A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dawkins

Will nobody say a good word for The God Delusion?

Scroogeard's career was dead, to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. He had given up biology, a subject at which he was considered to be very capable, in favour of theology, about which he knew almost nothing; as a result, he was reduced to sitting by the fireside all day long, foaming at the mouth, and shouting "Bah! Humbug!" whenever there was any mention of Christianity on the television.

As he sat there watching the BBC's Christmas Special, A Tribute to Jimmy Savile, and reflecting how, by telling the Daily Mailthat bringing children up as Catholics was worse than raping them, it would give him some more column-inches and pay for Lalla's next trip to Gallifrey, the room darkened and a ghostly figure appeared before him.

The Ghost of Christmas Past.

"Hey," said the ghost. "Let's not be formal here. Just call me Tony."

"B-b-b-but you're a Catholic," gasped Scroogeard in terror. "You follow the beliefs of that vile Catholic church. Keep away from me!"

"Let's just say that I've got my own beliefs, and I'm encouraging the Catholic church to follow," said the ghost. It showed Scroogeard a vision of a world run by Blairite Catholics, in which abortion could thrive, and in which religion was gradually sidelined.

The vision faded, and another horrible figure appeared.

The Ghost of Christmas Present.

"Another worshipper of sky fairies!" shuddered Scroogeard. "An Anglican! That's nearly as bad!"

"Don't worry," said the ghost calmly. "The Anglican church does what I say now. If I want women bishops, it will appoint them. But I have an even better scheme, which I'm sure you'll like. Since men and women don't get married very often these days, we're going to insist that men marry men, and women marry women! And, as it says in the Bible, the lion will lie down with the lamb and have its babies, because after all, it has rights like anyone else. If this doesn't get the Catholics screaming, I don't know what will!"

The second vision faded, and Scroogeard, now considerably perked up, awaited to see what horrors lay in the future.

The Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come.

"But you're not a Christian at all," cried Scroogeard gleefully to the third ghost. "If you come to power, we shall see the triumph of atheism after all! Harriet Harman will rule with an iron rod, we shall become daily ever more equal and diverse, and the Catholic Church and the Church of England will disappear! Oh joy! Oh rapture!"

"Well, not entirely," said the ghost. "We will simply appoint Giles Fraser as Archbishop of Canterbury, and Tina Beattie as Archbishop of Westminster. That way, the churches will be able to move away from God, and be more in step with the great secular adventure."

Scroogeard, overjoyed, rushed into the street, generously showering gifts on all the poor people he met. To Bob Cratchit, whose family had no fuel, he gave a copy of The Blind Watchmaker, which Bob gratefully put on the fire.

But what of poor Tiny Tim, who lay sick in a corner of the room? Why, Scroogeard had a wonderful gift for him too, a copy of The God Delusion.

Yes, it was the biggest turkey they'd ever seen!

Bad Hynms 13

Taking a break from religious hymns, as we have done once or twice already, the Eccles Bad Hymn Award judges are pleased to welcome Jim Connell, author of the Socialist Hymn The Red Flag, together with "Red Ed" Miliband, who likes to sing the hymn once a year.

Ed Miliband singing The Red Flag.

E: Jim, if I could come to you, first. The flag isn't really deepest red, is it? Usually, it's quite a bright red colour. In fact you later describe it as "scarlet."

JC: Yes, well the idea is that it is stained by the blood of the martyrs.

E: Oh right. So Ed, can you name some Labour martyrs whose blood has stained this flag?

EM: Well, there was Clement Attlee.

E: Attlee? The man who ended up with an earldom and the titles of KG, OM, CH, PC and FRS?

EM: He was a martyr to lumbago, you know.

Clement Attlee - used to wrap himself in a red flag when his lumbago got bad.

E: The version I heard was The people's flag is palest pink, Mum washed it in the kitchen sink. Still, back to you, Jim. I see that nowadays people don't sing the more embarrassing verses of your hymn?

JC: (sings)

   Look round, the Frenchman loves its blaze,
   The sturdy German chants its praise,
   In Moscow's vaults its hymns were sung
   Chicago swells the surging throng. 

E: Of course the French like anything that blazes, really. Red flags, cars, British lamb, ... The pyrotechnic habits of the French are worth a whole verse on their own. But I quite like the phrase "sturdy German." We've had quite a lot of trouble from sturdy Germans since you wrote that song. And Moscow, Chicago, ... hmmm.

