Twometer – Goddess of Social Distancing

June 7, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

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
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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.

Quarantina – Goddess of Lockdowns

May 3, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Quarantina is the deity of thriving in enforced isolation. Lockdown isn’t a competition, but if it was, she’d be winning it. Until this year she had been a minor deity, worshipped mainly by returning astronauts. However, in the last few months millions of people have begun tentatively exploring the way of Quarantina. She was originally the only daughter of Misogynese the king of Iona. An oracle prophesied to the king that one of his grandchildren would kill him (I think that’s the go-to stock prophecy they use when an oracle can’t think of anything to say). So, predictably, the king shut young Quarantina away to prevent her ever taking a lover. Removed from the world, Quarantina used the time to hone herself into a formidably wise and skilled woman. Her accomplishments grew until they rivalled those of the gods, who raised her deity-hood so that she would stop showing them up. This freed her from her father’s imprisonment. Once she had the chance, she bore many children; a tribe known as “The Quaranteens”. Many years later, the eldest of the Quaranteens attempted a reconciliation with his grandfather. They made peace and shook hands. Sadly, they forgot to wash them first.

Quarantina’s divine superpower is being able to perform multiple tasks simultaneously despite a hail of distractions and a background hum of dread anxiety. Working online for an eight-hour day whilst delivering six hours of high school level teaching, feeding a family of five, arbitrating a nuclear sibling war and composing her first symphony is a cinch for her! Even when Anaglypta and Artex next door start relaying their floorboards with Penetr8ingBeatzFM turned up to eleven on the radio. She can do all this stood on one leg, and she sticks a broom up her arse to sweep the floor whilst’s she’s at it. Her freshly spring-cleaned, redecorated and decluttered temple can be found in the creepily idyllic small town known as “Stepford”. An immaculate garden surrounds the temple to create a picket fence perfect scene. The windows of the temple are decorated with beautifully drawn rainbows. Passers-by have a tendency to be quite overwhelmed by these nauseating levels of perfection and, despite the delicious baking smells that constantly waft through the air, the street outside the temple is decorated with little piles of vomit.

Followers of Quarantina will try to emulate the goddess’s self-discipline. The lifestyle of a fully committed Quarantinian is gruelling. They must ritually cleanse themselves, brush their hair and put on a bra EVERY DAMN DAY. Quarantina’s devotees also appeal to her for divine assistance in their self-improvement projects. There are different traditional offerings they must make to Quarantina when requesting her aid with various endeavours. If one is attempting to learn a new language one is supposed to pour a libation of half a pint of homemade kombucha before her altar. For help with mastering a musical instrument, present the goddess with a bowl of frothy sourdough starter. If one is trying to finally write “that novel you know is inside you somewhere”, ritually cremate a banana loaf and waft the smoke towards the heavens whist chanting, “Ohshitohshitohshit” in time to beeping of your smoke alarm. The one miracle that Quarantina seems to be unable to perform, is a successful home haircut. No matter how many offerings you place at her altar, you WILL make your children look like the offspring of an 80’s footballer and a homicidal clown. Quarantina is powerless to assist because of her nemesis “Girl Swirled” the home haircut demon.

Due to the relatively recent popularity of this cult, Quarantina only has a small group of priests and priestesses. Their main role is the creation of informative online videos and podcasts about how to improve your lockdown life by following the way of Quarantina. They initially attract new followers with interesting articles and recipes, then subtly introduce the religious aspect. If you have recently read an article about rearing your own chickens, the chances are that this was Quarantina cluck-bait. They also manage the online league tables of competitive quarantining. Who has gone the longest without leaving the house? Who has sewed the most headbands for the NHS? Who has sewed the most sartorially elegant face masks? Whose child has been accepted to Oxbridge early thanks to four weeks of their tuition? Who has clapped the loudest at the Thursday night thanksgiving ritual? Following the way of Quarantina can be exhausting. To preserve one’s sanity it pays to remember that she is an ideal idol, and such perfection cannot be achieved by us mere mortals. If you don’t love Quarantina, you can at least love to hate her.

