Broomhilda – Goddess of Witchcraft

Broomhilda – Goddess of Witchcraft © H. Hudson-Lee 2021

Broomhilda is the answer to the question, “Quis custodiet ipsos maleficis” or, “Who watches the witches?” Witches may make appeals to a wide range of deities whilst practicing their craft, but Broomhilda is the overseeing goddess of the craft itself. The sect of Broomhilda is known as the Office for Standards in Charms, Rites, Occultism, Necromancy and Enchantment or “OFCRONE”. In order to become a certified witch, one must become a member and adhere to the high standards they set. Any witches who fail to adhere to the Codex of Practice are exspelled from the faith or as they call it, “Hexcommunicated”. They also police the prohibition of certain potion ingredients considered unethical in more enlightened modern times. For example, the use of eye of newt has been banned since 1727 when the notorious witch Nic Peepyrs was caught in Westminster Abbey going at Sir Isaac’s newly sealed tomb with a cronebar.

OFCRONE also provides a degree of protection from harassment for its members. Thanks to them, most of the witch burnings that happen these days are when two wiccans have a roast battle. OFCRONE organise security patrols around all rituals where members may choose to worship sky-clad to prevent the local perverts from hiding in the bushes and getting an eyeful. Due to the high chance of being turned into an amphibian if caught, these degenerates are known as “Froggers”. (The witches are not completely merciless. They run a support group for anyone doing “pond penance” called “Amphibians Anonymous”.) OFCRONE also work to promote occultural diversity. Alongside this, they educate the general public about witchcraft. One of the ways they do this is via a live streaming platform where anyone can watch real Yorkshire witches practice the dark arts, called T’Witch. The sect also has a scientific research arm which funds a project searching for signs of Dark Magic in the universe, the Mildred Hubble Space Telescope.

In order to raise sufficient money to fund these activities, the sect of Broomhilda runs a number of commercial ventures. The longest established of these concerns manufactures high quality sacred candles and delivers them direct to your door. Next time you have a power cut, consider placing an express order with, “Something Wicked This Way Comes”. They also own a company, based in the North Riding of Yorkshire, which blends and sells fine teas. The best seller in the range is their, “Great Heck *A* Tea”. Their latest, and perhaps most entertaining, venture is a service where you can hire a troupe of five elderly witches to dance erotically at your birthday party or pre-nuptial night out. If you are a best man with a stag night to organise, you may want to consider ordering a Pent-a-Gran.

When a neophyte joins the cult of Broomhilda, they must spend years training at a school of witchcraft or “Unicurseity” (and if you have been to a real school of witchcraft, you will know the subject taught in the greenhouses is not called “Herbology”, it’s “Occultivation”). During their time at Unicurseity the students will keep a scrapbook of newspaper clippings and memorabilia of Hank Marvin, Bruce Welch and Brian Bennett known as a “Book of Shadows”. Once they graduate and have been inducted into the highest echelons of Broomhilda’s priesthood they become privy to the deepest secrets of the craft. In order to prevent these secrets from being betrayed to the uninitiated, the cleric is now locked into the sect for life. The only way to leave, other than by reaching the end of one’s mortal thread, is to be declared insane, but this is notoriously difficult to prove. One witch who wished to leave the cult tried keeping more than twenty pet felines in an attempt to appear deranged. However, the faith leaders decreed that they’d be mad not to love kittens, and so the unfortunate witch remained in the sect forever. This incident became known as the Cats-22 situation.

Whilst there are many spurious tales about witches, they do in fact favour broomstick transportation. However, the technology has advanced beyond recognition in the last 20 years. The most popular current model is a self-driving e-besom known as the “Broomba”. As e-besoms are virtually silent, when they first came out there were multiple collisions with hapless owls and other aerial wildlife. Now e-besoms must be fitted with a small speaker to put back the “broom-broom” sound, and a seat belt to prevent the pilot from flying off the handle.