EM: At the Labour conference we omit all that tosh. Still, we are very fond of the colour red.

The people's dress is deepest red - behold the wife of poor old Ed!

E: So basically verse 1 is all about martyrs - possibly including Clement Attlee - being wrapped in red flags. Wasn't there another martyr? David somebody, who was stabbed in the back by his brother?

EM: I deny it completely. Anyway, David is not dead. Just resting.

JC: (sings)

   It suits today the weak and base,
   Whose minds are fixed on pelf and place
   To cringe before the rich man's frown,
   And haul the sacred emblem down. 

EM: Will you be quiet? We in New Labour don't regard anything as sacred. In fact, we don't even regard religion as sacred.

E: And you've got plenty of rich men in your party, eh, Ed?

The rich man's frown.

EM: I don't remember the words exactly, but our conference sing-song ends with something like: "Though tumpty-tumpty traitors sneer, Um, er, the red flag flying here."

E: Actually, most people sneer at the song these days, especially after the fall of communism; not just traitors. You've just missed Eric Hobsbawm, he liked that sort of thing. Where is the flag flying now, then?

EM: We left it in Manchester. You didn't expect us to take the silly thing home with us, did you?

E: No, I guess not.

JC: (sings)

   With head uncovered swear we all
   To bear it onward till we fall;
   Come dungeons dark or gallows grim,
   This song shall be our parting hymn. 

E: Fine sentiments, Jim. I think that nowadays dungeons aren't dark, indeed they all have colour TVs; and gallows aren't grim either, in fact they're mostly tourist attractions. But you weren't to know that. Ed, a final comment?

EM: Don't look at me, I don't know anything about this hymn.

E: Well, thank you both for coming. Shall we conclude with another scary picture?

The people's witch is dressed in red. She's cast a spell upon you, Ed.

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Previous entries for the Eccles Bad Hynm 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.

Thought for the Dazed

By Giles Fraser

"We're DOOOOMED, I tell you," says Fraser.

Being a clever chap who reads books without pictures in them, I was given the works of St Augustine for my birthday last year.

It's astonishing how St Augustine was concerned about the same issues that worry us Guardian journalists who appear on the BBC and do a little praying in our spare time. For example, in his "City of God," he says:

To the divine providence it has seemed good to prepare in the world to come for the righteous good things, which the unrighteous shall not enjoy; and for the wicked evil things, by which the good shall not be tormented.

Nowadays we recognise that he was expressing serious concerns about climate change.

St Augustine - terrified by the thought of climate change.

Luckily, the horrifying effects of carbon emissions were averted in the 5th century, but we shall not be so lucky. We're DOOOOMED, I tell you. One of the books I have on my shelves - but haven't yet got round to reading properly - is called "The Holy Bible." At the end of it, in a section called "Revelation," there are many shocking predictions of the effects of climate change.

Like me, Augustine was a keen Socialist, and anticipated those great thinkers Marx, Engels, and Miliband. As I always say to my parishioners, I'm on the side of the Engels!

Another subject that Augustine anticipated was the modern Freudian theory of sex. When he wrote in his "Confessions," As a youth I prayed, "Give me chastity and continence, but not yet," he was setting out the basis of modern psychoanalysis, which is SEX.

Freud - his theories explain our basic need for lesbian and gay bishops.

Sex is a very exciting subject, and I love writing about it. The thought of a young woman priest in a tightly-fitting cassock... Phew, is it just me, or is it getting hot in here? Must be all that climate change that we hear about...

Let's all be pilgrims

For an imaginative holiday this autumn, why not become a pilgrim? No religious beliefs are necessary, as we highlight some of the excursions on offer.

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St Daryl's offers a liberal pilgrimage for those who don't think Vatican II went far enough.

Who is leading the pilgrimage? Hey, we don't have leaders as such; however, Fr Arthur will be at the front, walking backwards so that he can face the congregation at all times.

Where are we going? This is a bit of a mystery - we rather hope that Fr Arthur doesn't lead us over a cliff. But, hey, it doesn't matter where we're going, or even if we all go to the same place. There's no such thing as a sacred site in the 21st century.

