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!

Directly-elected bishops

On the day when voters are rushing to the polling stations to elect their own police chiefs for the first time, it was announced today that from now on the Catholic Church would ensure that all future bishops were directly elected (as the American Catholic Countil recommends), rather than relying on a murky process involving the Pope, his Nuncio, and malicious gossip spread by well-known Catholic bloggers.

The Anglicans have had directly-elected bishops for some time.

Although for the time being all bishops will necessarily be male - a great disappointment to Prof. Tina Beattie, who had set her heart on a cosy diocese as a way of relaunching her career - the Catholic church is obliged by law to allow non-Catholics to stand for election.

We spoke to three people who are planning to throw their mitres into the ring, one from each of the largest political parties.

Boris Johnson, in cycling mitre.

Manifesto: Cripes! What Westminster needs is a go-ahead bishop who will build cycle paths in the Cathedral, in order to speed up the circulation of the jolly old customers. Then, in the longer term, we shall reduce congestion by moving Westminster Cathedral to a whizzo new island that we're building in the middle of the North Sea.

Religious opinions: Our new liturgy, beginning "What ho, God!" is guaranteed to get the Almighty's attention and give Him a friendly nudge towards smiting our enemies. Under my leadership, the Geiger counter of Catholomania will go zoink! off the scale, so put that in your pipe and smoke it, Romney!

Richard Dawkins, modelling the BBC-approved mitre.

Manifesto:The Catholic Church needs to rebrand itself as the Dawkins Foundation for Religion and Faith. At present it is too busy focusing on peripheral issues like God and morality, when it needs to be getting out there and preaching the Good News from my books. Science has solved all the problems of the Universe, and so we don't need any more scientists. Er, no, I'll have another go at that one...

Religious opinions: There's probably no God, but then again there may be, and I'm not being indecisive here. So I'm pretty much in touch with mainstream Liberal Catholic opinion on that one.

John Prescott, being measured for a bespoke XXXXXL mitre.

Manifesto: I may not be a pious Cathartic myself, but my friend Tony Blair certainly is, and he thinks it is important that New Labour should be at the heart of the Church. I see the job of a Bishop as one of derogation - so I shall sit in my pew mediocritating, while someone else does the work.

Religious opinions: The Bible is far too complicated for the average bishop in the street to understand, but "Give us this day our daily pies," or whatever the exact wording is, seems to be something I can relate to.

Honours flood in for Giles Fraser

After his wonderful Hero of the Year award from Stonewall - their most coveted award actually going to Cardinal Keith O'Brien for his defence of traditional marriage - other distinguished organizations have rushed to honour the BBC's Giles Fraser.

Giles Fraser: "Totally and utterly delighted, proud and made up."

First off the mark was the Dawkins Foundation, which, in awarding Fraser their Atheist of the year medal, explained, "Whenever Giles opens his mouth on Thought for the Day, hundreds of Christians either shoot themselves, or turn atheist. Seeing a priest of the Established Church whose religious beliefs are so vague does wonders for our cause."

"Dear Dr Fraser, you've probably never heard of me, but I am a great admirer of yours."

Another, less welcome, tribute came in from the Jimmy Savile Fan Club, whose motto is Nunc tunc, nunc tunc (Now then, now then!) "Were Jimmy alive today," they said, "we are sure that he would be an admirer of Giles Fraser. Dr Fraser is one of the stars of the BBC."

Jimmy Savile, himself, was willing to mix with the dregs of society.

Finally, the Society of Saint Judas Iscariot (SSJI), a breakaway Christian sect which believes that Judas should not be blamed, as he was only doing God's will, has also paid tribute to Giles Fraser. "He's only doing God's will," they said today.

Judas, a regular speaker on Thought for the Day.

Charity Appeal

The charity CATFOOD (CATholics For Oddball Overseas Development), has asked for an appeal to be posted on all spiritually nourishing blogs such as this one.

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We are hugely grateful for the support you have shown for CATFOOD's work over many years, as we have acted as a lobbying agency for extra taxes, action on climate change, and access to condoms for all; we have also done something about those people in the Third World without access to those simple necessities of life that we all take for granted: such as Tenderized baby kestrel with a Welsh truffle sauce, tortured parsnips, weeping Norfolk onions, and a salad of pumpkin leaves with balsamic vinegar; with this, most experts would recommend a Chateau Coldfitte 1992.