Throughout most of their lives worshippers of Broomhilda will use their skills to maintain a glamorous and beguiling appearance. They have a very broad and body positive definition of beauty (and have, on occasion, been known to poke random blonde, slim women with a sharp finger in the hope that all the Barbie doll toys around the world will feel a twinge of pain). Towards the end of their mortal existence, some witches choose to embrace the aging process and “go full crone”. Not all witches who choose this path are able to get their complexions to become suitably haggard. One option they have is to undergo a cosmetic aging procedure. The international centre for this form of surgery is based in the Balearic Islands. An unnaturally youthful looking witch in her 70s or 80s may make a visit to the Warter in Majorca so she can look like what she ought-ta.

If you happen to meet a worshipper of Broomhilda, whatever you do, do not touch her bubbling cauldron of green liquid. That’s HER absinthe. Get your own.

Happy Hallowe’en and Samhain to Idollers everywhere! I am much better and it’s good to be back. The cartoons may not be every week at first, but I am getting there. I hope you all have a fun and spooky time tonight.

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A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occasions 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.

Beeverley – Goddess of the East Riding

Beeverley © H. Hudson-Lee 2021

Beeverley is, despite her venerable visage, one of the youngest deities in this pantheon. In 2017, when Kingston-Upon-Hull became the City of Culture, the citizens decided that they really should have a patron deity. From amongst their number, they chose the beloved philanthropist and Hull paragon of virtue, “The Bee Lady” for deification. (Beeverley may have be the first person in history to promoted from Bishop to Goddess). Her cult became hugely popular almost overnight. Probably because the people of the East Riding are always keen to grasp any opportunity to do things a little bit differently to everyone else, and religion is no exception. A documentary film was made based on her amazing story but, sadly, few people have seen it in cinemas because it was not a feature presentation.

Since becoming a Goddess, Beeverley has borne a daughter. It was clear that this babe was also divine because, when she was born, three wise men came from the East Riding on camels. This golden child was named Patty Butty and she became the Goddess of Regional Delicacies. You can find Patty’s temple down Battery Road.

The way of Beeverley is a contemplative and reflective path. It’s followers practice the art of Venn Meditation, where they cogitate upon the question of whether they are in the East Riding, East Yorkshire or Humberside, and what the overlap between these might be. Despite years of deliberation, they are yet to reach a consensus on the answer to this great question. Some of her followers who have more shamanic leanings expand their minds by consuming the potent powder known as “Chip Spice”. This is said to help them achieve a fluid mental sub-state known as “The Deep”. All meditation is usually practiced in the elegant gardens which surround Beeverley’s temple. These “Venn Gardens” are known for the aesthetic patterns of intersecting circles which are raked into its gravel paths. Worshippers of Beeverley can be recognised by their intricately patterned Gansey Jumpers, which they wear to keep themselves warm against the North Sea breezes, or to use as ID.

The Temple of Beeverley is located in the Land of Green Ginger and is designed to look like a giant version of a KCOM cream phone box. It houses their sacred chalice, a 1960’s Hornsea Pottery Heirloom Pattern “Autumn Brown” soup bowl. The custodians of the temple are Beeverley’s High Priest and Priestess, a couple called Bert and Agnes Hall. Their main job is to enforce the smoking ban inside the temple. The rules are very clear. Worshippers must go outside if they want to give someone a smug, superior, side-eye. Anyone who creates a disturbance in the temple by Larkin’ around, will be ejected by the temple guards. These guards all have the first name “Wilber” and are collectively known as the “Wilber Force”.

Devout worshippers of Beeverley avoid the demonic lair that is Spiders Nightclub, where even the purest hearted beeliever can become enmeshed in a web of sin, or permanently stuck to the floor. The legend is that if you spend too long in there you’ll turn into a Goole. However, if you’re not overly concerned with the state of your mortal soul, it’s actually a fun night out. Possibly a little bit too much fun. If you’re offered a blowie by an attractive stranger in the club toilets, go for it. In the East Riding, it’s impolite to spurn head.

Sadly, the religion of Beeverley is not entirely peaceful. For decades they have been at war with the North Riding over the disputed territory of Filey. In recent years an uneasy ceasefire has held. Both parties having decided to just wait until it is inevitable consumed by sea, rendering the issue moot.  

