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.

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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.

*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.

Termes – God of Back to School

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

Termes is a children’s deity. He watches over all youngsters during their years in full time education. Termes came into being in 387 BCE, the year of the founding of Plato’s Academy.

Temples of Termes are either leaking old complexes of buildings, haphazardly expanded over the years, or befuddling shiny new monoliths of baffling progressive architecture. Which also leak. Uniformly displayed in every temple are dozen pictures known as “The 12 Stages of the Education”. If you tour the temple and view them in order, in each one, Termes is depicted as a year older than in the previous. The first scene always depicts Termes in short trousers. At stage 7 there is a sudden, complete change of costume, and in the final scene he is show waving two fingers at his shite-hole home town as he heads off to university. The innermost sanctuary of the temple is forbidden to all but the priesthood. This mysterious realm is known as “The Staff Room”. No one knows what happens in here, but those who have passed the door have reported hearing quiet sobbing from inside. When choosing a new High Priest or Priestess they will select the one with their faculty still intact.

In the religion of Termes, it is the congregation which have to wear ceremonial vestments, not their parents or the priesthood. The uniform of each temple is slightly different, and only available from a few select retailers at conveniently extortionate prices. All clothing comes in one size, known as size “you’ll grow into it”. Any member of the congregation found to not be wearing their uniform correctly at the temple will be immediately sent home with a note.

Termes’ sacred day occurs on the 1^st of September. It is known as the “First Day of Termes”. This festival is loathed by all Termian children and priests, but loved and longed for by Termian parents. Let me describe a Termian child’s typical “First Day of Termes” for you.

The preparation for this special day usually begins in July when supplies for the celebration start to be stocked in the shops. A fraught and hectic family shopping trip will take place to purchase all the necessary accoutrements and vestments. Traditionally, mothers will take their children on this annual venture. However, from time to time, brave fathers have stepped into the breech. According to the folklore of Termes this yields mixed results. There is a famous myth told of a male guardian who took his young charge back to school shopping. Sure, he got the books and the clothes okay, but he also forgot to get their broken glasses fixed and brought the child an owl. (In modern times this attitude is considered by many Termians to be old fashioned and sexist and parents will undertake the duties equally). Children will also usually receive their annual shearing at this time in readiness for the festival.

The night before (known by Termians as “The Longest Night”) is a flurry of activity to try and ensure excellent organisation, followed by eight dark hours of restlessness. By strict tradition, parents will yell at their children exactly one hundred times to “Pack their bag”. Also by strict tradition, their children don’t. At dawn on the big day the children are roused early, scrubbed to within an inch of their life, forced into their new vestments and lined up in front of the fire place to be ritually shot for Instagram. Thus their tender dignity is sacrificed to Termes. Once the moment has been captured, the children are allowed to break their fast. They weren’t allowed to eat before “in case they got something on it”.

Next the children will leave the house to go to the temple in a ceremonial rush. In ancient times they made this journey on foot. Nowadays these processional routes* are jammed solid with honking Land Rovers and Audis. This change has come about because over time all schools have been re located up mountains. It is a modern tradition for the children to fling the doors of these vehicles open without looking, for the parents to leave the engine running and for the vehicle to be left parked diagonally on the yellow zig-zags whilst someone has a chat. As the children enter the compound, the temple bells will ring shrilly to mark the start of the new year.

At the temple, the children will gather in the hall to hear a short address of welcome from the Head Priest. This will also contain messages of inspiration and dire warning for the year ahead. Following this, worshippers engage in the traditional activities of colouring in time tables, catching up with friends, covering books in wrapping paper and getting lost. Then they will write an essay of meditative reflection known as the “What I Did On My Holidays”. Sometimes the priesthood may hold a little pop quiz, which really bursts everyone’s bubble. Older children will be introduced to a variety of new subjects to study. Every style conscious Termian child hopes to have Geography on the First Day of Termes, because Geography is where it’s at.

The day ends at around 3pm, when the weary youngsters will wend their way home. When their parents enquire how their day went, the answer will always be “Ugh, alright”. When asked what they did, the answer is always, “Nuffin”.

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.

*Note for Classicists: The route to a Temple of Termes is marked by distinctive statues known as Terma (or Terms). Terma consist of a vertical stone cuboid plinth topped with a sculpted head of the god. The front of the plinth is decorated with a carving of an Oxford Maths Set 15cm perspex ruler and a couple of protractors. It is considered pious and good luck to touch the carving of the ruler as you pass. They say if you have pleased the god it will turn into a 30cm ruler.

Eureka – Goddess of Inspiration

July 13, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Just because she spends all her time in an overflowing bath and has a bubbly personality, do not make the mistake of assuming that she’s a flake!

Where are our minds most open to ideas and original thoughts? Where do we most often find the answers to life’s problems? Where are our ears opened to their widest to the background whispering of the universe? Why! In the bath of course. Eureka is the patron of artists, writers and philosophers as well as those who need a good scrub up.

