Haemorrhoid – God of Sitting Down Very Gently

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you to Janet Hudson for suggesting Haemorrhoid.

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
Coming out 30th November 2020

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

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

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

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

Purdah – Goddess of Not Being Able To Speak Your Mind

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

Purdah* is the Goddess of not being able to speak your mind. She is the daughter of Deliquesce the Goddess of Dissolution and Poll the God of Democracy. This Goddesses’ demure and modest appearance hides a razor sharp intelligence and some strong opinions, but we will never get to know what they are. She is outwardly apolitical in all things. Ideologically she stands as a paragon of fairness. Her sect is particularly popular amongst public servants and people who have a professional image to maintain. When two worshippers of Purdah meet, they will greet one another with a unique gesture where they each extend their tongue and bite down upon it.

The great festival of Purdah does not occur with any predictable regularity. However, it must not happen less than once in five years. It can take place at any time of year, but most often occurs in May. Unusually, this year the festival of Purdah is taking place in mid-December. This is, however, proving popular with worshippers, as most people were planning to choose their turkey around then anyway (and it’s given parents everywhere a “get out of Nativity Play free” card).

When a festival of Purdah is announced, all followers will receive a stern letter from the central church to remind them of the correct conduct during this holy time. From the time of the announcement until the end of the day of the festival itself, followers of Purdah maintain a strict vow of silence. That is, they are not allowed to talk. They still make a noise though. If you stand next to one and listen carefully, you will hear a low grinding noise from their dentures. (Their original teeth were worn down long ago.). During the run up to the festival they are also forbidden from doing the ironing. They have to avoid the press at all costs.

On the day of the festival of Purdah itself, all the children are given a day off from studying and temporary temples are set up in their schools. Outside each temple stands a phalanx of cute dogs waiting patiently to be photographed for the local newspaper. Spread on the floor in the centre of each temple there is a bulging and unsightly rug which appears to have a lot of things swept under it. My local temple’s rug has a strange lump in it shaped just like the Russia Report.

Each worshipper will visit their local temple at some point during the festival. On arrival, they will check in with the Servants of Purdah (priesthood) who sit behind a desk drinking tea and eating Hobnobs to keep their strength up throughout the long day. You are only allowed one visit to the temple per festival. The Servants ensure no one tries to visit twice, and generally maintain order and decorum. They do so with great gentility. They are very civil servants. Although they do not have “official robes” as such, they dress in bland and neutral clothing. Slogans on clothing and the colours red, blue, yellow and green are forbidden. The leader of the Servants of Purdah is always a re-incarnation of the same soul, this is why they are known as the “Returning Officer”.

The Servants of Purdah will give each registered worshipper a slip of paper when they arrive and tick them off the list. The votary will then retire to the privacy of a curtained booth where they will meditate and then write their prayer on the slip of paper. On leaving the booth, the prayer slips are ceremonially posted into an armoured black metal box. Once the temples close at the end of the long festival day, the priesthood will all go outside and shout, scream and generally swear their tits off with relief that it is all over.

One of the arch enemies of Purdah is the demon Kalamos Kleptomania, also known as the “Pilferer of Pencils”. Don’t worry. Kalamos can be easily defeated with a piece of string (or a bobble chain if you’re from a posh constituency).

*Purdah would like me to make one thing clear from the outset. She does not actually like her name. It was stolen and didn’t mean something very nice in the first place. She toyed for a while with being known as “Pre-Election Period”, but this didn’t work out as people kept mistaking her for a goddess of menstruation. Purdah would really prefer a melifluous moniker , so do let her know if you have a good idea for a new name.

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.

Mascara – The Gothic Deity

October 27, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Mascara is an anthropomorphic personification of darkness and degradation with flawless eyeliner. Mascara is more Goth than thou will ever be. They are said to have originated in the mysterious forests and mountains of north eastern Europe, the offspring of Captain Sensible (God of the Damned) and Siouxsie (Goddess of backcombing and singing on the roof).

Mascara’s temple is a macabre confection of pointed arches and carved skulls in a secret location near Whitby. It is a Temple of Love. It shines like thunder and cries like rain. Dribbly candles flutter in sconces on the walls casting deep, mysterious shadows. The only well illuminated part of the temple is the sacred mirror. All their furniture is designed by the Bauhaus school. In the heart of the Temple is a large console with hundreds of push switches. They don’t do anything. The Emos just like to sit at it and depress the buttons. The structure of the temple is supported by a frame of steel girders. Recently, the temple required major restoration. When they consulted an expert structural steel engineer from Sheffield, he looked at the girders and said “Hey now! Hey now now! Look at this corrosion sithee!”

