Hooteninny – God of “Business Meetings”

A man with a slight resemblance to Steven Doyle is wearing a Santa jacket and a paper party crown on his head. He is carrying a tray of cheese and a bottle of wine called "Chateau Lie-Feat". On his back there is a sack of trophies and medals. Someone has pinned a donkey's tail on his behind.
Hooteninny © H.Hudson-Lee 2021

Hooteninny is the God of “Business Meetings”, and never have a pair of quotation marks been so heavily weighted. In fact, his followers make the “air quotes” hand sign when they say his name, in much the same way as a Catholic would genuflect.

Hooteninny is the son of Hujanus the “Do As I Say Not As I Do” demon and Incontigate the Goddess of Embarrassing Leaks. He started out, sometime in the 1980s, as a minor deity of liquid “business lunches” and even more fluid “executive team-building weekends”. In the 1990s he branched out into watching over “fact-finding trips” and “corporate gifts”. If the activity in question breaks a few rules, then that just makes it a greater expression of devotion to the god, and more fun. It was during the 2020 pandemic that he finally came into his own as a major deity when the ranks of his cult were swelled by a flock of political aides who just wanna have fun. Hooteninny’s is an easy religion to follow, as you don’t need to overly concern yourself with following the rules and, usually, it is others who make the sacrifices.  

The sacred winter festival of Hooteninny is also known as, “The No-Masque of the Blue Death”. It is held clandestinely somewhere in a central government building. The threshold must be guarded by a phalanx of the Metropolitan Police’s finest, who have absolutely no idea what is taking place inside, or who is in there. Despite being in charge of door security. How these brave officers manage to discharge their duties despite being deaf, blind and greener than a Brussel sprout, I don’t know.

To set the right mood for the ritual, the priesthood will festoon themselves with tinsel and put on a playlist of their sacred “Hip-hopcracy” music. You may know some of the more famous tracks, such as, “Simply Having a Meeting with Cheese and Wine”, “Fairy-Tale of New Pork Pies” and “Christmas Time (Let’s be a Bell End)”. They put out a good buffet spread, with the savoury dainties artfully displayed on paper Steven Doylies. The ambiance is further helped along by draping festive decorations elegantly over the CCTV cameras. If a few grieving covid-bereaved relatives and traumatised NHS workers can be seen sobbing in the snow outside the window, so much the better. It really adds to that Dickensian theme.

To warm up the congregation and break the ice, the senior priesthood will lead them in a series of games. Sorry. “Essential training exercises”. These exercises include old favourites such as Musical Cabinet Reshuffle, Pin the Blame on the Immigrant and Sajid Says. All this generates an atmosphere of, “Whilst the cat’s away, the mice play.” Which somehow persists even after the cat shows up to lead the quiz. The quiz questions are pitched at quite a low level. Such as, “What is three hundred thousand, and thirty-four, nine hundred and seventy-four thousand plus one?” (You must remember that the majority of Hooteninny’s followers have the unfortunate educational disadvantage of having attended Public School). If the “cat” had a bit more wit, he might have slipped in a question like, “For 20 bonus points – Name five MPs planning a leadership challenge in the New Year.” Which would have made planning the “quick-fire” round much simpler.

The proceedings end with a presentation of awards to the worthiest worshippers. Each follower hopes to be recognised as this year’s, “Spin King” or “Best Pressed” or perhaps win the “Best Dead Cat Distraction” prize. Some of the awards are more tongue-in-cheek, such as “PM’s Pet”, “Cabinet Clown” or “Most Likely to Mysteriously Avoid Jail”. If you see someone stratton’ around Westminster wearing a small bronze lapel pin in the shape of the door to Number 10, you’ll know they were a winner.

Now, the first rule of Hooteninny’s Cult is that you don’t make jokes about Hooteninny Cult, on film, at a mock press conference. Should the general public find out about one of these rituals having taken place it looks very, very bad. The attendees have to decide whether to admit to being at a prohibited gathering, or to boozing on the job. Either way, not a good look. In this instance, the two priests who officiated the rite must sacrifice themselves by falling on their own swords. One must do this immediately when the story first breaks, and other has to wait until the official inquiry report is released.

If you are considering following the way of Hooteninny as a good example of how to live your life… …please, please choose a better example.

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
OUT NOW!

