How to conduct a trial for schism

This is another in our long-running series on "How to be a good Pope", which is read regularly by Pope Francis and his likely successors, Cardinals Cupich, Roche and Fernández (surely, Sarah, Burke and Müller ?) for useful advice.

In fact, if you think YOU may be the next pope but three, it's probably a good move to keep up to date with this series.

All good friends, really!

Some time in your papacy you may find someone who disagrees violently with you - even though you are the Holy Father and infallible in everything you say. Even half-remembered chats to Scalfari (RIP) and ex-aeroplana pronouncements on long flights are infallible. As is calling homosexuals "Massimo Faggiolis" (my Italian is not great but I think this means "Big Beans", which is a well-known term of abuse).

Luckily, the Catholic Church has a remedy for dissidents, an extrajudicial criminal trial for schism.

"Extrajudicial" is an interesting word. I think it means "sentence first, verdict afterwards", as the Queen of Hearts (also infallible) says in "Alice in Wonderland". It certainly doesn't mean a nice public trial, with you and your adversary - let's call him Archbishop Vinegar, so that nobody will think I'm talking about a real person - getting into the witness box and being insulted by men in silly wigs (or whatever the equivalent of the English system is).

"Just answer the question, Mr Francis."

Vinegar's accusations are many and varied. Some of the most hurtful are that you pull the wings off butterflies and kick lovable fluffy kittens. Good grief, if a pope can't do that, then who can?

Of course you do have many real skeletons in your cupboard, some of which Vinegar has managed to find. Others are well-known to any knowledgeable Catholic - your fondness for protecting unsavoury characters such as that dreadful painter Marko the Ripper, for example. No chance of his being subject to an extrajudicial criminal trial! He knows too much...

Anyway, after Vinegar's trial, or rather, before it, comes the sentence. You have checked with your advisers, and we no longer use the rack or the iron maiden - well, except at the wildest of Cardinal Cocoa's drug orgies - and all you can really do is excommunicate him. What an anti-climax!

Archbishop Vinegar will not be expecting this either.

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Nothing to do with the above (or is it?), but the AI program Copilot kindly produced a picture of the famous Annibale Bugsbunni, to whom we all owe so much. It would be a pity not to use it here.

What's up, Holy Father?

Burkegate - What Pope Francis really said

A special article by Austen "Spindoctor" Ivereigh for the Where Pachamama is blog.

The Pope is an astonishly patient man, and will sink his enemies even if it takes him ten years to do it. Seeing all the bad publicity he was getting for his merciful and patient attacks on Cardinal Burke, he summoned me to Rome as a matter of urgency so that I could explain to the world what he was up to. Did I mention that I am an expert on papal matters?

I flew to Rome from Bristol airport, stopping on the way at the Multifaith Bus Shelter for a spot of Pachamama devotion, also in order to pin up a mural by my favourite artist Marko Rupnik. The place was deserted apart from an Incan sacrifice taking place at the same time.

A sacred place!

Patient merciful Pope Francis the Humble was not in good health - a sprained wrist through slapping too many Chinese girls - but he explained to me that he loved Cardinal Burke - after all, we are commanded to love our enemies, and Burke was one of his worst enemies. With their Dubia, Burke and his fellow-conspirators had asked Pope Francis to explain some aspects of Amoris Laetitia several years ago, knowing perfectly well that clear and unambiguous teaching is against the rules of the Jesuit order.

Burke had also dared to criticise the Synod on Synodal Synodality of Synodhood, arguably the most important Catholic event since Pentecost, saying that it was a complete waste of time. Having myself attended as an expert, I know that getting barmy old ladies sitting round tables and moaning is the true future of the Church!

We must all be Synod!

At this point in our discussion, Francis found his patience tried beyond all limits, and he humbly kicked Rupnik, the Vatican cat, through the window. "Don't worry," he said. "Pick up the body and give it to Mike Lewis. He'll eat anything."

Instead of living in a broom cupboard, as the humble Holy Father does, Cardinal Burke has a much larger apartment, and this is now required by other cardinals who wish to hold "get-togethers" there. I know that Cardinal Coccopalmerio has already put in a bid.

Who is this shadowy figure?