The priesthood wear black at all times, (well, until find a darker colour). Subtle differences in dress denote membership of different orders such as; The Perkies, The Cybers, The Mopies, The Romantics, The Phetishists and The Steamers. Many wear the “corset of penance”. They haven’t done anything particularly bad, they just like it. Each priest carries a ceremonial “wand” (which is in fact more like a conical brush on a stick). During rituals of Mascara, the priesthood adopt a strange facial expression, eyes wide and mouth hanging agape as they gaze into the scared mirror.

Worshippers of Mascara were hunted and persecuted throughout much of history. In crueller times, heathen mobs (or “Townies”) would attempt to trap and castrate the male members of the faith. They would then hang the testes up in their wardrobes as a charm to off ward cloth eating vermin. This is why, in days of yore, Townies tended to smell of Goth Balls.

Before attending worship at Mascara’s temple for the first time, it is wise to practice the four key ritual dance moves to avoid scorn from the initiated. They are called; “The Big Fish”, “The Little Fish”, “The Cardboard Box” and the “Yoyo Trick-Shot”.

The first and only commandment of Mascara is, “Don’t make me cry!”.

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.

Mana Mana – The Great Earwyrm

October 20, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Mana Mana is just one of the many deities of music. Their provinces are hooks, jingles, and catchy tunes. Unlike most other deities, Mana Mana is known to regularly possess the minds of mortal humans. They enter minds via the airwaves and set up home near the auditory nerve. Once installed they will repeatedly sing the last catchy song you heard. Unfortunately, they rarely know all the words, and usually only know the chorus, or even just the bit that goes “diddly qua qua, diddly qua qua”. Thanks to the miracle of modern broadcasting technology their powers of possession are prolific. They are capable of possessing thousands or even millions of human minds at any one time. Affecting believers and non-believers alike.

If you are possessed by Mana Mana the experience can last for anything from a couple of hours to a week. For a non-believer his possession may, at first, be merely mildly irritating, but after an extended period possession has been known to drive even strong minds to insanity. Many methods of shortening a possession by Mana Mana have been suggested and tried. These include listening to the particular tune Mana Mana is singing to you properly, chewing gum, naked dancing with ritual chanting and listening to Radio 4. However, the only known sure-fire method to end a possession is to drive a railroad spike through your head.

Far from trying to banish possessions prematurely, acolytes of Mana Mana cherish the experience of possession and will seek to maintain an earwyrm for as long as possible. There is a fundamentalist sect who fast for long periods, denying themselves all corporeal sustenance. In order to achieve this they enter a trance-like state of meditative communication with Mana Mana. Using this method, they are able to spend several weeks at a time living on a prayer. The High Priest of Mana Mana is Joe Pasquale. He was appointed as he knows a lot of songs that will get on your nerves.

The sect of Mana Mana may be the most prolific and most gregarious of all religions. Once you enter the faith, you will quickly get to know everyone. In fact, you are likely to run into a fellow worshipper almost anywhere you may go. It’s a small world after all. Every year followers of Mana Mana gather for a great festival. They celebrate with a great masquerade ball where the celebrants dress as infant sea creatures and dance the night away. This shindig is known as “The Baby Shark Doo”. The following day they observe their “Day of the Dead (Ringer For Love)” and hold a ceremony where the priesthood will form a circle in a graveyard. The high priest will then solemnly chant the words “Sweet Caroline”. If you listen closely, from beneath the soil, one will hear thousands of withered voices respond “Da Da Daaaaaah”.

The Blessed Gloria Gaynor is celebrated for almost becoming a martyr to the faith of Mana Mana. After belting out one catchy anthem too many she was cruelly beaten by a mob of heretics just outside the North Yorkshire town of Knaresborough. Then she was bodily thrown into Mother Shipton’s well. First she was affrayed, then she was petrified. After that she had to go and live in Ambleside. I would tell you then rest of the story, but you all already know that she will survive.

The Temple of Mana Mana is located on Bennie Hill and has a large aerial on the roof which broadcasts “Mana Mana Gold FM – Infuriating Classic Pop Hits 24/7”. The DJ priests diligently ensure Mana Mana comes into the ears of the nation daily. Why not tune in for their famous, long-running, “Sick of the Pops” show? The mascot of the radio station is a mighty lion.