One of Beeverley’s key deity duties is to watch over the thousands of travellers who cross the majestic span of the Humber Bridge every day. If there’s snerr blerking the rerd, she makes a fern curl t’let everyone nerr. When it comes to protecting those who cross the Humber, nothing is too much Hessel for Beeverley. The members of cult of Beeverley are also active for the benefit of the community. Every year they organise a festival to commemorate the anniversary of the Siege of Hull and the start of English Civil War. Next year in 2022, to celebrate the 380th jubilee, they are proposing that Kingston-Upon-Hull be temporarily renamed Not-Any-More-It’s-Not-Upon-Hull.

Worshippers of Beeverley believe that, when they die, their souls go to Bridlington. So, to facilitate the process, they usually move there a few years before the event. It is said to be a mostly tranquil afterlife, blighted only by flocks of voracious zombie gulls known as the “Undead Bods”. They occupy a space in the folklore which, in other cultures, is normally reserved for The Furies. Fortunately, these demonic birds mostly focus their attention on the wretched shade of t’Antalus. Who, for his heinous crimes in life*, is hereafter cursed to hold a burning hot cone of chips in his hands, but never gets to eat one.

* He moved to Lincolnshire and quite liked it.

Happy Yorkshire Day Everyone! I hope you are all enjoying your puddings and parkin. Jean Bishop, the OG Bee Lady fundraises for Age UK Hull. If you are thinking of making a charitable donation today, why not put it their way? They especially need funds right now to help older people affected by C-19. Details of how to donate are on their website at https://www.ageuk.org.uk/hull/

Once you’ve done that, why not round off your Yorkshire Day with Sithee – God of South Yorkshire and Wayhey-Up – God of the West Riding (next year… the North Riding!)

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A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occasions 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.

Helen Harlotry – Goddess of Regency Romance

Helen Harlotry – Goddess of Regency Romance © H. Hudson-Lee 2021

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a modern woman, in possession of her own fortune, must be in want of a bit of good old-fashioned passion. Helen Harlotry is the goddess of all those who have an irrational longing to experience the lifestyle and passion of the Regency Era. A condition known to psychologists as “Austalgia”. She is a famed divine beauty, known for her pert opinions and fine eyes. She is a virginal goddess, as yet unwed. One prospective celestial consort declared that she was, “tolerable I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.” Helen Halrotry is the eldest of the sixty-nine sister goddesses of romantic fiction. (You may have heard of her slightly more mainstream sister, the erotic and racy Melisande Boon – The Goddess of the Ripped Bodice.)

Most people expect the temple of Helen Harlotry to be located in one of the renowned Regency towns, such as Bath, Buxton or Brighton. In fact, it is happily situated in a park in Mansfield. This hallowed hall has a graceful neoclassical white stone façade adorned with a cornucopia of columns, built in the style of the architect John Nash. Atop the roof sits a small cupola which houses the temple bell. When rung, this bell goes, “Bingley-bingley-bingley.” The temple has two doors. Above one it says, “Entrance”, above the other it says, “Other way Mr Collins.” Once you are inside, you will find over a hundred elegantly furnished sitting rooms where worshippers can partake of the holy afternoon-tea ritual or receive gentleman callers whilst suitably chaperoned. Past these salons, at the heart of the temple, is a capacious, chandeliered ball room. Helen Harlotrians like to hold big balls. If you also tour the arbours and bowers of the grounds, you may be lucky enough to spot their 224-year-old pet tortoise, Mary Shelley. No one is sure whether this sacred ancient beast really is that old, or if they just keep reanimating her.

Whilst within the temple, followers of Helen Harlotry must adhere to strict rules of dress and etiquette to ensure an authentic early 19th century ambiance is preserved. Ladies must wear elegant empire line robes and carry a parasol, dance card and fan at all times. Gentlemen must adhere to a minimum side-burn length and meet a mandatory breech-tightness requirement. There is a secret, heretical sub-sect known as the Bridgertonians who like to bend or even outright defy these laws. For example, by sneaking classical arrangements of modern pop songs into the Temple String Quartet’s repertoire. They are lead by the mischievous Lady Danbury, who considers this to be riotously funny. Devotees of Helen Harlotry take great pride in their authenticity and many nurse a violent prejudice against the Bridgertonians. In return the Bridgertonians consider the orthodox members of the faith to be rather “High in the instep.” To avoid persecution from these less light-hearted folks*, Bridgertonians identify one another by secret signs and symbols. Such as the covert wearing of synthetic fabrics or hiding bee motifs in their costume designs. You may wonder why these iconoclasts run the risk of being scorned and ostracised. Apparently, it is all worth it just to watch Regé-Jean Page slowly lick a spoon.