Of course Burke is still a member of two dicasteries, and of the Apostolic Signatura, but as Pope Francis explained, he should regard these positions as honours, and not expect to be paid.

So what message am I to take away from my meeting with the Humble Father? First, although in our conversation he described Burke as his enemy, he has now sent me a note saying "I never used the word 'enemy' nor the pronoun 'my'." Obviously we all misheard - it's easily done. Also he certainly never said "We hates him we hates him, nasty Burkies, we hates him, my precious, and we is going to throw him out on the streets!"

I hope I have made it clear, and let me repeat this: Pope Francis is patient, kind and merciful, and Cardinal Burke is a meanie. Strickland has fallen! Burke has fallen! Who will be next? Aha!

Great stuff, Austen. And the cat pie was delicious! Mike.

Mike Lewis!

How to get rid of a turbulent priest

Probably several of my readers will one day become pope (Hi, Blase! Hi, Arthur! Hi, Tina!) and will need me to advise them on how to behave. Today's topic is the vexed one of getting rid of a priest you don't like. These days, popes don't often poison priests - in fact Francis has been a model non-poisoner - and the most common solution is simple laicisation. But of course we don't laicise everyone who offends.

For example, Cardinal Cocaine, who wears a lampshade on his head and knows all about "gay" orgies can't really be said to be a problem!

Not a problem.

Likewise, Father Jimbo SJ, who can't take a cup of tea without relating it to LGBT issues, and whose Biblical teaching is best described as "imaginative", is to be welcomed into the Vatican and asked for his advice! Then there's Archbishop Paggles, who stars in homoerotic murals, doesn't really understand what a Pontifical Academy for Not Bumping People off is supposed to do, and seems to be in all sorts of other troubles. He's safe. Even Fr Rumpy, who won a prize for the worst ecclesial art ever seen, who has trouble keeping his vestments on, and who solves his problems by absolving the people he has sinned with, only gets a brief slap on the wrist from the CDF.

Rumpy's masterpiece - a drunken man surrounded by custard pies.

But what's the point of being pope if you can't sack a few people? Aha! I have it! There's this Pavanne chap of "Priests Against Murder", who is admittedly rather eccentric in his methods. Worst of all he is very very very pro-life! Emma Bonehead isn't at all happy! Mariana Mozzarella has complained!

Sack him! But do it in a Jesuit way - i.e., don't say exactly why you're sacking him. Mutter something about blasphemous communications (Uncle Wilt has explained to you that backing Donald Trump is a hideous blasphemy) and accuse him of disobeying his bishop (a catch-all, as sometimes you have to choose between God and your bishop).

Public Enemy Number One.

You are, of course, a merciful pope (as well as a humble one), so you won't be sending the Swiss Guard round to do a Thomas Becket on him. Well, not this week. Thank Heavens that the art of removing turbulent priests has evolved since the days of Henry II, and you can simply cast him into outer darkness!

Priest discovered in compromising locations

The good kind people of The Pillar have reported on misconduct by Mgr Jeffrey Burrill, former general secretary of the U.S. bishops' conference, which was identified by Grindr data correlated to his mobile phone showing that he had visited various unsavoury places (and I am not referring to Cardinal Coccopalmerio's parties).

Our own hackers have constructed some data tracking the movements of a certain Jesuit priest. This has been forwarded to Pope Francis, who will take action some day, no doubt. Meanwhile, here is what we produced.

Map of Fr Anon's movements (click to enlarge).

The new version of the Lord's prayer

Pope Francis has set up a special Vatican committee to provide a new modernist translation of the Lord's prayer, and we were privileged to hear (by means of an Ecclesbug (TM)) an account of their discussions.

Right, guys, Pope Francis wants a new translation of this prayer. We could start with the New Testament Greek if you like?

Oh no, that's all squiggles to me. How about using the Latin? Does anyone speak it?

I did a bit at school. Caesar adsum jam forte. Pompey aderat. That sort of stuff.

Caesar adsum jam forte. Pompey aderat.

Great! We can probably work that in somewhere. Now, let's start.

Pater noster, qui es in caelis.

Our holy Father who is... er, in caelis?

In the cellar? That's where he lives now that he has become even more humble.

Sanctificetur nomen tuum.