Is everyone welcome? Of course. We will particularly welcome atheists, Muslims and Buddhists, who are currently under-represented in the modern Catholic church.

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The arms of New College, Oxford (the motto is being corrected to "Genes Makyth Man").

The Foundation Church of Dawkins offers a Dawkins-themed pilgrimage to the sacred places associated with Dawkins.

Visit the grave of Chrissie the chicken, about which Richard wrote a Ph.D. thesis! See the shop of the blind watchmaker who broke Richard's watch! Visit Marks and Spencer, where Dawkins buys his selfish jeans! Ride in a bus bearing the Dawkins message: "God is probably not riding on this bus!" See the police station to which Richard would have taken the Pope, if he had been allowed to arrest him!

Visit BBC Quarry Number 1, where the future Mrs Dawkins filmed many adventures

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Mormons! Come and see the sacred places visited by the Angel Mitromni!

Yes, until the year 2012, British Mormons felt left out: the keystone of the Mormon faith was that God's final message to mankind was delivered in America. But then the Angel Mitromni came to England, and now British Mormonism is flourishing!

The Angel Mitromni

Visit the holy city of London, where the Angel Mitromni spake unto Boris, saying, "How pathetic are thy Olympics!" See the Temple of Miliband, at which Mitromni spake unto Ed, saying "Nice to meet you, David. What do you do, exactly?"

The sacred plates (now washed) on which the Angel Mitromni's lunch was served

The Angel Mitromni's words have been transcribed in the Book of Gaffes, a work sacred to all British Mormons.

Yet more bloggs

St Gordon of Kirkcaldy
By Mary Drilled






Mary Drilled's photo marks the 100th anniversary of the death of Bram Stoker
 
Gordon Brown now spends his days in retirement in a darkened room in Kirkcaldy, his only reward being an MP's pittance of £65,000, together with necessary expenses (most recently, an invoice from Jock McBogey's Glazing Repairs, for a window damaged by a flying laser-printer, £300+VAT). But until 2010 he was the most powerful man in the free world, the saviour of civilization as we know it. The verdict of history on Gordon Brown will surely be: We Owe So Much.

 Of course Ed Miliband is wonderful too, so handsome, so masterful. He can't make his eyes revolve in opposite directions at the same time, as Ed Balls can, but let's face it, is that really a necessary qualification to be PM? But it is Gordon whose photo I have on my bedside table, the Pride of Scotland.



Surely this man is a god?
 

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Viagra, sex, and pianist envy
By James Hordes







As a famous but iconoclastic pianist  - I'll get a better picture later, but I never really understood the instructions in those photo booths - I went to a concert recently. It featured a new sensational Chinese pianist, Miss To Tee. I can't remember much about what she was playing (it was one of those seriously uncool dudes, Beethoven, maybe) but I did notice that she certainly wasn't "flat". As I munched my way through a packet of Viagra tablets, and swelled to a climax with the melody, I said to myself, "Yes! This is what classical music is all about!"

Damian Thompson can keep his Bach (that Baroque wig he wears when he thinks nobody is watching doesn't suit him anyway). Give me To Tee tickling the ivories any day. Or the new CD set  from Cora Bimbo, in the deluxe edition with extra photos. YES!!!



Playing Fauré's Dolly Bird Suite
 

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Is Monbiot trying to kill me?
By James Goldenpile








I was eating my cold toast for breakfast today (no warming required), when I was struck by a terrible thought: is George Monbiot trying to kill me? Call me paranoid if you like, but I remember that the last time I appeared on Any Questions? with him, he was carrying an umbrella, and I am fairly sure that it was he who jabbed me in the leg half-way through the programme. I was explaining once more how Michael Mann had produced his hockey-stick graph by massaging his data, adding in his friends' telephone numbers and converting them to Fahrenheit. But the warmists are up to their dirty tricks as usual.

There's definitely a Libtard conspiracy to suppress the truth. Indeed, the man on the Sainsbury's fish counter looks suspiciously like Al Gore, and is obviously ready to slip me a poisoned haddock if I let my vigilance slip. But Monbiot is at the centre of it. He's a master of disguise too - the old lady who nearly barged me off the pavement yesterday didn't look anything like him, so that proves it.

Phew, it's cold today, isn't it? I told you there was an ice-age coming.



There's something sinister about him, don't you think?

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Concluded here.