Peebee – God of Arbitrary Sporting Achievements

January 5, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Peebee, an extremely ancient deity, was the son of Lucasade – Goddess of Divine Energy and Impetus – God of Getting Off Your Arse. The myth goes that one day he was chased by an angry momma she-bear. Peebee decided that this had been a bit of a close call, and that he should probably practice for this kind of eventuality. After all, even if he could not outrun the she-bear, all he needed to be able to do was run a little faster than the person next to him. Peebee’s consort is Facup, the goddess of award silverware. She is sometimes unkindly regarded as a trophy wife.

Peebee is worshipped by amateur athletes who relentlessly chase the ever moving finishing line of self-improvement. The underlying philosophy of the faith is that the greatest opponent one will ever face, one’s ultimate nemesis, is oneself. To them the virtuous life is achieved when one does not strive to best another, but to best the person that you were yesterday. Pursuit of this goal means that followers of Peebee experience the joys of victory and the agony of de feet. This is also a fantastic religion to join if you want to meet people. Especially paramedics.

Although acolytes may undertake their devotions at any time, formal communal worship of Pee Bee usually takes place on either a Saturday or Sunday morning. The congregation will congregate in a local park, and the priesthood will undertake the role of marshals to guide their flock through the ritual and the course. They will jog your memory if you get lost. Once the ceremonial starting pistol is fired, the assembled worshippers will attempt to run through the act of worship in the shortest time possible. The faster one can complete the ritual, the holier one is. This worship takes place weekly regardless of the conditions. The one person who still turns up to worship Peebee on a day when the weather is a torrential tempest is declared to be the current “Raining Champion”.

If you attend a rite of Peebee you will notice that the faithful divide themselves into four distinct sects.

The Park Runners are the most dedicated and fundamentalist of these factions. They worship Peebee daily and ensure that they meet all their targets. It is thought that the phrase “to exercise religiously” originated with them. Park Runners can be recognised by their smart running gear and the expression on their faces which suggests they may be enjoying this a bit too much (compared to everyone else’s expression of mild agony). Before each rite, members of this sect will anoint themselves will the sacred unguent known as Vasaline, and during the rite itself they will fast, consuming only specially formulated energy gels*.

Members of the Park Runner sect tend to be vociferous evangelists. They spread the word and their own achievements loudly and constantly (whether anyone cares or not). If you happen to know one, they will probably be constantly trying to indoctrinate you. The leader of this sect is Guru Strava, who constantly monitors every member’s every move. He is assisted in this by his faithful deputy Endomondo. Park Runners do not count an achievement unless it has been observed and acknowledged by Strava. Hence their mantra of “Strava or it didn’t happen”. When attending the communal rite, the Park Runners will form a dense phalanx at the front known as the “Joggernaught” formation (this is to mow down any stray dog walkers and small children and clear the path or righteousness). When people see a Park Runner jog by they think, “Look at that fine athlete!”

The second, more liberal, sect tend to only worship at the communal weekend ritual. They are much less invested, and only really attend the rituals as pre-emptive penance for the massive fry up they are about to eat. Dressed in old tracksuit bottoms, ten year old trainers and faded band t-shirts, this sect are known as The Pork Runners. There is a degree of tension between the two sects. Mainly because the Park Runners will keep making zoom-zoom race car noises as they run past them. When people see a Pork Runner plod past they think, “Aww. Good for them.”

The third are the Silent Runners who worship without music or conversation. In order to remind them of their non-verbal vows, they wear the distinctive “running gag”. They undertake their rituals at night on a course that runs through the serial killer district for the increased heart rate and extra cario-burn. This sect are universally celibate. They are chaste everywhere.

The final group are an extreme cult called the Marathonians. They can be recognised by the papers they have pinned to their shirts which bear identifying numbers. They additionally worship the Ancient Greek warrior Pheidippides as a phophet of Peebee. Little did Pheidippides know, as he proclaimed “Nike!” and expired following his 26 mile dash, that two thousand five hundred and ten years later a multitude of devotees would be re-enacting his heroic act dressed as a bananas.

All these denominations are united under the benign guidance of the High Priest Miles Stone.

