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.

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
Coming out 30th November 2020

Even more deities for every eventuality with a foreword by Gary Brannan of the Technical Difficulties ( TechDiff.co.uk )
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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.

Gufferfish

May 31, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

“Pull my fin!”

(You don’t want to stand downstream of one as it deflates!)

The Gufferfish was suggested by @puggle18 of Twitter. You can contribute your idea for a single letter mutation beast here.

Thanks to RedBubble you can purchase a fantastic range of clothing and gifts with this artwork on HERE.

https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/49361783

Hughjanus – The “Do As I Say, Not As I Do” Demon

May 25, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ 1 Comment

Hughjanus is an evil entity who hovers on the shoulders of those in positions of power and whispers, “…but it’s okay if you do it. You’re special.” He is also said to ride forth across the land spreading disease and pestilence wherever he goes.

It is said by some that Hughjanus son of Werentme, the God of Denial. Werentme will not confirm the paternity, but Hughjanus was spotted staying at his celestial barn conversion the other week.

Hughjanus has two faces, mounted back to back. His head is constantly spinning around Exorcist-style, so that each visage can try to defend and excuse the behaviour of the other in turn. The first face appears bluff and jovial, luring you in, the reverse has a sinister countenance and is known as, “The Glower Behind the Throne.” Statues of Hughjanus usually only depict the head, as the rest of his body is all arse.

Hughjanus loathed by most, and is only worshipped by those whom he as managed to lure into his thrall. Once you are under the spell, it is harder to get out of his sect that is is to get out of the mafia. Hughjanus looks upon all his acolytes as expendable herd beasts, unless they are momentarily useful. He does not consider mortals to be capable of true emotion. Any problem of his is more urgent than your problem, and grief he feels is more profound than your suffering. He will not hesitate to demand the sacrifice of one or even hundreds of lives for his gain or convenience.

Thanks you to @Canocola of Twitter for helping to create and name Hughjanus.

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.

Amazonia – Goddess of Excessive Packaging

May 24, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Amazonia is the goddess of excessive and ridiculous packaging. She is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, sealed in a blister pack, swathed in bubble wrap, nestled in wotsits, and encased in a cardboard box. (Despite this outward appearance of robustness, like the rest of us, she’s still slightly broken inside.) Amazonia was not born or purposely created. Back in the dawn of time, a primordial proto-deity accidentally cut himself in an intimate area whilst trying to open a parcel of ambrosia with a sickle. His blood and seed was splattered across the polystyrene deluge that spilled forth. Amazonia rose spontaneously from this sea of packing peanuts and sailed to the shore in a clam-shell case.

Amazonia tried to take a consort, after she fell in love with the one eyed giant Polytheneus. Sadly, after eight hours of unsuccessfully trying to get one another’s kit off, they decided to wrap things up. Amazonia is now resigned to the fact that Nobody can get in her knickers. For company, Amazonia now goes everywhere with her sacred animal, a Marmoset monkey, better known as the Amazonian Primate. She also has a flock “Shipping Label Birds”, which she keeps in her celestial Avery.

Amazonia’s temples are constructed entirely from cardboard and resemble a child’s box fort gone mad. Either side of the entrance are two signs, one which says, “Fragile” and the other “Ԁ∩ ʎ∀M SIH⊥” The temples are always at least five sizes bigger than they need to be for their congregation. The cavernous voids of these sanctuaries ring with the voices of the priests performing the chants of their sacred “Wrap Music”. At one end of the otherwise empty space stands a small altar looking a bit lost and forlorn. Here, regular offerings are made to the goddess. The most popular, traditional, every-day offering is a shrink-wrapped orange. On special holy days more elaborate sacrifices are made, such as a gnat’s spaff of premium brand perfume in a 10lb lead crystal phial, or a memory stick in a steel shipping container. To raise funds for the upkeep of the temple (which requires major structural work after every shower of rain) the priesthood run a famously reliable courier service. You may have seen their adverts, “Lecter Logistics – We Always De-Liver!” The principle temple of Amazonia is located in the Lake District town of Kendal. The goddess is very popular here as the people of Kendal like to keep everything in mint condition.

The priesthood of Amazonia all wear robes constructed entirely from packaging materials and all have surprisingly long fingernails. The design of their garb varies greatly depending on which subsect the cleric belongs to. The more traditional and austere coteries wear cassocks made from brown paper and string. The more modern denominations opt for contemporary materials. Perhaps the most shocking are the controversial “Sisters of the Blister” with their semi rigid plastic vestments which are completely transparent! The high priestess wears an ancient sacred tie-wrap girdle, said to have once been worn by the goddess herself. Other mythic girdles have conferred invincibility on their wearers, in this case it is the girdle itself which is invincible. It has bent scissors, broken swords and even worn down angle grinders.

