Karenken – Blond Bobbed Abyssal Beast

November 30, 2020November 30, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

The Karenken – A Blond Bobbed Abyssal Beast.
© H. Hudson-Lee 2020

The Karenken is a hyper-privileged abyssal beast that wants to speak to everyone’s manager. It takes the form of a tangle of seething, entitled tentacles, lurking in the depths of ocean trenches. The Karenken can be distinguished from other marine behemoths by its celebrated asymmetrical blond coiffure (a style known to the French as the “bob a feté”) and the flushed pink hue of its skin. If this wasn’t recognisable enough, you can be in no doubt that you are in the presence of the Karenken once you hear its distinctive call. This sounds a lot like, “DOYOUKNOWWHOIAM!” It is not clear exactly how much sway the Karenken has over hearts and minds of mankind, but they certainly consider themselves to be an influencer.

The cult of Karenken is an extremely dark religion, known to regularly practice human sacrifice. They find a ready supply of victims by regularly advertising minimum wage retail jobs. When a rite to appease the Karenken takes place, the unfortunate victim is taken out to sea on a temple ship, where they will first cast some material offerings into the waves to try and appease the Karenken. The Karenken will then erupt from beneath the spume with boiling ire, expressing violent displeasure about the quality of the material offerings, how long they took to be delivered and the general attitude of the assembled priests. At this point, the High Priest or “Manager” comes forward and performs the sacrifice by firing the victim. Very, very literally. The Karenken then retreats beneath the brine, sated for now. This ritual is known as “The Customer Service”. Students of comparative religion have concluded that this just goes to prove that what the Karenken truly feeds on is drama, attention, and the souls of junior workers who just want to earn enough to eat today. (The victim is not always doomed, very occasionally one manages to escape by hiding in the toilets and crying.)

The acolytes of the Karenken have a wider holy mission, making sure the online presence of the Karenken can always be felt via the ethernet. Much of their time online is spent writing scathing reviews and comments about innocent businesses. Preferably companies small enough that they wont have the spare capital to sue for libel and defamation. The church have a helpful website to teach neophytes how to take down a social media manager in one easy comment, known as “Rip Advisor”. Using the religious guidance on this website enables a new member of the religion to learn how to make people in ecommerce yell and yelp in a few easy steps. When not incinerating “menial employees” or leaving negative feedback, worshippers of Karenken have a tendency to support dubious political movements. A recent example being their backing of the insidious “Make Atlantis Great Again” campaign. To fund the upkeep of their temples and their works, worshippers of Karenken hold an annual amateur variety show called “The One Star Revue”. This may be the only known theatrical event where all the critics are on the stage.

Throughout history, followers of other deities have been known to attempt to summon and channel the power of the Karenken to do their bidding. Most recently, the priests of Tantrump who sought to harness the power to overturn an election result. This course of action is very unwise, as the Karenken only ever serves the Karenken. What they think will be an awesome force of nature on their side always turns out to be a damp squid.

If you encounter the Karenken, it is possible to banish it. Just tell it you ARE the manager, and repeatedly chant the ancient protective mantra, “Fou Kovf.”

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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.

Soz – Goddess of Insincere Apologies

November 22, 2020November 22, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Soz, the goddess of insincere apologies, is an ancient Phoneycian deity. Within this pantheon she is the spoiled smiling golden child of the chief of the gods. However, the demigods, nymphs and other entities lower down the celestial pecking order know her as a source of daily dread and degradation. Phoneycian mythology is full of tales such as Soz tying the laces of the winged sandals of the messenger of the gods together and throwing them over a wire suspended between two mountain peaks. Another story tells of how she cursed the arm and hand of a hapless dryad so that the poor tree spirit would spend eternity hitting herself (which is a lot worse when you’re mostly made of wood). When Civilis (a servant of the gods) brought a nice bright red briefcase to school one day, she stole it from him and beat him up with the catch end. Perhaps the darkest tale is of when some new deities arrived in the pantheon, borne to Phoneycia in the minds of migrants. She welcomed those who came with a battalion of affluent followers, but she tried to have the rest shipped off to a remote barren island. It is because of these spiteful acts that the other deities sometimes describe Soz as a “FOB-SOC” (Face off Baywatch, soul off Crimewatch).