Unlike many religions, the faith of Peebee enthusiastically adopts modern technological developments. These have ranged from the latest hi-tech 18 tog goose down lined running shoes with genuine shark tooth spikes, to the Fitorinox Smart Watch (features stopwatch, MP3, GPS, pulse oximeter, en suite bathroom, cork screw and hoof pick). There is even a research wing of the church which are engaged in developing new running technology. Sadly, the team working on developing go-faster stripes that actually make you go faster have been going nowhere fast for years. (Yet somehow they continue receiving funding from Adidas.) There is also a, much more successful, software and social media development team. As a result of their work the church sends out constant support and encouragement to the faithful through a range of handy smart phone applications. They fully acknowledge that their followers sometimes need more than just the spiritual rewards. Even if it is just a virtual medal. In reality, the main benefit to health and fitness of using these gadgets is the added weight you will carry.

Worshippers of Peebee believe that if they can only master some kind of formula or routine for the perfectly healthy life, not only immortality but eternal youth are theoretically possible. It is just that no one has got it quite right yet. When an acolyte of Peebee dies the undertaker will ritually anoint the remains with Body Glide to ensure the funeral runs smoothly.

Whilst incredibly popular, and continuing to grow, the faith of Peebee is unlikely to ever achieve total domination. The priesthood often bemoan that if only running felt great whilst you’re doing it and terrible afterwards. Then it might be as popular as drinking and sex.

*There is a dark rumour that these are actually formulated from sugar, wallpaper paste and cold horse semen.

Thank you to Richard Jackson for suggesting Peebee, and to Rebecca Stothard, Dave Redford and David J E Fuhr for additional punnage.

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
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Idol Scribblings Volume One

A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occations from Idol Scribblings. Produced in 2019-2020.

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Thank you for reading. If you have enjoyed this deity, please feel free to share it with your friends. New deities are published weekly. You can get alerted to new deities via Facebook through the Idol Scribbling Page or on Twitter by following @IdolScribblings . Catch up on the Pantheon so far here.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Pyromess and Frisbee – Gods of Property Boundaries

December 15, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Some say that these two may be amongst the first of the gods. For as soon as there was more than one deity, then there must be a boundary between their dominions. It is said that where they drew the line, a mighty supernatural hedge of 100 meter high leylandeii sprang up. It remains there to this day throwing shade between the divine neighbours. They are also the gods of horizons and long running Australian soap operas. Maybe they could be the best of friends or even lovers in other circumstances, but they just can’t find any common ground.

Frisbee is a Goddess of Nature, and likes nothing better than to dry her washing and cavort au natural amongst the flowers in her garden. Just beyond the border Pyromess likes to use his garden to raise his sacred fire and choking smokes. His garden also houses a pet lion, kept purely to discourage Frisbee from popping over to get her celestial sphere back. In revenge, Frisbee purchased a large cock to wake him up in the mornings. In retaliation Pyromess kept racing pigeons (but gave it up when the pigeons kept winning). Then Frisbee started to refuse to trim her garden and developed a wildly overgrown bush which straggles onto Pyromess’s side. The climax of hostilities came when Frisbee stormed around complain about her underwear going missing from the washing line. She was so terrible in her ire that Pyromess almost pooped her pants. To be fair, Frisbee usually tries to discus things reasonably, Pyromess always tries to inflame the situation. They are both musical deities. Pyromess plays drums and Frisbee is a virtuoso on the bagpipes.

Temples of Pyromess and Frisbee are always built abutting one another, yet separated by a thin noise-transmitting wall. Inter-sects relationships between the clergies are permitted, but must be conducted through a single small hole in the party wall, made for this purpose. This ancient tradition is deeply revered, and before embarking on a conversation, one must first kiss the hole out of respect. As the divide between the temples is a Party Wall, it is furnished with a full PA, lights, a cocktail bar and a smoke machine. Sacred sounds are very important to both religions, and they often listen to each other’s music all night.

The Temple of Pyromess houses large, continually burning holy pyres on which green brambles, polystyrene packing and damp leaves are constantly piled. The Temple of Pyromess is always situated upwind of the Temple of Frisbee. Every Saturday morning his priests rehearse their chainsaw ensemble at 7am, which is worth seeing (if not hearing). In the Temple of Frisbee, the clergy all practice naturism at all times. Some Priests of Pyromess are angered by this, some are on the fence.