Sanctified be your, er nomen. Gnome? Is this a reference to Austen Ivereigh?

Adveniat regnum tuum.

Adveniat, er, Advent? Advent rules you? How about "Advent rules OK"?

Fiat voluntas tua.

Your wish was a Fiat. I think the Pope wanted a really humble car, you see.

My other car is a Fiat.

Sicut in caelo et in terra.

Does he play the cello? Well I've heard of Maradiaga on the fiddle... So far I've got "As the cello on the ground" - doesn't seem to mean much.

Look, if we aim for a meaningful translation we'll be here all day, and we'll miss Cocco's party. Shove it down as it is.

Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie.

This is the bit about bread, isn't it? Shall we make the prayer more up-to-date by changing it to "pizza"? Give us some pizza today?

Et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.

Something to do with debts and nostrils? Help us pay for our cocaine?

Hurry up, Cocco's party's starting soon.

Et ne nos inducas in tentationem.

We all know what he wants there. Do not let us fall into temptation.

Why not "fall into the Thames"? That would be snappier, wouldn't it?

Sed libera nos a malo.

Malo is apple, I'm fairly sure. Is this a reference to Adam and Eve?

Free us from apples!

Free us from apples!

So, what we'll give the punters from now on is:

Our holy Father, who is in the cellar,
Sanctified be your gnome.
Advent rules OK.
You wanted a Fiat
As the cello on the ground.
Give us some pizza today, 
And help us pay for our cocaine.
Do not let us fall into the Thames,
But free us from apples!

Well, guys, I think we've done a good job there. Pope Francis will be delighted.

What does a Camerlengo do?

The purpose of this blog is to provide education as well as spiritual nourishment, and many readers have asked me, "What is a camerlengo? Is it some sort of sexual practice known to Cardinal Coccopalmerio? Is it one of Massimo Faggioli's favourite ice creams? Is it an obscure papal garment like a fanon?"

Well nearly. When a cardinal is widely-respected and trusted, perhaps because he lived with Cardinal McCarrick but never actually met him, he may be appointed to the position of camerlengo.

Some widely-respected cardinals.

The camerlengo's duties really begin when a Pope dies, and his first task is to check that the Pope is really dead (and not simply resting, like Benedict). "WAKE UP, POPEY, I'VE GOT A NICE CUP OF TEA FOR YOU!" he shouts, perhaps hitting the possibly-deceased with a small hammer called a farrell. Another test that can be applied is to ask the presumed ex-pope some questions, called Dubia, which no pope can refuse to answer.

All right, let's suppose that all tests have failed, and that the Pope is really dead. We have to get a new one! Now democracy isn't necessary the traditional way to go about this - for, remember that when Judas was disgraced, he purchased a field, and fell over, so that his bowels gushed asunder (Acts 1), and it was not long before the lot fell upon Matthias.

But let us suppose that we are going to have a papal conclave. Then the camerlengo has to organize it. He kicks the seminarians out of the cardinals' beds (where applicable), locks up the supplies of drugs, and in general does all he can to make the participating cardinals look like holy princes of the church.

"Come on, Cocco, get that lampshade off your head and try and look holy."

What goes on in the conclave is a solemn secret, and we can only get to hear about it from tweets sent out by the cardinals.

Someone nominated Cupich! LOL

Send in more gin, I can't take much more of this!

The last time the St Gallen Mafia put a horse's head in my bed, 
but they're being very quiet this time.

All in all, camerlengo is an important position: not exactly acting Pope, but still not one that you want to give to anyone who was in the least tainted by scandal. So we are greatly relieved that Kev the Rev has got it, and the last laugh will be Pope Francis's.

Guess who the new camerlengo is!

The Magnificent Eight

We have reached the quarter-final stage of the World Cup of Bad Cardinals, and some real giants of the sport have fallen by the wayside. We say a tearful farewell to Baldisseri, Dolan, Schönborn, Wuerl, and several others who keep this blog going by their comic antics.

Still, we have the last eight, and a cracking set of cardinals they are. Looking for drugs, homosexual affairs, embezzlement, or simply persistent and dangerous heresy? Well you won't find them here, just eight papabile princes of the church. (Thank you for writing these comments for me, Fr Spadaro.)

