Gardenia – Goddess of Lady Gardeners

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
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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.

Justha Wan – God of Impromptu Drinking Sessions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*For the sake of our neighbours.

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

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

Termes – God of Back to School

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sithee – God of South Yorkshire

August 4, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ 3 Comments

Nah then.

Sithee is the God of the desolate industrial wasteland* that stretches from Chesterfield to Wakefield. He represents this benighted county with a Thorne in its side. He is the county’s own God. Sithee is a deity of many avatars. He has died and been re-incarnated at least 25 times. With each death more dramatic and poignant than the last. He is one of the few deities to be a martyr to his own faith. Between each incarnation, his priesthood will form a circle and chant the word “Bastard” over and over until he is born again.

Sithee has two sacred animals. The first is a duck which is constantly on the wing. It is said to never, ever land. In short, this duck is always up. The second is a mighty water serpent, which likes to coil in t’bath. Sithee consorts with a celestial harem of promiscuous concubines, known (somewhat unkindly) as “The Slag Heap”. He is sometimes depicted with his ceremonial weapon, used for stabbing his enemies in the guts, called the “Tripedent”.

Sithee’s priesthood maintain his temples and conduct the “Reyts” of worship. The music for these rituals is supplied by a live former-colliery brass band playing traditional South Yorkshire classical tunes, such as “Don’t You Want Me Baby”. For occasions of great gravitas, they will play the hoviest of hymns, Largo from Dvorak’s New World Symphony. At the climax of the Reyt a cup of tea is shared amongst the congregation as a kind of communion. A proper Yorkshire brew is made in the ceremonial tea pot. Which is never washed. The oldest of these ceremonial tea pots has such thick tannin deposits inside that it barely holds a thimbleful of tea.

There are four temples of Sithee, located in Sheffield, Rotherham, Barnsley and Doncaster. Each temple is the centre of a different sub-sect of the church of Sithee. The sects can be distinguished by what they call a narrow passage between two houses, and by what they will serve you when you ask for a fishcake. One does not simply walk into a Temple of Sithee. It used to be that the best way to get there was by the much missed Eagle Cars. Nowadays, pilgrims are dashed to the temple at a terrifying speed, through countless red lights by Chitty Taxis. Don’t try to get there on the 120 bus. It will only get you to Halfway (and you’ll be robbed if you try to get there on the 52 as it has Crookes on it). You can’t use your own car to get there as, strangely, there is no parkin nearby.

Every year Sithee demands a tribute. One night each summer, unwary Offcumdens are herded into t’Wicker Ski Village, and the whole thing is set ablaze. It is then rebuilt ready for next year’s ritual burning. One year, Diana Rigg was nearly accidentally ignited. The priesthood were momentarily confused by her theatrical R.P. English and put her into the rattan chalet. As the flames started to take hold around her, one of the priests sarcastically asked the sacrifices “How are you getting on in there?”. When Diana answered “Ah. Not so bad.” She was immediately rescued.

The church is renowned for being inclusive of the LGBTQ+ community. This actually started accidentally. One day the message board outside the temple read “We love shirt-lifters”, and from that point onwards his gay following grew. The church leaders decided to keep very quiet about the fact that they originally put up the message to try and get a corporate sponsorship from Farrow’s Mushy Peas.

The church of Sithee runs a dating advice service, where young men can learn the art of elegant chat up lines. Amongst the tried and tested Yorkshire chat up lines you can learn are, the passionate “Brace thi’ssen Lass” and the more casual “Wake up”. The church also run a charitable emergency ambulance service. You can recognise their ambulances by their distinctive sirens which go, “Dee-da, dee-da, dee-da, dee-da”.

Should you decide to be initiated into the church of Sithee, be prepared to undergo a strange and dark Reyt. First one will be anointed with a special blend of Henderson’s Relish and River Don Water. Then one has to hold a ferret in one’s trousers whilst pouring molten steel from a crucible and forging it to make a Sheffield Steel knife. Only the most dedicated, steady handed and pain oblivious neophytes make it to full membership. If you make it however, you earn the privilege of calling all the other priests “Love”.