Every myth of Soz ends in the same way. The chief of the Phoneycian gods is forced to acknowledge that Soz’s behaviour has been unfitting for one in such an exalted position, and he forces Soz to make an apology. Soz always responds to this by making a statement which, on the surface sounds like a redress, but fact has all the genuine contrition of a dog which has just successfully stolen your steak dinner. This pattern has lead to many later academics describing Soz as a “Brazen Idol”.

The one common quality that the members of Soz’s sect share is an utter rejection of any ultimate personal responsibility. From board room bullies, through micro dictator middle managers, to the playground pugilists who prefer a puny opponent. Politicians also seem to be remarkably well represented. Especially those who have had to make the “statement of shame” to a mob of baying press outside their house. Whilst their cuckolded family stand by their side, nominally as a show of support, but in reality as a kind of human shield. If you decide to join the cult of Soz, you must learn to speak in very particular fashion. Henceforth you must never apologise directly for any action. You are no longer “wrong”, you are only ever, “working with inaccurate information”. Bonus points are scored if you can somehow phrase things so that it sounds vaguely like the other person is to blame. For example, “I’m sorry I yelled at you and called you useless scum,” would be substituted for, “I’m sorry you’re upset”. Once you have mastered the lingo, you can now be baptised into the religion. Uniquely, this baptism ceremony involves you pushing someone else’s head into the font and flushing.

Inside every Sozian temple is a strange ritual artifact known as the “Pritster”. When Sozians gather for worship, they form a square around the Pritster. This is followed by a collection for the temple upkeep, where the priesthood go around their flock and steal their lunch money with menaces. Now, lead by their high preristess Miss Guided, the congregation adopt a sanctimonious countenance, cross their fingers, and recite,
“I am sorry that my behaviour in the past has upset people. It has never been my intention to cause upset to anyone; I acknowledge that I am direct and have at times got frustrated”. The high priestess will conclude the ritual by responding with, “I now consider the matter closed”.

The sacred animal of Soz is an inconsolably weeping crocodile. The sacred texts of Soz are all inscribed on sugared rice paper to ensure that they are palatable.

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.

Tantrump – God of Sore Losers

November 7, 2020November 9, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ 1 Comment

Tantrump is the god of people who petulantly wail, “That’s not fair! I want a do-over!” whenever they don’t win. He is a deity of denial that Ancient Egypt wants nothing to do with. Tantrump was born the son of the Juan Perscent, God of Obscene Wealth, and Privilegina the Goddess of Entitlement. Despite his august parentage, after the age of 13 Tantrump was raised by schools. That is so much worse than being raised by wolves (at least wolves have been known to show affection). As an adult god he turned a strange shade of orange when he became the first painted idol to use creosote. It is thought that this came about because he wanted to emulate Croesus, but badly misread the name. Tantrump resides in a towering celestial Palace made entirely and tastelessly of gold. (If you think that sounds nice, stop for a moment to imagine how cold his toilet seat is.) It is situated in the centre of a large golf course, encircled by a huge wall. Who payed for the wall? Everyone paid for the wall… …to keep him in.

Tantrump’s priests and priestesses are all said to be descendants of the God, fathered on an unfortunate succession of mortal supermodels, known as the “Mama Lagos”. The high priest is always the eldest of the god’s children and is known by the title “Junior”. They don’t sing any hymns in this religion, because nothing rhymes with orange.

The festival of Tantrump officially begins on the 3rd of November with a vote to select a new chief of the Gods. The following four days are known as the Schrödinger’s President’s Days. When Tamtrump is in a metaphysical state of being both victorious and not victorious, and remains a quantum uncertainty until all the ballot boxes are opened. On the first two days Tantrump’s worshippers will claim success and celebrate before the race is fully run, whilst the rest of the world sits nervously wearing out their F5 key. On the third day, when things are no longer going their way, worshippers of Tantrump will start crying foul without any evidence of untoward shenanigans. On this day the priests will conduct a ritual to summon the asymmetrically blonde bobbed abyssal beast known as “The Karenken”. The Karenken, once summoned, demands to speak to the poll managers, the Supreme Court, and failing that screams into the void of social media. It can be recognised by its distinctive cry of “Stop the Count” and its vicious attacks on Usps the messenger of the gods.