Even more deities for every eventuality with a foreword by Gary Brannan of the Technical Difficulties ( TechDiff.co.uk )


Order your copy here
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Idol Scribblings Volume One


A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occasions from Idol Scribblings. Produced in 2019-2020.


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IDOL SCRIBBLINGS COMMISSIONS

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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.

Hatt Mancock – God of Ministerial Affairs

Hatt Mancock © H. Hudson-Lee 2021

Of all the mysteries of the cosmos, perhaps the most baffling is: When power is almost exclusively held by minging middle-aged white guys, how the hell does it still manage to be an aphrodisiac‽

Membership of the cult of Hatt Mancock is restricted those who hold the highest positions in government. The philosophy of this sect is, “If we make the rules, we don’t have to follow them.” They are renowned for their rampant hypocrisy. Its members are fond of imposing strict moral judgements on everyone else*. Whist other religions may appeal to their deity on a variety of subjects, every prayer to Hatt Mancock is, in essence, the same. “Please don’t let me get caught.” Who can forget their moving psalm, “Yay though I snog my aide in the shadow of a hat stand, shall I fear not Paparazzi, for though art with me, and with my rod in my staff I’m going to get busy.”

The temple of Hatt Mancock is housed in a collection of hidden rooms in Whitehall, known as the Profumo Suite. If you wish to enter, you must first gain permission from Cecil Parkinson, the keeper of the Keyes. Inside you will find the altar, an majestic, mahogany ministerial desk. If you look closely, you will see the faint imprint of buttocks on its highly polished surface. If, during your visit, you hear that the “Party Whip” is being brought out, don’t panic. It’s just a novelty one with fluffy tassels and a glittery handle.

The priests of Hatt Mancock are known as “Ministers”, and they are divided into ranks such as Junior Ministers and Under Secretaries. Ministers can be recognised by their ill-fitting suits, rosettes, and spread-legged power-pose stances. The Ministers work closely (much closer than two meters) with “Aides” who assist them. Apparently, an important aspect of the role of an Aide is sleeping with your Secretary (this is why they are always lay-members of the church). This has led to the creation of posts with titles like, “Secretary Under the Under Secretary”. Ministers can recruit new Aides, either from amongst their old university pals, or by using the discrete “MPHarmony” dating website and app. The Ministers are led by the “Minister Primus”, who holds the privilege of committing sexual impropriety without consequences. In fact, whenever the Minister Primus finds they are a little strapped for cash due to all their child support payments, they will get divorced and marry yet another wealthy mistress, a practice known as, “Cash & Carrie”.

In order to become a Minister of Hatt Mancock, one must first be a member of their youth organisation, the Bullshittingdon Club. In their distinctive uniform of navy tailcoats, these noble young bast… …ions of the faith, led by their “Flout Master”, will earn badges in skills such as Awkward Groping, Dirty Research Trip Planning, and “Badger Watching”. Just in case they are ever caught in flagrante delicto during their future Ministerial careers, the neophytes are also taught to weave elaborate excuses such as, “My Aide and I were near the coat stand when we heard a strange noise. She went to investigate when a host of biting ants flooded out of the coats, (attracted by a forgotten complimentary hotel biscuit in one of the pockets). They swarmed all over her, particularly the in area of the buttocks and some of them even entering her mouth. Naturally, I attempted to brush them off. As she had been repeatedly bitten around the lips, in an attempt to administer first aid, I tried to suck out the poison.” Or the simpler, “I was eating out to help out.”

It is a hard life being a Minister of Hatt Mancock. Excellent time management skills are essential so that you can simultaneously bugger up the response to a national crisis, award your mates juicy contracts, have a family and still have a bit on the side. Maintaining a work / double-life balance is so important.

From time to time, not even the protection of the god is enough to defend one of his Ministers from the public outcry over their transgressions. Many of those who are exposed are the mortal victims of the long running feud between Hatt Mancock and Paparazzi the God of Sleaze (whose followers like to hang around in the bushes outside Hatt Mancock’s temples with telephoto lenses or make friends with the security team who watch the CCTV). However, sometimes they are simply betrayed by the old-fashioned lipstick on the collar and lingering scent of her hand sanitiser. Once such a story hits the headlines, the Minister affected will initially attempt to maintain his position, but inevitably finds that his hip is giving out, so he can’t do it without a truss (and Liz has said she’s not touching that).