When a new initiate joins the sect of Amazonia, they undergo a special form of baptism. They will stand adjacent to the officiating priest, who will stab the little plastic straw violently into a juice box, liberally anointing the neophyte with Um Bongo. Following this ritual dousing, the neophyte will receive their own copy of Amazonia’s sacred text. This tome is sheathed in one hundred layers of interlaced sacred wrappings, sometimes known as “The Gordian Package”. The neophyte progresses to full acolyte level when they finally open it. There is a (possibly apocryphal) tale that Alexander the Great attempted to join the cult of Amazonia. Impatient to progress within the hierarchy of the faith, he immediately attacked his Gordian parcel with his legendary yellow sword “Stanley”, scoring a deep gouge into the codex inside. This caused great anger and upset amongst the senior priests, but in the end, no one was brave enough to tell Alexander that it didn’t count.

At the conclusion of their lives, worthy Amazonians are honoured by having their bodies subjected to an unusual form of mummification. The aim being that they will be safely delivered into the afterlife. After being carefully prepared and embalmed, the deceased is enshrouded in layer after layer of thin PVC film bandages and then heated with a hair dryer. The orders of service for Amazonian funerals are always printed on perforated card, allowing mourners to shed a tear across the dotted line.

Amazonia was suggested by Kieron Philips.

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.

Zippopotamus

May 17, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Similar to a hippopotamus, but lighter. © H.Hudson-Lee 2020

Zippopotamus was suggested by @SmithRamparts of Twitter. You can suggest your idea for a single letter mutation beast here.

Thanks to RedBubble you can purchase a fantastic range of clothing and gifts with this artwork HERE.

https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/48480131

Flying Fux

May 16, 2020May 17, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

This airborne mammal is seldom given.

The Flying Fux was suggested by @High_Command of Twitter. You can suggest your idea for a single letter mutation beast here.

Thanks to RedBu bble, now you CAN give a Flying Fux. They make great gifts! You can purchase a fantastic range of clothing and acessories with this artwork HERE.

https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/48455868

Bilkworm

May 15, 2020May 17, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

This non-native species is a stranger on our shores. Its distinctive mating call sounds like a clarinet. The Bilkworm never pays for fuel. (c) H. Hudson-Lee 2020

Bilkworm was suggested by @AHappyHiveling of Twitter. You can suggest your idea for a single letter mutation beast here.

Thanks to RedBubble you can purchase a fantastic range of clothing and gifts with this artwork HERE.

https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/48479738

Howzat – God of Cricket

May 10, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Howzat the god of cricket is the son of Tan – the god of leather and a dryad of the willow tree. He watches over all players and afficionados of the “Gentleperson’s Game”. Whether the athletes of great nations are clashing upon hallowed turf, or six children are playing in a concrete car park with a wicket drawn in chalk on the wall, Howzat will shine his blessings upon them and all will know true joy until bad light stops play (or their Mum calls them in for dinner). Many pantheons around the world have their own avatar of this God of Cricket. For example, in India, this same deity is known as Tendulkar. Howzat’s sacred animal, the Cricket Bat. A flying mammal that can echo locate a the ball using the sound made by rubbing the ridged pads on its legs together. Howzat is staked through mythology by his arch nemesis, the demonic “Golden Duck”.

A temple of Howzat is also known as a “Pavilion”. These vary greatly in grandeur, from tumble down tabernacles serving the needs of humble village elevens, to the elegant half-timbered palaces of long-established sides. Each Pavilion sits at the edge of their immaculately manicured temple grounds, overlooking the field of worship.

The cult of Howzat is known for its lengthy rites where two teams of eleven worshippers will perform the sacred bat and ball dance. These may last anything from a summer afternoon up to a full five days. Given the duration of services, it is not expected that the congregation will give their rapt attention to the proceedings for the entire time. It is perfectly acceptable to occasionally dip into a novel, or perhaps have a little nap under a newspaper. (This may be why the faith of Howzat is more popular than most of the other faiths of the world combined.) They are a very civilised sect, and regular breaks are taken for lunch and tea to ensure bodily comfort. During these respites, a feast of succulent cucumber sandwiches, fruity scones and fine teas is shared by the congregation. The bravest worshippers will eat the warm prawn cocktail sandwiches on offer in the hope that this will help them get the runs.