Finally, on the fourth day, news of Tantrump’s defeat arrives. At first he refuses to accept the result, but not even Four Seasons Total Landscaping can fix this landslide. At the climax of the festival, Tantrump’s head explodes in an apoplexy of hubris and bile. This makes America gay again and the people of the wider world rejoice with them. Redefining the term a “Grand Old Party”. Together they see off the shell of the defeated deity with cheerful cries of “Bi den!” The last rite of the festival takes place two years later, when Nevada finally delivers its results. This delay is thought to be due to the “What happens in Vegas” effect. Officially the festival is meant to take place every four years, but right now everyone feels a bit like that would be a bit too soon to go through all this again.

Thank you to Gareth Wilden for suggesting Tantrump.

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
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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.

Ouboboross – God of Painting Joyfully

October 24, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

The divine demi-beast Ouboboross is worshipped as a symbol of the eternal endurance of art and the joy it brings to humanity. He did not intend to swallow his own tail. However, he decided that this had not been a mistake, just a happy little accident, and he stuck with it. (Although some jealous minor deities accused him of doing it to try and make his ars longa). He is a deity of enormous power. He has the ability to move trees, rivers and even mountains with the stroke of a pallet knife. He also has the power to magically transform human errors into beautiful flocks of birds or lazy waterfalls. Ouroboross is also famed for ability to miraculously cure insomnia. His low sultry voice is said to be capable of lulling a caffeinated two year old to a restful slumber.

Followers of Ouboboross believe that there is an artist hidden at the bottom of every single one of us, and that the secret to doing anything is believing that you can do it (although practice helps). They also believe that Ouboboross is a guiding hand in the evolution of the universe. According to them, it is he who ensures that each of the little things are individuals – all of them special in their own way. The underlying philosophy of the Ouroborossian way of life is to do something every day that will make you happy. For most this involves painting, because every day is a good day when you paint. However, some of them simply like to beat the brush. Upon death, Ouboborossians believe that their souls will released from their mortal shells to become as free as clouds and they will just lay around in the sky all day long.

The cult of Ouboboross may be the most loving, welcoming and inclusive of all religions. Accessible to all. Even the colour blind can join and learn to create majestic snow scenes. The flock are a happy bunch, they may paint an umber bridge, but they’ll never take umbridge. Because the sect brings together like-minded people, devotees often meet the love of their life through the church. The traditional Ouboborossian chat-up line goes, “Is that a squirrel in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?”

The temple of Ouboboross is built up in a happy little tree which stands alone. (There used to be crooked tree next to it, but they sent that one to Washington). When you arrive at the temple, it is customary to talk to the tree and make friends with it, (there is nothing wrong with having a tree as a friend). Once inside you will be able to marvel at the main gallery, which is hung with thousands of almighty paintings. Visitors to the tree temple are invited to go out on a limb, because that’s where the fruit is.

A ritual to honour Ouboboross always lasts for half an hour. Worshippers will congregate dressed in old shirts and clutching their brushes to paint along with one of Ouboboross’ 403 sacred video recordings. The service ends with the congregation chanting the prayer, “So from all of us here, happy painting and Ouboboross bless, my friend.” There are said to be other rites. Strange sensuous rites, held in the temple’s inner studio sanctuary. Acolyte armature artists will anoint themselves with linseed oil and make love to a sacred canvas. It is said to be a highly liberating experience, many of the faithful have found freedom on the canvas. If you get invited to observe one of these rituals, remember, there’s no pressure. Just relax and watch it happen.

If you have been converted to the way of Ouboboross, you can show your devotion by purchasing Ouboboross t-shirts, garments and gifts through my RedBubble Shop.

**For Ouboboross tailored for light garments and items, click here** https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/60718828

**For Ouboboross tailored for dark garments, click here** https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/60719336

Wella Didwarnya – Goddess of “I Told You So”

October 4, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Who could have foreseen that a Premier who wouldn’t wear a face mask during a global pandemic would wind up in hospital? If you did, then Wella Didwarnya is the deity for you!

