Haemorrhoid – God of Sitting Down Very Gently

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

Haemorrhoid is a god of the nether world and of things you can’t kiss better. No one is sure what he stands for, but he stands none the less. He was cursed to never, ever sit down comfortably again by one of the winter goddesses for daring to sit on her cold stone throne. Haemorrhoid is said to have two sacred animals. One is a mythical giant lizard known as the Megasaurarse, and an obstreperous donkey who is a real pain in the ass.

If you attend a ritual, you will find that the standing areas of the temple fill up first. Arrive too late and you’ll find it’s sitting room only. When the priest in the Temple of Haemorrhoid says “Let us be seated” to the congregation, what follows is a drawn out ballet of gentle pliés to the accompaniment of a chorus of muted groans. This is despite the fact that every pew is generously cushioned. At the end of every service the congregation leap to their feet and give the priest a standing ovation. Up on the high altar a small bunch of sacred grapes rests on an inflatable donut-shaped cushion. In fact the decor of the entire temple has a “grapey” theme.

Haemorrhoid is worshipped by almost everyone at some point in their lives, with the exception of perfect arseholes. Giles is the most popular given name for Haemorrhoidian boys, and they often grow up to become farmers. Emma is the most popular girls name. Infants are inducted into the faith by being baptised in the “Chalfont”.

Astrology is very important to Haemorrhoidians. Their predictions and calendar are based around the movements of Uranus. It is considered to be the most significant of the planets to observe because Uranus is so large and gassy. They watch the skies especially carefully for the significant and rare phenomena when a mysterious red streak appears in the sky near the planet. This event is known as Uranus Bleeding. Their astrologers and seers have predicted that the world will eventually end with a giant assteroid impact.

You are advised never to provoke a priest or priestess of Haemorrhoid. The constant standing, itching and general discomfort turns them into very short tempered bad asses. They have been known to fly into states of red misted fury known as a “Haemorrhoid Rage”.

You may be surprised to learn that the priestesses of Haemorrhoid run a chain of “Gentleman’s Clubs”, the proceeds of which support their church. Here, for a generous tip, they will perform an unusual form of erotic entertainment known as the Pro Laps Dance.

Worshippers of Haemorrhoid gather annually at the summer solstice. On this occasion a specially brewed beer called a Pilesner is consumed. At the climax of the ceremony the priests stand together to watch the sun rise and greet the red eye of the dawn with the cry “Arise Oh Anusol!”

Thank you to Janet Hudson for suggesting Haemorrhoid.

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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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

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

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.

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

Verruca – Goddess of Disinfectant Foot Baths

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Houmous – God of Dips

November 3, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you to Ken Page for suggesting Houmous.

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.

Mascara – The Gothic Deity

October 27, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Mascara is an anthropomorphic personification of darkness and degradation with flawless eyeliner. Mascara is more Goth than thou will ever be. They are said to have originated in the mysterious forests and mountains of north eastern Europe, the offspring of Captain Sensible (God of the Damned) and Siouxsie (Goddess of backcombing and singing on the roof).

Mascara’s temple is a macabre confection of pointed arches and carved skulls in a secret location near Whitby. It is a Temple of Love. It shines like thunder and cries like rain. Dribbly candles flutter in sconces on the walls casting deep, mysterious shadows. The only well illuminated part of the temple is the sacred mirror. All their furniture is designed by the Bauhaus school. In the heart of the Temple is a large console with hundreds of push switches. They don’t do anything. The Emos just like to sit at it and depress the buttons. The structure of the temple is supported by a frame of steel girders. Recently, the temple required major restoration. When they consulted an expert structural steel engineer from Sheffield, he looked at the girders and said “Hey now! Hey now now! Look at this corrosion sithee!”

The priesthood wear black at all times, (well, until find a darker colour). Subtle differences in dress denote membership of different orders such as; The Perkies, The Cybers, The Mopies, The Romantics, The Phetishists and The Steamers. Many wear the “corset of penance”. They haven’t done anything particularly bad, they just like it. Each priest carries a ceremonial “wand” (which is in fact more like a conical brush on a stick). During rituals of Mascara, the priesthood adopt a strange facial expression, eyes wide and mouth hanging agape as they gaze into the scared mirror.