In addition to their main rites, before every visit to the lavatory Howzatians will say a short prayer called the W.C. Grace. This prayer varies but is always along the lines of, “Oh Howzat, please may I get my gloves, pads, trousers and box off before my bladder doth burst!”

Worshippers of Howzat aim to live for as long as possible, and a great celebration is made of anyone achieving a century. Once a follower of Howzat does pass beyond the boundary to the great commentary box in the sky, their remains will be cremated and interred in a surprisingly tiny urn. If you attend a traditional Howzatian funeral, do not be surprised if the proceedings start with great dignity but descend into an unseemly dispute over the ashes.

The priesthood of Howzat are also known as “The Umpires”. They can be recognised by their crisp white robes and Panama hats. They serve as the arbitrators and judges of the church. Despite (or perhaps because of) their exalted position, the Umpires are sometimes the targets of angry invective. Because of this abuse they have become unionised and are known for frequently engaging in industrial action to protest for better treatment. When they strike, they refuse to lift a finger. Each new campaign causes the other members of the faith to tut, roll their eyes and remark, “The Umpire strike’s back.” The Umpires uphold the 42 Laws of Cricket. If you are wondering why the laws number 42, this is because cricket is the meaning of life, the universe and everything. You can read these Laws and other para-balls of the faith in their sacred text, the Book of Wisden.

It can be difficult being romantically involved with a follower of Howzat, but underneath they are usually a good catch. Try to avoid going nightclubbing with them, as they sometimes unwisely decide to attack a bouncer. You may need to advise your date on best time to leave the ball, and I recommend that you get a taxi home, just in case the object of your affections is hit and run driver. Howzatians can become a bit obsessive in their devotion to the god, to the point where they may neglect the physical side of your relationship. There are, however, a few tried and tested tactics that may work to get their attention. For example, you might want to try a stroke through the covers, a beautiful tickle down the long leg, or even a full toss. If all else fails, bring in a third man (only permissible when conditions are primed for swinging).

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.

Quarantina – Goddess of Lockdowns

May 3, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Quarantina is the deity of thriving in enforced isolation. Lockdown isn’t a competition, but if it was, she’d be winning it. Until this year she had been a minor deity, worshipped mainly by returning astronauts. However, in the last few months millions of people have begun tentatively exploring the way of Quarantina. She was originally the only daughter of Misogynese the king of Iona. An oracle prophesied to the king that one of his grandchildren would kill him (I think that’s the go-to stock prophecy they use when an oracle can’t think of anything to say). So, predictably, the king shut young Quarantina away to prevent her ever taking a lover. Removed from the world, Quarantina used the time to hone herself into a formidably wise and skilled woman. Her accomplishments grew until they rivalled those of the gods, who raised her deity-hood so that she would stop showing them up. This freed her from her father’s imprisonment. Once she had the chance, she bore many children; a tribe known as “The Quaranteens”. Many years later, the eldest of the Quaranteens attempted a reconciliation with his grandfather. They made peace and shook hands. Sadly, they forgot to wash them first.

Quarantina’s divine superpower is being able to perform multiple tasks simultaneously despite a hail of distractions and a background hum of dread anxiety. Working online for an eight-hour day whilst delivering six hours of high school level teaching, feeding a family of five, arbitrating a nuclear sibling war and composing her first symphony is a cinch for her! Even when Anaglypta and Artex next door start relaying their floorboards with Penetr8ingBeatzFM turned up to eleven on the radio. She can do all this stood on one leg, and she sticks a broom up her arse to sweep the floor whilst’s she’s at it. Her freshly spring-cleaned, redecorated and decluttered temple can be found in the creepily idyllic small town known as “Stepford”. An immaculate garden surrounds the temple to create a picket fence perfect scene. The windows of the temple are decorated with beautifully drawn rainbows. Passers-by have a tendency to be quite overwhelmed by these nauseating levels of perfection and, despite the delicious baking smells that constantly waft through the air, the street outside the temple is decorated with little piles of vomit.

Followers of Quarantina will try to emulate the goddess’s self-discipline. The lifestyle of a fully committed Quarantinian is gruelling. They must ritually cleanse themselves, brush their hair and put on a bra EVERY DAMN DAY. Quarantina’s devotees also appeal to her for divine assistance in their self-improvement projects. There are different traditional offerings they must make to Quarantina when requesting her aid with various endeavours. If one is attempting to learn a new language one is supposed to pour a libation of half a pint of homemade kombucha before her altar. For help with mastering a musical instrument, present the goddess with a bowl of frothy sourdough starter. If one is trying to finally write “that novel you know is inside you somewhere”, ritually cremate a banana loaf and waft the smoke towards the heavens whist chanting, “Ohshitohshitohshit” in time to beeping of your smoke alarm. The one miracle that Quarantina seems to be unable to perform, is a successful home haircut. No matter how many offerings you place at her altar, you WILL make your children look like the offspring of an 80’s footballer and a homicidal clown. Quarantina is powerless to assist because of her nemesis “Girl Swirled” the home haircut demon.