Wella Didwarnya spontaneously came into existence within 15 minutes of the first human marriage. She grew in power as quickly as their first offspring grew into teenagers. She is also known as “The Lady of the Lake of Tears” and Icalledit. She walks the mortal world, watching for that potent combination of ignorance and hubris. When she finds it (and it never takes long), she can deliver devastating poetic justice faster than Karma can pull its socks on. Wella is always depicted with a slightly self-congratulatory countenance, described as a “resting smug face”. She is sometimes inaccurately described as “doe eyed”. In fact, what she has is hind sight.

Wella Didwarnya’s following is mainly comprised of historians, medical professionals, scientists, climate change activists, teachers, and exasperated parents. They are not prophets in the traditional “mystical vision” sense. They make their predictions using a combination of careful scrutiny of past events, experience, scientific method and analysis of firm data. This makes them 96.25% more accurate than your average oracle, and 99.9% less popular. Their predictions are almost never heeded due to Johnson’s Razor, which states that, “He who hates smart arses, is in the greatest need of smart arses.” One mystery of the universe her scholars have never been able to solve is why fascists call themselves the “Far Right” when they are so-far wrong.

When a follower of Wella has a particularly momentous prediction come true the whole congregation will celebrate with set of ceremonies known as, “The Gloating Rites”. These rituals commence all the worshippers retweeting the original prediction which proved to be correct, followed with the dancing of the “I Told You So” dance. The whole shebang concludes with the poignant “Minute’s Silence with an Old-Fashioned Look.”

The priestesses and priests of Wella Didwarnya work as dedicated archivists to maintain a library of literature and social media posts by notable people. Especially quotes from those folks who have a tendency to hold forth on subjects they have little knowledge of, (so mainly politicians and tabloid columnists). This prodigious resource is made accessible to all followers for quoting in #ThatAgedWell situations. They are led by a High Priestess who focuses on predictions with potentially global consequences, such as climate change. She is known by the title, “The Inconvenient Ruth”.

The worshippers of Wella Didwarnya don’t always get everything right. A recent effort to be more magnanimous in victory, which involved sending a freshly baked pie to every person they repudiated, was very badly received. One virtue of followers of Wella is that they do try to learn from their mistakes. They deduced that the problem was using Spheniscus humboldti penguins as a filling. After all. No one likes eating Humboldt Pie.

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.

Dom Estos – God of Leaving the Toilet Clean and Usable

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

Dom Estos is essentially the god of being considerate to those who have to follow you into the stalls of life. He is also known as “The Toilet Attendant of the Gods”. His mythology begins during the Aphedronomachy*. This unfortunate incident started when some bad meat was burned in sacrifice to the Gods. Poor Zeus was loose and Hera never felt queerer. Following this harrowing battle of the bowels, the King and Queen of the Gods decided that there should be a deity responsible for ensuring that the divine derrieres always had a clean throne to sit on.

Dom Estos, who had been a humble naiad of the water closet, was selected for promotion. Hephaestus dutifully forged two weapons to aid him in his duties. Unfortunately for the Olympians, who expected to avoid domestic labour, Dom Estos achieved his aim by ensuring every deity cleaned up after themselves. Any God or Goddess leaving havoc in their wake was threatened with “The Toilet Brush of the Gods”. Particularly stubborn celestial entities were chastised with the dreaded “Plunger of the Gods”.

Followers of Dom Estos are known for their pithy sayings which sum up their philosophies. These include, “Take nothing but your relief. Leave nothing but a warm seat”, “Stand close to thy faith, for thy sword be shorter than thou knowest,” and “To give thanks, scrub your Armitage Shanks”. They believe that, if they live a considerate and hygienic life, they will go to the blessed Elsan Fields in the afterlife.

Any privy, crapper, garderobe or dunny is automatically a sacred space of Dom Estos. However, there are also a few dedicated shrines around the world. In the UK this is located in a scented glade near Looe on the south coast. (Readers in the USA can find their nearest temple in Flushing Meadows, NY.) These shrines are functional yet beautiful buildings, entirely clad in porcelain tiles inside and out and decorated with bubbling fountains. The grounds are dotted with sunny yellow marigolds which wave gently in the breeze. (To be clear. The gloves, not the flowers.) These sanctuaries also usually have a café. Thankfully, housed in a separate building. However, they do not serve coke floaters, chocolate logs, Mississippi mudslides or anything with sprinkles.