Should you wish to join the cult of Helen Harlotry, you must either be a single man in possession of a good fortune and in want of a wife, or an impoverished yet accomplished maiden with little but her charms to recommend her. Gentlemen who are prepared to give consequence to ladies who are slighted by other men are particularly welcome. The initiation ritual for gentlemen involves stripping off down to their shirtsleeves and going for a dip in the lake, whilst the female members of the sect stroll along the lake shore and loudly exclaim, “Mr Darcy!” when he emerges. The initiation rite is different for female neophytes. They must go for a walk, get thoroughly soaked in an unexpected thunderstorm, and almost die of the apparently inevitable fever.

The worshippers of Helen Harlotry are keen on ball games. That is, games played at balls. The most popular of these is known as “Lady Catherine’s Condescension”. The game is played to music. Players must take a turn around the room and use persuasion to dash the wood into the nether field. It is improper for ladies to partner the same gentleman for more than two turns (unless they have “an understanding”). If, during the game, virtue is lost by a female player, it is irretrievable. By contrast, gentleman players are allowed one opportunity to restore their reputation and continue play. Players who commit multiple fouls (known as indiscretions) are exposed as the worst of libertines and sent off (usually to fight Napoleon). The game ends when everyone is married.

No one is precisely sure why this period of history evokes such passion and nostalgia. Maybe it is because it is one of the few eras when high fashion looks not only stylish, but also wearable and vaguely comfortable. However, not even the most devout followers of Helen Harlotry want to live full-time in Regency mode. The general consensus is that, whilst era is nice to visit in spirit, you wouldn’t want to live there. Even if you were minted. After all, no matter how much money you have, you can’t buy penicillin if it hasn’t been discovered yet. Once their religious devotions are complete, they are happy to be able to return to their 21st century rights and freedoms, but with a refreshed appreciation of their modern privilege and a prayer for their sisters around the world who are yet to achieve emancipation.

*Helen Harlotrians are not totally humourless. They have a version of the Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman joke which begins, “Jane Austen, Maria Edgeworth and Susan Edmonstone Ferrier walked into the Pump Room at Bath…”

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Idol Scribblings Volume One


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


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NEW!
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What do you get the person who has everything? Turn them into a God!

I can turn your friend, relative or even you pet into a humorous Idol Scribblings cartoon. They make a perfect gift!

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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.

Yabast – God of Giving Your Cat a Pill

Yabast © H. Hudson-Lee 2021

As any cat lover knows, the merest suggestion of medication is enough to turn the sweetest pet kitty into a writhing ball of hate with a thousand claws. If the first labour assigned to Heracles had been to give a cat a tablet, his story would have been a lot shorter and would have ended with the Nemean Lion walking around wearing a Heracles-skin coat. Yabast first appears in the ancient pantheons shortly after the first cats decided to move in with humans, and things got a bit itchy and wormy. It is believed that he was spontaneously called into existence by ancient peoples shouting “Yabast!” as their cat attempted to flee its flea treatment, leaving a cat shaped hole in the wall of their mud hut.

The Temple of Yabast is home to a large clowder of sacred temple cats and their human servants. The temple doorway is guarded by a cat laid on its back as though it would like a belly rub. This is thought to be the most vicious booby trap ever installed in a temple. The temple interior always appears to have been the site of a dire catastrophe. Shredded curtains drape the windows, tendrils of gashed wallpaper flap forlornly on the walls and everything has a fine coating fur on it. The carpet is woven with an interesting pattern known as “Blood Splatter”. The space is illuminated with lightbulbs which are shaded by transparent plastic cones. When you visit, do not forget to bring an offering to place upon Yabast’s altar. This offering can be almost anything you would like to give, so long as it makes a satisfying smash when it gets pushed off the edge. Refreshments are served at the temple, but whilst the cats enjoy delicious meals of salmon mousse (whipped up by a specially dedicated team of priests known as the “Whiskers”) the most human diners can expect to receive is a scratch dinner. Do not expect to be able to sit down to dine. Literally every chair in the place will have a smug looking cat dozing on it.