The temple doorbell, when rung, gives you a short blast of Kylie’s “I Just Can’t Get You Out of My Head” played on a synthesizer chip made from fingernails and blackboards. As you enter, you will see that the hall of the temple has a glass ceiling and a mirrored floor. This is so that when worshippers enter on a nice day it creates the optical illusion that they are walking on sunshine. In the temple yard is the enclosure where the lion will sleep tonight.

Mana Mana is a deity who is going to be in your life, whether you like it or not. So, don’t stop believing.

Thank you to Robin Lawrence for suggesting Mana Mana.

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.

(To anyone who feels that I may have trespassed on a timeless and beloved puppet character: Please allow me to assure you that Mana Mana is only a little bit of an animal.)

Werentmee – God of Denial

October 6, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ 1 Comment

With the innocent face of an angel, the God Werentmee is impervious to all blame. Any excrement thrown his way slides right off. The divine light shining from his reverent rectum means that any shade thrown does not fall upon him. He has two other avatars not shown here. One is a lyre playing musician with flaming underwear and a nose as long as a telephone wire, and the other is the invisible divine ghost known to children and cyclopes everywhere as “Mr Nobody”.

Werentmee, God of Denial should not be confused with any Ancient Egyptian river deities. Werentmee hasn’t had any dealings in that region since the “The Aswan Dam Wasn’t an Environmental Disaster” incident.

The philosophy of the cult of Werentmee is not to avoid the sin, but to avoid the blame, the shame and the consequences. His devotees include corrupt politicians, environment destroyers, emotional fuckwits and asset stripping CEOs who sink their companies. Essential personal qualities for joining the priesthood of Werentmee are twinkling charm, a posh accent, and a very short memory. Having a conscience is considered to be a severe handicap, and may render one unsuitable to serve.

Werentmee’s priests can be recognised by the distinctive mittens they wear to prevent any finger-pointing. They also always wear spotless white robes, except at Hallowe’en, when they dress up in an autumnal themed costume made of russet leaves, berries and pumpkins. These seasonal vestments are known as the “Fall Guise”. The priesthood always tackle every task or project in a team of at least 6. This is “herd action” a defensive precaution. A team structure makes it nigh on impossible to isolate any single under-performing individual. The High Priest of Werentmee is known by the title “Pastor Buck”. He travels constantly in the pursuit of his duties, serving the faith tirelessly. “The Buck” never, ever stops. He is aided in is work by his deputy Mr Scott Free.

The roof of the Temple of Werentmee bristles with cruel spikes, scarecrows and decoy birds of prey. Atop all this sits a priest in the highest room of the tallest tower with a shot gun. Anything to prevent the pigeons from coming home to roost. The interior of his temple is strangely decorated to appear as though it is a photographic negative. Black is white in there. The Temple also houses a menagerie. Here you can see the two unique species which are Werentmee’s sacred animals. At the centre of the menagerie is a large lake, in which live a bask of Crocodylus lacrimosa (a kind of salt water crocodile). In the green field around the lake graze a flock of the rare goat breed Capra piaculum (or Scapegoat). In addition there is a single ordinary, elderly, wiffy hound dog called Patsy. He is kept at the temple purely to be the publicly acknowledged culprit of every fart dropped within. The temple has innumerable entrances. When you visit, will you enter via the Watergate, the Hackgate, the Donnygate, the Blobbygate or the Camillagate?

There are few strict rules in this faith, but one of these rules is that the dish “Eggs Benedict” is forbidden. In fact, if you tried, you would find it impossible to make a hollandaise sauce in the Temple of Werentmee, because the butter wouldn’t melt.

Many seek the divine assistance of Werentmee to get themselves out of a spot of bother of their own making. For serious misdemeanours they will attend the temple and take part in a rite where one of the Scapegoats is sacrificed and burned on a pyre of shredded documents and compromising photographs. For less serious quotidian situations, the temple press publishes a handy reference list of societal groups that you can blame for your daily fails. For example, today’s list includes: young people, teachers, parents, snowflakes, liberal lefties, immigrants, the European Union, women, the weather and the Hungarians.

Werentmee is often mentioned in the mythology of other faiths. Usually as a filthy piece of toe rag with a cherubic face who will ultimately bring about the end of days.

Thank you to Robin Lawrence for suggesting Werentmee.

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.