*No. You can’t see any rolling purple moors, dramatic views, secluded wooded valleys, elegant stately homes or picturesque parks. It’s all an optical illusion in your mind. Now keep quiet about it. If you tell anyone, they’ll just think you’re mad.

Thank you to Nick Ward for naming Sithee, and to Adam Broadhurst, Rebecca Stothard, Wesley Perriman, Cis Heaviside, Ju Haynes, Carrie-May Mealor, Pascal Harper, Will Bayley, Alex Smith, Carey Anne Boyce, Jozafeen Knights and Janet Hudson for piling in with loads of excellent suggestions. (So many in fact, that over the coming “Yorkshire Days” for the next three years there will be a deity for each area of the God’s own county.)

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.

Betty Swoobs – Goddess of Heatwaves

July 28, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Betty Swoobs is the Goddess of Heatwaves in latitudes where extreme temperatures are only occasionally experienced. Sometimes known as the English Summer Goddess. She watches over all those who briefly bake in high summer temperatures approximately once a year. Wherever an air conditioner cannot be considered a reasonable long-term investment, wherever people sleep with but one foot under the duvet and whenever Linus puts down his blue blanket voluntarily, she is there.

Betty Swoobs is said to be comely in the form of her features, but strikingly unusual in her colouring. Beneath a tumbling mass of titian hair, is a face the hue of a boiled lobster dusted with golden freckles. As she is not at the coast where she would like to be, her visage constantly wears a miserable expression, known as her resting beach face. She is renowned for having a hot arse. This is because she drives a black celestial chariot with vinyl seats. Her thighs are quite badly burned too. She is a virgin goddess, though not by choice. It’s just that her thighs have been stuck together with sweat since 5763 BCE.

Her divine consort is Bheti Swallocks, the God of PVC trousers. However, her married status has never deterred the lusts of the Thunder God. This lustful rambling rumbler seems to follow her everywhere, stalking just a few hours behind her and trying to flash her, as she flees ahead of his massing clouds.

The faithful of Betty Swoobs meet for worship in the refrigerator aisles of supermarkets and freezer centres. Here they chill the atmosphere even more with a little prayer conditioning. A rite will last until a security guard asks them to move on or buy something. At which point they will blindly grab a random purchase from the “Seasonal Goods” aisle. The item they blindly select is said to be prophetically significant. As most rites of Betty Swoobs are held between June and August, this item is usually a pack of Christmas Cards.

Followers will also sometimes attempt to gather outdoors for a ritual alfresco meal. When they do, a sacrificial dish of jam is always placed a short distance from the party. Betty Swoobs is said to be constantly accompanied by a swarm of supernatural wasps known as the Narsti-Buggerz. This offering is an attempt to placate these wing-ed psychopaths and ensure a peaceful picnic.

Once a year, on once of these outings, they will hold a series of games to honour the goddess. The first event is a race in which you have to run back from an ice cream van with a 99 and eat it before it melts. This race is called “The Game of Cones”. If you win, you get to sit on the Iron Cone. This is not as must fun as it sounds. They also hold a competition to formulate the most effective sun block called “The SPF-X Factor”.

All music for ritual worship of Betty Swoobs is supplied from the stereos of passing cars, blasting out at the loudest possible volume to be sure of reaching the ears of the goddess. Thumping bass beats are said to please her most. She also enjoys the sound of lawn movers, strimmers and chain saws at 8.30am on a Sunday morning.

The head of the clergy is known by the title “Mrs Droughtfire”, and they assume feminine attire regardless of gender. The main task of Mrs Droughtfire is to walk the ancient paths across the moorlands and to practice human sacrifice on any blithering fool they see attempting to light a barbecue on the peaty soil. She will then pile stones over the remains to make a little cairn as a warning to others. Mrs Droughtfire always keeps a ceremonial pet bear of the sub-species Ursus fumus.