When visiting either temple it is customary to make an offering of a cup of sugar. If you attend their annual dual festival of “Hedgecutting”, you should bring an offering of Nescafe Gold Blend. This beverage is traditionally scarified to the deities on this day every year in the hopes that one day they will stop arguing and get it on. For the last two hours of the festival, the temples are subject to a ritual power cut with the same aim in mind. Perhaps it is best that they never procreate. They would probably spawn a hundred gobby offspring, with foul mouths and loud toys.

The ethos of both the faiths is to “Love thy enemy as much as thy neighbour, for they art probably the same person.”

Thank you to Dave Redford for suggesting Pyromess and Frisbee.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Haemorrhoid – God of Sitting Down Very Gently

November 24, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Haemorrhoid is a god of the nether world and of things you can’t kiss better. No one is sure what he stands for, but he stands none the less. He was cursed to never, ever sit down comfortably again by one of the winter goddesses for daring to sit on her cold stone throne. Haemorrhoid is said to have two sacred animals. One is a mythical giant lizard known as the Megasaurarse, and an obstreperous donkey who is a real pain in the ass.

If you attend a ritual, you will find that the standing areas of the temple fill up first. Arrive too late and you’ll find it’s sitting room only. When the priest in the Temple of Haemorrhoid says “Let us be seated” to the congregation, what follows is a drawn out ballet of gentle pliés to the accompaniment of a chorus of muted groans. This is despite the fact that every pew is generously cushioned. At the end of every service the congregation leap to their feet and give the priest a standing ovation. Up on the high altar a small bunch of sacred grapes rests on an inflatable donut-shaped cushion. In fact the decor of the entire temple has a “grapey” theme.

Haemorrhoid is worshipped by almost everyone at some point in their lives, with the exception of perfect arseholes. Giles is the most popular given name for Haemorrhoidian boys, and they often grow up to become farmers. Emma is the most popular girls name. Infants are inducted into the faith by being baptised in the “Chalfont”.

Astrology is very important to Haemorrhoidians. Their predictions and calendar are based around the movements of Uranus. It is considered to be the most significant of the planets to observe because Uranus is so large and gassy. They watch the skies especially carefully for the significant and rare phenomena when a mysterious red streak appears in the sky near the planet. This event is known as Uranus Bleeding. Their astrologers and seers have predicted that the world will eventually end with a giant assteroid impact.

You are advised never to provoke a priest or priestess of Haemorrhoid. The constant standing, itching and general discomfort turns them into very short tempered bad asses. They have been known to fly into states of red misted fury known as a “Haemorrhoid Rage”.

You may be surprised to learn that the priestesses of Haemorrhoid run a chain of “Gentleman’s Clubs”, the proceeds of which support their church. Here, for a generous tip, they will perform an unusual form of erotic entertainment known as the Pro Laps Dance.

Worshippers of Haemorrhoid gather annually at the summer solstice. On this occasion a specially brewed beer called a Pilesner is consumed. At the climax of the ceremony the priests stand together to watch the sun rise and greet the red eye of the dawn with the cry “Arise Oh Anusol!”

Thank you to Janet Hudson for suggesting Haemorrhoid.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Houmous – God of Dips

November 3, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Houmous is the deity to get your party started on a Saturday night. As you enter his temple you will see niches to either side of the door holding bowls of Tzatziki. Use some of this to make the sign of the Benevolent Breadstick on your forehead as you cross the threshold.

In the Temple grounds a plethora of sesame, chick peas and garlic are lovingly grown. Just beyond the grounds is the ranch where the sacred herd of yoghurt cows roam and graze a lush paddock. The temple itself is made of cut crystal, and is divided into sections to house different flavours of the faith.

Inside the beat is always dropping and the lights are always low. Worshippers may be reclining on chaise, performing ritual dances or be engaged in deep theological discussion about the nacho versus the crisp. All the while the neophytes circle the room bearing laden platters of nibbles and bowls of delicious sauces.

Whispers speak of secret orgiastic rites, held in the inner sanctum, where the participants paint their naked bodies with taramasalata and engage in wild salsa dancing.

The 5 Commandments of Houmous are;
1. Thou shall not double dip.
2. Thou shall not dip meat products when there are vegetarians at the party.
3. Thou shall not buy long life dips in jars unless thou art already really drunk or thy fridge be broken.
4. Thou shall wash thy hands.
5. Thou shall use a cover during fly season.

