Hippopotholemess – The Pot Hole Dragon

January 19, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Hippopotholemess sits in the ambiguous territory between bestial deity and mythical beast. In the celestial pecking order they rank somewhere between Gods and Gremlins.

Many historians will try to tell you that the Romans never really made it into Scotland. They are not quite correct. The Romans made one ill-fated attempt to build a road across Scotland. They selected a typically straight route from east to west coast. During the construction, some poor hapless civil engineer disturbed the rest of a great primordial snake lying dormant beneath the green glen floor. Hippopotholemess awoke, and thrashed in ire. Destroying the engineer, the foundations of the road and the Legio IX Hispania. The writhing also gouged out great cavities in the earth which were filled by the ample rains to form a line of lochs. Then the great dragon sank beneath the waters and vowed eternal vengeance on all road makers everywhere.

When all was still once more, the terrified locals crept out to survey the destruction. Lost for words, they could only exclaim “Och! Mess!” Over time this became corrupted to the present day Loch Ness. Loch Ness is, in truth, the largest, longest, deepest and oldest pot hole of all, and Hippopotholemess is today known by a corruption of their original nick name “Messy”.

In pursuit of their vendetta against road builders, Hippopotholemess began to reproduce asexually. Dividing again and again to produce trillions of identical clones. Each one journeyed out to find its own spot under a busy carriageway somewhere. Here they burrow around and around as they grow and divide, until the road surface above collapses. Then the Hippopotholemess are released to move on to another spot. With the right climate conditions exponential reproduction could occur. Soon all the Ancient Britons were left with was some dangerous stretches of road surface between the abyssal deeps. Some think that the Romans left Britain as a result of rebellion and the actions of Constantine III. In fact they just couldn’t keep up with the repairs. As the occupation receded, the scourge of Hippopotholemess spread into mainland Europe and beyond.

Hippopotholemess is still very much with us today. Perhaps more so than ever. Whilst most sects associated with a deity praise, laud and promote their god, the only official cult associated with Hippopotholemess seeks to either bind or destroy them. The priest hood of the “Via Imperium Propellente” are very important priests. They watch over the highways and seek to thwart Hippopotholemess at every turn of their coils. They may be the only directly government funded religious order. Sadly, they number too few and are woefully ill equipped with just a rusty shovel and a bucket of tepid asphalt between them. The sigil of the Via Imperium Propellente is a black silhouette of a man opening an umbrella on a white back ground, framed by a red triangle. They always erect a sign baring this sacred sigil when they are out and about in the community undertaking their holy works. The priesthood can be recognised by their fluorescent orange weatherproof robes and cranial protection birettas.

A ritual to neutralise a Hippopotholemess goes as follows;
– On arrival at the site where a Hippopotholemess has been discovered, the first priest to arrive will bless the earth by scattering many blessed orange and white plastic cones all around the area.
– Then he or she will erect metal signs baring ancient spells to bind the wyrm. These are written in mysterious arcane tongues, such as “When thee reed lyte shineth, tarry herre”, “Clausit Viam” and “Die Version”.
– The senior priest will then arrive to ignite the sacred lamps at the north and south sides of the circle. Each of these lamps contains a red candle, an amber candle and a green candle. The lamps contain an automatic shutter mechanism to reveal the colours in turn. (This mechanism usually breaks down – so no change there then).
– Next the protective inner circle is cast to bind Hippopotholemess. This is done by erecting yellow plastic barriers which are specially designed to fall down at the first breath of wind.
– At the climax of the rite all the priests present will form a circle, leaning on the barriers. They will watch one lone priest attempt to dig out and destroy the serpent within. There various methods employed, but the most common is to give the beast a neuralgia with a numinous pneumatic drill before digging it out and drowning it with bitumen.
– The hole is then filled and lightly patted down with the rusty shovel.
– When the priests finally depart, they always leave behind a few stray signs and cones. This is so that when the tarmac blows out again a week later, you can reassure yourself that you were not imagining the whole thing. The priests really were there.

A visitation by the Via Imperium Propellente can never be predicted reliably. You might logically assume that they would target the worst Hippopotholemess infested streets first. However, somehow it always seems to be the streets with the houses in the highest tax band. Even though the terrace lined streets are literally holier than the tree lined avenues. Another reason to be slightly suspicious of this cult, is that they also run a chain of auto body shops called “Wreck Amended Repairers”. They may, in fact, have a vested interest in never completely vanquishing Hippopotholemess. On the plus side, they have produced an online guide to help pedestrians avoid pot holes in pavements. It’s called Trip Advisor.

