Top of the Christians

The Anglican Cranmer blog has published its new list of democratically-elected top UK Christians, and the winner is Nissar Hussain, the former England cricket captain who has been persecuted for his faith in the forsaken lands of the Islamic jihad (Bradford).

Last year I expressed my disappointment that Tony Blair did not make it onto the list (not to mention Tina Beattie, Thomas the Tank Engine and Fr Jack Hackett), but this year "our Tony" has been recognised as the truly pious, influential and rich warmonger that he really is.

The formal stage. Entrants later paraded in swimsuits as well.

Hilarity has been ensured by the inclusion of various other entertaining characters known to this blog: Giles Fraser, Tyson Fury, and a bunch of women "bishops" - well, it is an Anglican blog, and they take these things seriously. Of course there have been complaints about the results from those who don't understand the democratic process - not enough women, not enough ethnic diversity, hardly any Muslims, etc.

Not elected. Religious and disablist discrimination in action.

There are some excellent Catholics on the list, but no Catholic bishops. Vincent Nichols goes into the dustbin of history (oh dear, how sad, never mind) but none of his colleagues is famous enough to take his place. James MacMillan makes it, but Paul Inwood doesn't, in spite of - or perhaps because of - his contribution to the Year of Mercy. Again: oh dear, how sad, never mind, ch-ch.

Bad news for Catholic journalists too. Tim Stanley is deservedly there again, but where is Damian "cupcake" Thompson?

Damian starred in a major film this year, but still did not make the cut.

Actually, Spectatre's "Bond girl", Isabel Hardman, did make the list. She runs a coffee house at which Damian's cupcakes are served: a good read, but somehow I never spotted that she was slightly saved, as well.

So who are Eccles's tips for December 2016?

Prince George and Princess Charlotte.

The future Supreme Governor of the C of E (if it survives that long) is believed to say his prayers regularly, and he still has that "sweetness" touch which we find hard to associate with tough guys like Tyson Fury or Theresa May.

I won't include any other photos, as they won't be as sweet, but my other two tips are Jeremy Corbyn (the postal vote should swing it), and Stephen Fry (because he has to be on every list, darlings). You read it here first.

If it wasn't the Muslims, who was it?

The recent murders in Paris have brought out accusations and counter-accusations from the Left and Right: apparently it's the Right's fault for being fascist imperialists in the Middle East, while it's also the Left's fault for flooding Europe with bogus "refugees". And the Jews are probably to blame as well, because they always are.

One thing we can all agree on, is that it's nothing to do with Islam. Certainly not the late Jihad John, who has an alibi, taking swimming lessons in the Lake of Fire with Mohammed while the attacks were taking place.

JIhad John, or possible a woman in a burka.

Certainly, most Muslims are peace-loving people, who hold to the Koran's teachings of "Love thy neighbour", "Blessed are the peacemakers" and "Any infidel dog who denies the Name of the Prophet must be made to suffer, and it is the will of Allah that ye cut his head off seven times wherever ye find him" "Judge not, that ye be not judged". Indeed, most of their priests are members of the Society of Mohammed (the Mohammeduits), which basically means threatening the infidel with Mercy until they run away screaming (© Fr James Martin SJ). The fact that the attackers cried out "Ali Baba!" - which is Arabic for "God is great" - is purely a coincidence.

So, if it wasn't the Muslims, who was it?

The Mothers' Union?

Known to be an organization that welcomes aggressive old ladies, the Mothers' Union would have no difficulty in mounting a terrorist attack. A few years ago, they gave Tony Blair a rough ride, and he's the man who brought peace to the Middle East. I'll leave you to join the dots on this one...

As seen in the current James Bond film, the sinister organization SPECTATRE is another possible suspect. Its religious correspondent Damian Thompson has been talking in inflammatory terms of a Catholic civil war, blaming it on the bizarre actions of Pope Francis. The film SPECTATRE even features a sinister meeting in Rome, which is surely a reference to a certain recent synod. Hmm...

The Inland Revenue

Although well known in the UK as an organization that extorts money from hard-working people who wish to have nothing to do with it (cf. the Mafia in Italy), and indeed the prime suspect in several murder cases, the Inland Revenue does not normally engage in terrorist acts overseas. So for the moment we have to be open-minded about their involvement.

Look, I told you it was nothing to do with Muslims...

