Inspirouette – Goddess of Budding Ballerinas

The goddess Inspirouette is wearing a classic long ballet tutu and a garland of flowers in her hair. She is posed en pointe in the center of the turntable of a 1960s Fidelity suitcase record player. She is waving a red ribbon above her head.
Inspirouette © H.Hudson-Lee 2022

If you want to enjoy the magic and artistry of Royal Ballet tomorrow, you’d better show your support for the children of Mrs Postlethwaite’s School of Dance today. One way to do this is to give praise and offerings to Inspirouette, the goddess of budding ballerinas and ballerinos. She is the goddess of the grace-roots of dance. If, during your tender years, you ever dreamed of twirling in a diaphanous costume before an enraptured audience as the divine music holds you all in it’s spell, then Inspirouette has touched your soul at some point. In some traditions she is considered to be one of the nine muses of childhood creativity, along with her sisters, Glitterpenelope, Colouringin, Recordercide, Dressup, Chromadachtyla, Mudpiemeni, Crayolamural and Diyhaircut.

The high priest or priestess of Inspirouette is elected by a ballotté, and the winning candidate is celebrated with a rousing cheer of, “Hip-hip- bourreé!” The incumbent high priest(ess) gets the privilege of driving around in the official sacred car, which is a rather snazzy coupé. Leading the faith is a role that demands great stamina and aplomb. Therefor the post is not held for life. At some point the incumbent will retire and join the council of senior advisors, known as the “Grand Pas”, who are all in the golden age of life.

The vast majority of Inspirouette’s temples pop up once a week in village halls, community centres and all-purpose sports halls. The barre is the back of a chair, you have to be careful not to crash into the folded ping-pong table, and the changing room is a toilet. This may all be far cry from the glamour of Covent Garden, but they still have a fantastic turnout. Her neophytes dress in a strict uniform of leotards, tights, ribboned slippers and a wrap-around cardigan in cold weather (you don’t want to catch the dreaded dancer’s malady, the Baryshni cough). Legwarmers are strictly forbidden as there is no scientific evidence that they work (and, “you’re not one of the cast of Fame”).

A kindly priestess presides over each pop-up temple and teaches her young charges how to move in the faith and the steps to heaven. They are the only known teachers who demand that their pupils give them an Attitude. These priestesses are all members of the regulatory, “International Dance Temple Association”. Once a year, the association will send out a member of the Ballet Police (a Cop Pelia) to oversee the neophyte dancers taking their grades and delibes-erate over their marks. A ceremonial brass bell is rung before each exam to appeal to the goddess to guide the steps of the young dancer. It must work to some extent as, in the end, almost everyone graduates with a 2:2. Whilst most attend their temple purely for the love of dance, occasionally one of the neophytes may show exceptional skill, ambition and dedication and wish to pursue the religious life. Then their priestess must counsel them about the difficult road ahead. That there may be more bar work than barre work, and they may often cry, “Oh debt!” before they get to dance Odette (and even after).

Inspirouette has a handful of dedicated temples around the world, located in the major cultural centres. They usually have grand facades and slightly crumbling interiors. Each temple has a sacred spring in the temple garden known as the Margot Fountain. (The water of the fountain is never imbibed, they get their drinking water from the Saddler’s Wells). The fountain feeds into the temple lake where the sacred swans glide. These swans are kept as a symbolic reminder of the fact that, though they may look gentle and graceful, a Ballet dancer has the requisite strength to break your arm. Easily. Due to the presence of the swans, cats are not allowed in Inspirouette’s temples. It’s strictly ne pas de chats. Inside the temple you will find a series of spacious studios, each with a sprung polished-wood floor, walls of gilt framed mirrors, a piano and a faint whiff of rosin and feet.

One unusual tradition that the worshippers of Inspirouette observe is “Giselle Day”. It is a kind of cross between a Day of the Dead and Rag Week. Great dancers of the past are remembered and honoured, and the students will enjoy a rare feast of Pavlovas and Isodora Duncan Donuts. Once darkness falls, they dress as balletic ghosts and go around the town raising money for charity. It turns out that giving people the Willies can be quite an effective fundraising technique (and no one was better at this hustle than Darcy Bustle). The night usually ends with the dancers craving chips and stopping by a greasy fish dive on their way home.