In remote areas which the Via Imperium Propellente never get to, people have had to learn to love their long standing gaping chasms, and have even found creative uses for them. For example, there is a marvellous new Wetlands Reserve, right in the middle of the fast lane of the A630. Bitterns have even been sighted in the reed-beds on the pot hole shores. In Whipsnade, a particularly deep pothole has been pressed into service as a giraffe habitat. A pot hole which opened up on Her Majesty’s private golf course at the Balmoral Estate has been turned into a private gin palace called “The Hole in One”. Meanwhile, in Tunisia, an particularly spectacular ancient pot hole was preserved as a tourist attraction after it was used as the filming location for the Great Pit of Carkoon in Return of the Jedi.

There are whispers of a lost, water filled, “Schrödinger’s Pothole”. This apparent puddle is simultaneously two inches and four hundred meters deep. You cannot know until you drive through it.

There are some informal and superstitious attempts to appease Hippopotholemess by the lay population. Such as a distinctive weaving folk driving style, thought to guard against vehicular damage (but not against getting pulled for a breath test). A common act of sacrifice to Hippopotholemess is to pour a pint of beer over a road surface whilst consuming one for yourself. This is the origin of the old saying, “An ale please Landlord, and one more for the road!”

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
Coming out 30th November 2020

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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.

Bin Dei – God of Temporal Confusion

December 29, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Bin Dei is the God of those befuddled days between whichever great midwinter festival you celebrate and New Year’s Eve. The time of the chronic background hangover, when you are full to bursting with chocolate and fine fromage and haven’t got a clue what day it is. He is the deity who renders the words “weekday” and “weekend” meaningless. He is said to have originated in ancient Rome sometime between Dies Natalis Solis Invicti and Kalends.

Although there are regional variations, for many the great annual festival of Bin Dei or “Crimbo Limbo” commences on December the 27^th. During this period followers will consume only turkey curry, satsumas and cheese. Normal routines and rules of self-restraint are suspended, and a great deal of alcohol is often consumed. Throughout the period they will also harbour a nagging background anxiety about whether this was one of the days when they were meant to be at work. His festival ends at dawn on January 2^nd with a shrill alarm and a horrible reality shock.

Bin Dei is glad to take your unwanted items and receive them as precious offerings. Offerings are usually collected weekly by a team of Collections Priests. However, only the correct kinds of offerings will be accepted on each collection day, and even then they must be presented at the kerbside in the correctly coloured “Offering Bin”. Confusingly, the colours of the offering bins and what kind of offerings should be placed within them vary wildly by area. For example, your black lidded bin full of tin cans and glass will be gladly accepted in Rotherham, but would be rejected out of hand just a few miles away in Barnsley! Regardless of which part of the world you live in. The lid of the offering bin must close fully.

The sacred text or “Offering Collection Schedule” of Bin Dei is delivered to every household annually. However, by some malevolent magic, it always somehow vanishes before it becomes current. Even if you bloody well nailed it to the kitchen noticeboard. Fortunately, a Lay Brother of Bin Dei resides on almost every residential street in the country. They alone know on which day the offerings should be left out, which kinds of offerings should be made, and in which colour bin. Their principal sacred duty is to put their offering out early, so that everyone else can copy them.

The current High Priestess of Bin Dei is Miss Collette Shun. Her principal role is to handle complaints about the services that the priesthood deliver. Her standard response is tell callers to leave their offering out for an additional collection (which never happens) and she files their call in the paper recycling centre. In her eyes, sinners who miss leaving out their offering to Bin Dei at the correct time must do their proper penance by making a pilgrimage to “The Tip”. This is not, usually a pleasant experience and those who undergo this ritual cleansing often feel pretty down in the dumps about it. Followers of Bin Dei believe that they must complete this arduous journey or else in the afterlife they will be eternally suffocated under old wrapping paper, cardboard boxes, wine bottles, old turkey carcasses and left over sprouts. (Although, there is a rumour that one can wriggle out of this by making a small thoughtful gift (or even just a thank you card) to your noble team of Collections Priests in the run up to Bin Dei’s festival each year. This small gesture will mean you are a lot less likely to return home later in the year to find that your entire offering has been rejected due to a single stray piece of plastic in the glass bin – which has obviously been put there by a passer-by as you don’t use K-Y Jelly).