Betty Swoobs has no temples in Australia. The Australians find her whole faith hilarious. Instead they worship Troppo – God of Proper Scorchers.

Thank you to all the Hive Mind for chipping in and helping with Betty Swoobs, especially Janet Hudson and Adam Broadhurst.

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.

Eureka – Goddess of Inspiration

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you to Kieron Philips for suggesting Eureka.

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

Arthur Thought – The Holy Spirit of the Staircase

June 30, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Arthur Thought, the holy spirit of the staircase, is the god of perfect ripostes that you think of approximately 5 minutes too late. He was the youngest of the seven offspring of Catatonica – The Celtic Goddess of Speechlessness. He was born a full century after his youngest sibling.

The temples of Arthur Thought always take the form of a small original building which has been extended multiple times with a complex of additional lean-tos. It seems that as soon as one extension is finished, they find that their numbers of followers have grown, so that they need to start planning yet another. This gives his temples a very distinctive, slightly drunken, look.

Being a god of staircases, there are a plethora of them installed in his temples. None of these staircases actually go anywhere, but are beautifully designed and decorated as meditation spaces. They are known as the “Flights of Fancy”. If you tour the temple you will see the acolytes, each sat on their own step, deep in contemplation about what they would’ve, could’ve, should’ve said. Practising “Thoughtians” will also sit of the Flights of Fancy to plan what they will say in upcoming potentially difficult social encounters. To the outside observer, this may seem like a fruitless endeavour, as these meetings will almost never play out as one imagines.

Should you attend a ritual at the temple, you may find the homily or sermon from the priest or priestess a little unusual. At this point of the rite the presiding member of the clergy will stand before the massed, expectant faithful and make silent gaping fish motions with their mouth for a few minutes. Then they will make a high pitched whine and run from the altar, in tears, with their robes over their head. Don’t worry, this is a traditional part of the proceedings, and their fellow priests are standing by to stop them from burying themselves under a rock. The Thoughtian priesthood are renowned for practicing a rare form of martial art where one beats oneself up. This is said to so confuse and terrify one’s attacker that they end up leaving you alone. The High Priest or Priestess is the one who can descend the fewest steps before thinking of a cutting come back when insulted at the top of the stairs (and are therefore literally the highest of the clergy).

The church of Arthur Thought publishes a popular almanac which retro-predicts what you should have said last year. It also reports barely believable, miraculous cases where “La mot juste” came to someone at exactly the right time, against all the odds. If you visit the home of a devout follower, you will find they have several editions of “The Thoughtian Times” on their bookshelves. They will also often be found listening to the excellent album by the gothic band “The Way of All Flesh” called “Espirit d’Escallier”, which they consider to be a sacred musical work.

Arthur Thought has many equivalent avatars in different cultures around the world. Known as Æfterwitt to the Saxons, Treppenwitz to the ancient Germanic tribes, Retractus to the Ancient Romans and Metametis to the Ancient Greeks. Which only goes to show that the phenomenon he embodies is universal to the human condition.

I am sure that I will recall loads more hilarious facts about this deity approximately five minutes after I have sent this to press.

Thank you to a new Hive Mind member, Alan Boyce, for suggesting Arthur Thought. Welcome to the club!

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.

Butterman – God of Super Heros

June 25, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Butterman is not the first hero, but he does have a strong claim to be the first superhero. We know of his exploits from original Roman frescoes, mosaics and murals. Unusually for the period, the stories are told over several sequential pictures and are captioned with little Latin inscriptions in speech bubbles.