Next follows one of the most famous rituals of Hatt Mancock, “The Sack Race”. This is a rather different version from the old school sports day favourite. In this rite the disgraced Minister must rush Number 10 Downing Street to tender their resignation (for £37 billion, to a company run by their sibling’s spouse) before public pressure forces the Minister Primus to dismiss them (despite having previously declared the matter closed). So, ironically, betraying their family usually leads to a Minister spending a lot more time with them. It’s not forever though, the prize for winning the Sack Race is that you get to have another go at being a Minister again once the dust has settled.

* Who can forget their “Back to Basics” campaign in the 1990s? No one was quite sure at the time what these “basics” were, but we have since found out they probably included pegging.

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
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Even more deities for every eventuality with a foreword by Gary Brannan of the Technical Difficulties ( TechDiff.co.uk )


Order your copy here
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Idol Scribblings Volume One


A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occasions 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.

Soz – Goddess of Insincere Apologies

Soz, the goddess of insincere apologies, is an ancient Phoneycian deity. Within this pantheon she is the spoiled smiling golden child of the chief of the gods. However, the demigods, nymphs and other entities lower down the celestial pecking order know her as a source of daily dread and degradation. Phoneycian mythology is full of tales such as Soz tying the laces of the winged sandals of the messenger of the gods together and throwing them over a wire suspended between two mountain peaks. Another story tells of how she cursed the arm and hand of a hapless dryad so that the poor tree spirit would spend eternity hitting herself (which is a lot worse when you’re mostly made of wood). When Civilis (a servant of the gods) brought a nice bright red briefcase to school one day, she stole it from him and beat him up with the catch end. Perhaps the darkest tale is of when some new deities arrived in the pantheon, borne to Phoneycia in the minds of migrants. She welcomed those who came with a battalion of affluent followers, but she tried to have the rest shipped off to a remote barren island. It is because of these spiteful acts that the other deities sometimes describe Soz as a “FOB-SOC” (Face off Baywatch, soul off Crimewatch).

Every myth of Soz ends in the same way. The chief of the Phoneycian gods is forced to acknowledge that Soz’s behaviour has been unfitting for one in such an exalted position, and he forces Soz to make an apology. Soz always responds to this by making a statement which, on the surface sounds like a redress, but fact has all the genuine contrition of a dog which has just successfully stolen your steak dinner. This pattern has lead to many later academics describing Soz as a “Brazen Idol”.

The one common quality that the members of Soz’s sect share is an utter rejection of any ultimate personal responsibility. From board room bullies, through micro dictator middle managers, to the playground pugilists who prefer a puny opponent. Politicians also seem to be remarkably well represented. Especially those who have had to make the “statement of shame” to a mob of baying press outside their house. Whilst their cuckolded family stand by their side, nominally as a show of support, but in reality as a kind of human shield. If you decide to join the cult of Soz, you must learn to speak in very particular fashion. Henceforth you must never apologise directly for any action. You are no longer “wrong”, you are only ever, “working with inaccurate information”. Bonus points are scored if you can somehow phrase things so that it sounds vaguely like the other person is to blame. For example, “I’m sorry I yelled at you and called you useless scum,” would be substituted for, “I’m sorry you’re upset”. Once you have mastered the lingo, you can now be baptised into the religion. Uniquely, this baptism ceremony involves you pushing someone else’s head into the font and flushing.

Inside every Sozian temple is a strange ritual artifact known as the “Pritster”. When Sozians gather for worship, they form a square around the Pritster. This is followed by a collection for the temple upkeep, where the priesthood go around their flock and steal their lunch money with menaces. Now, lead by their high preristess Miss Guided, the congregation adopt a sanctimonious countenance, cross their fingers, and recite,
“I am sorry that my behaviour in the past has upset people. It has never been my intention to cause upset to anyone; I acknowledge that I am direct and have at times got frustrated”. The high priestess will conclude the ritual by responding with, “I now consider the matter closed”.

The sacred animal of Soz is an inconsolably weeping crocodile. The sacred texts of Soz are all inscribed on sugared rice paper to ensure that they are palatable.

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
Coming out 30th November 2020

Even more deities for every eventuality with a foreword by Gary Brannan of the Technical Difficulties ( TechDiff.co.uk )


Pre order here https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book

Idol Scribblings Volume One


A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occations from Idol Scribblings. Produced in 2019-2020.