Semolina – Goddess of School Dinners

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

Semolina watches over all forms of institutional food whether in schools, workplaces, hospitals or prisons. Basically, anywhere that barely non-toxic dull grey slop is doled out onto plastic trays. Semolina ensures a place in paradise for those who clear their own table. Fryday is her holy day, when eating chips is permitted. Usually depicted as a lady of middle years, with a slightly frazzled demeanour. Pink custard flows through her veins.

Her temple is furnished with long tables, dented metal water jugs and stackable plastic chairs. The high altar resembles a long counter. It may well be the only altar to feature a sneeze guard. Her priestesses stand behind the altar to deliver the service. Above the altar the acronym S.U.A.E.I.* is inscribed in chalk on a blackboard, along with the two choices for that day’s fare; Take-It or Leave-It. A typical rite lasts around half an hour and involves 25 minutes of queuing and 5 minutes to scoff down a sacrament.

Behind the scenes the signature “barely non-toxic dull grey slop” is created by processing vast quantities of fungus. This takes place in the mush room. This mess is supposedly specifically formulated to build healthy bodies whilst dulling excitable urges. In a modern bid for healthier eating, salads are now also served (the only other vegetable on offer is ketchup). It is considered very auspicious to find a caterpillar in your salad (as it shows that it’s real). It is considered a very bad omen to find half a caterpillar in your salad.

Though the entree may be a penance, the dessert is always divine. The closely guarded sacred texts of Semolina house the secret recipes for childhood delights such as Chocolate Concrete and Gypsy Tart (these dishes were named to downplay their deliciousness to those not initiated into the religion). The recipes are, in fact, all very similar. They mostly involve using evaporated milk to glue sugar together.

Priestesses of Semolina can be recognised by the wearing of the Holy Hair-Net of Cantina. They undergo rigorous training before their ordination, including learning to make ice cream in little plastic pots at sundae school and how to inject jam into a donut. One should always treat the priests and priestesses of Semolina with great deference and respect as they will be touching your food and deciding your portion. They are renowned for strictly enforcing proper behaviour inside their temple. They are a fearsome foe to the rowdy. People who transgress from correct behaviour will be sent to the back of the line. A food fight is considered to be a holy war. The current High Priestess is Marie Bain.

Many high profile professional chefs have attempted to reform the faith of Semolina by improving their culinary skills of the priesthood. Though some seemed to make initial headway, all ultimately failed. They are however, warmly respected for at least trying. The faith was perilously threatened some business investors who attempted to take over and run Semolina’s temples for monetary gain. These people were eventually cast out and are now derided as false profits.

The ethos of the faith of Semolina is that all within an institution will be united in solidarity by the hatred of the food. From the pupils, through the IT department who drop in for a quick byte, to the Maths teachers who come for
a meal². They are all bonded in a universal loathing and so community spirit is fostered. Some say that following the way of Semolina is a piece of cake…
…but only if you’ve finished your vegetables.

Thank you to Xander Kennard for suggesting Semolina.

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.

* Shut up and eat it.

Wing & Ding – Gods of Fonts

September 22, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ 1 Comment

These ancient deities originate in the Far East, as did the art of woodblock printing. They are found in variations in other pantheons, sometimes as a single being. For example, they were known in Ancient Greece as Σύμβολο. A version of them did eventually make it into the Roman Pantheon, but it was not until just before Christianisation, in times new. All in all they are said to be pretty cool deities, and they are known to rock well. However, they can become vengeful if angered and have been known to make terror strike-through hearts. Wing & Ding are said to have each been reincarnated three times before their apotheosis. These subtly different avatars are known as Wing & Ding One, Two and Three. Wing’s sacred animal is the Dingbat. Ding’s sacred animal is Webding the Spider.

The Temples of Wing & Ding are decorated with the mysterious holy symbols painted on every surface. Newer modern temples will usually be constructed with a slight slant to the architecture, known as the Italic style. Older temples will usually be built in a more traditional Gothic style. Within each temple is a giant stone bowl which houses the temple’s copies of the sacred texts. This is known as the “Font of All Knowledge”. The sacred texts, known collectively as “The Superscript” are written in a code comprised of 94 hieroglyphic symbols. They are only decipherable by the priesthood and theological scholars following many years of study. These divine words of Wing and Ding were said to have originally been delivered to mankind by Courier. The texts are never completely translated into the western alphabet. However, small excerpts are printed in Trebuchet font on launch materials for new church projects.