Inspirouette has inspired many ground-breaking experimental ballets. You may remember the all-male production of Swan Lake. Less well remembered were the cockney ballet-buffa, “Chassé et Dave” (with the infamous Dance of the Rabbits), or the Christmas Ballet, danced entirely by builders, plumbers and electricians, “The Buttcracker”.

Inspirouette is dedicated to my wonderful Mum who celebrated a milestone Birthday this week. She is a passionate lover of Ballet, and spent many years helping young dancers (including me) take their first steps in a local village hall, accompanied by music from her trusty Fidelity HF31 portable record player. A very Happy Birthday to you Mum!

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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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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.

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Oxymoron – God of Military Intelligence

Oxymoron – God of Military Intelligence © H. Hudson-Lee 2021

Oxymoron is the god of military intelligence, and watches over all spies, agents and analysts who play the espionage game. He is the perfect deity for anyone who was born yesterday, but thinks they were Bourne yesterday. The ethos of the faith is that, if we all know each other’s secrets but pretend that we don’t, an uneasy peace on earth can be maintained. Despite all their efforts, the devotees of Oxymoron have experienced many embarrassing failures in their missions over the years. Such as the time the Australian sect were resoundingly outwitted by a herd of emus, or all the time that the American branch watched too many Wile E Coyote cartoons and tried to assassinate Fidel Castro with an ACME exploding cigar. (However, Oxymoron’s followers cannot really be blamed for the “Bush Shoe Throwing Incident”. After all, the assailant was inclognito.)

Oxymorons believe that the first time they die they will be reincarnated. Just the one time though, as you only live twice (or so they say). Upon their second death they believe that their souls will go to Double O Heaven (which is just like normal heaven, but at a scale of 1:76.2). It is said that the faith was founded by Agent Ian Flemming, a theological operative who was so stealthy that, to this day, most people think he discovered penicillin. Oxymoron’s sacred animal is the mole.

Each country has its own sect or “Agency” of Oxymoron. These separate organisations rarely officially interact and are deeply suspicious of one another. In reality, some agents of Oxymoron work for more than one country’s sect. It is very hard to discourage people from becoming double agents. Mainly because anyone opting for this route ends up getting twice the pay for half the work.

The British agency of Oxymoron is known as MI6 (they decided not to number the agencies with roman numerals after it was pointed out that MI6 would then be easily confused with a popular strawberry ice cream lolly). It is led by a high priest who holds the title of “Premium Bond”. Their temple is located somewhere near the remote upland village of Dalton Moore. The main entrance to the temple is vigilantly guarded by a heavily armed punk agent with a plethora of body modifications. Anyone trying to invade of infiltrate the temple will have to get passed Pierced Brosnan. Therefore, you will not be surprised to hear that very little is known about the inside of the temple. The one thing I can tell you, is that in the centre of the temple stands a beautiful Aspydistra, which was a gift from a visiting ambassador. It is known by the members of the faith as “The Obvious Plant”. The temple upkeep is paid for with money raised by manufacturing and selling dried pasta quills, which they call “Money Penne”.

Potential new priests or “Agents” of Oxymoron are usually recruited over a quiet glass of sherry and must then undergo years of rigorous training. The first lesson they must attend is Camouflage and Disguise 101 (anyone marked as present on the register automatically fails). Then they must decode the sacred texts of Oxymoron, memorise the contents and then eat them. Teamwork is essential, so throughout their instruction, the novices get regular nights out together at casinos and cocktail bars (these Bonding moments are so important). Once they have passed the initial basic training, each agent will receive a plain white suit. The neophyte agent will be surprised by this, as the regulation garb of an agent of Oxymoron is a plain black suit. The confused trainee often asks, “Do you expect me to wear a white suit?” The response to which to which is always, “No. We expect you to dye.”  The agent then usually asks if this needs to be done today, only to be told, “No. Dye another day.” Once they have graduated to full agents, it is common for priests of Oxymoron to travel around their target country in the guise of a company of actors, dancers or musicians on tour. This tactic popular tactic is known as “thespionage”.

Even less is known about the churches of Oxymoron in other countries. However, I can tell you that the Russian branch of the church is said to be headed by Cardi B’s sister Cagey. Also, I have heard chatter that the American priests of Oxymoron have spent the last eight years focusing their attention on an allotment in North Wales. I think they are hoping to track down source of the Snowden Leeks.