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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.

Tantrump – God of Sore Losers

Tantrump is the god of people who petulantly wail, “That’s not fair! I want a do-over!” whenever they don’t win. He is a deity of denial that Ancient Egypt wants nothing to do with. Tantrump was born the son of the Juan Perscent, God of Obscene Wealth, and Privilegina the Goddess of Entitlement. Despite his august parentage, after the age of 13 Tantrump was raised by schools. That is so much worse than being raised by wolves (at least wolves have been known to show affection). As an adult god he turned a strange shade of orange when he became the first painted idol to use creosote. It is thought that this came about because he wanted to emulate Croesus, but badly misread the name. Tantrump resides in a towering celestial Palace made entirely and tastelessly of gold. (If you think that sounds nice, stop for a moment to imagine how cold his toilet seat is.) It is situated in the centre of a large golf course, encircled by a huge wall. Who payed for the wall? Everyone paid for the wall… …to keep him in.

Tantrump’s priests and priestesses are all said to be descendants of the God, fathered on an unfortunate succession of mortal supermodels, known as the “Mama Lagos”. The high priest is always the eldest of the god’s children and is known by the title “Junior”. They don’t sing any hymns in this religion, because nothing rhymes with orange.

The festival of Tantrump officially begins on the 3rd of November with a vote to select a new chief of the Gods. The following four days are known as the Schrödinger’s President’s Days. When Tamtrump is in a metaphysical state of being both victorious and not victorious, and remains a quantum uncertainty until all the ballot boxes are opened. On the first two days Tantrump’s worshippers will claim success and celebrate before the race is fully run, whilst the rest of the world sits nervously wearing out their F5 key. On the third day, when things are no longer going their way, worshippers of Tantrump will start crying foul without any evidence of untoward shenanigans. On this day the priests will conduct a ritual to summon the asymmetrically blonde bobbed abyssal beast known as “The Karenken”. The Karenken, once summoned, demands to speak to the poll managers, the Supreme Court, and failing that screams into the void of social media. It can be recognised by its distinctive cry of “Stop the Count” and its vicious attacks on Usps the messenger of the gods.

Finally, on the fourth day, news of Tantrump’s defeat arrives. At first he refuses to accept the result, but not even Four Seasons Total Landscaping can fix this landslide. At the climax of the festival, Tantrump’s head explodes in an apoplexy of hubris and bile. This makes America gay again and the people of the wider world rejoice with them. Redefining the term a “Grand Old Party”. Together they see off the shell of the defeated deity with cheerful cries of “Bi den!” The last rite of the festival takes place two years later, when Nevada finally delivers its results. This delay is thought to be due to the “What happens in Vegas” effect. Officially the festival is meant to take place every four years, but right now everyone feels a bit like that would be a bit too soon to go through all this again.

Thank you to Gareth Wilden for suggesting Tantrump.

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
Coming out 30th November 2020

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

Pre order here https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book

Idol Scribblings Volume One


A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occations from Idol Scribblings. Produced in 2019-2020.


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https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book/

NEW!
IDOL SCRIBBLINGS COMMISSIONS


What do you get the person who has everything? Turn them into a God!

I can turn your friend, relative or even you pet into a humorous Idol Scribblings cartoon. They make a perfect gift!

Click this link to contact me for more information about how to deify your loved ones like a Roman Emperor of old!

Thank you for reading. If you have enjoyed this deity, please feel free to share it with your friends. New deities are published weekly. You can get alerted to new deities via Facebook through the Idol Scribbling Page or on Twitter by following @IdolScribblings . Catch up on the Pantheon so far here.

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

Purdah – Goddess of Not Being Able To Speak Your Mind

Purdah* is the Goddess of not being able to speak your mind. She is the daughter of Deliquesce the Goddess of Dissolution and Poll the God of Democracy. This Goddesses’ demure and modest appearance hides a razor sharp intelligence and some strong opinions, but we will never get to know what they are. She is outwardly apolitical in all things. Ideologically she stands as a paragon of fairness. Her sect is particularly popular amongst public servants and people who have a professional image to maintain. When two worshippers of Purdah meet, they will greet one another with a unique gesture where they each extend their tongue and bite down upon it.