So the draw is as follows:

1. Walter Kasper v Oscar Maradiaga.

RESULT: 64-36. Oscar "The cash of God" Maradiaga played well, but the veteran player Wally Kasper, with a lifetime of heretical experience to call on, won through fairly easily.

2. Reinhard Marx v Luis Tagle.

RESULT: 79-21. Class and experience win over Yoof-ful ambition as Rhino Marx crushes Chico the hipster to reach the semi-finals.

3. Blase Cupich v Godfried Danneels.

RESULT: 65-35. The glory days of the Sankt Gallen Mafia are over as "Godless" Danneels drops out, beaten by Cupich, the expert on rabbit holes and great pal of Fr James Martin LGBTSJ.

4. Francesco Coccopalmerio v Joseph Tobin.

RESULT: 69-31. We say "Nighty-night, baby" to Joe Tobin, as Cardinal Cocco snatches the last semi-final place (C will not be asked to take a drugs test).

As usual, MAY THE WORST MAN WIN!

Fans are already getting very excited at the prospect of the final round of this competition, which begins on February 5th. Remember that some of the cardinals have been training for months, taking advice from such experts in Catholicism as Professor Massimo Faggioli, Fr Thomas Rosica, Fr James Martin LGBTSJ, and Fr Dan Horan of Babylon.

From the street outside Eccles towers we hear all-night cries of "Nighty-night, baby!" and "Who wants some cocaine?" competing with "The money was resting in my account before being moved on" and some humble finger-snapping dances. The eight "barmy armies" (fan clubs) are out in force, but only one cardinal can ultimately win. We are ready to release the Smoke of Satan from the Vatican chimneys when we know who that is!

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UPDATE: the semi-finals are:

1. Blase Cupich v Walter Kasper.

RESULT: 50.4-49.6. Every vote counted, and in the end Cupich goes to the abuse summit confident of his place in the final. Wally fought back hard, with attacks on Müller's explanation of Catholic teaching, but in the end sheer vileness triumphed over a lifetime devoted to heresy.

2. Francesco Coccopalmerio v Reinhard Marx.

RESULT: 39-61. Knowing that Pope Francis was cheering him on, Rhino easily crushed the man with the lampshade on his head, and he goes into the final. This week's abuse summit will be an opportunity for the two finalists to show their talents before next week's FINAL.

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Now, boys, I want a clean fight! Cupich and Marx discuss their prospects in the final.

UPDATE: the third place playoff:

Francesco Coccopalmerio v Walter Kasper.

RESULT: 28-72. The veteran Kasper won this easily. Cocco's one well-known moment of extreme vice wasn't enough for him to make much impact on a man whose whole life has been devoted to destroying the Catholic Church. Bronze medal for Wally!

The FINAL: Blase Cupich v Reinhard Marx.

RESULT: 61-39. In the end a crushing victory for the Chicago boy: Pope Francis's backing at the abuse summit clearly helped to swing it for him. Marx's own performance was lacklustre, and it almost seems that he didn't want the trophy.

Finally, the medallists.

"Go to a gay orgy!" says Pope Francis

In a surprise change to 2000 years of Church teaching, Pope Francis has declared that homosexuality is great, it's what God really prefers, and all gay people should get down to some serious bridge-building^TM as soon as possible.

Admittedly, the comment was made in a private meeting with a homosexual man, the Chilean Juan Carlos Cruz, who may have made the whole thing up, rather than - as is usual for changes to Catholic doctrine - in an aeroplane speech. But Fr James Martin SJ, himself a notorious bridge-builder, has said that it's all true, so who are we to judge?

The new prophet Juan Carlos.

Apparently, Pope Francis explained that God is really fed up with heterosexuals, as they contribute to climate change by having babies. As Jesus said, "I suffer from little children who come unto me." Instead, the Holy Father encouraged Mr Cruz to take part in some serious gay orgies, suggesting that Cardinal Coccopalmerio might be able to give him more information.

A gay orgy at the Vatican.

Rigid traditional parrot-faced Pharisee Catholics were today somewhat disconcerted by the Pope's latest teaching, which contradicts several books of the Bible, the Catechism, and numerous statements by Doctors of the Church, Popes, and other theologians over the centuries. But of course Pope Francis knows best.

