Henry VIII explains his breach with Rome

New historical evidence has emerged, explaining the reasons behind King Henry VIII's breach with Rome in the 1530s, which led ultimately to the Anglican church we know today.

Henry VIII - wanted to liberalize the Church.

"We have our own vision for the Anglican church," says King Henry in a previously unpublished document. "A church where women may become vicars, and dance in the aisle at weddings. A church where people like Archbishop Cranmer will be welcomed into our rooms in the morning to tell us that we are bigots if we let not a man wed another man."

Archbishop Cranmer (in papal camauro) shares a joke with Toynbee, the court jester.

Meanwhile, in Rome, Pope Paul III is also anxious to shock traditionalists. He is said to be planning a Council of Trent, which will turn orthodox Catholicism on its head. "We need to decide whether God is calling us to introduce liturgical dancing, puppet masses and homilies about 'my holiday in Paris'. I get regular letters in green ink from a very keen young man called Monsignor Basil Brushtus; he is urging us to drop Latin, and he has some most original ideas on how the Mass should be celebrated. But I've suggested that we come back to that in a few years time."

Monsignor Basil Brushtus - too revolutionary even for Pope Paul III.

"That is encouraging, but it does not go far enough," responds King Henry. "As King I am also ex officio Director of Liturgy round here, and I want to ensure that my song Greensleevesis used regularly at Mass. It is easily adapted to religious use:

Green! Green! Green are the sleeves!
Green! Green! Green are the sleeves!
Green! Green! Green are the sleeves!
Green are the sleeves of the Lord!

A one, a two, a one two three four... Green! Green! Green are the sleeves!

It is clear that these documents will force us to revise our views on the Reformation, and they will keep David Starkey in business for many years to come. Unfortunately.

Saint of the Week

St Damian the Obscure.

A member of the order of St Custard, St Damian is another medieval saint about whom many astounding legends have grown up.

Damian is believed to have come from humble stock, his ancestors having been ferret-farmers near Reading. Damian himself was a learned man, and was sent to Oxenford to study for a degree in HHT (History, Hairdressing and Theology), the most prestigious degree offered at that time.

Father Sidney James, Damian's tutor in theology and hairdressing.

In those days Damian was something of a lady's man, breaking the hearts of many virtuous maidens who came his way. However, he resolved to devote himself to God, and in particular the maintenance of traditional Catholic values.

Cristina Odone - after meeting Damian she devoted her life to good works.

At that time the Council of Trent was meeting, and Damian - a traditionalist who adhered to the Sarum Rite - was anxious to fight its modernist tendencies with all the powers at his disposal. Indeed, his polemics brought him to the attention of Cardinal Murphy, who attempted unsuccessfully to procure his excommunication.

Cardinal Murphy admits defeat.

In his later years, Damian took a less active part in church politics, although he maintained a pious and virtuous life; his contemporaries noted that he was a master of the German art of Schadenfreude, and that his enemies were invariably cast down. For example, the miraculous downfall of Christopher the Hun is generally attributed to the intervention of St Damian.

Conclusive proof that Christopher the Hun was not driving his chariot.

Damian's final years were spent in madness. Each week he sent out a deranged letter to his disciples, written in green ink, in which he discussed random topics such as cummerbunds, hairdressers and custard, but nobody could bear to read them. He eventually succumbed to a surfeit of cupcakes.

Prayer to St Damian:O blessed St Damian, who saved the Church in its hour of peril, intercede for us, that we may be blessed with a good head of hair, that we may avoid unseemly fatness, and that we may avoid all forms of addiction. Help us to write, as thou didst write, even when we have nothing to say. Amen.

The 2012 Tabloid Lecture

A longer and funnier version of the lecture appears here.

Catherine Popehater, Editor of the Tabloid comic (motto Ecclesia Contra Papam), was very pleased that Kaiser Wilhelm II agreed to give the 2012 Tabloid lecture. Last year, by mistake, we invited Vincent Nichols, who said that, on balance, he thought that poisoning the Pope was not the only possible answer to the problems facing the Catholic Church. This year, we have managed to find someone less conservative.