The priesthood of Yabast train for many years, learning the cat wrestling martial art of Ju-Kit-Su. They must also learn first aid techniques for treating cat bites and lacerations (many extend their studies to become fully qualified Purramedics). Their vestments are comprised of whatever protective equipment they have to hand (e.g. welding gloves, cricket pads, hockey masks, leather aprons, or even a full suit of medieval armour). The priests of Yabast tend not to talk much before conducting a ritual. Despite all their diligent preparation, due to the sense of dread, they tend to become catatonic when they must give the cat a tonic. Some have been known to develop nervous disorders after too many years on the Frontline.

Contrary to popular belief, Yabast is rarely appealed to by professional Veterinarians. They have a cunning scheme running to ensure their hardly ever need to. To whit, any cat who requires a course of tablets will be given an injection during the vet’s consultation. This injection will mean that the tablets cannot be taken until the following day. Thereby removing any chance that the cat’s human will ask the vet to administer the first dose. This may sound a bit selfish, but the scheme has reduced workplace injuries amongst vets by a staggering 95%.

The main ritual of Yabast, known as “The Rite of Drontal” is held once every three months. The procedure is laid out in Yabast’s sacred text, “War and Puss”. It begins with a series of preliminary placatory prayers to the god before the priests attempt to administer a worming tablet to each of the temple cats in turn. When the proceedings are about to start, all the temple cats will mysteriously vanish and must be winkled out of their ingenious hiding spaces (such as the next-door neighbours airing cupboard). Once the felines are finally corralled, the priests will initially attempt to administer the tablets in the nicest way possible, ground up into the cats’ favourite foods. This food will be rejected out of hand. So, the priests move onto the next phase, where whole tablets are wrapped in a bit of squishy cheese and given to the cats. The cheese will be eaten, and the tablet spat out. The third stage involves the priests trying to pop the offending tablet directly into the cat’s mouth. Once they have retrieved the tablet from behind the sofa, coaxed the cat from on top of the kitchen cupboards and deployed the first aid kit, they are finally ready to proceed to the last stage of the ritual. In this last phase, all kind feelings towards the patient have evaporated and it is now all out war. The priest bodily grabs the cat, wrapping it in a blanket and ramming the pill as far down the ungrateful spitting maw as fast as they can, before cat knows what’s happening. Should this fail to work, the priest is now permitted to give up and go to hospital. The A&E staff learn to quickly spot priests of Yabast in their waiting room. They are the ones who look like they’ve been run over by a Turkish Van. Following treatment, it is traditional for the patched-up cleric to return to the temple to find that the cat has done a little protest “offering” of their own on the priest’s bed. If anyone is concerned that this ritual involves cruelty to animals, let me reassure you that all these actions are taken solely for the cat’s benefit and any cruelty involved is exacted upon the human race.

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A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occasions 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.

Nacreosa – Goddess of Pearl Clutchers

Nacreosa - Goddess of Pearl Clutchers © H. Hudson-Lee 2021
Nacreosa – Goddess of Pearl Clutchers © H. Hudson-Lee 2021

Nacreosa is the goddess for people who turn the tiny motes of irritation in their lives into a load of shiny balls. Her worshippers tend to be people who have so few problems in their lives that they have to go looking for things to be offended by, often over their neighbour’s fence with a pair of binoculars. She appears in several mythologies around the world, most notably in the Ancient Norse pantheon as the goddess Prigg.

Nacreosa does not have a corporeal body in the normal sense, with buttocks, thighs or breasts. Her anatomy is composed entirely of Ha-Haas, Ta-Taas, Ya-Yaas and Fou-Foos. She refuses to have anything to do with any of the other Gods and Goddesses, because she has seen the kind of things they get up to. Her one association is with her consort Anprogynist, the God of Misogynistic Prudery, whoes followers believe it’s fine to do or say anything, no matter how offensive, as long as, “There are no ladies present.”