Devout worshippers making a pilgrimage to a sanctuary of Dom Estos will, upon arrival, make a small offering, typically a urinal cake, a bar of sanctified scented soap, a triple ply quilted sacred scroll or a phial of blessed bleach. Then the worshipper is free to spend some time at the temple in quiet, solitary meditation, seated on an elegant porcelain throne. The visit concludes with a through ritual cleansing of both the throne and the hands, and the lighting of a sacred scented candle (or at very least, a match). Those who prefer to stand as they meditate, must also complete the rite of “The Lowering of the Seat”. (Failure to carry out this ritual will lead to the pilgrim being pursued by an angry, wet arsed priestess with a bruised coccyx.)

Priests of Dom Estos are well known for their community outreach work as toilet attendants. They primarily prevent gents from splashing their stream everywhere by lurking by the sinks and making all but the most desperate piss shy. There are also sacred music collectives dedicated to Dom Estos. Amongst the best know of these are the Bloo Man Group and the Cisterns of Mercy. The clergy are led by a High Priest who holds the title of the Pope Pourri. He is supported and advised by a Privy Council.

Whilst being primarily concerned with lavatorial facilities, Dom Estos also covers campsites, beauty spots and beaches. His arch nemesis is the demon Pooperscooper. Who, according to folklore, comes in the night to decorate the trees with bags full of dog shit. His divine consort is Princess Charmin, Goddess of Knitted Dollies with a Toilet Roll Under their Skirt. Hi sacred animal is the Toilet Duck. A mischievous creature known for attacking the unclean from behind. Such an ambush is to be feared. That fowl beast can really get under your rim.

*Lit. “Latrine War”

This deity was suggested by Kay Barnes. Thank you for a great idea and for your continued support for Idol Scribblings. Welcome to the Idol Scribblings Hive Mind!

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.

Matricula – Goddess of Exam Results

August 23, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Matricula is the Goddess of Exam Results, a youthful deity who personifies hard work and integrity. She watches over those people who face opening “that” envelope, the contents of which decides one’s future. The envelope that contains the culmination of months or even years of blood, sweat and tears. She always has a sympathetic ear for the prayers of students who have done their best, but is somewhat deaf to those who know, in their heart of hearts, that they could have tried harder. She can be a wrathful deity and has been known to vigorously smite ignorant people who say things like, “Of course, the exams are getting easier these days.”

Matricula is primarily worshipped by people in their late teens who are completing their further education. Other followers include the educators and parents who are supporting these young people through their coming of age. The youth element of the faith are known as the “Candidates”. The priesthood of Matricula is comprised of highly qualified adults and has several levels of seniority. At the entry level are the dutiful Invigilators who run the temples and maintain a revered hush within. Invigilators may be the lowest rung of the clergy, but they still have significant powers, such as the ability to wipe your calculator memory. Invigilators are supported and presided over by the Markers, Moderators and Examiners who maintain the sect’s rigorous standards. There is also a mystic group of prophetic priestesses, known as the Syllabi Sisterhood, who cryptically predict what may be on the test next year.

Temples of Matricula are known as “Centres”. They do not have names, instead they are identified by a five-digit Centre Number. Each Centre is approached by a narrow bridge which leads to the main entrance. On this bridge stands an elderly, bearded man in a long grey hooded robe. As each Candidate goes to pass over the bridge to the temple he bangs his staff upon the ground and declares, “If you have not studied, YOU SHALL NOT PASS!”
If you have done your revision, and are allowed inside, you will see rows upon rows of rigidly arranged desks and chairs. There will be exactly 1.25m from the centre of each chair to the centre of the next. They face the front of the room where you will see a large clock and an altar, behind which you must leave your coat, bag and mobile phone (turned off) for the duration of the service. The service will typically last between two and three hours. Don’t worry the presiding Invigilator Priest will give you ten minutes warning when the end of the service is approaching. Interestingly, services of the Church of Matricula are the only known religious ceremony in the world where you have to be accompanied if you need to go to the toilet. (It is considered the height of bad manners to ask your Invigilator for extra paper at this time.) Candidates will often bring a small offering of cough sweets or mints to the temple. These must be presented unwrapped and in a clear plastic bag.