Worshippers of Houmous believe that if they live a life of virtue according to these commandments, when they die they will go to an eternal paradise known as “The Thousand Islands”. If you transgress the commandments you will be damned to eternity in a dismal underworld where the only things to eat are low fat plain yoghurt and celery. The high priest of Houmous is called the Baba Ghanoush.

Houmous is known amongst his pantheon as a particularly foul mouthed deity. He is always coming out with loads of crudités. He is accompanied everywhere by “The Cheesehog”, a terrifying minor deity of children’s birthday parties.

Thank you to Ken Page for suggesting Houmous.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Afrodite – Goddess of Fabulous Hair

October 13, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Afrodite is a goddess who knows how to work what her mother gave her. Legend has it that she stepped naked from a sea shell (Although when I tried this I was asked not to come back to the Sealife Centre. Double bloody standards if you ask me).

Afrodite has several different sects that worship her. The Pantenes, The Tresemmes, The Wellas, The Herbalessences and the oldest sect, The Vosenes (who consider themselves head and shoulders above the rest). Regardless of their affiliation, the priests and priestesses wear distinctive long black nylon robes, tied at the neck, which completely cover their other garments. This is topped off with a towel draped around the neck and secured with a plastic hair clip.

You may know her most popular hymn:

She is D divine
She is I incredible
She is S straightening
She is C curling
She is O oh, oh, oh

Key to the observances of all the different sects are the hours spent in meticulous ritual grooming. It is believed that a meditative state of a higher altered consciousness is achieved in the hairdresser’s chair. At her temples one can purchase meditation CDs of hairstylist conversation. Such as the classic “Have you had your holiday yet this year?” or “What did you think of last week’s Strictly?” to help you achieve this state of nirvana.

At the initiation ceremony into the faith Afrodite, the postulate will be anointed with warm sacred oil, and wrapped in a heated towel for fifteen minutes before being leaned backwards and ritually lathered and rinsed in the font (the last two steps will be repeated as needed). Then a priest or priestess will hold a mirror up behind them to scare away any demons they may be facing. At this juncture the neophyte will speak the words, “Great, cheers, thanks. What do I owe you?”.

Followers of Afrodite believe that when they curl up and dye they will climb the hair-way to heaven, provided they have been pious. The unkempt and unvirtuous will be condemned to Hairdes where they will be forced to forever style their Barnet with hair styx.

Afrodite’s sacred text is called “The Little Book of Clam”.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Dicenysis – God of Board Games

September 8, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Dicenysis is the God of Board Games and a psychopomp. You may think that the phrase “dicing with death” is just a saying.

It isn’t.

Until 1957 Dicenysis was just a standard skeletal psychopomp, helping shuffle hapless souls to the underworld. Everything changed with the release of the classic film “The Seventh Seal”. Suddenly everyone wanted to gamble on a game for another chance at life. In a very short time Dicenysis became familiar with, and supremely skilled at, all known table top games from around the world. The world of gaming became his Dominion. Well, we can’t have the mortals getting away with that kind of thing.

Worshippers believe that, upon death, Dicenysis appears to us all. If you are not a worshipper of Dicenysis, you have to challenge him to a board game for your life. Therefore, Dicenysis gets to choose the game. He is said to favour an unusual form of Kerplunk! where he will impale himself through the rib cage with a bundle of skewers and then drink several of gallons of marbles. When in a mischievous mood, he will challenge you to a round of Twister (being able to disassemble and rearticulate your own bones as required is a bit of an unfair advantage). If you lived a particularly amoral life, he will make you play an extremely gory version of Operation where you are the playing board (if your nose lights up, it’s all over). If you lose, no matter how often you say sorry, Dicenysis will give you a ticket to ride to the afterlife.

If you are a devout and devoted follower, Dicenysis will extend the honour of challenging you to a game. This gives you the advantage of choosing the board of battle. This doesn’t really help most people, but it’s nice to get to choose your last game. (It is a bit of a risk to go for a strategic game though.) There are a few of the holy mystics of Dicenysis who appear to be incredibly ancient. The way they achieve this longevity is a closely guarded secret, but I will reveal it to you now. When you are almost dead, and Dicenysis appears to you and offers you the challenge of a game, the game you should choose is Mousetrap. As this game is infuriatingly, engagingly impossible to complete, Dicenysis will get fed up, give up and allow you safe passage back to the corporeal realm. Actually. That is all lies. The game that Dicenysis is really playing is “The Game”, and you just lost it.