The temple of Bin Dei has huge imposing gates, through which a fleet of hundreds of offering collections trucks roll daily. Inside, the main buildings are carpeted with a thick layer of brown pine needles, walnut shells and satsuma peel. There a numerous temple cats who run around the place chasing discarded Ferrero Rocher wrappers. All the clocks within the temple have either stopped, or have no hands. All the calendars in the temple are for next year, this year’s calendars having been accidentally prematurely discarded.

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.

Beelzebuble – God of Commercial Christmas Music

December 8, 2019October 18, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Beelzebublé is the ancient deity of festive music. He was born in a Holly Wood, the son of the Dryad of a Norway Spruce tree and Dansette the God of Pop Music. He is made entirely from saccharine and sleigh bells and subsists on mistletoe and wine. He is loathed by all workers in the retail sector, but his mellifluous tones, twinkling eyes and benign countenance make it a high probability that he is your grandmother’s favourite deity.

Beelzebublé’s divine province is all commercial seasonal music. Throughout the millennia he has represented the sounds of many different festivals. These have all tended to occur in that drear but somehow magical mid-winter month. In the last millennia (and especially since the twentieth century) he has focused mainly on Christmas related music. Whilst his music is usually deeply traditional sometimes, to try and freshen things up a bit, Beelzebublé will team up with another artiste. The guest artist will loudly recite rhythmic poetry during the bridge of the song inciting listeners to “Slap Yo Glitz Up”. This distinct genre is known as “Wrap Music”.

The Temple of Beelzebublé is located on the Slade Roade in Birmingham, right next to Spaghetti Junction. Its grounds preserve a remnant of magical ancient forest known as “Roy Wood”. Constructed from gingerbread, the temple has a single high tower which soars above its roof. Each year on December the first, the high priest Noddy Holder will ascend the tower and yell out “IT’S CHRIIIIIIIIIIISTMAAAAAAAS!” to call the faithful to prayer. It’s not all fun and games for the high priest though. Above his ceremonial snow covered throne hangs a long and wickedly sharp blade, suspended from a single slender thread of lametta. This is the Sword of Whamocles. If so much as the first bar of the song “Last Christmas” is heard in the temple, the tenuous tinsel thread will snap.

In the centre of the Temple of Beelzebublé hangs their most holy relic, The Golden Fleece Navidad. This sparkling pelt is said to be from a sheep that lived in a random stable in the middle east somewhen between 6BCE and 4BCE. This golden sheep was said to have broken out and wondered the streets of the town one day singing out season’s bleatings to everyone it met. Astounded by this miraculous musical ovine, the townspeople promptly sacrificed it. Because that’s just what you did in those days. Its fleece was later “liberated” and installed in the temple by the mythical hero Jason of Erinsboros. It is displayed draped over a Nordmans Fir and guarded by a Tinsle Snake with huge bauble eyes. This sparkly serpentine guardian cannot sleep. It is too excited because Santa is coming.

In the tiny Cornish village of Porth Noel, Beelzebublé has a workshop filled with song writing elves. During the Christmas hit heydays of the 70’s and 80’s they used to be esteemed, well cared for and cherished. As a result they would regularly turn out a genuinely catchy, uplifting and original festive hit song.

In the last decade the relentless drive of run-away capitalism has meant that these elves have seen their working hour’s increase, their sherry benefits evaporate and their pensions quietly siphoned away. It’s plum duff being an elf these days. These dreadful conditions have extinguished the last sparks of creativity from their souls. They are reduced to laboriously churning out album after album filled entirely with arrangements of festive covers which aren’t quite as good as the original. These albums always include one predictable paint-by-numbers attempt at a new seasonal opus. Thrown in to make it look like they tried. Budgets are squeezed so tight that they have pawned most of their instruments and now they have to rely on samples from the 1970s. Please, please spare a thought for these pitiful wretches this season when you are buying your Nan a copy of “The Christmas Present”.