Due to the relatively recent popularity of this cult, Quarantina only has a small group of priests and priestesses. Their main role is the creation of informative online videos and podcasts about how to improve your lockdown life by following the way of Quarantina. They initially attract new followers with interesting articles and recipes, then subtly introduce the religious aspect. If you have recently read an article about rearing your own chickens, the chances are that this was Quarantina cluck-bait. They also manage the online league tables of competitive quarantining. Who has gone the longest without leaving the house? Who has sewed the most headbands for the NHS? Who has sewed the most sartorially elegant face masks? Whose child has been accepted to Oxbridge early thanks to four weeks of their tuition? Who has clapped the loudest at the Thursday night thanksgiving ritual? Following the way of Quarantina can be exhausting. To preserve one’s sanity it pays to remember that she is an ideal idol, and such perfection cannot be achieved by us mere mortals. If you don’t love Quarantina, you can at least love to hate her.

Thank you to Liz Laycock @longrat for suggesting Quarantina.

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.

Prometheus – God of Disappointing Sci-Fi

April 26, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Prometheus formed spontaneously in 1999 with the release of Star Wars
Episode 1. He sits in scathing judgement over an entire genre. He is notorious for stealing Firefly from the DVD collection of the Gods.

Prometheus’ temples are all virtual. Devout worshippers will have a small home shrine. Usually a stained desk baring a powerful gaming PC surrounded by votive candles, polyhedral dice and crumbs. From this stronghold they ride forth like paladins, across the world wide web, to do battle with anyone who dares to hold an opinion. For this reason they are also known as “The Fandom Menace”. The most devout are said to be powerfully magical hermits who deliver remote wrath and judgement upon anyone who “quite liked Jurassic Shark”.

Once a year, followers quit their solitude and assemble in Picardy for a celebration of their culture called the “Com Icon”. The ceremonies, celebration of the arts and general roistering lead many to mistakenly believe that this festival has much in common with the ancient Dyonisia. They are wrong. Once things get going, Com Icon makes a Bacchanalian frenzy look like a Vestal Virgin’s tea party. What happens at Com Icon, stays at Com Icon. It is compulsory to attend dressed as a character from Prometheus’ rich mythology. Followers will spend the weeks approaching the festival perfecting elaborate masquerades to be seen in. The first commandment of Prometheus being “Make it sew”. Whilst there is a wide range of guises one can choose, going as “Nude Iron Man” is seen as a lazy cop out, so don’t turn up Stark Naked. The only other costume that is forbidden is that of a medic from Star Trek. (You’re only allowed to wear that one if you’re the real McCoy.)

The priesthood can be recognised by their vestments, which somehow simultaneously manage to appear futuristic and creatively anachronistic. Their full ceremonial outfit comprises a tartan travel rug, six rolls of tinfoil, an Ikea sheepskin rug, a heavily modified hairdryer, a pair of welding goggles, a whacking great sword and a bucket of glitter. They will sit on panels throughout the festival of Com Icon to answer questions from their congregation. The priesthood has typically been male dominated, however, there is now extensive pressure for gender balance in the sect, and this is starting to have an effect. For example, since 2018 Priestess Whittaker has become famed for her doctrinal wisdom.

The core belief of the religion of Prometheus is that the Geek shall inherit the earth. Throughout life one must prove one’s dedicated fandom and encyclopaedic knowledge of sci-fi by being corscruatingly scathing of all prequels, sequels and spin offs. Virtue is competitive, and one must devastatingly take down every other aficionado who is potentially nerdier than thou, with plot holes and superior sneers. If one successfully lives according to this “Janeway of Righteousness” you will go to a nerd’s paradise called “The Elysium Force Fields” when you die. In this hereafter, one gets to have as many long, uninterrupted conversations with Brent Spiner as one wants. How many other religions’ afterlives can boast unlimited Data?

I am still afflicted by a finger injury, and have decided to take a proper week off from drawing to let it heal properly. In the mean time, to tide you over, here is an early deity, which I drew in 2018, but somehow escaped being posted before. It was suggested by the excellent Will Bailey.

(Before anyone says, “It’s Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons”, I know at least six guys who look exactly like this. Attempt to sue me and I WILL introduce 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.