarah Osborne and Tituba.  They had been accused by a bunch of girls who were pretending to have great big old fits and putting them down to the evil eye and the debil. The four accusers were Betty Parris (aged 9), Abigail Williams (aged 11), Ann Putnam (aged 12) and Elizabeth Hubbard (aged 17). All of the girls had been seen “having fits”, flailing around the room, screaming and shouting and generally acting like little possessed creatures. The local doctor examined them and decided that the only thing that could have caused them to act like that was, well possession or witchcraft or little impy demons biting them and pinching them. One would sort of feel sorry for the girls for getting them into such a mental situation, but then they went on to name names and sympathy sort of wanes. Especially for Elizabeth Hubbard who made a real career of accusing anyone she wasn’t keen on and was happy to make up all sorts of shit about them in court.

The first three women accused were naturals for the role. Sarah Good was a beggar, Sarah Osborne had been widowed and married again to an indentured servant and Tituba was a freed slave.  The girls claimed to have seen these three flying in the sky on their broomsticks and whenever they were around the accused they made sure to have a little fit, just to keep everything pukka. Of course, one shouldn’t lay all the blame on the girls. There were adults around who should have known better. Unfortunately, anyone who voiced any doubt about the girls’ testimonies generally found themselves up on charges of witchery themselves. All in all it was a dreadful clusterfuck.

A bit of context: the people of Salem village were all very good about the church thing, but outside of church were more fighty and argumentative than a Christmas episode of Eastenders. The trials, in part, helped to settle some grudges, rid the town of women (on the whole it was women who were charged) who weren’t fitting in, and fire up their own religious fervour. To be fair to this bunch of maniacs,some of them really believed in what they were doing, including the infamous Cotton Mather. That said, it’s difficult to be fair to a bunch of people who accused a four-year old child of being a witch (Dorothy Good) and then used her “testimony” to find her mother guilty as charged.

Our three women, the first accused and at the vanguard of an outbreak of sheer idiocy, were out of the picture within six months. Tituba, turned against her fellow accused and admitted that they had all been in it together, calling up the devil and Incubi and Succubi to have dirty sex with everyone in the village. She was released without charge for giving the judges what they wanted. Sarah Osborne died in Jail in May 1692, she had not been found guilty, although it is likely that she would have been if there had been another chance to try her. Sarah Good was testified against by both her daughter (as noted above) and her husband, who claimed to have seen the devil’s mark on her. She professed her innocence time and time again, even when she stood on the gallows on 19th July 1692. She was among twenty people who were executed, nineteen by hanging and one, Giles Corey, who was pressed to death (Corey would not confess and by this stage, the judges were not patient. He had stones heaped upon him and died after two days, still not confessing). Around thirteen people were thought to have died in prison.

Today is the birthday of a few people I could be rather kind about, but I think I’ve been kind enough for a while now and so I’m going to pick on someone. The person I’m going to pick on probably doesn’t deserve it as he’s only an ickle boy, but fuck it, he gets right on my tits. Yes Justin Bieber, I’m talking about you!

Bieber’s fame started on YouTube, although it was not quite as unstage-managed as those around him would have us believe (or should that be belieb?) His manager (Scooter Braun) happened across him on YouTube and from there on in – well once his Christian mother had prayed and decided it was okay for her son to be mentored by someone Jewish (I shit you not) – he was on his way. But instead of launching him straight away, Braun got him to do more YouTube and let the fans find him. And they did and oh sweet mother of god

Fuck right off!

don’t we know about it!

Little Justin is everywhere like a disease for which there is no cure. Young girls love him, although when they grow up they’ll undoubtedly have to question their pre-teen sexuality, as they look back and realise they had the hots for a boy who looks like a teenage lesbian. Hopefully when he grows up he’ll rethink saying things like “Abortion is like killing a baby” and when asked what about abortion after rape, replying “I think that’s very sad, but everything happens for a reason.”  He’s just turned seventeen, so he’s on the cusp of still being able to be an idiot without people thinking he is an irredeemable idiot.

Anyway, he sings some shit or other that is like prepubescent catnip to his fans, he looks like a girl considering a sex change and I’m probably going to hell for  hoping he does a Britney or Lindsay in the next couple of years so I can cackle with glee. I am not a Belieber.

Happy birthday, you child-troll. Eat some cake, shut your mouth and go to your room!

I’d also like to take the chance to wish any Welsh readers a very happy St David’s day or Dydd Gwŷl Dewi Sant hapus as you say in your slightly made up language!