The most famous annual ritual of Matricula is the late summer festival of “Results Week”. It begins at 8am on the second Thursday in August, when the eighteen year old Advanced Level worshippers will gather at their Centre, often with their parents, for the rite of “The Opening of the Envelopes”. It is traditional for the young worshippers to arrive for the ceremony bathed in nervous sweat, and to leave at the end bathed in tears. Either joyous or of bitter disappointment. Although, officially, students cannot open their envelope until 8am, there always seems to be at least one lucky worshipper who gets to jump the gun, just so that they can be filmed opening their envelope for the TV Breakfast News. The next six days are known as “The Clearing”. A time of either celebration or frantic worship of Matricula’s divine father Ucas, God of University Places.

Some erroneously believe that a U is the lowest grade you can possibly get in an exam. In fact, the lowest possible mark is when the exam moderation committee share your answer on their WhatsApp group for a laugh. The sacred writings of Marticula, first transcribed by the prophet Marcus Schemius, are always produced by hand in blue or black ink (attach extra pages if needed). Sadly, unlike other ancient documents, there is no quirky marginalia to be found hiding in the borders of these sacred texts. The margin is strictly for the examiner’s use only.

This strange year we are living through has caused serious disruption to the routines of Matriculans. For a short while it looked like the evil algorithm might spell disaster for the Candidates of the Covid year. Somehow OFQUAL seemed to have been hijacked by the Foundation for United Kingdom Qualifications (or FUKQ). Thankfully Matricula moved in her mysterious ways and appeared to the Secretary of State for Education in a dream to shout at him and call him an elitist whomperpizzle until he frantically u-turned (i.e. turned the Us into Es). The only good thing to come out of this situation was that, for a moment, we had a government that believed that all teachers gave 100%.

This deity is dedicated to all the UK students affected by this year’s exams upheaval. I truly hope everything works out for you to be able to follow the dreams you have been working towards. Special mention to my Godchild “B”, we are very proud of you.

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.

Androxylos – God of Cartoonists Who Need a Break

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

Androxylos is the son of the Stressica the goddess of anxious exhaustion. He was not gestated and born in the conventional way. Instead he rose phoenix-like from the ashes of her first burn out. He became the god of people who normally work very hard, but occasionally need and unscheduled, impromptu break for the sake of their sanity. He is the god of phoning it in, of chucking a sickie and of wagging it. Androxylos will help protect the secret of your stolen day. A nice tin of souvenir biscuits is traditionally brought back to place on his altar in order to thank the god for helping you get away with it.

In theory, the worshippers of Androxylos gather twice a year carry out their rites and rituals. In practice no one shows up at the temple on the appointed day, but according to their superiors and spouses they were there! The temple itself is made of sticks, to reflect the nature of this stick deity. It’s not the greatest architecture in the world, but it does. Similar to many other religions, it is forbidden to keep pigs in the temple of Androxylos. This is not, however, because they consider pigs to be unclean. It is merely a measure to prevent big bad wolf attacks. Priests of Androxylos do not wear any special robes or symbolic accoutrements. Instead they can be recognised bu the stick figure family decals on the back of their cars.

You may think this means that Androxylos is a God for the lazy or the slack. Nothing could be further from the truth! In fact he is a guardian of the mental health of the servery frazzled. However, if you play hookey in his name too often, Androxylos will move in mysterious ways to drop you in “it” with your boss, teacher or partner from a celestial height. Trust me. You don’t want to know what “it” is. Let’s just call “it” the remains of the food of the Gods.

Prayers to Androxylos should always be said in a dry, scratchy voice with occasional coughing between words. This is in order to help worshippers develop the correct telephone manner for calling in sick.

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.

Atmos – God of Steam Enthusiasts

June 21, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Atmos the God of Steam Enthusiasts can be recognised by his distinctive copper rimmed top hat which conceals a shiny dome beneath, and by the jets of steam gushing from each side of his head (these are the exhausts from his engine ears). Unlike the more wrathful deities, Atmos has a safety valve. When angered he is more likely to harmlessly blow off steam than to explode with vengeful rage. You will know if you have received a visitation from Atmos by the scent of coal dust and traces axle grease left behind. His consort, Forbearine the goddess of long-suffering spouses, always makes him sit on a sheet of old newspaper when he comes into their celestial house. Atmos’ sacred animal is a supernaturally fast flying Mallard.