With thanks to @ladysixa for bringing it to my attention that IdolScribblings.blog has been blocked on US defense servers and to Kat Collier and Alex Smith for subsequently requesting a deity of military intelligence and generally egging me on.

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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.

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Twometer – Goddess of Social Distancing

Until 2020 Twometer was a minor deity of car park height barriers and low bridges. Before the Covid-19 pandemic, only the people of Finland had considered her aspect as a deity of social distancing. You can read the full story of her origins in the book of “Hygenesis”.

Twometer is always depicted wearing a gargantuan crinoline gown with a four-meter diameter. The bold yellow and back colours of her dress serve as a warning not to get too close. That voluminous skirt is hemmed with 5000V electric fence ribbon. If this proves to be an insufficient deterrent, she also carries a six-foot barge pole with a spear tip that you do not want her to be able to touch you with. Anyone managing to evade electrocution and impalement then comes into range of her deadly hairdo. This incorporates elements of elaborate braiding and the medieval chain mace. This style of unique coiffure is known as the “Pompadon’t”

Worshippers of Twometer mainly worship at home, but very occasionally it is absolutely essential to go out to the temple. These temples have a strict occupancy limit. At busy times they enact a “one in – one out policy”. (There is priority praying for keyworkers between 8am and 9am daily.) One can see the patiently waiting faithful lined up outside, safely spaced apart by the handy guide makers painted on the pavement. Everyone politely abides by this system (even the temple cats). When it is their turn to enter the temple, each worshipper will ritually sanitise their hands as they pass through the vaulted vestibule. A priest will also check their temperature, that they are wearing the mandatory face mask correctly. Anyone heard to have that distinctive dry cough known as the “Fur Cough” will be asked to leave immediately and self isolate.

Once inside a temple of Twometer, one must move around the building in a set pattern, following the guide arrows on the floor. It is a dreadful sin to go the wrong way or try to hurry others ahead of you. An attempt to push past another worshipper will earn you a sharp rebuke along the lines of, “Your hurry to get to the sacramental wine section is not more important than everyone else’s health,” or the earthier, “Do you want to stay six feet away or be six feet under Pal?”

The seating area of the temple has rows of pews, positioned much as they would be in any church or temple. However, most of these seats are blocked from use by stern signs and yellow tape, to ensure no one can be so rude as to sit directly next to anyone else. Prominent signs displayed in the temple read, “Please leave room between you for her Holy Spirit”.

It’s not all prayer and solitary contemplation being a worshipper of Twometer. Computer gaming is an especially popular pastime. The favourite game of most Twometerians is the retro classic “Personal Space Invaders”. The temples usually have spacious grounds which are marked out with a “picnic grid”. Worshippers can use an available square to catch a little sun or dine alfresco whilst being assured of sufficient elbowroom. (This is provided, of course that they take their rubbish home with them. Litterbuggers will be excommunicated.) For those that like something a bit more active, Zorbing is one of the few permitted social sports. Music lovers are catered for too, Twometer has many popular hymns including, “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” and “From a Distance”. However, all music is performed solo, or by a series of musicians taking it in turn to sing via video-link*.

One of the rules of the faith of Twometer is the observance of family planning. No one is allowed a family unit of more than 6. If they exceed this, they will be forbidden to leave the house together. Children in Twometerian families are often home-schooled for at least a portion of their education, and the sect provides a handy list of recommended reading and forbidden texts. The Famous Five books are fine, Secret Seven books are considered unholy.

Incidentally, Twometer has a sister called “Yoo”. In the past (when Twometer wasn’t watching over bent roof racks and dented double-deckers) they occasionally operated together as Goddesses of Removals People and Predictable Slapstick Children’s Entertainers. Their double act “Twometer – Yoo” hope to be back to their old light-hearted shenanigans when all this is over.

* These “pass the brush” recording of popular songs are the only known example in the universe of a whole being less than the sum of its parts.

The Goddess of Social Distancing has been suggested by just about every member of the Hive Mind (in some form or other) over the last 8 weeks. So, this one is for all of you.

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
Coming out 30th November 2020

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

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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.

Hengehog – God of Archaeology

Hengehog began existence as a terrifying mythical beast that haunted stone circles and ate hapless druids. Since the beginnings of the archaeological movement in the 1820’s he began to be worshipped as a deity by that intrepid band of muddy knee’d history hunters.