2067: the date of the Second Coming

A revised version of a Spectator piece by Damian Thompson.

When my editor asked me to write a scare story for the Spectator, I considered several possible scenarios:

2067: the date that world reserves of custard will run out.

A possible victim of world food shortages.

Pretty scary, you'll agree, but in fact this is not going to happen. Here's something more likely.

2067: the end of the Daily Telegraph.

This is more probable. Indeed, now that the Telegraph is basically a clone of the Daily Mail, without the intellectual gravitas of a Richard Littlejohn or a Piers Morgan, we may expect the last rites by 2017, shortly after Tim Stanley finally gives it up as a bad job.

The Mail offers Kim Kardashian as the thinking man's Cristina Odone.

2067: the end of British Christianity.

This one is pretty certain, too. My own priest, Mgr Bottletop, is worried about declining congregations, and it can't be due to the fact that certain priests refused to sign a letter sticking up for Catholic teaching on marriage and the family. No, the Catholics and Anglican leaders have done their best to fit in with the "Spirit of the Age" and to reject anything that would make Christians look somehow "different" from liberal secularists. Richard Dawkins could walk into most of our churches without finding anything to throw a tantrum about. It's all very mysterious.

By 2100 there will be MINUS THREE MILLION Christians in the UK.

The above chart was helpfully provided by my former colleague Geoffrey Lean, who also tells me that climate change will cause his zimmer frame to burst into flames tomorrow. It proves that we are in deep trouble, and Christianity in the UK will become extinct at 3.13 pm. on August 27th 2067. Indeed, I'll be over 100 by then, and probably departed to that great Newspaper in the Sky, and the same goes for most of my friends. All right, there'll be a few bishops left: indeed, that man Cormac Murphy-O'Connor will only be 130-odd, so I expect he'll still be meddling in things. But no Christians as such.

We're doomed, I tell ye. We're doomed!

2067: the Second Coming.

Actually, this is the most likely scenario. I took an Eccles tour to Medjugorje ("Your money back guaranteed if you don't get a personal apparition of the Virgin Mary"), and as a result I became convinced that we live in the end times. In fact, it was the hotel cleaner not the Virgin Mary who appeared to me, but - whoever she was - she was very persuasive. Basically the Lord is fed up with the whole human race, and wants to try something else. And who can blame Him?

With spiritual leaders like this, are you surprised?

Cormac doesn't deserve the treatment he's getting

Adapted from the Catholic Herald.

By Peter Stanford.

There's a touching scene in Tony Blair's newly published memoir An English Spring. It is May 1994, and Labour leader John Smith lies dying. The then Shadow Home Secretary, Anthony Blair, is ushered in to say a final goodbye. "John Prescott will have to take over this job," says the dying Smith, whose mind is already wandering. However, the message is relayed back as "It's all yours, Tony," and the rest is history.

Cormac Murphy-O'Connor is admitted into the Labour Party.

Tony Blair faced several challenges during his time in power, not least Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor telling him he wanted to join the Labour Party. The news came as no great surprise, he says. "He'd been a bit of a leftie for twenty-five years, and his conversion had been expected for a long time. Cormac's getting a bit of a bad time now, without even the usual twenty million pounds and a string of luxury mansions to console him in his old age, and I feel sorry for him. He made many mistakes during his time at Arundel and Brighton - oh, and at Westminster too - and ever since then, come to think of it - but he doesn't deserve the kind of treatment he is getting. Well, actually he does, really."

---

Adapted from the Spectator.

The Heckler: why does Damian Thompson have to be so rude?

By Sir John Eliot Gardiner.

Damian Thompson is talented almost beyond measure. He is the leading Bach expert of his age, or indeed any age, but is also equally at home with Gladys Mills. His stupidly-named Orchestre Petit Gâteaux et Crème Anglaise has notched up one triumph after another over the decades. At 53, Damian is at his artistic peak, the author of numerous books and articles, and you have to wonder: is there anything this man can’t do?

The answer is yes. One art eludes him: good manners. He's perhaps the only Telegraph blogger to have had his own comment on his own blog deleted by his own moderators, when he described a sensitive female commentator as "You spiteful cow!" He told another "I will not be lectured to by you, Mrs Farrow." Then again he had a blazing row with the normally-timid Peter Hitchens, storming out and knocking over a blind little old lady in the corridor.

Clash of the Titans!