Thank you to Liz Laycock @longrat for suggesting Quarantina.

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.

Dot Matris – Mother of Printers

March 15, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Dot Matris came in to being in 1968, when the very first computer printer experienced it’s first technical fault. Dot Matris is a not so much a “Mother” of printers in the nurturing sense. She’s more a “Mother” in the Samuel L. Jackson sense. Dot Matris is always depicted wearing a distinctive high-waisted “micro line” dress. In her mythology, Dot Matris is married to the handsome mortal Prince Gamut. Together they work to try and foil the evil schemes of the Plotters. She is said to fly across the heavens in her celestial fighter aircraft, known as “The Laser Jet” singing as she goes. Well, I say singing. It’s more of a shrill, rhythmic, buzzing scream.

Dot Matris loathes poor organisation, bad time management and last minute rushes. Therefore, prayers will only be answered when your print job is not time critical. The closer you are to your deadline, the more likely it is that your prayers will fall on deaf ears. Sometime she will further punish you for the hubris of expecting her aid, by spreading a plague of bugs through all your technical devices. It is vital that you only pray to Dot Matris once for each print job. If you pray to her repeatedly, she will get annoyed. Nothing will come out of your printer until after you need it. Then a thousand copies will suddenly spew forth into the air, and you will be powerless to stop them.

The principle temple of Dot Matris is in Epsom in the UK. It is a very recent structure. It has been cleverly 3D printed from concrete, plastic and chocolate. (There is a video on YouTube about how they did it in “Just a day!”). The temple is populated and maintained by her sacred order known as the “Brother Printers”.

This sect is lead by the “Printer Head”. “Brothers” may be of any gender. The current Printer Head is Daisy Wheeler. She is the fifth to hold the title. (The first to hold that title has now been Canonised as St Hewlett of Packard.) The next Printer Head will be divinely chosen by Dot Matris before their birth. The Brothers will know them by the “Lexmark”, which will manifest somewhere upon their body.

The altar at the centre of the temple is designed to dispense the daily offerings of consumables which are made to appease the goddess. Dot Matris is said to eat a hundred reams of the finest quality paper every day. These are lovingly loaded into plastic trays by the Brothers in order to make the feeding easier. She abhors cheap paper, and if offered anything less than 90gsm she will just chew it up and spit it out.

On the top of the altar stand four elegant vessels for the goddess’s beverages. She will be offered, and drink, five gallons of ink every day (a gallon of black, a gallon of magenta, a gallon of cyan, and for some weird reason, two gallons of yellow) . If any one of these reservoirs runs dry, the goddess will shut down and refuse to do anything. The holy ink they must provide for the offering is incredibly rare and precious. It is made from dragon’s milk and mermaid’s toenails. The goddess will only accept the genuine stuff. If given a cheaper substitute she will send you many messages of dire warning. In order to get this holy ink the priesthood have to buy hundreds and hundreds of brand new printers every day and extract the ink from each one. This has turned out to be by far the cheapest way of doing it (around the back of the temple is a landfill pit, overflowing with thousands of forlorn, drained printers.)

If you visit the temple. Do try to coincide your visit with one of their excellent “Jammin'” sessions. These involve an informal group gathering around a blocked printer, and freestyle riffing advice on how to fix it, whilst the owner of the printer tries not to worry about a thing, and believe that every little thing’s gonna be alright. I think it is a lot of fun. When you get to try it, I hope you like Jammin’ too. Refreshments are usually served at these sessions, notably the traditional “Bubblejet Tea”. Before the end of your visit, why not take the opportunity to make a-toner-ment for your sins.

The sacred text of Dot Matris is known as “The Manual”. The scared text gets fainter and fainter as you progress towards the end, but this doesn’t matter. It has never been read, people have only ever glanced at the diagrams.

Thank you to Rhiannon Williams (@Feiryred) , for the brilliant suggestion of Dot Matris. Welcome to the Hive Mind.

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.