One would be forgiven for mistakenly assuming that Atmos is a deity of the Industrial Revolution. In fact, he had a small sect of worshippers in 1^st Century Alexandria, who wore boiler togas and steel toe capped sandals. In his mythological tales he is the son of Aeolus and a heron. Modern historians believe this may be a misinterpretation of the philosopher Heron demonstrating the first Aeolipile engine. Actually, he’s Stephen’s son. Atmos is said to have two sons, Mamod and Hornby, who are minor gods of junior steam enthusiasts and railway modelers. (Hornby is an especially n-gauging young deity).

Atmos may have some of the most fanatical and dedicated worshippers around. If they are unable to practice their faith as much as they would like, they develop a serious medical condition known as “wet steams”. This disorder can be both prevented and cured by draining your cocks regularly. (Please remember to do this discretely, as draining your cocks may frighten small children and animals.) This can be an extremely costly faith to be a member of, especially if one embarks on a holy restoration quest. Being able to afford to get your boiler re-tubed seems like a distant pipe dream to many. Most members would prefer the sect of Atmos to be open and inclusive. Unfortunately, some fundamentalists tend to deride anyone they perceive as being insufficiently knowledgeable about engineering history. This effect is known as “The Great Train Snobbery”.

The most popular holy drink enjoyed by worshippers of Atmos is strong tea with sweetened condensed milk, brewed on the little ledge above the firebox door. This is sometimes fortified with juniper flavoured spirits, a tipple known as Gin Tea.

Generally speaking, Atmosians like their romantic relationships to be more than a brief encounter. When an Atmosian wedding takes place the bride and groom are coupled by joining hands, vacuum brake pipe, power cable, signal cable, and steam heating pipe. It is vital that both bride and groom belong to the same subsect of Atmos. For example, if one party is a Buckeye and the object of their affections is a Linkanpin it is very difficult to get hitched. If you attend an Atmosian wedding reception, I advise avoiding the punch at all costs. It often gets railroad spiked.

In order to become a Priest of Atmos, one must undergo a complex and gruelling initiation ritual of fire and water. First the neophyte is anointed with Hallett Oil and has their nipples thoroughly greased to prepare them. Then they are deluged with the holy water tower. Finally they must undergo the baptism of firing. For this they must fuel a large locomotive up a long, steep incline. (Not everyone survives this ordeal, weaker candidates have met a Lickey End this way). When they have successfully completed this ritual they are given a ceremonial coal dust tattoo to mark them as a priest of Atmos.

Most of the priesthood can be recognised by their distinctive blue boiler suits, but there are some specialised priests who dress differently for their roles. For example, the Station Master Priests wear incredibly thick soled shoes. (Unlike you and I, who might have “Left” and “Right” written on our shoes, on a Station Master Priest’s shoes it will say “Platform One” and “Platform Two”). There are female members of the priesthood, although they are usually fewer in number. They carry a wheel tapper’s hammer at all times to discourage misogynistic comments and behaviour. The sacred text of Atmos is “The British Railways Rules for Observance for Employees 1950”. Every priest keeps an oil stained copy tucked into the breast pocket of their boiler suit.

Atmos has a fleet of mobile temples. Each one comprises of a rake of specially designed Pullman coaches drawn by a handsome heritage locomotive. The worshippers will use these temple trains for religious day excursions. Each worshipper must bring an offering of a sack of high-quality steam coal, which is placed upon the locomotive’s sacred fire. During the tour, most religious offices will take place in the Observation Car. At each stop on the trip, the congregation will disembark to admire and photograph the locomotive. It is notoriously difficult to include yourself in any shots of these sacred trains as the lens of your camera will become fogged. However, if you are affected by selfie steam issues, you may be entitled to condensation. When not in use, these temple trains are housed one of the master “Round Temples”. Round Temples have a unique revolving high altar on a turntable at their centre. There will also be a delightful a miniature railway which runs around the temple grounds. This is for the welfare of the priesthood, who after a hard day working with trains, like to relax by playing with trains. Just outside the main temple building stands a white box-like outbuilding which houses the temple bell, this is also where distance signals from the universe are received. Should the temple bell ring once, it is the Great Atmos alerting you that a divine message is imminent. It is important to ring back once to let him know you’re listening. Religious tokens are also kept in and distributed from this box. You must hold a religious token in order to pray when under single line worshipping conditions. The Round Temples of Atmos were built by Navis (not the famous Irish and BAME labourers of the nineteenth century, those blue folk from Avatar).