When someone joins the church of Nacreosa they must first train for years to develop a perpetually astonished and horrified countenance. This involves rigorous drills such as eyebrow weightlifting and arduous lip puckering exercises (used to develop the perfect “cats bum mouth”). During their training, the neophyte will have already been wearing their knickers with at least two twists in them. Once they are ready to be inducted, they can finally don the knitted twin set and ceremonial pearls of a full acolyte*. At the initiation ceremony the leading priestess will present them with a penny, which they must grip tightly between their knees for the rest of their natural existence (which explains their distinctive gait). Thus begins a lifetime of service attempting to uphold standards, whether folks want them held up or not. The priesthood of Nacreosa also have a mission to police peoples’ reactions to newsworthy events. Demanding that the appropriate level of mandatory mournfulness or merriment is displayed by everyone, with cattle prods if necessary.

The Temple of Nacreosa is an imposing structure of shining, pearlescent marble known as “The Mary Whitehouse” which sits atop the tallest peak of the Moral Highlands. The temple precinct is encircled by a white picket fence, because there is no better defence against moral turpitude than a white picket fence. Rising from the roof is an array of flagpoles, from which a variety of colour coded pennants are flown to signal the virtue of the occupants. Inside, the main hall you will find a large altar which is elegantly draped with a floor length cloth to decently cover the legs it stands on. Here you will also find the temple’s sacred flame, which is kept well fuelled by burning erotic publications, sex toys and liberal media. All the temple windows are dressed with gossamer like curtains. A priest or priestess stands on duty by each window, ritualistically twitching the net curtains every thirty seconds. The temple also houses a scriptorium where thousands of strongly worded letters of complaint are penned daily. As one leaves the temple, you will see a large sign above the exit which reads, “PARENTAL ADVISORY—Explicit Content Beyond This Point”.

The weekly Rite of Nacreosa begins when the Sunday newspapers drop through the temple letterbox. At this cue the worshippers will read the headlines, drop their toast and Marmite and splurt out their mouthful of tea. Then they form a circle, clutch their ceremonial pearls and loudly denounce whichever alternative lifestyle, colour-blind casting decision or leftie popular trend has upset them this time. When they cannot find a genuine justification for their own sense of outrage, they will transfer the perceived offence to any group of people not able to speak for themselves, such as “the children”, a practice known as “Cogita Filios”. The ritual ends with the congregation chorusing the mantra, “Disgusted! Tunbridge Wells”.

The beautiful irony is, that although followers of Nacreosa like to be perceived as pure and virtuous, a true innocent would never take offence like they do. After all, one has to have a dirty enough mind to get a joke before one can be offended by it. “

*If they ever found out what “pearl necklace” is actually a euphemism for, they would probably faint.

Thanks to Janet Hudson for suggesting Nacreosa.

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Idol Scribblings Volume One


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


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NEW!
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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.

Jolly Saint Prick – God of Vaccination

The great midwinter festival is a time when ancient beliefs take on a modern incarnation, and Jolly Saint Prick is a prime example of this phenomenon. He is a genial spirit who protects mankind from the ravages of disease, especially during those dark pestilent months. Jolly Saint Prick is said to reside the South Pole where he has a celestial pharmaceutical lab staffed by a dedicated team of research elves. This location provides the perfect conditions to keep the phials of sacred vaccines that they produce below the required -70oC. (Also, it’s actually on a solid continental land mass, so he got a much better real estate deal than Santa). He files across the world in his magical medical sleigh to deliver vaccines to all the good and bad children alike (Jolly Saint Prick does not judge). The reindeer who pull his sleigh are all kept fully up to date on their shots to ensure herd immunity. Unfortunately, Jolly Saint Prick does not have the power to deliver his gift to everyone in the world in just one night. This is partly because two doses are required a few weeks apart.