Despite accepting that they will ultimately be defeated, worshippers of Dicenysis will spend their entire lives honing their board gaming skills. They see life as a journey of spiritual preparation and practice for the “One Great Game” that they will play when their mortal thread is about to be severed. To this end, they will gather to perform the ritual of playing together, often late into the night.

A rite commences with the ritualistic laying out of the board upon the altar and “the gathering of the snacks”. The cards and pieces are ceremonially checked to be all present and correct. Each ritual is usually officiated by 2-6 Priests (Ages 8-80). At the climax of the rite, some sheep will be burned on a ritual pyre in sacrifice to Dicenysis. At the end of the rite the game board and the altar are ceremonially flipped over. The pieces are scattered everywhere, and the priests scrabble to pick them up. The temple’s sacrifice stores are always kept well stocked these days. No one wants a repeat of the incident when they ran out of fuel for the pyre. This left a massively embarrassed Priest running around, asking all the congregation whether they had wood for his sheep. Another time they couldn’t get any sheep and ended up trying to stick cotton wool on some porkers. This attempt to pass the pigs off did not succeed.

Dicenysis’ faith is a popular one. There are temples all over the world and the largest of them is located in Carcassonne. The roofs of Dicenysis’ temples are all tiled with letters. Sadly, like the lead flashing on the roofs of other religious buildings, these letter tiles are prone to theft. Z and Q are stolen the most often. Another notable feature of Dicenysis’ temples are their doorbells. They are comprised of a clear Perspex dome containing a pair of dice. When you press the doorbell, it makes a satisfying click, and the dice dance with. If you want do look inside or attend a rite, you must roll a six to enter. Inside, Temples of Dicenysis are pleasant and welcoming places, furnished with large tables and comfortable chairs. The walls will be lined with an impressive library of board games. The priesthood will be in attendance to counsel you and help you negotiate the rules of this game of life. The way of Dicenysis is said to be excellent for teaching conflict resolution and fair play. For example, when two Dicenysians bump into one another trying to get through the same doorway, they will throw a dice to see who gets to go first. However, sadly, they are not very tolerant of other religions. The priesthood of Dicenysis like to have the monopoly. The current leader of the faith is High Priestess Kathryn Anne (known as Kat). She was not the first choice when the previous incumbent left the post, but they settled for her.

The faith of Dicenysis contains small parts and is not suitable for children under 3.

Thank you to Clare Starkie and Rebecca Stothard for suggesting a deity of board games, and to Clare Starkie for coming up with the name Dicenysis.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Gardenia – Goddess of Lady Gardeners

September 1, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Gardenia is a goddess for the dawning of the age of Asparagus. She’s a deity you can really dig. Her delicate, shapely avatar disguises a Titanium alloy spine with a hinge in it. Her a-maize-ing beauty is renowned. It is said that she walks naked through gardens in the quiet beauty of the night. In the morning you will know you have been blessed with a visitation as you apples will have blushed red and your courgettes will have transformed into marrows. She flies through the skies on her steed “The Snap Dragon”.

Gardenia’s enemies are the Gnome of Loam (who went insane in the Plantain) who rides the Dandy Lion (who’s roots run deep into prehistory). They are said to be trying to bring the winds and frosts that burn the blossoms, and flowers that never bloom are believed to be a very bud omen.

The Temple of Gardenia is home to many wonders. The temple itself is an 8×12 summer-house and is surrounded by a picturesque and well tended lady garden with an immaculately topiaried bush. The garden is always lush, well watered by the perspiration of the acolytes. If you visit be sure to marvel at the lawn which yields exactly one grass box of cuttings at each mowing and the shed which always has the tool you need at the front. The visit is traditionally concluded by visiting their “Museum of Hoes” and casting ones seed upon the ground in offering. The Sisters often invite visitors to assist in the care of the gardens. So don’t be surprised if you get invited to do a little forking. Do not be tempted to steal from or desecrate the temple, all the flowers have pistols.