A baby kestrel. In London we take food like this for granted.

Well now we need to turn our attention to nearer at home. Do you remember me telling you about Zimi, a 10-year old girl from Islington? Zimi's family have been without proper drinking water for several weeks: her parents could no longer find Mont Blanc Glacier Water in the supermarket, and she was forced to drink the rubbish that comes out of the taps.

Zimi now says, "When the deliveries of Mont Blanc Glacier Water stopped, my family had to change its lifestyle; we stopped taking baths or showers, and now nobody at school wants to sit next to me."

Mont Blanc, where the glacier water is lovingly harvested by Dominican friars.

Thanks to CATFOOD, Zimi's family is now getting regular deliveries of climate change posters and contraceptives, and we are looking into the water problem as well.

We'd now like to tell you about another child, a 9-year-old boy from Notting Hill called Gift. You might be wondering how Gift got his name. It's because in Notting Hill they go in for pretentious names these days (his brothers and sisters are called Square-Root, Proust, Biggleswade, and Beckham). Gift's family have been without a refrigerator for over a week, as they wait for Zanussi to deliver another one. In fact, it was partly their fault, as they first contacted ZANU, by mistake. Although Robert Mugabe was very pleased to hear from them, he was unable to provide a refrigerator.

Robert Mugabe and an unidentified friend discuss the fridge crisis in Islington.

As a result, Gift and his family have been forced to eat out in restaurants every day this week, as the only alternative to living on slightly stale food. CATFOOD is coming to their assistance, and Gift's family will soon have a shiny new fridge.

Did I mention that we are a Catholic organization? No, well we don't want to scare people by bringing religion into everyday life: go to our website and see how long it takes you to find the word "Catholic" on the front page. Still, do keep sending us your money, and we'll make sure it is spent the way we think best.

Ave! Magazine

Ave! Magazine has the exclusive photos of the 80th birthday party of Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O'Connor, at which a galaxy of celebrities joined to wish the cardinal Ad multos annos.

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The Sacred

Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor was clearly enjoying himself immensely.

Vincent Nichols sits by his mobile phone. "I'm expecting a man to call about a red hat," he explains.

Mgr Basil Loftus (centre) conducts a simple post-Vatican-II service of thanksgiving for the ministry of Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor.

Pope Benedict XVI (Keeper of the Keys) receives from Arthur Roche (Keeper of the Padlocks) a catalogue of those churches in Rome destined for closure.

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The semi-sacred

Damian Thompson, a Notting Hill journalist, grumbles that the carnival organizers asked him to play his piano more quietly, as they couldn't hear themselves revel.

Tony and Cherie Blair, who generously waived half their normal appearance fee, were the life and soul of the party.

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The definitely profane

Polly Toynbee explains how she went to Tuscany to see for herself how women were being oppressed by the Catholic Church.

"Am I overdressed?" quips Prince Harry, grandson of the Supreme Governor of the Church of England.

The Honourable Member for Bradford West (representing Julian Assange) shows Respect.

Boris Johnson and Kelly Brook arrive by bike. Lance Armstrong wanted to come as well, but is banned from cycling.

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One of the many gifts given to Cardinal Murphy-O'Connor

The Venus de Milo, lovingly restored by a little old lady.

Invitations we have received

Young Poet of the Year, 1989 (yes, really)

Louise Bagshawe LoCicero Mensch M.P. Steward of the Chiltern Hundreds,

author of "Catholic family values," "When she was bad..." and "Career girls,"

star of "Question Time" and "Prime Minister's Questions,"

invites ECCLES

to the launch of her new book

"Corby, city of passion"

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Welcome to the Dignitas Holiday Hotel

Dr Evan Harris M.P. requests the pleasure of the company of ECCLES at a "sending-off" party for his beloved auntie Athanasia, to wish her well on her trip to Dignitas. R.S.V.P.

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St Anthony of Poodle

Hey, Eccles, come to a swell party for the launch of my new Encyclical, "Where the Catholic church must go next." Admission fee only £500, and you'll get to meet my good friends Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Kim Jong-un. Yours, Tony.

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And finally, one I won't be able to accept.

Surely some mistake?

BARACK AND MICHELLE OBAMA are holding a "Pride Party" to celebrate the adoption of a new American flag. No Limeys, Christians, Mormons, Republicans, or Chick-fil-A employees, please.

