With the innocent face of an angel, the God Werentmee is impervious to all blame. Any excrement thrown his way slides right off. The divine light shining from his reverent rectum means that any shade thrown does not fall upon him. He has two other avatars not shown here. One is a lyre playing musician with flaming underwear and a nose as long as a telephone wire, and the other is the invisible divine ghost known to children and cyclopes everywhere as “Mr Nobody”.
Werentmee, God of Denial should not be confused with any Ancient Egyptian river deities. Werentmee hasn’t had any dealings in that region since the “The Aswan Dam Wasn’t an Environmental Disaster” incident.
The philosophy of the cult of Werentmee is not to avoid the sin, but to avoid the blame, the shame and the consequences. His devotees include corrupt politicians, environment destroyers, emotional fuckwits and asset stripping CEOs who sink their companies. Essential personal qualities for joining the priesthood of Werentmee are twinkling charm, a posh accent, and a very short memory. Having a conscience is considered to be a severe handicap, and may render one unsuitable to serve.
Werentmee’s priests can be recognised by the distinctive mittens they wear to prevent any finger-pointing. They also always wear spotless white robes, except at Hallowe’en, when they dress up in an autumnal themed costume made of russet leaves, berries and pumpkins. These seasonal vestments are known as the “Fall Guise”. The priesthood always tackle every task or project in a team of at least 6. This is “herd action” a defensive precaution. A team structure makes it nigh on impossible to isolate any single under-performing individual. The High Priest of Werentmee is known by the title “Pastor Buck”. He travels constantly in the pursuit of his duties, serving the faith tirelessly. “The Buck” never, ever stops. He is aided in is work by his deputy Mr Scott Free.
The roof of the Temple of Werentmee bristles with cruel spikes, scarecrows and decoy birds of prey. Atop all this sits a priest in the highest room of the tallest tower with a shot gun. Anything to prevent the pigeons from coming home to roost. The interior of his temple is strangely decorated to appear as though it is a photographic negative. Black is white in there. The Temple also houses a menagerie. Here you can see the two unique species which are Werentmee’s sacred animals. At the centre of the menagerie is a large lake, in which live a bask of Crocodylus lacrimosa (a kind of salt water crocodile). In the green field around the lake graze a flock of the rare goat breed Capra piaculum (or Scapegoat). In addition there is a single ordinary, elderly, wiffy hound dog called Patsy. He is kept at the temple purely to be the publicly acknowledged culprit of every fart dropped within. The temple has innumerable entrances. When you visit, will you enter via the Watergate, the Hackgate, the Donnygate, the Blobbygate or the Camillagate?
There are few strict rules in this faith, but one of these rules is that the dish “Eggs Benedict” is forbidden. In fact, if you tried, you would find it impossible to make a hollandaise sauce in the Temple of Werentmee, because the butter wouldn’t melt.
Many seek the divine assistance of Werentmee to get themselves out of a spot of bother of their own making. For serious misdemeanours they will attend the temple and take part in a rite where one of the Scapegoats is sacrificed and burned on a pyre of shredded documents and compromising photographs. For less serious quotidian situations, the temple press publishes a handy reference list of societal groups that you can blame for your daily fails. For example, today’s list includes: young people, teachers, parents, snowflakes, liberal lefties, immigrants, the European Union, women, the weather and the Hungarians.
Werentmee is often mentioned in the mythology of other faiths. Usually as a filthy piece of toe rag with a cherubic face who will ultimately bring about the end of days.
Thank you to Robin Lawrence for suggesting Werentmee.
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