“Heureka” was originally a human female who lived deep in the mists of pre-history. She had a penchant for bathing in natural hot springs to ease the aches of her body. However, the nearest natural hot springs were a full day’s travel from her settlement. During one visit, whilst sat in the soothing sulphurous waters, she thought “I wonder if I could build something like this at home?” This was the first ablution based inspiration to occur to any of humankind. On her return she set to work, and a hut, a hypocaust and a hydrotherapy pool later she had created the first bath. The popularity was immediate, and her tribe began to worship her after her death in gratitude.

Although, in later antiquity, she was not considered a major deity, we can still find historical examples of famous historical figures praising her name when they have a great idea. The most famous example of this is perhaps Archimedes. Whom, without her divine inspiration, would have been screwed. In fact, she was so synonymous with serendipity that her name actually came to mean “I found it!” in Ancient Greek. Sadly, Archimedes had a habit of dropping his aitches, and so she was constantly mispronounced thereafter. Gradually “Eureka” became the accepted modern form of her name.

Eureka’s sacred animal is the Rubber Duck. On being confirmed into the faith, each neophyte will receive their own Rubber Duck. This duck will be their cherished lifetime meditation companion. Whilst they contemplate the cosmos from their steaming bath, they will discuss the ideas that come to them with their Rubber Duck. The arch enemies of Eureka, Clogg (a shapeless, hairy demon who lurks in the plug hole and is summoned by the washing of long hair and the spring shaving of legs) and Scum (son of Sodium and Lauryl Sulphate), try to give bathers bad ideas. Talking things through with the Rubber Duck acts as a kind of “bad ideas filter” and is known as Rubber Ducking.

Eureka’s temples are steam filled stews containing a complex of pools of warm, scented water. The baths are lined with the rare metallic alloy Umahia. This is made by mixing Umium (Um), the element of contemplation with Ahthatsitium (Ah) the element of inspiration. This is said to sanctify the waters they contain and give them the power to stimulate the mind. The temple constantly rings with voices of varying quality raised in songs of praise. Singing in the bath is actively encouraged. As is consuming wine, chocolate, and eating fibrous foods in order to create one’s own hot tub effect. One can tell the seniority and holiness of her followers by how wrinkly they are. Each temple keeps a large flock of fluffy owls from Yorkshire which waft their wings to dispel drops of water from the faithful when they arise from their bath. When you are wet t’owls will get you dry.

If you attend a service of prayer at the temple, be ready to join in with the traditional congregational chorus of “Yes it does, doesn’t it.” When the High Priestess says “Where’s the soap”. At the conclusion of the rite the High Priestess will bless each member of the congregation in turn with a little tap on the head.

The sacred texts of Eureka are a bibliophile’s nightmare. They are all wrinkly and have broken spines because they always being perused in the bath.

Once monotheistic religions began to take over, there were efforts by the Christian church to discredit Eureka by branding her the Floozy in the Jacuzzi, the Slag in the Spa, the Bint in the Bath and the Tart in the Tub. This had the effect of eventually sending the whole religion down the drain, and for centauries mankind went unwashed and uninspired. Many temples were looted, with the thieves making a clean get away. Fortunately Eureka has gained a resurgence in more enlightened and sanitary modern times.

The largest and principle surviving Temple of Eureka is (perhaps unsurprisingly) in Bath in the United Kingdom. This temple houses a shop where one can purchase a plethora of sanctified bath products, heavily scented with aromas said to open the mind. Even if you have never visited the temple, you have probably smelt it. The waft of patchouli is said to be detectable from the Chippenham Services on the M4. The name of this emporium is “Gert Lush”. Here, one can even purchase water from High Priestess Delphine’s private bath. This is considered so holy that devotees will actually pay thirty quid a pop for a small bottle of the stuff.

Thank you to Kieron Philips for suggesting Eureka.

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.

Ganache – God of Chocolate, Cream, Cakes and Words that Sound Rude but Aren’t.

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

Ganache is a kindly deity who watches over bakers and confectioners. He may have a rotund figure, but he still has amazing buns. Offering a prayer to Ganache as you add the cocoa to your cake recipe is said to prevent soggy bottoms, provided you also give the batter a good ritual forking. He is the remover of bits of stray egg shell.

Delicious cooking smells waft from his temple, luring in new devotees. Every year at his festival, the priests make a giant cream horn (said to represent his tusk) which is shared amongst his followers as a fertility rite. Followers of Ganache define a “balanced diet” as a cupcake in each hand.

Ganache has a mischievous side and a prehensile trunk for snatching delicious treats. When a Ganachite baker places 12 cakes on the cooling rack and returns to find only 11, instead of shouting at his apprentices he will shrug and say, “I see Ganache has taken his own offering.” It is considered a divine endorsement of your skill and a blessing if Ganache just could not resist.

Ganache is also the God of words that sound a bit rude, but actually aren’t. Like “masticate” and “kumquat”.

Ganache is said to be quite an emotionally sensitive deity. When something goes wrong, he takes a while to gateauxverit. He is often in tiers.

Followers of Ganache believe that you only get out what you pudding. They also value the pursuit of independence, it is frowned upon to sponge off anyone. Ganache is a very popular deity and is followed by hundreds and thousands.

If you believe in Ganache you are encouraged to d’éclair it loudly and proudly.

Thank you to Sarah Shepton for suggesting Ganache.

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.