Robert Blair Kaiser.

These days, both wings of the Church are saying that the Second Vatican Council was a failure. I do not believe that this is true. For one thing, it allowed an obscure talentless journalist such as myself to make a career out of the Catholic Church's problems, just because I am a fluent Latin speaker.

I remember meeting Pope John XXIII just before the Council opened. "Hic, haec hoc!" I said to him, challengingly, and followed this up with "Mensa, mensa, mensam, mensae, mensae, mensa!" The Pope looked at me in a puzzled way, crossed himself, and moved on: it was at that moment that I knew I had influenced the Church in a way that would go down in history.

John XXIII - he had no answer to my arguments.

His predecessors, Pius XI and Pius XII, had campaigned against Evil. As an historian, Papa Roncalli knew what a risky business this could be. "No more moralizing," he said. I am sure he didn't want the Council to take sides in the so-called battle between God and the Devil.

As the Council opened, I sought out America's most famous Catholic preacher, Bishop Fulton Sheen. I expected him to be sleeping in a cardboard box under a railway bridge, but when I saw that he was staying in a hotel, I instantly knew that he was a reactionary. "This Council will be inspired by the Holy Spirit," he said.

"Never heard of Him," I retorted. "Can you tell me how to interview Him?"

Bishop Sheen merely smiled sadly, and I knew that we would be in danger, if the Holy Spirit - an unelected grandee - tried to interfere in the Council's decisions.

Fulton Sheen - did he wear gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints?

Well, you expect to see dinosaurs like Sheen when bishops are appointed by the Vatican hierarchy, instead of being democratically elected like police chiefs, in a free ballot in which atheists may also participate!

In the end, unlike the previous twenty Councils, in which some mythical person called "God" had played a key role, Vatican II was inspired directly by the 1960s ethos. The inspirational figures of the 1960s - people like Ronald Biggs, Jimmy Savile and Christine Keeler - were all to be found outside the Church oligarchy.

Christine Keeler, in prayer.

The Council changed the way we thought about God and the World. Indeed, Pope John and his Council made preliminary moves that helped end the Cold War - and, only 25 years later, Communism collapsed. (I make this comment since I am not pretending that the effects of the Council were always beneficial.)

Marxists reflect on the threat posed by the Council.

Before the Council, Mass had to be celebrated by a priest. Afterwards, nobody went to Mass anyway, so it didn't matter.

Before the Council, women were forbidden to attend Mass. Afterwards, they were freed from their bonds and allowed to participate fully in the life of the Church. The shock of this liberation drove some women insane with joy, and special caring arrangements had to be made: for example, Patient C was appointed editor of a Catholic comic, while Patient T was sent to sheltered accommodation in Roehampton.

Roehampton - a place where crazy people are respected.

Before the Council, Catholics were forced to read the Bible. Afterwards, they could read my best-selling books The Selfish Pope and The Pope Delusion.

Before the Council, we were sin-obsessed. Nowadays, Good and Evil are recognised as lifestyle choices, and nobody in the Church dares to say that one is better than the other. Before the Council, people spoke of Heaven, Hell and Purgatory. Nowadays, we know that nobody will judge us, not even God.

Do we really see God like this, as a judge?

What we modernizing Catholics really hated was the Council of Trent (1545-1563). When announcing Vatican II, Pope John XXIII stated that the precepts of the Council of Trent continue to the modern day, but of course he wasn't serious. What could a bunch of medieval people know about sex and drugs, and rock and roll?

The Council of Trent. We hates it, we hates it, we hates it.

When Jesus addressed the multitudes on that hillside overlooking the sea of Galilee, he didn't tell them how to behave. He told them how to have fun. Jesus could have learned a lot from Vatican II - the Council told us what he should really have said. Which is as it should be.