There are three sub-groups of elves who receive special treatment. The first is comprised of mutant elves who have super-elf gifts and so are chosen for the elite team. Their task is to write or arrange the song that will be released by that year’s X Factor winner. Due to their elevated status, these X-Elfs are deeply unpopular with the rest of the elven populous, who have scathingly nicknamed them “The Sycos”. The second sub division are the elves who edit down songs into a convenient soundbite for the John Lewis advert. They are known as the Jingle Elves. The third are the Union elves who are being punished for the incident when they raged against the mainstream music machine. They have been yoked with the Sisyphean task of finding an inoffensive two syllable rhyme for “Maggot” which doesn’t sound stupid. These poor souls are in constant Poguetory.

Beelzebublé lives in constant fear that his reign as number one may be ended at any moment by a heart-warming community choir or by some bloke singing about sausage rolls for charity. However, the years when Beelzebublé does not do well are few, and in those years we are usually living in a mad world.

Beelzebublé had nothing whatsoever to do with “All I Want For Christmas is You”. He may be a little bit evil, but he’s not a total monster.

Thank you to Sarah Shepton for the idea for the Sword of Whamocles.

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.

Hernia – Goddess of Over Exertion

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

Wherever life cruelly tries to make one bear more than one is capable of, Hernia is there. Often she will pop up in your life when you least expect it. However, it is said that if one wants to actively find Hernia, one should look under a lot of heavy rocks. In this way one can “find the Rapture”… …sorry that should be “find the Rupture”.

Her cult is a highly evangelical one. Her followers mesh together into a well run operation to plug Hernia almost constantly. They are somewhat monotheistic, believing that other deities aren’t a patch on Hernia. Sadly, her followers are sometimes known for being a bit xenophobic. In fact adverse reactions to foreign bodies are common.

The upper echelons of Hernia’s priesthood can be recognised by the way they always move with restraint. This is why every light bulb in her temple hangs blown but un-replaced. A common saying amongst them is “It is better to curse the darkness than curse in pain.” They are a very law abiding religion. It’s members live in fear of having to do a stretch.

The temple is generally in a worrying structural condition overall. There are many unsightly bulges in the walls. A visitor can receive hospitality there though, as round the back there is a hostelry known as the Lum Bar.

If you attend a rite at the Temple of Hernia, be warned. You won’t be receiving a sacrament or making a libation. Instead, at the key point of the ritual, the congregation queue up with their trousers round their ankles to stand before the High Priest, turn their head and cough. The current High Priest of Hernia is Father Buster Gutt. Being the High Priest of Hernia is considered to be a high risk job, as so many previous incumbents have been strangulated. Father Gutt is certainly often obstructed by the political schisms amongst his church.

If you ever turn up to find the temple closed, this is because the priesthood are celebrating the festival of Hiatus Hernia. During this time they take a break from all other priestly duties to play on their slip-and-slide and quaff flagons of Gaviscon.

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.

Verruca – Goddess of Disinfectant Foot Baths

November 10, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Verruca is a deity from ancient history. She popped up shortly after the invention of the Roman Bath and has hung around for 3000 years. Once the sacred pools of Verruca were a common sight in public baths across the world. Nowadays her popularity is diminished and they are a rarer sight. Modern practices have frozen Verruca out. Worship of Verruca is now considered to be somewhat old fashioned and corny, but she still has the ability to make a splash.

Verruca has three avatars. First is the stunningly beautiful Mermaid (she just washed up like this), the bountiful Mermother and the wise and ancient Mercrone. Her consort is Speedo – God of Illegal Budgie Trafficking. Her arch enemy is the demon “Mankini”.

The Priests and Priestesses of Verruca also known as “The Life Guards” can be recognised by their skin tight Lycra vestments, the neat rubber caps that completely conceal their hair, the whistles hung around their necks and their pink eyes. All devotees, not just the priesthood, wear the sacred rubber sock of protection. The daily routine of a devout Verruca worshipper begins with a race at dawn to place their towel on the best sun lounger.

Verruca has a dark and strange mythology. Ancient historians recorded grizzly rites where human body parts were sacrificed to her. She was said to particularly favour offerings of athlete’s feet. Verrucan parents used to frighten their children into obedience with tales of a tribe of uncivilised and unhygienic barbarians known as “The Wild Swimmers”, who eschewed Verruca’s sacred pools and leaped fearlessly into any stretch of open water.