Hengehog is usually worshipped out in the field. Before a rite, an advance team of priests will check the archives, take aerial photographs and divine mystical electromagnetic conductivity readings to select a suitably interesting field to gather in. As they arrive, each worshipper is allotted a “square” to worship in. You must never enter someone’s square without their consent. If you do, they may baulk. During the ritual they will kneel and bow low in their trench, and worship with brushes and tiny trowels. Unless no one else is watching. Then they stand back and worship with a back-hoe loader. (Whatever methods they employ, this is a ground-breaking faith). Most dream of uncovering some amazing religious artefact during the ritual, but most would just be happy to find the set of keys that they lost at last year’s ceremony. The rite may last several weeks, regardless of weather conditions, biting insects and curious sheep. Each evening, the worshippers will gather back at their camp and make a libation to Hengehog. Raising high a leather tankard full of their traditional brew called “Lidar”. (Remember, if it doesn’t come from the Lida region of Belarus, it’s just Geo Fizz). The last of the series of rites they will carry out returns the field to way it looked before. This final ceremony is called the “Fill Hard In”.

Despite their alfresco worship, the cult of Hengehog does have temples. These hallowed halls are where the sacred relics discovered during their rituals are studied, lovingly preserved and displayed. These artefacts are so jealously guarded, that their protection has become an obsession. This obsession has reached a level where the curator-priests are terrified of losing their marbles (or at least someone else’s marbles that they were just holding on to, to keep them safe, honest).

The priesthood wear the traditional dress of steel toe cap wellies, moleskin trousers and colourful hand knitted jumpers. The senior priests will also sport a distinctive hat, supposedly for making them easily identifiable by their flock whilst out in the field (actually an attempt to look a bit like Indiana Jones). Being a priest of Hengehog is a fairly cushy gig. It’s one of the few careers where it’s okay to be caught knapping on the job. They all hope to become High Priest someday, as this is a superposition.

You may be surprised to learn the cult of Hengehog is a test pit of vice and a trench of filth. Everyone seems to have their eye on someone else’s post hole. They are driven by their sarsensuality, to the point where they really will date anything. They become dolmental. Utterly unhenged. When two Henghogians dig each other’s features, they will become tumulescent with excitement and hurry to enjoy cairnal knowledge of one another. (The forensic archaeologist sub-sect are a little more discerning, they are constantly in search of MILFS. Mummies I’d Like Funding to Study.)

Hengehogians are pretty direct about courtship. The most common Hengehogian chat up lines are, “Have you got a megalith in your moleskins or are you just pleased to see me?” and “Are you an archaeozoologist? ’cause I’m a bit of an animal and I’ve got a bone in my pants that I’d like you to date.” If you ask a Hengehogian to send you a nude pic, they will helpfully include a 2 meter ranging pole in shot for scale. Hengehogians will often have open relationships as they like to date other peoples. Sadly, they are not very attractive to people outside of the faith, because they smell of ancient grease and their hands have a tendency to Rome. Hengehogians are also known for being quite sweary. To the point where they don’t so much use full stops as f- stops. The gritty nature of their culture may well be the effect of decades of excavating thousands of votive penises, or perhaps it’s the utter filth they read on the walls of Herculaneum as impressionable neophytes.

It is extremely entertaining to watch any follower of Hengehog eat moussaka, trifle or indeed any layered food. If you invite a Hengehogian to dinner, why not make them feel especially welcome by serving a lasagne with a few pottery shards and coins hidden in between the layers. (Note: they will bring their own eating tools in a leather roll and their own tankard.)

The faith of Hengehog has no holy book. They did once discover a sacred ancient tablet called the “Con-Text”, but tragically, the Con-Text has been lost.

I would like to thank Carrie-May Mealor, @flintdibble and @stevetoase for being a source of inspiration for Hengehog (in some cases unwittingly). Also to Kieron Philips for pointing out a that a typo would make a great deity. My apologies if you haven’t laughed at any of these jokes. That’s because they’re pre prehysterical.

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.


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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!

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.

Toby Ornottoby – God of Existential Questions

In 399 BCE Socrates was charged with creating new deities and forced to commit suicide. Throughout the ensuing ages, many academics from a wide range of fields have strenuously attempted to defend his memory against this ludicrous accusation. They were wrong. Socrates was absolutely guilty as charged. For, as he first questioned everything from the cosmos to the self, he unwittingly brought Toby Ornottoby into being. However, his cult took another six thousand years to really get going though, because existence has to precede essence, and that took a while.