Like most Superheros, Butterman has something unusual in his genetic make-up. His beautiful mortal mother Lactea was seduced by both Jupiter and his cup bearer Catamitus at the same time in a mythic menage a trois. Unlike Danae’s experience of being impregnated by a golden shower, this was more like two Olymians, one churn. Lactea raised her son to be as normal as possible, but this was not to be. His demi divine parentage meant he excelled in the mortal world. By his late twenties he had become a distinguished Roman General and Statesman. After a highly successful campaign he was féted as the cream of Rome with a triumphal procession.

As tradition dictated, throughout the parade an Auriga slave stood by his ear repeatedly whispering, “Remeber you are but a man” for the whole day. (They do this to stop the celebrated person from milking it too much). Now he romes Rome by night fighting crime and injustice as “Butterman!”.

Needing to conceal his true identity, he developed the first incognito super hero costume. Wearing his subligaculum* over his tunic may not have been the best “look”, but it certainly started something. After a few years as a solo crime fighter, he was recruited a mysterious side kick known only as Ghee-Whiz who was said to be from a land far to the east. Together they destroy those who’s actions are beyond the pail and rewards the virtuous with a little pat on the head.

Unlike later superheroes, Butterman could not fly. However, he had the ability to slide through the streets of Rome at high speed on his buttered sandals. In times of dire need the Vigiles could summon Butterman by lighting the beacon which projects the “Butt Signal” into the night sky. On busy nights he could end up spread very thin.

Butterman has averted wide scale disaster on many occasions. When Hannibal and his herd of elephants came over the alps he helped save thousands of Romans from drowning. His super arch enemy is a snack chariot driving demon called Marge.

Even in his own mortal lifetime, Butterman inspired copy-cat have-a-go heroes. One went as far as to have the temerity to pretend to be Butterman himself. He made a poor show of it though, and the plebians sarcastically nicknamed him “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butterman”. In the end this obsessed wretch was arrested for Storking.

The only people who knew his true identity were his wife Flora and Alfredus the Butterler (who maintains the Butt Cave). He was also said to have been romantically linked to the notorious courtesan Kerry Gold. Much as he loves the city of Rome, he secretly prefers the country life, and likes to get away now and again to roll in clover.

Having two fathers, Butterman is worshipped by many same sex couples. Those embarking on the journey to become parents will often make sacrifices of dairy products at the temple together. In fact he is so popular with the LGBTQ+ community that each of his temples has a little Pride themed charity gift shop called “Momento Homo”.

Temples of Butterman have impressive frontages with elegant columns shaped like milk churns. The windows of the temple are made of paper rubbed with grease until they became transparent.

Priest and Priestesses of Butterman alwsys carry a symbolic replica of Butterman’s weapon “The Butter Knife” to represent defending the vulnerable. For special occasions a full size reproduction is worn. For more convenient everyday wear, they can opt for the smaller, retractable “Stan Lee Knife”. The High Priestess is known as the Shea-Rah. The motto of the priesthood is, “Look after one an udder.”

Oh, and if you were wondering how Butterman achieved full immortality. Before a mighty battle of the Gods, he applied butter to Jupiter’s thunderbolts for him. Thus inventing the much faster and deadlier “greased lightning”. In recognition of this great deed, he was granted apotheosis and ascended to Olympus. Butterman was no longer but a man.

*That’s a loincloth to you.

Thank you to Dave Redford and Nicky Bailey for your help with Butterman.

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.

RaRaRa – God of Cheerleaders

June 19, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Need a little motivation to get you through Hump Day? Then Ra Ra Ra could be the deity for you. He’s the God that’s always cheering you on to be your best.

The Temple of RaRaRa is built around the blessed “Hand Spring” and close to the summer salt mines. The compound is planted with an impressive orchard of a unique variety of apple tree. These grow an unusual “double apple” fruit known as Pomme-Pommes. The temple building has four wings with a rectangular central courtyard, known as the Squadwrangle, where larger scale worship takes place. Its roof is adorned with many decorative aerials.