Scrubbup – Goddess of Infection Control

March 8, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

There are many deities of healing, but Scrubbup beats them all, as the prevention is always better than the cure. Whist she mostly takes the form of a human female, she is all bear below the elbows. Of all the deities, Scrubbup is considered to be humanity’s first and best line of defence against disease. Many people are surprised to learn that Scrubbup is a deity of the modern age, coming into being sometime in the mid 1840’s. About the time that people started to realise that, if you don’t wash your hands after using the bathroom, you and your friends may as well greet each other by sticking your hands down each other’s pants. The early pioneers of her sect, who first started to preach the word of Scrubbup were disbelieved, derided, stigmatised, and even martyred. Physicians were supposed to cure disease, surely they could not be spreading it! Some of these early radicals have since been elevated to sainthood or “saintised”. Such as Saint Ignaz Semmelweis, Saint Florence of Nightingale, Saint Dora of Walsall and Saint John Snow (who knew a surprising amount, but it took him ages to get anyone to listen).

The faith of Scrubbup is still going strong today. The standards of purity laid down by her church have been adopted into medical practice all over the world. You will struggle today to find a medical professional who is not a devotee. Their motto is “Spread the word, not the pathogen!” In order to help the layperson understand the mind bogging numbers of bacterial that can occupy a common object, they have developed a unit of bacteria known as the “Metric Toilet Seat”. As in, “Did you know your mobile phone carries three Metric Toilet Seats worth of bacteria?” Today this sect is highly active and organises and funds both a research and an educational mission. The education mission go forth into the community, teaching the doctrine that good hygiene is the key to life everlasting, or at least life lasting a lot longer than it would otherwise. They sometimes hold awareness rallies, but unfortunately, as most of the attendees are doctors, no one can read their placards. The research arm mainly remain within the temple, where they devotedly spend hours and hours staring into microscopes, watching aerobic bacteria do their cardio.

When you visit a temple of Scrubbup, the first thing you will notice is that, where the holy water dish would be in a Catholic church, there is instead a holy alcohol hand sanitiser dispenser. The priesthood and congregation will frequently use this, giving the impression that they are constantly hatching a dastardly plan. Above the entrance door itself is a sign which says “Mind the Strep”. Inside, instead of communal pews, there are individual seats, placed at least a meter apart. The focal point of the temple is a special hand washing font, with those long arm taps, where the High Priestess, known as Auntie Viral, demonstrates correct hand washing technique. As she does this, the congregation sing hymns to accompany her. This helps her time the correct duration of her demonstration. These hymns all last exactly 20 seconds, and include include twice “Happy Birthday to You Times Two”, “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”, and for the Goths, four times through “Hey Now, Hey Now Now, Sing this Corona to Me”.

The priesthood can be recognised by the austere robes or “Scrubs” that they wear. (The US girl group TLC were excommunicated for failure to conform to the dress code.) These vestments include distinctive blue ceremonial face masks. There is an apocryphal tale that, once, some priests of Scrubbup went to pick up supplies of the face masks from Superdrug, but they had run out. The sales assistant suggested they try Boots. They almost suffocated.

Sadly, most people in the street give little thought to the wisdom of Scrubbup until there is some kind of epidemic scare situation. Then they often misinterpret the sensible guidance wildly. This is why, when advised to stay at home, they will proceed in a mass rabble to Sainsbury’s and up buy heaps of Knorr, Bovril and Oxo. This panic response is known as “stockpiling”. Inexplicably, people also get an urge to buy up all the toilet paper in sight, like a squirrel that ate a senna pod. One school of thought is that, if people are going to have to put their heads between their legs and kiss their arses goodbye, they want it to taste okay.

Scrubbup does not only have a role in medicine. Her beneficence is essential to space exploration. Sacred sterilisation and decontamination rites are carried out over any space vessel or probe to make sure that MARS missions do not become an MRSA missions.

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.