Jolly Saint Prick has a dedicated team of medically trained priests who administer his blessings and protection to the masses. Whenever this blessing is bestowed the priest will recite a short prayer. The modern version of this prayer is, “You’ll feel a sharp scratch.” Traditionalists are still campaigning for a return to the original version, “You’re going to feel a little prick.” Their chief argument is that the polite, modern version deprives a nervous patient of the little dose of double entendre that can help get them through the experience.

They say you should never look a gift reindeer in the mouth, but despite all the evidence to the contrary, some people are sceptical of, and even violently hostile towards, the good works of Jolly Saint Prick (usually worshippers of Teflonata). One concern voiced, is that modern vaccines may be being used to insert microchips into people. All I can say, is that it is a big improvement on vaccines in the 1980’s when there was a whole 51/4 inch floppy disc in every tetanus shot. I jest, of course. Jolly Saint Prick’s rigorous safety procedures ensure that the only chips inside us this winter are the ones we’re filling our faces with over the holiday. Fortunately, Mr William Shakespeare of Warwick bravely set an example by becoming the first person in England to receive the new vaccine. He knows that uneasy likes the head that wears the corona. In Northern Ireland, when they were selecting the first person to receive the vaccine, they chose a keen ‘un.

I will leave you with a short extract from the famous sacred psalm “A Visit from Saint Prick”.

Now Astra! Now Zeneca! Now Oxford and Pfizer!
On Moderna! On BioNTech! On Janssen and Sputnik!
So hopefully we won’t get the bloody bug after all,
Vaccinate! Vaccinate! Vaccinate all!

I would like to thank Larry Brennan for kindly agreeing to be my model for Jolly Saint Prick. Thank you for lending your awesome Santa energy to this deity!

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
OUT NOW!

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


Order your copy here
https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book

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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https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book/

NEW!
IDOL SCRIBBLINGS COMMISSIONS


What do you get the person who has everything? Turn them into a God!

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Click this link to contact me for more information about how to deify your loved ones like a Roman Emperor of old!

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.

Karenken – Blond Bobbed Abyssal Beast

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.”

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
OUT NOW!

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


Order your copy here
https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book

Idol Scribblings Volume One


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


Order your copy here
https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book/

NEW!
IDOL SCRIBBLINGS COMMISSIONS


What do you get the person who has everything? Turn them into a God!

I can turn your friend, relative or even you pet into a humorous Idol Scribblings cartoon. They make a perfect gift!

Click this link to contact me for more information about how to deify your loved ones like a Roman Emperor of old!

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

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.

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 )


Pre order here https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book

Idol Scribblings Volume One


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


Order your copy here
https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book/

NEW!
IDOL SCRIBBLINGS COMMISSIONS


What do you get the person who has everything? Turn them into a God!

I can turn your friend, relative or even you pet into a humorous Idol Scribblings cartoon. They make a perfect gift!

Click this link to contact me for more information about how to deify your loved ones like a Roman Emperor of old!

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.

Tantrump – God of Sore Losers

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
Coming out 30th November 2020

Even more deities for every eventuality with a foreword by Gary Brannan of the Technical Difficulties ( TechDiff.co.uk )
Pre order before November 14th 2020 for a special early-bird discount and to get your name included in the book as a patron.

Pre order here https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book

Idol Scribblings Volume One


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


Order your copy here
https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book/

NEW!
IDOL SCRIBBLINGS COMMISSIONS


What do you get the person who has everything? Turn them into a God!

I can turn your friend, relative or even you pet into a humorous Idol Scribblings cartoon. They make a perfect gift!

Click this link to contact me for more information about how to deify your loved ones like a Roman Emperor of old!

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.

Dom Estos – God of Leaving the Toilet Clean and Usable

© H. Hudson-Lee 2020

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!

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 )
Pre order before November 14th 2020 for a special early-bird discount and to get your name included in the book as a patron.

Pre order here https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book

Idol Scribblings Volume One


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


Order your copy here
https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book/

NEW!
IDOL SCRIBBLINGS COMMISSIONS


What do you get the person who has everything? Turn them into a God!

I can turn your friend, relative or even you pet into a humorous Idol Scribblings cartoon. They make a perfect gift!

Click this link to contact me for more information about how to deify your loved ones like a Roman Emperor of old!

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.