His temples have (possibly) the most entertaining services, which always follow a strict routine. The priesthood will guide you in waving your offerings of sacred pomme-pomme fruits in the air and lead you in a rousing chorus of “Give Him an Ankh!” Conducting the worship is arduous for the clergy. So, before they commence they will traditionally drink some root beer to get them rootin’. At the most hallowed part of the ritual, worshippers will share the Holy Hot Dog and all partake of a sip of soda from the JumboMegaCup. After a short break, a guest speaker will usually deliver a half time show sermon. This sermon will often be a subject of furious online debate amongst the worshippers,. Afterwards, as you leave, be sure to pick up a souvenir from the “Tuck Shop”.

There is a large seminary college where postulates are trained for religious service. The first thing they learn is that cheering is a serious athletic endeavour. They must be prepared to exceed those they support in gymnastic prowess. They are also taught to expect and forbear low wages and a general lack of respect. Students are kept company by a friendly ghost who inhabits the building, known affectionately as “The School Spirit”. The college uniform colour is yeller.

The church of RaRaRa rarely involves itself in politics. When they have ventured into the hustings, their candidates have been known to flip flop.

Members of this faith will often save all their lives to be interred in the largest human pyramid possible after death. Followers will often involve themselves in the study of astronomy throughout life. They believe that after death, the journey to the afterlife takes us to become one with the heavens and it is best to know the route in advance. They believe that potentially we are All-Stars.

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.

Octopussy – God of Nuclear Power

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

The original atomic kitten, Octopussy was created when Schroedinger and Einstein were watching their figures, declared that they couldn’t possibly eat a whole atom each, and decided to split one. Using the get-out claws on the ends of each of its eight limbs, Octopussy fought its way painfully out of Schroedinger’s box (settling that thought experiment once and for all). The tentacle tailed feline of nightmares set forth to shower it’s radiance upon the world. A relatively modern god, dating only from the last century, the genesis of Octopussy is already used to mark the start of a new age. Members of the faith will refer to the time before as “Before Octopussy” or “B.O.” as it was also before the invention of Right Guard.

The clergy of Octopussy are divided into the ranks of Alpha, Beta and Gamma. Gamma priests are those who have penetrated furthest into the ranks of the church and are allowed into the most hallowed parts of the temple. The most sacred of these is the dungeon where the Holy Higgs Bosons are kept. They are absolutely essential to the faith and they cannot have a mass without them. They are carefully guarded by the Dungeoness who watches over them.

As can often be the case in faiths around the world, there is always a danger that the movement may run away with itself. Therefore the faith is governed as a Diocracy, with two leaders to balance one another. One has a duty to drive the word of Octopussy forward and is known as the “Fuel”. The other serves to consider and check progress to a reasonable rate of change and is known as the “Control”. Both the current incumbents of the role are called Rodney. The current Control, Rod, is a usually a very absorbing gentleman, but he can tend to boron sometimes.

The outer temple complex is vast and houses several businesses run by the clergy. You can dine in their highly successful restaurant where they serve fusion foods drawing on the cuisines of all the countries of the world where there are followers of Octopussy. They always receive glowing reviews and are particularly famed for their fission chips. (Sadly the “Cold Fusion Foods” buffet is no longer available. Some say it never was and is but a myth.) One can also stop for a pint in the “Duck and Cover” an olde style English pub. They serve beers from their own microbrewery which include their famous heavy “Water”. Whilst they have grown recently, in the past these revenue raisers were not always enough to fund the temple upkeep. Originally the complex was surrounded by miles of farm land that they held. This has now dwindled to a few acres, as every time they hit at tight patch they been forced to sell a field.

The holy texts of Octopussy are comprised of several separate books by different prophets. Whilst the book of Deuterium is said to be heavy going, I have heard that the Book of Protium is un-put-down-able.

If you should meet a follower of Octopussy at a party, don’t be surprised if they overheat and have a bit of a meltdown on the dance floor if Diana Ross’s Chain Reaction comes on. They can be a little unstable at their core.

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.