Many geniuses have been bad-tempered - think of Beethoven, Evelyn Waugh, even Pope Francis - and Damian’s friends think all this is unfair. Although he is generously endowed with self-esteem, he is not a monster like George Galloway. He inspires deep affection in some colleagues. Belatedly anxious about his image problem, he now says he has "mellowed". That may be true, but there is plenty of mellowing still to do. "I said 'hello' to Damian on Twitter not that long ago," says one award-winning saved blogger, "and he stared through me as if I was a parlourmaid."

New production of Wagner's Tristram and Odone

Wagner's great operatic love story, Tristram and Odone, was broadcast on the BBC last night, but so far the critical reaction has been hostile.

A more traditional Tristram and Odone.

Out went all the traditional features of this tale of doomed love. Tristram, no longer a heroic figure, was cast as a rather weak character who was terrified of nuns (it is claimed that a nun once called him "gay" when he was five years old).

Eeek! I've just seen a nun!

Odone, the love interest, was played as an Italian princess who had been educated by nuns. She was known throughout the kingdom as a champion of orthodox Catholicism (or at least the bits she agreed with).

The Princess Odone.

Comic relief was provided by Galberich, a Jew-hating dwarf. This is a character borrowed from Wagner's Ring Cycle, and not generally regarded as part of the Tristram legend at all.

Bring on the clowns!

However, the story has been changed out of all recognition. Tristram does indeed die - or at least lose his political career - but little else is recognisable.

Tristram dies of shock when he sees a ship bearing the black "nun" flag.

---

Damian Thompson writes...

As a Wagner expert, I felt very disappointed by this production. Still, if it's available as an illegal download, I might just consider getting it!

Damian Thompson, Publisher of Spectator Religion, Society and Human Flourishing.

---

Sister Judy Piranha writes...

Coo-eee, Tristram!!?? (That's enough Sr Judy Piranha...)

Civil war in the Catholic Church

Adapted from a Spectator article by Damian Thompson.

Make no mistake, the Catholic Church is facing its biggest crisis since 1517, and Pope Francis is now embroiled in a "no holds barred" civil war. All the enemies that he has made in the last eighteen months - an alliance of self-absorbed, Promethean neo-Pelagians, airport bishops, existential tourists, church climbers, rosary counters, and promoters of the poison of immanence - are ganging up against the Holy Father.

The cardinals square up to one another.

The two sides in the English civil war, have been somewhat inaccurately described described as "wrong but romantic" (Cavaliers) and "right but repulsive" (Roundheads). In fact, given Cardinal Kasper's views on Africans, we can identify some cardinals who qualify as "wrong and repulsive".

"This will annoy the Pope!" Burke aims to be right and romantic.

Perhaps the American civil war is a better model for the present conflict. However, "Abraham Lincoln" sounds more like the title an Anglican bishop of Lincoln would adopt, so I am not sure where that leaves us (the present incumbent is no doubt very embarrassed when he has to sign hotel registers as Christopher Lincoln and Mrs Lowson).

Probably not a bishop.

Let's go back to the English model of a civil war. So far, we have seen a few skirmishes on English soil. Norwich has fallen into the hands of Colonel Hopes's forces, and has had a pontifical Latin Mass celebrated from the throne for the first time since A.D. 597 or thereabouts. Pope Francis is said to be livid. Colonel Egan in Portsmouth has thrown the notorious Paul Inwood to his dogs, while Colonel Davies is making Shrewsbury into an impenetrable stronghold.

But things have also been going well for the forces of modernism and liberal Catholicism. It is true that Colonel Conry was humiliated in Arundel and Brighton, but General Nichols has a firm grip on Westminster, and has even despatched his sidekick, Colonel Stock, to occupy the northern fortress of Leeds.

Squeezed between Nickles and Pichols.

Back in Rome, the Pope is under attack. For one thing, he's a Jesuit, which is often seen these days as something like a cross between a con-man and a politician. His "Who am I to judge?" line is probably the most-quoted line by any recent Pope, even if the obvious reply, "You're the Pope, aren't you?" is less commonly repeated. Expert pope-watchers tell me that he is also a liberation theologian and a football fan.

And now another voice is being heard. The Doctor's arch-nemesis, Pope Benedict, whom nobody expected to see again, has survived the Time-War between the Time-Lords and the Daleks, and has been reincarnated as a women called "Missy". He (or she) is planning to turn Basil Loftus into a Cyberman, which could be a distinct improvement. I'm sorry, I seem to have turned over two pages of my notes at once.