The heavenly consorts of Wing and Ding are the Eight Sisters of Lucida. As a result polygamy is permitted within this faith, and some followers prefer to practice this open type of relationship. Sadly, the faith is not always understood by outsiders, and followers of Wing & Ding sometimes experience discrimination. They go into business establishments only to be told “We don’t serve your type here”. The priests of Wing & Ding are dedicated typophiles known as “Serifs”. The priestesses are in charge of the punctuation (as only they have periods). In recent years the whole faith has been administered from near Mansfield in the UK. Therefore the highest ranking priest holds the title of “Serif of Nottingham”. The current incumbent is Sir Harrington Copperplate-Gothic-Bold (who I am told is Cambria educated). Tragically his predecessor, the Liverpudlian Ar Julian, was assassinated. To this day the crime was never solved and no one knows who shot the Serif. In return for a donation to the temple, the Serifs will supply you with an astrological reading, printed in Futura. If appealed to, the Serifs may also hold a court and dispense with legal matters. However, they only mete out punishment when it is fully justified. One traditional penance given is to live solely on Kern Flakes for a set period.

The nemesis of Wing and Ding is the trickster demon “Comic Sans”. Falling into the trap of Comic Sans is said to be the fate of the immoral and unimaginative. Followers of Wing & Ding believe that those who live an unimaginative life will go to the dark underworld called “Helvetica” when they die. Some mystics of the faith believe they know the secret to everlasting life and youth. They believe that the secret to eternal life is…

Thank you to Sarah Shepton for suggesting Wing and Ding.

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.

Anachronistes – God of Historical Inaccuracy

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

Whenever a creative team try to recreate the past through the conjury of cinema, Anachronistes will be there. He is dreaded and feared by directors and producers. If he is not appeased with the appropriate rites and offerings before filming starts, he will make random items like plastic water bottles, Starbucks coffee cups or a flock of llamas magically appear in shot. The makers of Downton Abbey, Game of Thrones and Troy have learned to respect Anachronistes the hard way. To perform the ritual to appease Anachronistes you must first drape everything around you in hessian, lay your Artistic Licence Card on the altar and light some dribbley candles around it. Next, rend a roast chicken limb from limb with your bare hands whilst singing “Greensleeves”. Finally, sacrifice some cold hard cash to your local University History Faculty.

The priestesses of Anachronistes are known as the “Polyester Princesses” and the priests as the “Knylon Knights of Kni”. In addition to the usual duties of leading worship and caring for the temple, the priests of Anachronistes hire themselves out as movie extras. Some film buffs like to play a game where they watch the crowd scenes in historical movies and try to spot a priest of Anachronistes. How do you recognise them? Well, they will be the plebeian watching the gladiatorial games whilst chatting on their mobile phone, the medieval peasant wench hefting a tomato at someone in the stocks or the Spartan soldier sporting sunglasses*. The temple scribes of Anachronistes were also responsible for drawing all the “travelling map” animations for the Indiana Jones film trilogy.

When not involved in the magical world of the movies, the priesthood of Anachronistes like to infiltrate historical re-enactments as a kind of hobby. They stride out onto a battlefield draped in a tartan car rug and a smear of woad with a colander on their head. After the battle they will bed down in the living history camp in their authentic plastic yurt, complete with electrical camping hook up (just like the ancient nomads of the Steppes used to have). They revel in the seething rage they invoke in everyone who put hours of research and hand sewing into their attire and tentage. There are dark rumours that there have been actual murders. Only rumours mind. After all who’s going to notice one more skeleton buried under a battlefield?

There is a militant counter-sect that seek to thwart the acolytes of Anachronistes at every turn. “The Authenticity Police” are a learned, if somewhat anally retentive bunch. If you know one of their number, NEVER go to see a historical film with them. They are the kind of people who enjoy heckling the costume department. They rarely engage in direct conflict with the followers of Anachronistes. Their actions are usually restricted to online pedantry and snarking.

The Temple of Anachronistes is a distinctive 13th Century Neo-Tudor-Classical half-timbered, breeze block castle with polystyrene Doric columns and a thatched roof. This temple is truly a magnificent architectural gem, dear reader, and it is worth pausing here, for a moment, to admire it in your mind’s eye. The corners of the roof are ornamented with exquisitely carved gargoyles. Everyone’s favourite gargoyle is the one on the east side that looks like Alien. This gargoyle has been affectionately nicknamed “Paisley”. Through the temple’s Georgian sash windows you may be able to spot the elegant electric chandeliers that illuminate the interior. (Although, they are not always working as their support ropes tend to be vulnerable to swashbuckling heroes.)