Amber – Goddess of Flood Warnings

February 23, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Almost all religious texts, mythologies and folklores tell of a great apocalyptic flood, early on in the history of civilisation. It may be the only thing that all legends, and the archaeological evidence, all agree on. Each culture tells their own story of this tragic time when their nascent societies were almost extinguished. Perhaps the most genuinely fascinating of these is Amber – Goddess of Flood Warnings (accept Noah imitations). She alone of all the deities took pity on all mankind, not just those she perceived as righteous, and tried to warn them. As a portent, she sent a paranormal hail of fossilised tree sap. Sadly, early bronze-age man completely failed to understand the significance. They said “ow”, made some nice jewellery, and shortly after, drowned. Following the deluge, a sect formed with the aim of trying to heed Amber’s warnings and predict when the next disaster might strike. They became Aeromancers, reading the patterns in the weather to predict the future of… …erm… …the weather. This practice is also known as Metameteorology.

Though the sects’ readings of Amber’s portents were famously unreliable throughout much of history, in the last 80 years they have become surprisingly accurate. This is mostly thanks to a generous donation to Amber’s cult by Montgomery in 1944, when he wanted to know if he’d need his big coat for the D-Day landings. Despite their current divinatory mastery, one weather mystery they have never been unable to unravel is, why do so many people wading through flood water carry an umbrella over their heads?

The senior gods are well known for looking unkindly on prophets who are too precise and comprehensible. In the early 21^st century, they cursed the priesthood of Amber to have only their short term forecasts believed. This is why their warning of wet and windy weather on Wednesday is accepted without question, but their warning of cataclysmic climate change in the next decade is scornfully derided. For example, recent events have revealed that some stretches of HS2 might end up being more H₂0 for several weeks of the year. Yet they forge ahead.

Amber’s sect is currently lead by High Priestess Sandy Baggs, the priesthood are comprised of climatologists, meteorologists, geologists and ecologists, and the congregation are made up of those unfortunate folk who live at the mercy of a fluctuating body of water. Members of the faith are prohibited from holding garden fetes and other open air festivities as they believe they will trigger a massive weather system, in a sort of supercharged Butterfly Effect. The waft of a bat at Headingly can trigger a calamity in Hebden. This phenomena is known as the “Cricket Match Corollary”.

When Amber’s omens align, indicating that an inundation is incoming, a priest will climb to the top of the temple tower to ignite the warning beacon. Special sacred salts are cast onto the fire to colour the flame yellow, orange or red, depending on the severity of the forecast. The intention is that this will give us lesser mortals a chance to make sensible preparations to defend ourselves against the wrath of nature. What actually happens is that, in some people, it induces state of hysteria, where a lactose intolerant coeliac will bludgeon a sainted granny to death with a bottle of spring water to buy the last of the bread and milk in the shop.

The other work of Amber’s church revolves around flood prevention. Members of the church must expect their income to be tithed, as they are always levying a levy for a levee. Sometimes, to raise extra funding, they will hold a sponsored wade. They do this, despite knowing that water will always win in the end, and the nagging thought that a much more effective method of flood prevention would be to magically make all grouse taste revolting. During flood events the church also open up their temples as “Rest Centres” where the affected can seek sanctuary. The temples also house a collection of small rescue boats, kept there for emergencies. The paddles are displayed on the wall, and they’re not just oar-namental. Kayaking priests will also head out to take supplies to stranded people, and hopefully get on the local news. The criminal element also take to the water, and the priesthood of Amber helped the police by persuading Steve Redgrave and Matthew Pinsent to temporarily come out of retirement so that there would still be an effective high speed pursuit unit.

The church of Amber are often known for being far more caring about those at the mercy of flooding than the government. When the pressure of high rainfall threatens to overwhelm our reservoirs the establishment, frankly, don’t give a dam. Amber’s sacred animal is a Cobra, which appears promptly when the Home Counties are affected, but remains eel-usive when there is an incident anywhere else.

There are some who staunchly do not believe in Amber or her portents, and carry on regardless despite the evidence of their eyes. They usually get their comeuppance. Such as Helen Highwater who just HAD to get to Waitrose and drove merrily past the “Road Closed” sign. She was rescued by Barry and Glynnis who finally have a use for the speedboat they won on Bullseye in 1985. Helen put in a car insurance claim for “a collision with an animal”, only to have the claim rejected when the insurers found out the animal was not a cat, but in fact a catfish.