Pope Benedict is back!

Better wrap this article up now, I'm nearly at the Spectator's word limit. Moderate conservative Catholics such as my friend Cristina Odone (stop laughing at the back, there!) say that they are simply confused by Pope Francis. Is he St Peter, is he Henry VIII, or is he Barack Obama? Or is he just a very naughty boy?

Will this do? I'm a bit out of practice. Next week's piece on Rachmaninov will be better, I promise. DT.

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.

The Cormac wakes

Below the thunders of the upper deep,
Far far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Cormac sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee
About his shadowy sides: above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumbered and enormous polypi
Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages and will lie
Battening upon huge seaworms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by men and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

These words of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, came to mind this week as we saw the fabulous Cormac rise to the surface with a letter to the effect that the law was doing little to protect religious liberties.

Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor takes charge.

Yes, after a fifteen-year sleep, in which it lay deep in its Westminster grot, and let the world go to the Devil without doing a great deal to stop it, the Cormac has arisen! And it's angry!

For the Cormac has noticed that Catholic adoption agencies have been forced to close, and that bed-and-breakfast owners are being coerced into hosting activities which are unequivocally condemned by their religion! And it has written to the Telegraph about it!

Disgusted of Chiswick.

In this, it is simply following in the steps of our Lord, who once wrote to the Jerusalem Telegraph in these tones:

Dear Sir,
I have recently noticed that the Temple of Jerusalem is being used for money-changing, as well as the selling of sheep, oxen and pigeons. It really is appalling! What a generation of vipers we see around us these days!

Yours sincerely,
Jesus Bar-Joseph.

It really is appalling!

Of course, the Cormac is not without influence. Ten years ago it took umbrage at the controversial journalism of Damian Thompson at the Telegraph, and wished to see him enter a voluntary period of prayer and reflection (© +Lancaster). And lo! a miracle occurred, and the Dame is now exiled to the Spectator!

With the Cormac arisen from the depths, what other fabulous creatures remain there in a deep sleep? Will we see the legendary Vin (Cardinalis Nichols) rise from its slumber? Today would be a good opportunity for it to condemn London Pride marches...

Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.

Some commentators claim that there is a whole school of fabulous sea creatures keeping their heads down, and refusing to take a moral lead. We have even heard them described as the Catholic Fish-shops of England and Wales, although this may be a mishearing.

Clash of the Titans.

Yes, already they're calling it the Debate of the Century. Peter Hitchens and Damian Thompson, acknowledged experts on addiction, discuss the question: Whose book is better?

Peter Hitchens prepares to confront Damian Thompson.

For those who don't have time to listen to the Spectator podcast, we present a transcript of the debate between the two greatest intellectuals of our day.

DT: Well, I should point out straight away that I'm an expert on addiction, as I've written a best-selling book on the subject. I don't normally plug it, but it's called The Fix.

PH: I've written a best-selling book too. It's called The War We Never Fought: The British Establishment's Surrender to Drugs.

DT: Well, my book's better than your book. My friend Cristina says so.

PH: No, my book's better than your book. You see, I claim that addiction doesn't even exist.

DT: What? How dare you say that! I hate you!

Damian Thompson, modelling the new Michael Voris wig.

PH: Well, I'm sorry, but any addicts you see are purely a figment of your imagination.

DT: Look here, mate. Your brother Christopher may have been a lunatic left-wing atheist, but he was still much cleverer than you.

PH: Well, your sister Emma may be a lunatic left-wing atheist, but she's still much cleverer than you.

Emma Thompson expresses concerns over her brother Damian's latest meltdown.

DT: I'll get you for that. Wait until I write my Saturday column.

PH: Look, calm down, Damian. And please stop throwing cupcakes at me.

DT: I'll ruin you, as I did Johann Hari, David Cameron, and Keith O'Brien. Nobody will take you seriously again.

(Storms out, slams the door, and knocks over two secretaries, a security guard and a passing Monsignor. Returns to Telegraph Towers to launch a barrage of Twitter abuse and hostile blog posts. Phones Telegraph hit man and orders him to pour custard through Peter Hitchens's letter box.)

Preparing to fill Peter Hitchens's house full of custard.

PH: Sigh... it looks as though I'm not going to get that job on Telegraph blogs, after all.