Sherlock Holmes and the Dictator Pope

Not many of my readers will know that my friend Sherlock Holmes was a faithful Catholic: it is true that, having been brought up by Jesuits, he neither attended church nor obeyed Catholic moral teaching, but this should not be held against him.

Many will remember his epigram about "The curious incident of the cardinal in the night - the cardinal did nothing in the night, that was the curious incident," referring to the Archbishop of Westminster's failure to give any kind of a moral lead on Catholic teaching. As a result of this, and similar cases, Holmes was often consulted on delicate Catholic matters.

Thus, one morning, we were sitting in Baker Street discussing the new Encyclical Humanae Mortis, which had driven Holmes to inject himself with a seven percent solution of "coke" - the scientific name is "Coccopalmerio" - when our servant Mrs Beattie opened the door to admit a man dressed inconspicuously as a South American general.

Our illustrious client.

"Mr Holmes, I need your help," said our client. "A book has been written about, er, a friend of mine, and we need to trace the author in order to, um, pay him homage. The Swiss Guards are already standing by with torture implements."

"I am at your service, Holy Father," replied Holmes (to my gasps of "amazing, Holmes, how did you penetrate his disguise?") "Shall we go to Rome, and make enquiries?"

We took Pope Francis's private jet to Rome, and the flight passed quickly, since our client remained standing throughout the journey, developing new Catholic doctrines "off the cuff": these will one day astound and delight the world. That evening, Holmes and I settled into an apartment in the Vatican. Holmes took out his violin as an aid to concentration and played a haunting arrangement of Stephen Walford's renowned concerto for piano and Balinese nose-flute (with its famous marking "Play whatever the Pope wants").

After two or three minutes the door opened and an African cardinal strode in. "SILENCE!" he bellowed angrily, and threw a book at my companion's head, stunning him slightly.

"... so many noisy popes..." (paragraph 40)

Once I had bandaged his head, Holmes and I made a tour of the building. We were standing outside Cardinal Coccopalmerio's apartment when we heard impassioned cries of "No! Yes! YES! YES! YES!"

"I see that they are working on an answer to the Dubia," I remarked to Holmes. He gave me a funny look that I did not understand, and began to analyse the mystery we were trying to solve.

"Watson, my theory is that the book The Dictator Pope was not written by the real Marcantonio Colonna, as he has been dead since 1584. More likely, it was written by a liberal Catholic, tired of trying to defend the Pope's obvious failings."

"I have an alibi. I am dead."

"Amazing, Holmes. Could it be Spadaro? Ivereigh (no, it's too well-written)? Massimo Faggioli? James Martin (no, there's no obsession with homosexuality)? Rosica?"

"These are deep matters, Watson, and perhaps I am wrong. But the case presents interesting features. For example, why is the book produced only electronically, and not on paper? Did Cardinal Baldisseri steal all the printed copies?"

Putting on his liturgical deer-stalker, Holmes led me into Mass, where Cardinal Paradigm was going to preach about Parolin Shifts in Amoris Laetitia. To me it sounded like complete heresy, but then Homes explained that this sort of nonsense was necessary if a cardinal wished to be considered papabile, and Cardinal Paradigm probably didn't believe half of what he was saying.

"We have found the man who stole the Pope's vestments" announced Holmes.

To be continued?

The Pope Francis charm school

Some critics say that I, Eccles, am occasionally rude and insulting. I don't see it myself, but then I came across the following advert and couldn't resist.

A chance to brush up my skills!

The course started badly, as one of the assistant tutors, Fr Müller, was not present. "He's at Mass, Holy Father," explained an aide.

"Drag him out!" shouted the Pope. "God is used to being kept waiting, but I AM NOT."

He then went on to explain that the New Ways Ministry had recently given him an award as the most humble pope since Alexander VI, and he was confidently expecting the Freemasons to award him the Order of the Golden Moose for services to humility. So we could certainly learn from him!

"A drone! With a radar attachment to detect neo-Pelagians and zap them!

A Jesuit in a rainbow cassock wandered in, smoking a strange-looking cigarette. "Hey, man, is this the Coccopalmerio?" he asked, and promptly fell over. A fellow-student explained to me that "Coccopalmerio" is slang for a particular type of party, although he did not give details.