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February 25th

On this day in 1095 the Archbishop of Canterbury, the bishops of the land, the nobles and the King came together at the Council of Rockingham, to discuss some shit about the pallium and receiving it from the pope. It probably tells us something about the popularity of the king and the archbishop among their own peers, that the bishops sided with the king in the argument that ensued and the nobles sided with the archbishop. There was, of course, a bit of fallout after the event, but in order to have the faintest idea what they were arguing about in the first place, it’s necessary to have a little bit of context. These medieval types were very complicated and decidedly odd.


Buggery bollocks! I've killed the king!

The archbishop in question was called Anselm. All things considered he was probably a good one. He was quite holy, cared about reforming the church and all those nice sorts of things, although that said, he had a fair amount of money, so his holiness only went so far. Like just about anyone with a bit of influence, he was of the French persuasion and had been the abbot of a monastery in Normandy before his accession to Canterbury. He and the king were at loggerheads from the get go. That king was William II better known as William Rufus.


Rufus’s image has been handed down to us by the chroniclers of the time. They hated him, but this was because he didn’t give a flying fart about the church. As a result they painted the picture of an evil man whose court was corrupt and a non-stop of orgy of, well orgy type things; mostly sex but also cruelty and devil worship. The chroniclers were pretty much the Daily Mail of the Middle Ages. Rufus was no angel and he was exceptionally spoilt and greedy, but unfortunately his life wasn’t a crazy merry-go-round of debauchery, he just didn’t care to be all pious, which was pretty unusual in his day and age.

There are two other issues that need to be considered in this vastly unimportant affair: the papacy and the pallium. At the time there were two popes, well a pope and an Antipope (please note this is not the same as an Antichrist, although it would be a lot more fun if it was). Urban II (named because he was well into Dizzee Rascal and Tinie Tempah) was the pope most people recognised, Clement III was the Antipope. William Rufus decided that he preferred Clement III and wasn’t going to recognise Urban. Confused yet? Well here comes the pallium! It’s a strip of material that goes over the bishop’s frock and when seen from either the front or the back is shaped like the letter Y. The only person who could bestow it was the pope and at this point in the Catholic church’s illustrious history, the pope was making bishops pay big money to get one off him. Those popes and their simony! What a bunch of utter thieving bastards!

So, there’s the background. More or less. The council was called because Anselm wanted to go to Rome to get his pallium, but Rufus didn’t want him to go because he wasn’t down with Urban and, to be perfectly honest, because he just liked making life difficult for Anselm who got right on his tits. The council ended in deadlock and when the bishops all legged it down to the pub, Rufus phoned Rome and made Urban send a legate over – a special emissary type, from his mouth to the pope’s mouldy ear, sort of person – and to bring the pallium or else. The legate came, so did the pallium. Rufus suddenly found he could pick out Urban in a crowd. He told Anselm he could have the pallium, but he wasn’t going to get it from the pope, but from William himself. Anselm sulked, there was more fannying about and eventually Anselm got his letter Y, but not long after that he had to go into exile because Rufus was so irritated by him that he threatened to punch him up the throat.

Anselm’s exile did not last for too long; by 1100 William Rufus was dead by an arrow through the chest. There are many versions of how this came to be. The most popular is that someone mistook him for a squirrel and fired the arrow at him by mistake. This is a lovely story, but William Rufus did not look like a squirrel (he had blond hair, a ruddy face, wall-eyes and a pot-belly). Another story is that he was hit by an arrow that was intended for a stag but misfired. This may be the truth, or he may, as many believe, have been murdered for taking too much money off the church and getting too many backs up. Either way, he was dead, Anselm was back in the hood and Urban, well Urban was probably spinning some radical mash-ups back in the Vatican.

There is something to be learned from this strange and convoluted tale. People have odd notions that life was simpler and less confusing in ye olden days and this small snapshot from days of yore proves once and for all that it really bloody was not!


Today was the birthday of George Harrison, the best looking of all the Beatles. He played guitar and wrote some beautiful music, including Something, which is rated by those who know about these sort of things, as one of the most beautiful songs ever written.



In the aftermath of the Beatles split, Harrison continued to create music as a solo artist and many years later with The Travelling Wilburys. He also became an accidental film producer when he stepped in to help out the Monty Python team whose Life of Brian had been left high and dry by EMI who pulled out because they were a bit scared of the material. Harrison got together the £2 million they needed to get the film made. He hadn’t intended to go into the film business, but he did and over the next 16 years produced films such as Mona Lisa and Withnail and I before selling his company – Handmade Films – in 1994.