In one corner of the temple grounds, a plot is reserved where they are intending to inter the remains of Boris Johnson when the time comes. The Sisterhood are hoping that if they plant him, they can grow their own dope.

The Temple is populated and run by the Sisters of Gardenia. They are distinguishable by their wearing of the traditional green tights or “Garden Hose”. There is a scholarly element to membership of the Sisters of Gardenia. The priestesses will typically study STEM subjects.

The Sisters work to try and ensure every visitor to the temple finds a little inner peas. If you are pensive, one of the Sisters of Gardenia will offer you a peony for your thoughts. They believe gardening to be a panacea for all kinds of mental distress. For example, an often recommended remedy for self-pity is to grow a pear. Many a lost soul has blossomed in their care. The Sisters also employ music in their healing rituals are often known to turnip the beet. The most popular hymn is “Don’t Stop Be-Leafing”. A small libation of wine is offered to the Goddess at each healing ritual, this is always a fine rosé.

The High Preistess of Gardenia takes a managerial role. This, essentially, means the kind of gardening that involves sitting in a deckchair, wearing a big straw hat, drinking Pims and telling someone else where to dig. The current incumbent is a lady from the West Midlands called “Orchid”. The correct way to formally address her is “Yo Orchid!”. She is known for being a reckless driver and has often been known to put the petal to the metal on her way to the garden centre and floret home again.

Thank you to Teresa Lee for suggesting Gardenia. Hello Mum!

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Termes – God of Back to School

August 17, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Termes is a children’s deity. He watches over all youngsters during their years in full time education. Termes came into being in 387 BCE, the year of the founding of Plato’s Academy.

Temples of Termes are either leaking old complexes of buildings, haphazardly expanded over the years, or befuddling shiny new monoliths of baffling progressive architecture. Which also leak. Uniformly displayed in every temple are dozen pictures known as “The 12 Stages of the Education”. If you tour the temple and view them in order, in each one, Termes is depicted as a year older than in the previous. The first scene always depicts Termes in short trousers. At stage 7 there is a sudden, complete change of costume, and in the final scene he is show waving two fingers at his shite-hole home town as he heads off to university. The innermost sanctuary of the temple is forbidden to all but the priesthood. This mysterious realm is known as “The Staff Room”. No one knows what happens in here, but those who have passed the door have reported hearing quiet sobbing from inside. When choosing a new High Priest or Priestess they will select the one with their faculty still intact.

In the religion of Termes, it is the congregation which have to wear ceremonial vestments, not their parents or the priesthood. The uniform of each temple is slightly different, and only available from a few select retailers at conveniently extortionate prices. All clothing comes in one size, known as size “you’ll grow into it”. Any member of the congregation found to not be wearing their uniform correctly at the temple will be immediately sent home with a note.

Termes’ sacred day occurs on the 1^st of September. It is known as the “First Day of Termes”. This festival is loathed by all Termian children and priests, but loved and longed for by Termian parents. Let me describe a Termian child’s typical “First Day of Termes” for you.

The preparation for this special day usually begins in July when supplies for the celebration start to be stocked in the shops. A fraught and hectic family shopping trip will take place to purchase all the necessary accoutrements and vestments. Traditionally, mothers will take their children on this annual venture. However, from time to time, brave fathers have stepped into the breech. According to the folklore of Termes this yields mixed results. There is a famous myth told of a male guardian who took his young charge back to school shopping. Sure, he got the books and the clothes okay, but he also forgot to get their broken glasses fixed and brought the child an owl. (In modern times this attitude is considered by many Termians to be old fashioned and sexist and parents will undertake the duties equally). Children will also usually receive their annual shearing at this time in readiness for the festival.

The night before (known by Termians as “The Longest Night”) is a flurry of activity to try and ensure excellent organisation, followed by eight dark hours of restlessness. By strict tradition, parents will yell at their children exactly one hundred times to “Pack their bag”. Also by strict tradition, their children don’t. At dawn on the big day the children are roused early, scrubbed to within an inch of their life, forced into their new vestments and lined up in front of the fire place to be ritually shot for Instagram. Thus their tender dignity is sacrificed to Termes. Once the moment has been captured, the children are allowed to break their fast. They weren’t allowed to eat before “in case they got something on it”.