This deity is dedicated to my chuffer-nutter Dad, Mike Lee, who will always be the OG Fat Controller to me. Happy Fathers Day with all my love.

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.

Twometer – Goddess of Social Distancing

June 7, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Until 2020 Twometer was a minor deity of car park height barriers and low bridges. Before the Covid-19 pandemic, only the people of Finland had considered her aspect as a deity of social distancing. You can read the full story of her origins in the book of “Hygenesis”.

Twometer is always depicted wearing a gargantuan crinoline gown with a four-meter diameter. The bold yellow and back colours of her dress serve as a warning not to get too close. That voluminous skirt is hemmed with 5000V electric fence ribbon. If this proves to be an insufficient deterrent, she also carries a six-foot barge pole with a spear tip that you do not want her to be able to touch you with. Anyone managing to evade electrocution and impalement then comes into range of her deadly hairdo. This incorporates elements of elaborate braiding and the medieval chain mace. This style of unique coiffure is known as the “Pompadon’t”

Worshippers of Twometer mainly worship at home, but very occasionally it is absolutely essential to go out to the temple. These temples have a strict occupancy limit. At busy times they enact a “one in – one out policy”. (There is priority praying for keyworkers between 8am and 9am daily.) One can see the patiently waiting faithful lined up outside, safely spaced apart by the handy guide makers painted on the pavement. Everyone politely abides by this system (even the temple cats). When it is their turn to enter the temple, each worshipper will ritually sanitise their hands as they pass through the vaulted vestibule. A priest will also check their temperature, that they are wearing the mandatory face mask correctly. Anyone heard to have that distinctive dry cough known as the “Fur Cough” will be asked to leave immediately and self isolate.

Once inside a temple of Twometer, one must move around the building in a set pattern, following the guide arrows on the floor. It is a dreadful sin to go the wrong way or try to hurry others ahead of you. An attempt to push past another worshipper will earn you a sharp rebuke along the lines of, “Your hurry to get to the sacramental wine section is not more important than everyone else’s health,” or the earthier, “Do you want to stay six feet away or be six feet under Pal?”

The seating area of the temple has rows of pews, positioned much as they would be in any church or temple. However, most of these seats are blocked from use by stern signs and yellow tape, to ensure no one can be so rude as to sit directly next to anyone else. Prominent signs displayed in the temple read, “Please leave room between you for her Holy Spirit”.

It’s not all prayer and solitary contemplation being a worshipper of Twometer. Computer gaming is an especially popular pastime. The favourite game of most Twometerians is the retro classic “Personal Space Invaders”. The temples usually have spacious grounds which are marked out with a “picnic grid”. Worshippers can use an available square to catch a little sun or dine alfresco whilst being assured of sufficient elbowroom. (This is provided, of course that they take their rubbish home with them. Litterbuggers will be excommunicated.) For those that like something a bit more active, Zorbing is one of the few permitted social sports. Music lovers are catered for too, Twometer has many popular hymns including, “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” and “From a Distance”. However, all music is performed solo, or by a series of musicians taking it in turn to sing via video-link*.

One of the rules of the faith of Twometer is the observance of family planning. No one is allowed a family unit of more than 6. If they exceed this, they will be forbidden to leave the house together. Children in Twometerian families are often home-schooled for at least a portion of their education, and the sect provides a handy list of recommended reading and forbidden texts. The Famous Five books are fine, Secret Seven books are considered unholy.

Incidentally, Twometer has a sister called “Yoo”. In the past (when Twometer wasn’t watching over bent roof racks and dented double-deckers) they occasionally operated together as Goddesses of Removals People and Predictable Slapstick Children’s Entertainers. Their double act “Twometer – Yoo” hope to be back to their old light-hearted shenanigans when all this is over.

* These “pass the brush” recording of popular songs are the only known example in the universe of a whole being less than the sum of its parts.

The Goddess of Social Distancing has been suggested by just about every member of the Hive Mind (in some form or other) over the last 8 weeks. So, this one is for all of you.

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.