Thank you to the members of my family who have made suggestions for a deity of flood warnings as they nervously watched the waters lapping at the levy by their home this week. Fortunately, everyone is fine.

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.

Glor-or-or-oror-oor-or-or-or-or-oror-ooor-or-or-or-oror-oria – Goddess of Over Achieving Carol Singers

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

Glor-or-or-oror-oor-or-or-or-or-oror-ooor-or-or-or-oror-oria (let’s just call her Gloria for short) is the Goddess of all those people out there who love the festive time of year and love to sing. Especially those who actually poses some genuine singing ability, and therefore stick out like a wise man on Jeremy Kyle’s sofa amongst their fellow carollers. Though, I should make it clear, ability is not necessarily required to follow Gloria. Enthusiasm, however, is essential.

Gloria herself presents an imposing figure with huge….erm…lungs. She has a magnificent operatic soprano voice which, like bagpipes, is best enjoyed at a safe distance. Her impressive vocal projection is capable of warning any three ships that may happen to come sailing in away from any treacherous rocks hidden by fog. She often gives the impression that this avatar is merely a seasonal gig, and that she might spend the rest of the year ferrying the souls of warriors from the battlefield to the afterlife*. Her followers believe that whenever they gather to sign yuletide songs, if they raise the roof high enough, Gloria herself will descend from the heavens and join in.

Followers of Gloria strictly confine their acts of worship to the month of December. Singing the songs of Gloria outside of this time is only permitted by the inner circle of the priesthood within specially defined rehearsal spaces. In fact the only way one can spot a follower of Gloria during the rest of the year is if they attend a birthday party. They will be the one adding a harmony on the last line of “Happy Birthday to You”.

The true and proper words of the songs of Gloria are set down in her sacred text, The Uxbridge Book of Carols. Deviations from these verified scriptures is anathema to them. There is said to be a forbidden “Dark Text”, which contains heretical versions of Gloria’s hymns. These are rumoured include references to the transportation preferences of eastern monarchs, shepherds’ laundry night and Batman’s body odour affliction. This iconoclastic tome is known as “100 Carols for Pariahs”. If you are caught with a copy about your person, you will be ritually ostracised. This is done by the priesthood singing the “Being Sent to Coventry Carol” , before turning their parker clad backs on you.

Gloria’s temples are quaint Dickensian cottages surrounded by holly bushes and intertwined with ivy. The warm flicker of firelight glows through the mullioned windows, and the roof if always coated with a light dusting of snow.

Unusually, worship does not take place inside the temple building itself. The congregation will gather outside the temple door at twilight in their boots and bobble hats to sing the goddess’s praises with great gusto. Sometimes they will stand in a crowd around the porch, at others they will arrange themselves in single file (this is known as the sweet carol line). The flock carry the community spirit with them (in a hip flask). Only once a rousing rendition has been recited will the priesthood throw open the temple doors and invite the worshippers inside for a shared celebrative feast of wassail, mulled wine, mince pies, figgy pudding and special psychoactive substance laced Ding-Dongs which will get you merrily high. The doors are only opened once the priesthood judge that the congregation’s performance has been satisfactory. Sometimes wayward congregations have been known to get cold and impatient and begin belting out “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” with its passive aggressive demands that the clergy bring the refreshments out to them instead (and they won’t go until they get some).

Noviciates for the priesthood of Gloria are chosen and initiated into the noviciate at a very tender age. The senior priests attend every possible school nativity play and carol service, searching for any child who, when it comes to singing, gives zero fucks and belts out Silent Night like a Prima Donna. Despite the fact that the rest of their classmates are murmuring into their hymn books as they quietly die of embarrassment. (Incidentally, followers of Gloria have a special name for those heathen dissidents who whisper or merely lip-sync along to carols. The call them the “NÖel Cowards” dear boy.)

Christian based religions may be more familiar with this goddess as the pre-congregation Saint Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la.

Whatever form you venerate her in, ultimately Gloria’s is a religion of joyful celebration, overcoming your inhibitions, joining in and bringing diverse people together in four part harmony. In that spirit, Gods rest you merry one and all!