Modern worship is much less macabre and more enjoyable. One can float in her sacred waters and use your noodle to meditate on spiritual matters. In the back ground, the temple musicians (known as “The Arm Band”) will serenade you. It is customary to take a pound coin to Verruca’s temple as an offering when you visit. Please place your contribution in the slot on your locker.

Following the way of Verruca is said to be good for the sole. It is also said to be good for the body as her temple is a place of heeling. The 9 commandments that acolytes strive to adhere to are;

1. Thou shalt not run.
2. Thou shalt not push.
3. Thou shalt not perform gymnastics or acrobatics.
4. Thou shalt not shout.
5. Thou shalt not duck.
6. Thou shalt not engage in heavy petting.
7. Thou shalt not bomb.
8. Thou shalt not swim in the diving area.
9. Thou shalt not smoke.

Now that her popularity has waned, her priesthood run a breakdown service on the side called “Toe Trucks” to raise money to repair the temple’s fallen arches.

Thank you to Sarah Shepton (@afishoutofwtf) for suggesting Verruca.

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.

Shiva-Me-Timbers – God of Nautical Clichés

September 19, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

The philosophy of the faith of Shiva Me Timbers is to fill the void of taste, interests or design skill in one’s life with generic sea themed crap. The theory is that this will imply to others that you are an adventurous, salty sea dog with the wealth and time to explore the world (between your shifts at the call centre). Parrots, West Country accents and casual sexual morals are all encouraged. For worshippers of Shiva Me Timbers, every day is “Talk Like a Pirate Day”. Acolytes with at least one prosthetic limb are considered blessed, as they will always have a gruesome, ripping yarn to tell.

If you commit a serious transgression of the faith of Shiva-Me-Timbers, you may be sentenced to “roll the plank”. Shiva-Me-Timbers is an equal opportunities faith, and all their planks are wheelchair accessible.

There are many majestic temples to Shiva Me Timbers. They sail the seven seas to spread the word of the God. If you visit any port town, you will see one schooner or later. The temples are always immaculately maintained, as they like to keep things ship shape. Each one has a Shivan Temple Cat for vermin control, a rare breed with 9 tails. Inside they are decorated with canvas upholstery, rope-work storage baskets, driftwood, lifebelts and badly taxidermied seagulls. You can create the nautical temple look in your own home. Everything you need is available from “AYE IKEA”.

The clergy of Shiva-Me-Timbers can be recognised by their tattoos, blue trousers and stripy shirts (known as “Bristol Fashion”). Membership of the priesthood is open to both buoys and girls equally. There are often heated theological arguments amongst them about the merits of steam ships versus sail. (This schism is known as the Great Mast Debate.) The current High Priest is a permanently jovial man called Roger. He has lived his whole life in religious service. He started out as the cabin boy. As a money maker, the church of Shiva Me Timbers run a very popular sperm bank. They are renowned for their able semen.

The rituals of Shiva-Me-Timbers always begin with the weighing of the anchor on the ceremonial scales. Sadly, due to the traditional consumption of rum, they usually end with everyone keeling over, utterly wrecked with all souls lost.

Thank you to Sarah Shepton for suggesting Shiva-Me-Timbers.

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.

Eric – God of Pub Games

July 7, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Eric, the God of Pub Games is an extremely Ancient Deity. He is known to predate the founding of the Olympic Games in 776 BCE. He was the patron deity of the earlier and now forgotten Olympub Games. The date that the Olympub games were founded is now lost to antiquity, but they may have begun the first time the Mesopotamians gathered and competed to throw a loop of string over a stick whilst consuming dangerous quantities of proto-ale. The religion spread rapidly, and the first temple to Eric was built as a simple circle of tall, dark, rectangular standing stones, each bearing a pattern of white dots, stood on their ends. This design was soon copied many times across the ancient world in what seems to have been a kind of domino effect.

The worship of Eric centres around developing the mind, body and character through the playing of social games of skill and chance. These are also believed to bond communities, families and friends together through communal worship. Some detractors say that the religion of Eric is a load of Bulls Hit, but his faithful will tell you he’s okey.