Toby-Ornottoby’s followers spend their entire lives questioning whether the object of their worship really exists, as they have never actually physically perceived him. There is one faction who believe that Toby-Ornottoby is, in fact, dead. They don’t have that many followers though. They are a very nietzsche sect.

The culture of Toby Ornottoby has a rich folklore associated with it. Perhaps the most feared of their mythical monsters are the Whywolves. Whywolves are evil undead shape shifting beasts which usually appear to be a normal pet dog. At the full moon when they turn into a human five year old who torments to you insanity by relentlessly questioning EVERYTHING.

Their legends also tell that, upon his death, the shade of Jean Paul Satre was collected by Toby Ornottoby himself and appointed lord of the infernal underworld. The reward of his philosophical hubris is that henceforth, for other people, hell was Jean Paul Satre. Proving that Toby Ornottoby has a firm grasp of the concept of irony.

When you first arrive at Toby Ornottoby’s temple, the first thing you will see is a welcoming sign board with a helpful map of the premises. Your location is indicated by a large arrow and the words “Why are you here?” Beyond the sign, the temple itself is a giant dome, the architect designed it to appropriately express pointlessness. Why not dine at the temple canteen during your visit? Here you can really drink in the Experience. (Remember, it is only real Experience if it comes from the Experienne region of France. Otherwise it’s just sparkling observation). This canteen is famous for serving dubious waffles which have acquired the nickname “Eggo Death”. (Most people only eat them when they have really let go of their self.)

Toby Ornottoby’s temple also houses an extensive library of erotic fiction.  These are all extremely kinky books. The plot of these dirty tomes tends to be quite predictable. Usually the dominant ties up the submissive and forces them to listen to a discussion on the pointless absurdity of the universe until they both achieve a crisis. You may have come across some of the better known titles, such as, “Lady Chatterley’s Lecture”, “The Second* Sex” and “Fifty Shades of Goddot”. Their most celebrated author is Søren Kinkegaard. Decorating the library are several notable works of sacred sculpture, including the famous statue of “The Existentialist Dread Pirate Roberts”. This has the words “Don’t bother wishing” inscribed across its plinth.

If something ails you, why not pop into the temple sanatorium for treatment. For healing, members of Toby Ornottoby’s faith rely on a combination of homeopathy and aromatherapy. This unique form of medicine uses ineffectual concentrations of existential oils. The most common patients they treat are people complaining about Nausea. The next most common are people who have been traumatised by transcendental idealism, and Kant even. Why not round off your visit to Toby Ornottoby’s temple by popping for a look at the marine life in their rather rubbish Sea Park? I’m afraid it has no porpoise.

*unit of time

Thank you to Robin Lawrence for suggesting Toby Ornottoby. (Additional thanks to Kate Durrant for helping me with the Latin.)

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.

Hippopotholemess – The Pot Hole Dragon

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
Coming out 30th November 2020

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.

Æthel Onnit – God of Embarrassing Injuries

Æthel Onnit’s domain is all injuries that rob you of your dignity, that you obtained through idiocy and that you have to fabricate a less humiliating story for. Though shown here as his Ancient Britannic avatar, Æthel Onnit is almost universal in pantheons around the globe. This leads us to deduce two things. Firstly that this god must have extremely early roots, and secondly that people are pillocks the world over. He is thought to have originated around the time that humanity became sufficiently technologically developed to experience boredom for the first time, as this was when folks first started to do inadvisable things for shits and giggles.

Shortly after the invention of beer in Mesopotamia around 7400 years ago, Æthel was joined by Pafo the Goddess of Drunken Injuries. She would have become his consort, but sadly, ever since their their respective Stag and Hen nights, she’s had her pelvis in traction, he’s got a burn on his Jonathan Thomas, and they have unable to consummate the union.

Whilst popular amongst the terminally adventurous, the inexperienced and the unskilled, Æthel Onnit holds a special place in the hearts of the sexually intrepid. Thankfully most medics qualified in trauma care are also fully licenced members of Æthel Onnit’s priesthood. They are specially trained to tactfully accept your story about falling out of bed onto a Russian Doll. They will not ask if you sleep on a trapeze or how you managed to fall onto a dollop of Jiggy-Glide at the same time as the doll*. They will also not tell a soul. They are doubly bound to secrecy as they have taken both the Hippocratic and the Hippocretin oaths. These paragons of discretion are led by the High Priest, Red Astaire.