With lots of love from Idol Scribblings. Xxx

*Well I suppose everyone needs a hobby.

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

Verruca – Goddess of Disinfectant Foot Baths

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Latrine – Goddess of Music Festivals

June 9, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Latrine is principally a summer Goddess. Many think she originated in the 1960s, but in fact she is much, much older. It is said she was formed from the wet earth churned by the feet and spilled beer of the first humans to gather and entertain each other with turns around the campfire. She has no permanent temple, all music festivals are her sacred spaces. Latrine has the power to maintain good spirits in any weather. No matter how much it rains, she’s never a stick in the mud.

Attending a ritual of worship for Latrine can be a full on and taxing (at 20%), though worthwhile experience. Whilst there are many small and family friendly services around the country every year, the most famous are bewilderingly huge. She is such a widely loved deity that, in order to attend the most popular gatherings, one must first engage in either a multi million pound auction, have a top notch internet connection and the fastest “refresh key finger” in the west or be prepared to throw down in a vegan street-fight. Following this one must muster one’s survival equipment and journey to try and find a patch of field big enough for your tent within a miles walk of the main stage.

Latrine has been said to apparate at honoured music festivals. There is even a photograph of the crowd watching R.E.M. play “Losing My Religion” at Glastonbury 1999 which is said to have captured one of her visitations. If you look carefully, that’s her in the corner. She seems to be divinely illuminated by a heavenly spotlight. Latrine has been known to work miracles for the musicians, performers and crew who strive to stage her rites. One legendary tale, told in revered tones in green rooms around the world, is of how she came to the rescue of The Who. Their minibus ran out of petrol on the way to the Reading Festival in 1966 on a remote country road where they could see for miles and miles with no sign of civilization. The band were just thinking “We won’t get fuelled again!” when Latrine appeared to them with a full Gerry can. They asked “Who are you?” but she just smiled and kept her secrets behind blue eyes. Henceforth this blessed vehicle has become known as The Magic Bus.

The most holy sanctuary within the festival site is the Port-a-Loo. Visiting one is an essential necessity of the proper order of worship. Inside one will receive enlightenment into the full spectrum of the human condition. If Latrine is smiling upon you, your visit will be timed just after her angels in biohazard suits with the sludge-gulper have refreshed the cubicle. For the 0.0956 nanoseconds following their visit, there will be toilet paper and a slightly less pungent odour.

The priests and priestesses of Latrine can be identified by their “Crew” wristbands and AAA laminates. Each festival their role begins as one of organisation, transitions into damage limitation, and ends as a disaster area clean up operation. Worshippers who leave a mess are not considered to be the true faithful by the inner circle. Blessed are those who use a bin. Some clergy are trained specifically as healers to man the first aid tent. They are said to be highly skilled medics as they know the difference between Placebo and The Cure. The security priests have health and safety as their paramount concern. This is why they insist that everybody looks at their hands whilst dancing. Latrine’s greatest powers are her ability to open your mind to new experiences, to create happy memories and the feeling that it was all worth it. She is also known to the Romans as “Domum Stercore”.

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.

Glandula – Goddess of Electrical Connections

May 23, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Glandula is a highly charged and energetic deity with a short fuse who generates a huge following. Glandula’s temple is a well insulated building, securely bonded to the earth. The grounds are planted with lovingly grown power plants. Three bronze towers rise above the roof (one slightly taller than the other two).

Following the way of Glandula will certainly change your life. She is something of a transformer and will help keep your spirit level. A key aspect of spiritual development is believed to be the mastering of certain physical exercises. These include Ladder Balancing, the SWArpent Dance and daily acrobatic volting. These exercises are accompanied by meditations on the question “Watt is Love”. Persons who severely err in following the way of Glandula sometimes punish themselves using a CAT5 O’Nine Tails until they are poe faced.

Sight-seers visiting the temple must have 10p for the meter to enter. On certain holy days they lose this charge and the tourists are ex-static. It surprises most visitors to discover that her temple contains a tavern known as “The Bus Bar”. In the bar the song “Can’t Touch This” plays on repeat, there are a pair of strippers and one can get a really good screwdriver. Sometimes there is even a three way.