The proposed replacement for the homophobic Stars and Stripes

P.S. If you can't come, you're welcome to attend our "Abortion gone wild" Festival next week. Barack.

What ho, Gabriele!

My butler, Paolo Gabriele

"BENEDICT!" screamed my Aunt Agatha. "What's all this I hear about money-laundering?"

I had just been giving an audience to a group of Catholic journalists from the Telegraph, and now had a bit of a headache. "Benny, old bean," said their leader, a man called Damian with funny hair, "don't you think that one of the great spiritual challenges of our day is addiction?"

Personally, I don't think that addressing the Pope as "Benny, old bean," is right - we don't read of Jesus addressing St Peter as "Pete, old bean," do we? - but then Damian is spiritual leader in his own right, so I said nothing. However, after a two-hour lecture on the dangers of compulsively downloading pictures of cupcakes from the Internet - I may have dozed off a little, and got some of the details wrong - I was glad to see Damian, Cristina, Tim and little Will leave. At least it wasn't Tony and Cherie Blair again, telling me how to rewrite 2,000 years of Catholic dogma.

Tony Blair giving me his blessing

So that is why I was lying in a darkened room, nursing my headache, when the door burst open, and my Aunt Agatha stormed in with her comment about money-laundering.

Now, being Pope isn't as easy as it may seem, you know. It's not all burning up the town in a Popemobile or sticking a "Kick me" sign on "lofty" Cormac when he comes round to unblock the drains - although these things do give some job satisfaction. You also have to be seen in church occasionally, give spiritual guidance to your flock worldwide, and deal with daily obscene phone calls from Sr Margaret Farley (frankly, she talks more like a sea-captain than a nun).

Lifelike blow-up Farley dolls on sale now, as a reappraisal of sexual theology

So I replied to my Aunt Agatha in no uncertain tones: "Really, Aunt, it's not my job to worry about the finances. We have accountants to do that."

"You really are a wastrel, Benedict," snapped my aunt. "It's time you got a proper job. Now, call your man Gabriele: he's the only one who knows what's going on round here."

"Splendid idea, Aunt Agatha," I replied. "Perhaps he can make me one of his pick-me-ups."

I rang the bell, and Gabriele shimmered in. Unfortunately, there was no pick-me-up to be seen: in fact he was carrying a pair of large suitcases.

"So, Gabriele," said my aunt. "Do you know what's going on in the Vatican?"

"Indeed, my lady," replied Gabriele. "It's all explained in these confidential documents. I was just taking them to my friend Gianluigi Nuzzi the journalist, for safe keeping."

A secret Vatican document

"Good man, Gabriele, I knew I could trust you!" I said.

Will Aunt Agatha intervene? Or will the details of the Vatican's annual spending on pizza, chips and beer be released to the press? Will Sr Farley turn up and make an improper suggestion? If we find out, we'll let you know.

Celebrity endorsements

A new papal encyclical "Liber Fixus"

The Pope reading "The Fix"

Liber Fixus beati Damiani mirabilis est, et omnes fideles emptores sint (II euro apud Vaticani Emporium, cum "Vita Sanctae Cristinae Odonis"). Addictio problematicalis est, et Damianus infallibilis est, cum scribit calico-libae et cannabum*.

Paolo Gabriele

Nunc Paolo Gabriele, meus servus, in vinculis est, quia de multis addictionis passus est.

Oh hang it, they've just arrested Cardinal Google too, the one who does all my Latin translations. Still we're near the end, and my message is simple. Buy Thompson's book, to understand the real evils of the XXIst century. Blessings upon you all.

*of cupcakes and cannabis

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John Prescott writes

I used to be addicted to pies

I consider it a great honour and privethedge to be allowed to contribute a small testimonacle about Damian Thompson's book, "The Fix." In the days when I was the second most powerful man in Britain (responsible for so many portfailures at the same time that I never got round to dealing with any of them), I saw many examples of addition in the Cabernet. That creepy nancy-boy Mandelson, for example, addicted to lying, cheating and drinking blood - in the end we sent him to Brussels, the only place where this was considered normal. Then there was Brown, addicted to violence and brutality - we tried making him Prime Minister, but this didn't cure him.

You're nicked, sunshine!

As you may know, I am hoping to become an elected police chief. In this, I have the full support of the criminal fratality, who say that they have always thought of me as a "Pig," and are confident that I will do nothing to upset their traditional way of life. However, I shall certainly make it a priory to deal with addition, and maybe even subtraction as well!