Next the children will leave the house to go to the temple in a ceremonial rush. In ancient times they made this journey on foot. Nowadays these processional routes* are jammed solid with honking Land Rovers and Audis. This change has come about because over time all schools have been re located up mountains. It is a modern tradition for the children to fling the doors of these vehicles open without looking, for the parents to leave the engine running and for the vehicle to be left parked diagonally on the yellow zig-zags whilst someone has a chat. As the children enter the compound, the temple bells will ring shrilly to mark the start of the new year.

At the temple, the children will gather in the hall to hear a short address of welcome from the Head Priest. This will also contain messages of inspiration and dire warning for the year ahead. Following this, worshippers engage in the traditional activities of colouring in time tables, catching up with friends, covering books in wrapping paper and getting lost. Then they will write an essay of meditative reflection known as the “What I Did On My Holidays”. Sometimes the priesthood may hold a little pop quiz, which really bursts everyone’s bubble. Older children will be introduced to a variety of new subjects to study. Every style conscious Termian child hopes to have Geography on the First Day of Termes, because Geography is where it’s at.

The day ends at around 3pm, when the weary youngsters will wend their way home. When their parents enquire how their day went, the answer will always be “Ugh, alright”. When asked what they did, the answer is always, “Nuffin”.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

*Note for Classicists: The route to a Temple of Termes is marked by distinctive statues known as Terma (or Terms). Terma consist of a vertical stone cuboid plinth topped with a sculpted head of the god. The front of the plinth is decorated with a carving of an Oxford Maths Set 15cm perspex ruler and a couple of protractors. It is considered pious and good luck to touch the carving of the ruler as you pass. They say if you have pleased the god it will turn into a 30cm ruler.

Eureka – Goddess of Inspiration

July 13, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Just because she spends all her time in an overflowing bath and has a bubbly personality, do not make the mistake of assuming that she’s a flake!

Where are our minds most open to ideas and original thoughts? Where do we most often find the answers to life’s problems? Where are our ears opened to their widest to the background whispering of the universe? Why! In the bath of course. Eureka is the patron of artists, writers and philosophers as well as those who need a good scrub up.

“Heureka” was originally a human female who lived deep in the mists of pre-history. She had a penchant for bathing in natural hot springs to ease the aches of her body. However, the nearest natural hot springs were a full day’s travel from her settlement. During one visit, whilst sat in the soothing sulphurous waters, she thought “I wonder if I could build something like this at home?” This was the first ablution based inspiration to occur to any of humankind. On her return she set to work, and a hut, a hypocaust and a hydrotherapy pool later she had created the first bath. The popularity was immediate, and her tribe began to worship her after her death in gratitude.

Although, in later antiquity, she was not considered a major deity, we can still find historical examples of famous historical figures praising her name when they have a great idea. The most famous example of this is perhaps Archimedes. Whom, without her divine inspiration, would have been screwed. In fact, she was so synonymous with serendipity that her name actually came to mean “I found it!” in Ancient Greek. Sadly, Archimedes had a habit of dropping his aitches, and so she was constantly mispronounced thereafter. Gradually “Eureka” became the accepted modern form of her name.

Eureka’s sacred animal is the Rubber Duck. On being confirmed into the faith, each neophyte will receive their own Rubber Duck. This duck will be their cherished lifetime meditation companion. Whilst they contemplate the cosmos from their steaming bath, they will discuss the ideas that come to them with their Rubber Duck. The arch enemies of Eureka, Clogg (a shapeless, hairy demon who lurks in the plug hole and is summoned by the washing of long hair and the spring shaving of legs) and Scum (son of Sodium and Lauryl Sulphate), try to give bathers bad ideas. Talking things through with the Rubber Duck acts as a kind of “bad ideas filter” and is known as Rubber Ducking.

Eureka’s temples are steam filled stews containing a complex of pools of warm, scented water. The baths are lined with the rare metallic alloy Umahia. This is made by mixing Umium (Um), the element of contemplation with Ahthatsitium (Ah) the element of inspiration. This is said to sanctify the waters they contain and give them the power to stimulate the mind. The temple constantly rings with voices of varying quality raised in songs of praise. Singing in the bath is actively encouraged. As is consuming wine, chocolate, and eating fibrous foods in order to create one’s own hot tub effect. One can tell the seniority and holiness of her followers by how wrinkly they are. Each temple keeps a large flock of fluffy owls from Yorkshire which waft their wings to dispel drops of water from the faithful when they arise from their bath. When you are wet t’owls will get you dry.