Meanwhile, the Pope had taken advantage of the break in the proceedings to fire one of his cardinals. In fact, he said "Off with his head!" but it was unlikely that things would be taken that far, and the Swiss Guards would simply break one of his legs. This is what "mercy" means!

Pope Francis concluded his course by explaining that, no matter how charming you were, you could easily be misunderstood. For a Jesuit, this is not a problem, of course, but he showed us a tweet from one of his most loyal sycophants.

This is not gloating, this is mercy.

"Unfortunately Ivereigh couldn't attend today's class," he said, "which is a shame, as he could learn a lot from it."

What a pity there isn't some sort of organization that could give training to Catholic commentators such as Austen, so that they could express themselves clearly and avoid being misunderstood!

The Apprentice

Welcome to The Apprentice, with me your host, Pope Francis. As you know, previous hosts, such as Donald Trump (USA) and Alan Sugar (UK), were considered to be too charming, meek, mild, and conciliatory, but nobody has ever claimed that of me!

"You're fired!"

So our four contestants are Cardinal Burke, Cardinal Coccopalmerio, Cardinal Napier and Cardinal Schönborn. Your task was to sell the new wonder cleaner Amoris Laetitia. Trials in Argentina, Malta and Germany suggested that it could remove all feelings of guilt by converting those nasty lurking sins into something sweet-smelling. Now, you four contestants, you actually didn't manage to sell the product at all, so what are your explanations?

Burke. I'm afraid I had some reservations about this product, and I even sent you some questions about it. However, you never answered, and so I couldn't find any convincing reasons for people to adopt AL.

Francis. We ask the questions! You're fired! Go to Guam, wherever that may be.

"In order to avoid committing adultery, it is sometimes necessary to commit adultery. But AL will remove the guilt."

Coccopalmerio. Well I wrote an advertising pamphlet for AL, with the slogan. If you can't help having sex, then protect yourself with Amoris Laetitia. This didn't seem to work, and anyway I forgot to turn up for the press conference.

Francis.You're fired, too! Buzz off, you stupidly-named idiot!

Napier. My marketing strategy was to Tweet a blizzard of quotations from AL, in the hope of making people feel good about it.
If you're in a loving relationship, then remember that candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker! (AL 1043).
In a marriage, two's company, but three's a crowd. However, after a period of discernment, you may discover that three is also company. (AL 6666).
Roses are red, violets are blue. The Pope is infallible, unlike you. (AL 9745832).

Francis. A good try, but no good. You're fired too.

"Receive a free balloon with every can of AL!"

Schönbörn. I went for the slogan. Swallow Amoris Laetitia! It's Magisterial! You told me that this would work. But it didn't.

Francis. Remember, that if things are successful, I take the credit, and if they're not, you take the blame!

Well, it seems that YOU'RE ALL FIRED. I'd better start appointing some more cardinals.

Why didn't Pope Francis stick to Chemistry?

Buenos Aires, late 1950s.

So, how's your new chemical technician getting on?

A young Jorge Bergoglio makes coffee for Hans Küng (nothing but repeats on this blog...)

You mean Bergoglio? Yes, there are one or two problems, especially when his experiments don't work out the way he expected them to.

Distant cries of "You pickled pepper-faced alkali!" followed by the crash of a flask being thrown against the wall.

I see. How did he get on with analysing that sample I sent you? Does it contain any latent arsenic?

He won't tell me, says it's a binary question. He's written an impenetrable report Análisis Latentia, but you're a better man than I am if you can understand what his conclusions are.

I gather he's published a research paper all about chemicals loosening bonds and recombining with other chemicals?

Yes, it contradicts all previous theories on the subject, and says that recombining is perfectly possible if "discernment" is applied first. Apparently the laws of physics are just there to be broken.

Coccopalmerite - an elusive chemical, sometimes hard to locate.

Distant cries of "You rigid watered-down sloth-diseased ascetic acid!" as a beaker crashes through the window hitting little Agustin Iverio on the head.

He'll have to go, you know. I see that the Jesuit Seminary is advertising a scholarship that might suit him. That would get him off your hands.

But he's never expressed any interest in religion. Oh, I see, you said "Jesuit". Silly me...

The rest is history.