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Lord Justice Leveson writes

I just can't stop asking questions

Some of you may have heard of the Leveson Enquiry, which I have been running since 1997. It started off as an enquiry into the death of Princess Diana, and I am pleased to say that Mohamed Fayed was finally able to leave the court without a stain on his straitjacket. It then turned into an investigation of Tony Blair's addiction to declaring war on unlikely countries at the drop of a hat (thanks to him, we are still technically at war with Finland, New Zealand and the Vatican, but we expect to surrender any day now). Now new evidence has emerged, and we are investigating phone-tapping, e-mail hacking, and all the other standard methods by which journalists get stories - apart from simply making them up, of course.

Rebekah Brooks - addicted to evil

I hope that Damian Thompson's excellent book will help poor Rebekah Brooks come to terms with her many addictions, which go far beyond mere cupcakes.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking of joining forces with Damian Thompson, and launching a far-reaching enquiry into all aspects of addiction. I had promised my wife to give up enquiries, but another year or two can't hurt, can it?

Bad Hynms 4

Today's entry for the Eccles Bad Hymn Award is "Walk in the Light," which is apparently © Kevin Mayhew Limited, the artist formerly known as Damian Lundy. We invited Mr Limited to come along and discuss his hymn.

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Walking in the light

E: Thanks for coming along, Mr Limited. Did you have a good walk here this evening? Streets not too dark?

KML: No, the streets were very well lit, thank you, Eccles. Just the way I like them.

E: Splendid. Now this hymn of yours: would I be right in thinking that its central message is "Walk in the Light?"

KML: Got it in one! There's no pulling the wool over your eyes, is there?

E: Well, the fact that the phrase occurs 30 times in the song, six times in each verse, gave me a clue. I hope that your message is not too subtle for other worshippers, however.

KML: It's a risk we have to take, Eccles.

E: If one removes all the "Walk in the Light" bits, what is left?

KML: Nothing controversial, I hope, Eccles.

E: Well, no, it is on the whole excessively banal. "To save the lost like you and me," for example. Are we supposed to point at particular people when we say "like you," or is it a general description?

KML: Well, I always gesture at the priest at that point to show him I know where the bodies are buried.

Pointing at a lost soul

E: Now, the clunkiest line of the song must surely be "He gave his Spirit to be our friend." Not only does it not scan, unless you say Sp'rit like an American cowboy, but it is theologically incorrect.

KML: Well, I needed a word that rhymed with "end," and somehow "He gave his spirit for the operations of grace and the sanctification of souls, and in particular spiritual gifts and fruits" seemed a bit too complicated an idea.

E: You have an answer to everything, Mr Limited. Mind how you go now, and only walk when the light is green.

Walking in the light

Dr Damian's problem page

I am a strong dominating woman, Chancellor of a financially stable Western nation with a long and proud tradition of helping other countries run themselves (especially in 1914-18 and 1939-45). All I want to do is to make sure that the Euro is a success, but I am having trouble with my partners in a certain Mediterranean country. Whereas in Ger.... it is normal to get to the office at 3 a.m. and not go home again until midnight, those Gr.... don't have the same work ethic. Indeed when I telephoned their Government, they said that the country was closed for the next 2 months for a holiday. As a result, I am losing patience with my European partners. Can you help?
Angela M. of Berlin.

A strong leader

Dr Damian replies:  We see here several examples of addiction, which I discuss in my best-selling book, The Fix, only £12 from all good bookshops. You, Angela, are addicted to work, and also, perhaps, to stomping around in jackboots telling people what to do. The Greeks, on the other hand, are addicted to olives, ouzo, sunbathing, and (historically at least) playing practical jokes on their friends by leaving wooden horses outside their houses. When you understand this, the solution is clear, and is explained in Chapter 94 of my book, Is Addiction leading to World War III?

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I am a senior Tibetan costume holy man, who obtained his position in a rather curious way, by being "discovered" when I was a small child. I really don't enjoy my job, not just because I can't go into Chinese restaurants without a fight breaking out, but also because people insist on saying odd things to me such as "Make me one with everything," and "Hello, Dalai, well hello, Dalai," and then giggling, which I don't really understand. And the problem is that when I am dead I am going to be reincarnated, and will have to go through the whole business all over again. Oh, I would have been much happier on stage - I've got a very good yak-impersonation routine, for example. I've also tried calling myself Mr Gyatso, but then people blame me for inventing speed cameras, which I don't remember doing.
Dalai L. of No Fixed Abode.