It is a long road of practice, training and study spanning several years to become a priest or priestess of Glandula. Trainees will live at the temple, which becomes an ohm from home. In training they will pass through three phases. Phluorescentlytes (the starters), Incandescentlytes and Tracklytes. Tracklytes are the most senior, experienced and broad minded priests. Nothing shocks them anymore.

The Tracklytes then divide further into three “Cores”. The “Earth Core” are concerned with moral safety. They wear robes of green and yellow. The “Neutral Core” in their blue robes are mediators and negotiators. The “Live Core” wear brown and are concerned with preaching, teaching and sacred arts performance.

Her scripture is regularly revised and updated by the ten most senior priests (known as Glandula’s Upper Ten or the GU10). They are just about to release the 18th Edition of her holy book. This senior priesthood undergo constant moral scrutiny themselves, and have limited terms of office, as it is well known that power corrupts. They have to annually undergo a Priest Assessment Test (or PAT test) to ensure continued integrity.

Thank you to Pascal Harper for suggesting Glandula.

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.

Barclay Spank – Goddess of Financial Dominatrices

May 12, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Barclay Spank is an extremely English deity. She is a goddess of finance and fantasy, and she always has a passion to perform. She came into her present form in the 1980’s amid the hedonistic days of Thatcher cuts and Yuppie excess. Originally a deity of public sector workers, she looked for a career move that would mean she got screwed less, and representing the sex industry seemed ideal. She was so popular with financial sector workers, that she is now irrevocably associated with them. He Temple, or should we say “Secure Vault”, is at a secret location somewhere beneath in the Square Mile.

The ethos behind the cult of Barclay Spank is that all powerful men in suits are just revolting, naughty little boys who need to be punished. That enlightenment and betterment of the soul can be achieved through total immersion role play and a good spanking. This is an exclusive church only for the affluent. If you wish to join the church of Barclay Spank, one must undergo financial scrutiny. The capital, number one question they will ask you is “What’s in your wallet?” If you pass this test, you must then invest in her “Bonds” to become a full member. You really do have to get into her stocks. Conversely, the richer you are, the lower you will rank within the faith. Billionaires can expect to be on shoe licking duty at the door.

There are a number of different types of “service” one can attend at a Temple of Barclay Spank. Each costs a differing fee to partake in. For the lowest fee, one can visit the temple for a little light humiliation and TSB until you say “Yes!”

The premium rate service involves being roughly picked up by a burly priest in black leather, restrained and transported to the temple in the back of an armoured van. They will collect you from anywhere in the world for a standard rate. (Except Halifax. That’s extra). Once at the temple, her priestesses and priests will restrain you on a St Howard’s Cross, tied at the ankles and wrists using metal bobble chains with pens on the end. Suspended here, one will have opportunity for meditation, being scourged of one’s sins by being beaten on the behind with a business banking chequebook, and begging the goddess for forgiveness / more. This rite climaxes when the officiating priests and priestesses pour a sack of sovereigns over your head. This part of the ritual is known as “The Golden Shower”.

Many worshippers have become slavishly devoted to Barclay Spank. Given the high fees demanded, they are regularly strapped for cash. If you are wondering where all the money went from the losses of the Noughties Banking Crisis, all I can say is that the goddess has bulging coffers.

It is important to remember that all practices in the cult of Barclay Spank are “HSBC” – Hopefully Sane, Bountiful and Consensual. If you need out, you just have to shout out “Equivoque”. This is the safe word pun.

Barclay Spank is accompanied everywhere by her consort Lloyd Spank – God of Bodyguards. (He is always by your side). Her most celebrated prophet was “Master Card”. He was a contortionist and founded the cult of Barclay Spank so that people could access her divine blessing. He was famously a Switch. He is often referred to as her “Flexible Friend”.

I would tell you more about Barclay Spank, but I think you’ve had enough pun-ishment for today.

Barclay Spank came about when we realised how many terms banking and kink shared. The puntential was too much to resist. Thanks to Pascal Harper for his excellent bankink pun suggestions.

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.