The great festival of Purdah does not occur with any predictable regularity. However, it must not happen less than once in five years. It can take place at any time of year, but most often occurs in May. Unusually, this year the festival of Purdah is taking place in mid-December. This is, however, proving popular with worshippers, as most people were planning to choose their turkey around then anyway (and it’s given parents everywhere a “get out of Nativity Play free” card).

When a festival of Purdah is announced, all followers will receive a stern letter from the central church to remind them of the correct conduct during this holy time. From the time of the announcement until the end of the day of the festival itself, followers of Purdah maintain a strict vow of silence. That is, they are not allowed to talk. They still make a noise though. If you stand next to one and listen carefully, you will hear a low grinding noise from their dentures. (Their original teeth were worn down long ago.). During the run up to the festival they are also forbidden from doing the ironing. They have to avoid the press at all costs.

On the day of the festival of Purdah itself, all the children are given a day off from studying and temporary temples are set up in their schools. Outside each temple stands a phalanx of cute dogs waiting patiently to be photographed for the local newspaper. Spread on the floor in the centre of each temple there is a bulging and unsightly rug which appears to have a lot of things swept under it. My local temple’s rug has a strange lump in it shaped just like the Russia Report.

Each worshipper will visit their local temple at some point during the festival. On arrival, they will check in with the Servants of Purdah (priesthood) who sit behind a desk drinking tea and eating Hobnobs to keep their strength up throughout the long day. You are only allowed one visit to the temple per festival. The Servants ensure no one tries to visit twice, and generally maintain order and decorum. They do so with great gentility. They are very civil servants. Although they do not have “official robes” as such, they dress in bland and neutral clothing. Slogans on clothing and the colours red, blue, yellow and green are forbidden. The leader of the Servants of Purdah is always a re-incarnation of the same soul, this is why they are known as the “Returning Officer”.

The Servants of Purdah will give each registered worshipper a slip of paper when they arrive and tick them off the list. The votary will then retire to the privacy of a curtained booth where they will meditate and then write their prayer on the slip of paper. On leaving the booth, the prayer slips are ceremonially posted into an armoured black metal box. Once the temples close at the end of the long festival day, the priesthood will all go outside and shout, scream and generally swear their tits off with relief that it is all over.

One of the arch enemies of Purdah is the demon Kalamos Kleptomania, also known as the “Pilferer of Pencils”. Don’t worry. Kalamos can be easily defeated with a piece of string (or a bobble chain if you’re from a posh constituency).

*Purdah would like me to make one thing clear from the outset. She does not actually like her name. It was stolen and didn’t mean something very nice in the first place. She toyed for a while with being known as “Pre-Election Period”, but this didn’t work out as people kept mistaking her for a goddess of menstruation. Purdah would really prefer a melifluous moniker , so do let her know if you have a good idea for a new name.

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
Coming out 30th November 2020

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

Pre order here https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book

Idol Scribblings Volume One


A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occations from Idol Scribblings. Produced in 2019-2020.


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https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book/

NEW!
IDOL SCRIBBLINGS COMMISSIONS


What do you get the person who has everything? Turn them into a God!

I can turn your friend, relative or even you pet into a humorous Idol Scribblings cartoon. They make a perfect gift!

Click this link to contact me for more information about how to deify your loved ones like a Roman Emperor of old!

Thank you for reading. If you have enjoyed this deity, please feel free to share it with your friends. New deities are published weekly. You can get alerted to new deities via Facebook through the Idol Scribbling Page or on Twitter by following @IdolScribblings . Catch up on the Pantheon so far here.

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

Werentmee – God of Denial

With the innocent face of an angel, the God Werentmee is impervious to all blame. Any excrement thrown his way slides right off. The divine light shining from his reverent rectum means that any shade thrown does not fall upon him. He has two other avatars not shown here. One is a lyre playing musician with flaming underwear and a nose as long as a telephone wire, and the other is the invisible divine ghost known to children and cyclopes everywhere as “Mr Nobody”.

Werentmee, God of Denial should not be confused with any Ancient Egyptian river deities. Werentmee hasn’t had any dealings in that region since the “The Aswan Dam Wasn’t an Environmental Disaster” incident.