The Temple of Anachronistes houses a cinema, where the priesthood can sit back and admire their handy work. Such a huge variety of historical films from all over the world are screened, that they rarely show repeats. However, once a year on the anniversary of the Battle of Stirling Bridge, the priests and priestesses gather en mass to enjoy the film Braveheart, which they consider to be their finest hour. At the appropriate moment of the film, the lead priest will chant, “Hold. Hold. Hold. NOW!” and the assembled priesthood will respond by chorusing,

“Where’s the f***ing bridge Mel?”

Thank you to Alex Smith, Clare Starkie, Rebecca Stothard who have all chipped in on this one.

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.

*The priesthood of Anachronistes would like me to make it explicitly clear that they had absolutely nothing to do with the film Teen Wolf.

Gardenia – Goddess of Lady Gardeners

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Justha Wan – God of Impromptu Drinking Sessions

August 25, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ 1 Comment

At five o’clock all across the world (and it’s always five o’clock somewhere), Justha Wan’s call to prayer begins. “Got time for a pint?” This god watches over all those who give the doomed response, “Okay, but just the one. It’s a school night”.

Justha Wan is closely associated with beer and brewing. He is the God of all those occasions when a swift jar turns into a legendary all-night bender. All people have “that one friend” who is a devout follower of this faith (and if you can’t think who it is, it’s YOU). They will frequently try to lead their friends astray to the righteous path of Justha Wan. If you know such a person, you have probably learned to accept invitations to join their religious devotions with trepidation. Especially as last time you worshipped with them you achieved divine communion with 6 pints, three doubles, a kebab and the floor.

Justha Wan’s has three notable divine powers. First is his ability to make time jump from 5.30pm to last orders seemingly instantaneously. Secondly he has the ability to turn a swift half into a swift half dozen. Thirdly, he can defend his faithful from spousal ire in the early hours by making a bunch of petrol station flowers appear in their hand as if by magic. Be warned though, Justha Wan’s protection will abruptly desert you when the alarm sounds the following morning and you have to rise for work.

Justha Wan’s sacred animals are the infamous “Beer Monkeys”. They are said to see the tired and emotional worshipper safely to their doorstep after each service. However, in payment they will take all your cash, your keys, your phone and possibly your trousers. You will know whether it is the Beer Monkeys who have guided you home, as you will be left with a distinctly unpleasant aftertaste in your mouth that you can’t seem to get rid of.

Temples of Justha Wan are conveniently situated on the route between worshippers’ places of work and their homes. Enabling them to worship daily, should they desire to be so devout. The older established temples are often majestic buildings, belonging to one of the recognised sects (such as the Whitbreads or the Spoons). Nowadays there is a big boom in the popularity of non-conformist artisan micro temples. These micro temples are instantly recognisable by the sandwich boards stood outside baring their pun-based name and some nugget of wit and wisdom (such as “Welcome to the Blame & Claim – No Gin, No Fee”). Each temple has a tiny fragment of neutron star buried in its foundations. This artificially increases the gravity field in the vicinity. Once you enter a temple, it requires a feat of superhuman strength to leave. At closing time this artificial enhanced gravity field is turned off, and worshippers will find themselves forcibly, but quietly*, ejected.

Services typically commence at five (or whenever the working day ends in that region) and last until just after eleven. Throughout the priests will stand behind the bar and deliver homilies, liquor and dubious advice. The priesthood are highly trained to deliver the service. They will pump away enthusiastically for you, and guarantee that you will get perfect head. They will also distribute bags of sanctified potato wafers, pious mini ploughman’s in plastic pouches and (if you are really lucky) the priest may let you have a handful of his hot nuts. All this is to suitably prepare you for the extended conversation you will have with the deity via the porcelain telephone later that night.

Worshippers are requested to maintain a merry demeanour whilst in the temple. Those who are in a maudlin mood are gently removed to a special chapel, known as the Whine Bar. Here they can consume consecrated chasers and have a good moan to a specially trained Counsellor / Bartender / Priest. Consuming these consecrated chasers won’t necessarily solve your problems, but it’s worth a shot.

The current high priest of Jutha Wan is Oliver Notherwan. He is a well-qualified cleric. He studied brewing at university and got a thirst. He alone prepares the secret beer that allows the oracles of the faith to glimpse the future. This strange elixir is know as the Dejá Brew. The future they see almost always involves a blinding headache and a longing for death.

*For the sake of our neighbours.

Thank you to Adam Broadhurst, master of the impromptu sesh for suggesting Justha Wan. Please enjoy worshipping Justha Wan responsibly.

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.