If you attend a service of prayer at the temple, be ready to join in with the traditional congregational chorus of “Yes it does, doesn’t it.” When the High Priestess says “Where’s the soap”. At the conclusion of the rite the High Priestess will bless each member of the congregation in turn with a little tap on the head.

The sacred texts of Eureka are a bibliophile’s nightmare. They are all wrinkly and have broken spines because they always being perused in the bath.

Once monotheistic religions began to take over, there were efforts by the Christian church to discredit Eureka by branding her the Floozy in the Jacuzzi, the Slag in the Spa, the Bint in the Bath and the Tart in the Tub. This had the effect of eventually sending the whole religion down the drain, and for centauries mankind went unwashed and uninspired. Many temples were looted, with the thieves making a clean get away. Fortunately Eureka has gained a resurgence in more enlightened and sanitary modern times.

The largest and principle surviving Temple of Eureka is (perhaps unsurprisingly) in Bath in the United Kingdom. This temple houses a shop where one can purchase a plethora of sanctified bath products, heavily scented with aromas said to open the mind. Even if you have never visited the temple, you have probably smelt it. The waft of patchouli is said to be detectable from the Chippenham Services on the M4. The name of this emporium is “Gert Lush”. Here, one can even purchase water from High Priestess Delphine’s private bath. This is considered so holy that devotees will actually pay thirty quid a pop for a small bottle of the stuff.

Thank you to Kieron Philips for suggesting Eureka.

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.

Pathos – God of Internet Hugs

June 1, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Pathos is the God of remote love and good wishes sent when the going gets tough. He is the God of cute animal gifs, motivational quotes across photos of the sea and that cat that is “hanging in there baby”. The walls of the temple of Pathos are decorated with inspirational words superimposed on atmospheric images. The building of Pathos’ temples are funded entirely through online emotional blackmail campaigns. Pathos’ power is strengthened by his celestial familiar “Likeus”, who takes the form of an insatiable wolf.

Priests of Pathos are skilled cryptographers. They create elaborate, abstruse coded messages designed to generate masses of attention and sympathy. Some of the greatest examples (which have been recorded in Pathos’ sacred text “The Book of Faces) include;

“Can’t trust no one can you,”
“That’s it! Had enough!”
“At the hospital,”
“Sick of fake friends. It’s just me and the kids from now on,”
and the brief but poignant,
“FML”

Sadly, the “Book of Faces” can be hard to read for a neophyte, as the fluid approach to spelling and grammar can make things a little hard to follow. When they are not engaged in ciphering or leading worship, the Priests of Pathos generally like to go fishing. This provides both recreation and emotional sustenance. Whenever a catastrophe occurs somewhere in the world they will leave their recreation and leap to their keyboards to send thoughts and prayers.

Once a year a great festival of Pathos is held where epic theatrical productions are staged. The great writers compete to stage the best tragedy play. The performers comprise a few principal actors, who will deliver lines loaded with mysterious snippets of information from behind masks with frozen expressions. Behind them stands a chorus who beg for detail from the background. The plays are judged by a committee chosen by lot from the audience. The winning playwright is awarded a ceremonial stirring spoon carved from ivy wood. Perhaps the most famous playwright to honour Pathos with his work was S’upocles, best known for his play “Antagonize”.

(Most people won’t read this entry. However,
if you share the word of Pathos, I’ll know who really reads my blog. Please post an eggplant emoji as your status for the next hour to raise awareness of Pathos. When I see who does this I’ll know who really cares.)

P.S. You okay Hun? PM me.

Thank you to Sarah Shepton for suggesting Pathos. (Sarah, please note that the above does not apply to the pictures of cute otters I occasionally send you. Pictures of cute otters have been shown to be therapeutically effective in peer reviewed double blind studies and therefore are totes’ legit’.)

If you have a suggestion for a deity, you can suggest it by clicking this link. Alternatively, get in touch over on Facebook or Twitter. All due credit will be given.