The philosophy of the cult of Werentmee is not to avoid the sin, but to avoid the blame, the shame and the consequences. His devotees include corrupt politicians, environment destroyers, emotional fuckwits and asset stripping CEOs who sink their companies. Essential personal qualities for joining the priesthood of Werentmee are twinkling charm, a posh accent, and a very short memory. Having a conscience is considered to be a severe handicap, and may render one unsuitable to serve.

Werentmee’s priests can be recognised by the distinctive mittens they wear to prevent any finger-pointing. They also always wear spotless white robes, except at Hallowe’en, when they dress up in an autumnal themed costume made of russet leaves, berries and pumpkins. These seasonal vestments are known as the “Fall Guise”. The priesthood always tackle every task or project in a team of at least 6. This is “herd action” a defensive precaution. A team structure makes it nigh on impossible to isolate any single under-performing individual. The High Priest of Werentmee is known by the title “Pastor Buck”. He travels constantly in the pursuit of his duties, serving the faith tirelessly. “The Buck” never, ever stops. He is aided in is work by his deputy Mr Scott Free.

The roof of the Temple of Werentmee bristles with cruel spikes, scarecrows and decoy birds of prey. Atop all this sits a priest in the highest room of the tallest tower with a shot gun. Anything to prevent the pigeons from coming home to roost. The interior of his temple is strangely decorated to appear as though it is a photographic negative. Black is white in there. The Temple also houses a menagerie. Here you can see the two unique species which are Werentmee’s sacred animals. At the centre of the menagerie is a large lake, in which live a bask of Crocodylus lacrimosa (a kind of salt water crocodile). In the green field around the lake graze a flock of the rare goat breed Capra piaculum (or Scapegoat). In addition there is a single ordinary, elderly, wiffy hound dog called Patsy. He is kept at the temple purely to be the publicly acknowledged culprit of every fart dropped within. The temple has innumerable entrances. When you visit, will you enter via the Watergate, the Hackgate, the Donnygate, the Blobbygate or the Camillagate?

There are few strict rules in this faith, but one of these rules is that the dish “Eggs Benedict” is forbidden. In fact, if you tried, you would find it impossible to make a hollandaise sauce in the Temple of Werentmee, because the butter wouldn’t melt.

Many seek the divine assistance of Werentmee to get themselves out of a spot of bother of their own making. For serious misdemeanours they will attend the temple and take part in a rite where one of the Scapegoats is sacrificed and burned on a pyre of shredded documents and compromising photographs. For less serious quotidian situations, the temple press publishes a handy reference list of societal groups that you can blame for your daily fails. For example, today’s list includes: young people, teachers, parents, snowflakes, liberal lefties, immigrants, the European Union, women, the weather and the Hungarians.  

Werentmee is often mentioned in the mythology of other faiths. Usually as a filthy piece of toe rag with a cherubic face who will ultimately bring about the end of days.

Thank you to Robin Lawrence for suggesting Werentmee.

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
Coming out 30th November 2020

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

Pre order here https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book

Idol Scribblings Volume One


A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occations from Idol Scribblings. Produced in 2019-2020.


Order your copy here
https://idolscribblings.blog/the-book/

NEW!
IDOL SCRIBBLINGS COMMISSIONS


What do you get the person who has everything? Turn them into a God!

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Thank you for reading. If you have enjoyed this deity, please feel free to share it with your friends. New deities are published weekly. You can get alerted to new deities via Facebook through the Idol Scribbling Page or on Twitter by following @IdolScribblings . Catch up on the Pantheon so far here.

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Euros – God of Money One Does Not Have

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.

Idol Scribblings Volume Two
Coming out 30th November 2020

Even more deities for every eventuality with a foreword by Gary Brannan of the Technical Difficulties ( TechDiff.co.uk )
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Idol Scribblings Volume One


A collection of 52 deities, ancient and modern, for all occations from Idol Scribblings. Produced in 2019-2020.


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What do you get the person who has everything? Turn them into a God!

I can turn your friend, relative or even you pet into a humorous Idol Scribblings cartoon. They make a perfect gift!

Click this link to contact me for more information about how to deify your loved ones like a Roman Emperor of old!

Thank you for reading. If you have enjoyed this deity, please feel free to share it with your friends. New deities are published weekly. You can get alerted to new deities via Facebook through the Idol Scribbling Page or on Twitter by following @IdolScribblings . Catch up on the Pantheon so far here.

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