Despite the extremely adult aspects of Æthel Onnit, there is also a more innocent place in this faith for the younger members of the congregation. Especially the kids with their heads stuck through railings, dried peas up their noses, and their tongues frozen to lamp posts. Æthel Onnitans have an old saying, “When the little children suffer, they shall come unto me”.

Most of us will only offer prayers to Æthel Onnit a handful of times during our lives. Usually following occasional lapses in our (normally good) judgement. However, as there always, there exist a few dedicated fanatics, who sacrifice the structural integrity of their skeletal system again and again in his name. One of the earliest of these was the mythical hero Malum Kenivilus. He is idolised for trying to jump 20 plaustrum with a chariot to impress the plebeians, but telling the healers afterwards that he slipped whilst trying to fix the temple weathervane.

Æthel Onnit does not have any dedicated temples as such. His worshippers usually visit Accident and Emergency Departments and Minor Injuries Units during times of crisis to offer up their prayers and bargains for relief from their self-inflicted suffering. Please spare a thought for the wonderful, but overstretched, priesthood and try to worship outside the peak times of “Frantic Fetishist Fornication Friday”, “Dilletante DIY Saturday” and “I think I’m Tony Hawk Sunday”.

Scholars of the cult of Æthel Onnit dedicate their lives to researching the best falsehoods and fictions for a multitude of mischiefs. Their aim is to eventually create a comprehensive glossary of fabrications that the faithful can use when in need. After many thousand years of study, they have concluded that a slightly embarrassing story is the best way to convincingly distract attention from an excruciatingly embarrassing truth. “I threw my back out whilst turning around to get the toilet roll off the back of the cistern” is a good one. You can have that.

Despite the focus on the foolish, Æthel Onnit also watches over those whose treatment for illness or injury must involve the suspension of normal standards of modesty. Basically, anything bum related. It is thought to be for this reason that Æthel’s sacred animal is the baboon.

*Thankfully medics were able to successfully remove the Russian Doll.
Eight times.
And each time was a little easier than the last.

Thank you to Rebecca Stothard for suggesting Æthel Onnit, following what we shall henceforth only refer to as “the hot water bottle incident”. I would like to thank Rebecca for still speaking to me.

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.

Bin Dei – God of Temporal Confusion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Houmous – God of Dips

Houmous is the deity to get your party started on a Saturday night. As you enter his temple you will see niches to either side of the door holding bowls of Tzatziki. Use some of this to make the sign of the Benevolent Breadstick on your forehead as you cross the threshold.

In the Temple grounds a plethora of sesame, chick peas and garlic are lovingly grown. Just beyond the grounds is the ranch where the sacred herd of yoghurt cows roam and graze a lush paddock. The temple itself is made of cut crystal, and is divided into sections to house different flavours of the faith.

Inside the beat is always dropping and the lights are always low. Worshippers may be reclining on chaise, performing ritual dances or be engaged in deep theological discussion about the nacho versus the crisp. All the while the neophytes circle the room bearing laden platters of nibbles and bowls of delicious sauces.

Whispers speak of secret orgiastic rites, held in the inner sanctum, where the participants paint their naked bodies with taramasalata and engage in wild salsa dancing.

The 5 Commandments of Houmous are;
1. Thou shall not double dip.
2. Thou shall not dip meat products when there are vegetarians at the party.
3. Thou shall not buy long life dips in jars unless thou art already really drunk or thy fridge be broken.
4. Thou shall wash thy hands. 
5. Thou shall use a cover during fly season.

Worshippers of Houmous believe that if they live a life of virtue according to these commandments, when they die they will go to an eternal paradise known as “The Thousand Islands”. If you transgress the commandments you will be damned to eternity in a dismal underworld where the only things to eat are low fat plain yoghurt and celery. The high priest of Houmous is called the Baba Ghanoush.

Houmous is known amongst his pantheon as a particularly foul mouthed deity. He is always coming out with loads of crudités. He is accompanied everywhere by “The Cheesehog”, a terrifying minor deity of children’s birthday parties.

Thank you to Ken Page for suggesting Houmous.

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.