In many ways, George was the easiest Beatle to like. He didn’t divide opinion like John did, he was far nicer to look at than Ringo and he didn’t have a mouth like a cat’s arse, like Paul. His death in 2001, nearly 21 years after the murder of Lennon, was another hard loss for all fans of the Beatles, anyone who’d enjoyed the films he’d helped to get made, and for many who just thought he was a top bloke who should have hung around for a lot longer.

These small paragraphs cannot really do justice to George Harrison, so go and read more about him, listen to Something, chant Hare Krishna and when night falls, look up at the stars and wish a very lovely man a very happy birthday. Thank you for all of it, George, especially Mandy mother of Brian!


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February 8th

On this day in 1750 there was a minor earthquake in London. In fact it was so minor it was almost micro. It measured 2.6 on the Richter scale, although at the time nobody knew that because Charles Richter had not yet invented his earthquake measuring system.

The Bishop of London was a secret transvestite

An earthquake of the magnitude (or microtude) is the sort that gets measured but not necessarily felt by that many people; in short as earthquakes go, it was a bit rubbish. However, some people must have felt it because exactly a month later on March 8th there was another one – a little stronger this time at 3.1, but still pretty shit – and then all of a sudden Londoners got all scared and “Ooh, bugger me sideways, what’s going to happen on April 8th!” The answer to this was: not a lot, but there was no telling the panicked populace that.

Of course, wherever there is panic you will find people who are happy to take advantage of it. In this instance, it was the Bishop of London who jumped into his pulpit at St Paul’s  and started getting all “God is angry with us! You’re all depraved and he is trying to smite you for your sin and reading that book what that Henry Fielding wrote what is called Tom Jones!” During these fulminations he spat a lot and got very red in the face, the better to show he was a bit cross. Many in the congregation were much in awe of his rhetoric, but there were some voices of dissent. It is reported that a learned fellow from Bishopsgate confronted the bishop with a question thus: “Your Grace, while I may accept some of thine imprecations on the general populace, I do find myself wondering why thou dost mention Tom Jones, when as any learned chap dost know, there were no earthquakes in 1722 when Moll Flanders was first read by the good people of London and the

Enlivened by his own sermon, the bishop wrote an imaginatively titled pamphlet

heroine of that story was a known short-heeled wench! Also, it doth also seem passing strange that our Lord and Father has sent upon us such piddling tremors if he is really as angry as all that. I do believe that the Gentleman’s Magazine hast got it right when they sayeth that yon tremors were more than likely the result of subterranean waters cutting new courses!”

The Bishop of London then thundered so hard, that the people in the front row of the congregation felt the earth move far more than they had during either of the two earthquakes. “Shut up!” he shouted, “What do you know about the ways of our Heavenly Father, young scamp!  For did not an angel visit a cobbler from Carnaby Market and tell him that the world would end on 8th April. You’ll be laughing on the other side of your face then. Ha!” It is thought that the learned young gentleman then protested that if the world did indeed end, he wouldn’t have a face to smile on the other side of, before being ejected from the cathedral by some burly rectors.

As it happened, a lot of people left London and went to Slough – thus turning it into the place that in later years John Betjeman wished friendly bombs on – and others slept out on hills on April 8th, though how they thought this would save them from the end of the world is not at all clear. Some of them were so stupid, that they did this for months to come on the 8th of each successive month, before going back to drinking shed-loads of gin and getting up to all sorts of jiggery-pokery in the streets and alleyways of London. The Bishop of London met his end eleven years later, in the manner of Elvis Presley.

Today is the birthday of tit grabber and alleged style guru Trinny Woodall, who found fame with Susannah Constantine (an ex-

Noted "style maven" and exuberant lip-pumper, Trinny Woodall

fiancée of a minor royal) by telling women “what not to wear”. Their fame continued for a number of years, despite the fact that they more or less put all the women in their show in the same clothes and spent far too long squeezing the tits and arses of their vapid victims. As their fame has waned, Trinny has had cosmetic surgery to give her lips that just punched in the face look and hung various hideous frocks on her increasingly skeletal frame. Still, one shouldn’t be overly mean to the poor woman. She’s hardly the only celebrity to do strange things to her face and wearing the wrong frock every now and then isn’t a crime – unless of course you’re one of the poor bitches she laid into on her show for not knowing that “sallow women should not wear that shade and why is it below your knee making your legs looks like tree trunks!”, so pax and all that. Happy birthday, Lippy Trinny! You don’t look a day over 58 48!


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