Irs – Goddess of Tax Returns

February 20, 2022February 20, 2022 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Drawn in the red-on-black style of Ancient Greek pottery. The goddess Irs is wearing a pleated robe and carries a tally stick. In the other hand she carries a sack of coins, which is leaking into the mouth of a fat cat. Irs has wings shaped like a portcullis and she bears a resemblance to Queen Elizabeth II. — Irs © H.Hudson-Lee 2022

Irs was not born from a union of between Gods, Elementals or even Mortals, but of political expediency. She originated during the Old Kingdom Period of Ancient Egypt. In order to fund the building of royal tombs, the Pharaoh established her sect and appointed priests to raise revenue from his subjects. They were under immense pressure to complete this task for their king, for without a generous income, H.M. got arsey. This was a massive undertaking. So, these priests recruited a team of collectors who would gather the payments on their behalf, each keeping a small percentage of the revenue raised as payment. These collectors were overwhelmed with the magnitude of the task of visiting every household in Egypt, and so themselves recruited teams of underlings who pocketed an even smaller percentage. Thus both taxation and the literal pyramid scheme were invented simultaneously.

The concept of taxation gradually spread around the world, and the worship of Irs alongside it. She was readily adopted by the nascent democracy of Athens to help them fund their military campaigns and elegant public buildings. Eventually, the world’s population grew to the point where it was not possible to individually judge what every person should pay. This led to a seismic theological shift in the faith of Irs. Their religious philosophy became one of self assessment and honest judgement of one’s own worth. This goddess doesn’t judge you. You judge yourself, and then she decides whether you did it right. This is why, when they die, her followers are buried with their accounts, receipts and bank statements from the last five years, and an anxiety attack. Hopefully, all will be in order, and their soul will be allowed to fly west to the Isle of Tax Haven. Some scholars of mythology believe that the legends of the Isle of Tax Haven grew out of early seafarer’s tales of Isle of Man.

When a young person is inducted into the sect of Irs they undergo a ritual similar to baptism. Only, instead of using a font, they use a VAT. Many years of study lie ahead for the neophyte. First they must become familiar with the Book of Acts and the Tax Codex. These are anthologies of the scriptures which outline the rules for calculating what each citizen should pay, but they are written in an arcane language, comprehensible only to the cognoscenti. The Book of Acts has chapters with mysterious titles like, “The Income Tax Act 2007”. These students must also master the skill of tax-calculus, a branch of mathematics so fiendishly difficult that it is reported to have reduced students of Kabbalah, theoretical physicists and Carol Vordeman to tears. Tax Calculus is used to derive the assets under the mattress. Finally, they must develop a perfect perpendicular posture by going around with a pile of ledgers precariously perched on top of their polls. Being able to balance the books is the most important skill of all. Eventually Irs’s worthy acolytes graduate to become Chartered Priests. A few of the more esoteric types will join “Outland” sub-sect, who mainly concern themselves with excising ancient customs and enjoy the privilege of being religious duty free when they travel abroad. The most gifted students go on to be appointed to the highest echelon of her cult, the Inspectors. Those who fail their final exams are considered to be a write-off.

The temples of Irs are known as “Treasuries”. They are recognisable by their portcullis entrances with the Crown of Irs carved into the stonework above (known as The Government Gateway). The floors inside were originally tiled with black and white flagstones in a chequer pattern, but this has now fallen out of fashion, so they are now ex-chequers. The temple cats of Irs are renowned for being phenomenally fat felines. Heckin’ chonks. Absolute units. They live by skimming off as much cream as they can from the temple’s milk supply before getting caught. Each temple is presided over by a high priest or “Chancellor”. Irs has two major and four minor “quarter” festivals each year. Their most important festival occurs on January 31st, the sacred day of Self Assessment. It is traditional for Irsians to send one another greetings cards with the message, “Many Happy Returns”. On April 5th they celebrate their New Years festival by closing their books.

Some folks mistakenly think that they can win the favour of the goddess by paying their taxes with a smile. They are incorrect. Taxes must be paid with cash. The adversary of Irs is a demon who gets people out of paying their full taxes in return for a piece of their soul. Lou Pole and his wealthy followers, “The Evaders” are to be feared and thwarted at every turn. They are the origin of the old Irsian saying, “It is easier to pass a camel through the eye of a needle, than it is to get a rich man to pay his taxes.” He is aways depicted in sacred art snatching school dinners from hungry children and medicine from the sick. Irsians believe that Lou Pole can be banished by loudly singing the, “Audit Domine”.

Whilst the existence of many deities is open for debate. Irs is one we can be certain of. For there are but two inevitable things in life. Death and Taxes. Unless you’re Queen Elizabeth II, who does not pay tax and, so far, appears to be immortal.

A huge thank you to @ladysixa for suggesting Irs, for being a loyal supporter of Idol Scribblings and for being one of the loveliest humans on Twitter. I am sorry it took so long, but I had to do your excellent concept justice.

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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.

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Euros – God of Money One Does Not Have

April 18, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

In his origin story Euros was created by Karma-Ron, who abandoned him shortly after his birth. He was picked up and raised by the mythical beast Mai-Botte, who tried to help him overcome his psychological issues of abandonment to grow up to be both strong and stable. However, despite her intentions, his guardian failed to take any real action to guide his development. In the end, hopelessly unprepared to face the world, Euros put off leaving home again and again.

Euros became a prodigal son who spurned his supportive wider family. He ambivalently rejected them when he was deceived into believing that the relationship cost him more than he gained from it by the demons Borriz and Gové. The argument over the terms of this separation continued for years, until the patience of his kin was exhausted and they threw him out with nothing. He was cast into isolation in the wilderness where he was taunted by the ignorant opinions of the three “Ghosts of Dreams that Never Were”. These three malevolent spirits are individually named “Pierced Organ”, “Hatie Cockpins” and “Jerkoff Greased-Hog”.

The temples of Euros ring with raised voices. They are of somewhat variable construction quality, and some wings are held together with strained red tape. Every time they try to conduct repairs, someone breaks it. On the altar sit 22 sealed and numbered red boxes which contain a deal of mystery.

During rituals at Euros’ temples, a libation of tea is poured in offering and then the remainder shared amongst the congregation. Tea is considered sacred to Euros because tea leaves. The liturgy will then be read out. This may seem to be nonsense at first, but don’t worry. The officiating priest will repeat it more and more slowly and increasingly loudly UNTIL YOU UNDERSTAND. At the end of the rite the priest will bid farewell to his flock with the words “See EU later”. His sacred texts were displayed on the sides of political campaign busses, until people realised they were bollocks.

You can only join the priesthood of Euros if you have a protruding navel. You must also have a stoic philosophy and be capable of cussedly sticking with a course of action, even when everyone else can see that it is a path to destruction. Priests can be recognised by their head wear. They will sport either a fried egg or a pineapple ring on their heads. Vestments are very important to the priests, and each will have a changing cabinet to facilitate the necessary sartorial standard. Debating is a key skill for a priest of Euros to have. They are capable of arguing for years with nothing resolved. When not on duty, they do enjoy kicking back with a game of chequers.

Be very wary of incurring the wrath of Euros. When angered he is capable of raining a ferment of acidic bile down on his hapless target. These tempests are known as “Farages”. Sadly, Euros is rarely a wise or fare judge, and has often wrongly attacked the victim of the situation.

Thank you to Jen Titley for suggesting Euros.

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.