Impersonating a yak

Dr Damian replies:  My new book, The Fix, is currently on offer at only £5, and  you will find that it describes some of the addictions which are the cause of your present worries. Telling silly jokes to religious leaders is one that I used to suffer from myself, and the only remedy is to drop religious affairs completely, as I have done. Your problem with reincarnation is a trickier one, although I do touch on it briefly in Chapter 55 of my book, Addiction beyond the grave.

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Hey, I'm just a regular kind of guy, who simply wants to get rich and be loved by everyone. I'm also extremely talented when it comes to ending the Arab-Israeli conflict, building a stable economy, winning elections, etc. But now I no longer dare appear in public without people throwing fruit and vegetables at me, shouting "War criminal!" and "Poodle!" at me, and generally disrupting my humble attempts to earn a few million bucks here and there.
Tony B. of Blair Castle, Blair Mansions, Château Blair, Schloss Blair, Ze Beeg 'ouse zat ze reech Señor El-Blairo lives in, Big Chief Lying Blair's Wigwam, and the Blairovski Dachas.

A well-thrown tomato

Dr Damian replies: Addiction to food is a dangerous thing, leading to obesity, indigestion and sleepiness. As described in my new book, The Fix (now only £2 and with a free copy of Mary Riddell's Beauty Secrets thrown in), many people overcome these addictions by throwing away their food, often in the direction of some particularly hated politician. However, you have problems of your own, and you may find Chapter 84 of my book helpful, Are you addicted to telling lies?

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Infidel Thompson dog, your stupid book has been of no use to me whatsoever. I am a simple Muslim cleric with a Sunni disposition, and a fondness for war, jihads and things that go BOOM. Nonetheless, the British authorities refuse to accept that I am merely the victim of an uncontrollable addiction to violence, and that I need specialised help - preferably a rest cure in a luxury hotel, with lots of handmaidens to look after my every need, know what I mean? War be upon you.
Abu H.of Belmarsh.

My heart goes boom bang-a-bang

Dr Damian replies: Of course, an addiction to violence is nothing new, and is well-described in my new book, The Fix (autographed copies for 20p, with a free blood-crazed ferret thrown in). You may find that Chapter 36, How I gave up assaulting bishops, which is my own personal story, will be of help to you.

We meets a funny preist

Well here we is at de seeside again (Seel Beech) and here is a pitcher of Bosco directin an outdoors prayer meetin. Note dat we doesnt stand or kneel when we prays, we just walks on de hands in de name of de Lord, singin one of our hynms.



Walk - on de hands,
Walk - on de hands,
Walk - on de hands,
Walk on de hands for de Lord.

We has met many interestin poeple and told dem dat dey wasnt saved like us. However, we may have met our match wiv Farver Arfur of de Church of de Eleven Anonnymouse Cathlics. Dis man was anxiuos to persaude us dat he was a preist, but you wuold never guess, would you?



Anti Moly screemed "Sockpoppet! ROFL!" at him, but she does dat at everyone, even de dentist when he is providin her wiv new flase teef cos de old ones was worn out wiv bitin poeple. So dat dont signiffy nuffink.

Farver Arfur insissted dat he was a preist, and produced a pile of tetsimonials from a lotta well-known people of integgrity like Baron Munchhaussen, Richard Noxin, Jeffrey Arrcher, Mohamed El Fayyed, Tonny Blair and Joanne Hairy. Dese said dat Farver Arfur was a preist in good standin. Well, in fact de accounts varried, some said he was a profit, some said he was a cradinal, and de luvvly Joanne said he was de Pop. So we gotta beleive it. Mind you, Arfur also told us he was a brane surgoen, a nuclaer pyhsicist and an Olymmpic pole-vualter in good standin, he is a man of manny talents.

Well, we aint Cathlic, we is saved poeple, and so we tries not to have much to do with Farver Arfur. When he telephons in de nihgt to say "Hello, I is a preist. Wuold you like to buy de Eiffell Tower?" we just puts de phon down.

All dis is a distractoin from de Lord's work, which is condenming gravven immages, iddles, and costume holly men. We fuond dis gravven image of a costume holly man in Farver Arfur's church, he says it is a saint in good standin, but I aint so sure.