Eric’s modern places of worship are less like Temples and more like Saloons. The interior décor of the temple trends heavily towards dark green leather, baize and wood panelling. It is divided into 9 different chapels, each dedicated to one of the 9 Sacred Sports; darts, pool, billiards, poker, cribbage, skittles, dice, ring toss and shove ha’penny. His temples often have quirky colloquial names such as “The Ham and Cheese”, “The Shuffle and Board” and “The Curly Cue”. Outside the main structure is an over spill marquee for special festivals. It is in the shape of two large adjoined circus tents. This structure is known as the “double top”. Every temple also has a small crowd of bored children sat outside on some broken swings. Each one forlornly clutches a bottle of Vimto with a straw and a bag of crisps.

The Chapel of Darts is great, smashing and super. However, it can be a risky place to enter. Some people see the flying projectiles inside and immediately do a 180 and leave. Competitions are held here and even if you are not successful in these, they will still give you a chance to look at what you could have won. If you do succeed… …well bully for you! Those worshippers who are “Knowers” rather than “Throwers” come to try and overcome their “Projectile Dysfunction” through therapy and prayer. Treatments at the temple can be expensive, so most only resort to it when they are in the throws of despair. The Chapel of Darts also contains a confessional where one can gain spiritual solace and atonement by divulging ones darty secrets. If you are travelling to visit the Chapel of Darts, it is best to avoid cheap flights. Don’t worry about your return journey, as you will always, at least, leave with your bus fare home… …or a speed boat. Which will be handy for making your way back to Wolverhapton.

The Chapel of Pool is perhaps the tensest place in the temple. Here worshippers stare one another out to see who will break first. The corridor to the chapel has a lengthy line of 50p’s laid along it’s length. Anyone arriving and arbitrarily deciding that “winner stays on” will be forced to eat a hundred cubes of blue chalk. The Chapel of Pool is particularly popular with younger members of the faith. They often study there in hopes of being professional pool players when they grow up. Until they realise they can’t have it both ways. Worshippers are welcome to stay all day, but are asked to pop outside if they need to pot a brown or get the urge to sink the pink.

The Priests and Priestesses of Eric organise and arbitrate all the games within the temple. They each have 4 suits of vestments, two red and two black, which each have their own symbolism. The High Priestess is renowned for her stern and unemotional visage. However much you are tempted, you are advised not to poke her face to see if it’s real.

Thank you to Adam Broadhurst for suggesting Eric.

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.

RaRaRa – God of Cheerleaders

June 19, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Need a little motivation to get you through Hump Day? Then Ra Ra Ra could be the deity for you. He’s the God that’s always cheering you on to be your best.

The Temple of RaRaRa is built around the blessed “Hand Spring” and close to the summer salt mines. The compound is planted with an impressive orchard of a unique variety of apple tree. These grow an unusual “double apple” fruit known as Pomme-Pommes. The temple building has four wings with a rectangular central courtyard, known as the Squadwrangle, where larger scale worship takes place. Its roof is adorned with many decorative aerials.

His temples have (possibly) the most entertaining services, which always follow a strict routine. The priesthood will guide you in waving your offerings of sacred pomme-pomme fruits in the air and lead you in a rousing chorus of “Give Him an Ankh!” Conducting the worship is arduous for the clergy. So, before they commence they will traditionally drink some root beer to get them rootin’. At the most hallowed part of the ritual, worshippers will share the Holy Hot Dog and all partake of a sip of soda from the JumboMegaCup. After a short break, a guest speaker will usually deliver a half time show sermon. This sermon will often be a subject of furious online debate amongst the worshippers,. Afterwards, as you leave, be sure to pick up a souvenir from the “Tuck Shop”.

There is a large seminary college where postulates are trained for religious service. The first thing they learn is that cheering is a serious athletic endeavour. They must be prepared to exceed those they support in gymnastic prowess. They are also taught to expect and forbear low wages and a general lack of respect. Students are kept company by a friendly ghost who inhabits the building, known affectionately as “The School Spirit”. The college uniform colour is yeller.

The church of RaRaRa rarely involves itself in politics. When they have ventured into the hustings, their candidates have been known to flip flop.

Members of this faith will often save all their lives to be interred in the largest human pyramid possible after death. Followers will often involve themselves in the study of astronomy throughout life. They believe that after death, the journey to the afterlife takes us to become one with the heavens and it is best to know the route in advance. They believe that potentially we are All-Stars.

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.