Worshippers of Mascara were hunted and persecuted throughout much of history. In crueller times, heathen mobs (or “Townies”) would attempt to trap and castrate the male members of the faith. They would then hang the testes up in their wardrobes as a charm to off ward cloth eating vermin. This is why, in days of yore, Townies tended to smell of Goth Balls.

Before attending worship at Mascara’s temple for the first time, it is wise to practice the four key ritual dance moves to avoid scorn from the initiated. They are called; “The Big Fish”, “The Little Fish”, “The Cardboard Box” and the “Yoyo Trick-Shot”.

The first and only commandment of Mascara is, “Don’t make me cry!”.

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.

Mana Mana – The Great Earwyrm

October 20, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Mana Mana is just one of the many deities of music. Their provinces are hooks, jingles, and catchy tunes. Unlike most other deities, Mana Mana is known to regularly possess the minds of mortal humans. They enter minds via the airwaves and set up home near the auditory nerve. Once installed they will repeatedly sing the last catchy song you heard. Unfortunately, they rarely know all the words, and usually only know the chorus, or even just the bit that goes “diddly qua qua, diddly qua qua”. Thanks to the miracle of modern broadcasting technology their powers of possession are prolific. They are capable of possessing thousands or even millions of human minds at any one time. Affecting believers and non-believers alike.

If you are possessed by Mana Mana the experience can last for anything from a couple of hours to a week. For a non-believer his possession may, at first, be merely mildly irritating, but after an extended period possession has been known to drive even strong minds to insanity. Many methods of shortening a possession by Mana Mana have been suggested and tried. These include listening to the particular tune Mana Mana is singing to you properly, chewing gum, naked dancing with ritual chanting and listening to Radio 4. However, the only known sure-fire method to end a possession is to drive a railroad spike through your head.

Far from trying to banish possessions prematurely, acolytes of Mana Mana cherish the experience of possession and will seek to maintain an earwyrm for as long as possible. There is a fundamentalist sect who fast for long periods, denying themselves all corporeal sustenance. In order to achieve this they enter a trance-like state of meditative communication with Mana Mana. Using this method, they are able to spend several weeks at a time living on a prayer. The High Priest of Mana Mana is Joe Pasquale. He was appointed as he knows a lot of songs that will get on your nerves.

The sect of Mana Mana may be the most prolific and most gregarious of all religions. Once you enter the faith, you will quickly get to know everyone. In fact, you are likely to run into a fellow worshipper almost anywhere you may go. It’s a small world after all. Every year followers of Mana Mana gather for a great festival. They celebrate with a great masquerade ball where the celebrants dress as infant sea creatures and dance the night away. This shindig is known as “The Baby Shark Doo”. The following day they observe their “Day of the Dead (Ringer For Love)” and hold a ceremony where the priesthood will form a circle in a graveyard. The high priest will then solemnly chant the words “Sweet Caroline”. If you listen closely, from beneath the soil, one will hear thousands of withered voices respond “Da Da Daaaaaah”.

The Blessed Gloria Gaynor is celebrated for almost becoming a martyr to the faith of Mana Mana. After belting out one catchy anthem too many she was cruelly beaten by a mob of heretics just outside the North Yorkshire town of Knaresborough. Then she was bodily thrown into Mother Shipton’s well. First she was affrayed, then she was petrified. After that she had to go and live in Ambleside. I would tell you then rest of the story, but you all already know that she will survive.

The Temple of Mana Mana is located on Bennie Hill and has a large aerial on the roof which broadcasts “Mana Mana Gold FM – Infuriating Classic Pop Hits 24/7”. The DJ priests diligently ensure Mana Mana comes into the ears of the nation daily. Why not tune in for their famous, long-running, “Sick of the Pops” show? The mascot of the radio station is a mighty lion.

The temple doorbell, when rung, gives you a short blast of Kylie’s “I Just Can’t Get You Out of My Head” played on a synthesizer chip made from fingernails and blackboards. As you enter, you will see that the hall of the temple has a glass ceiling and a mirrored floor. This is so that when worshippers enter on a nice day it creates the optical illusion that they are walking on sunshine. In the temple yard is the enclosure where the lion will sleep tonight.

Mana Mana is a deity who is going to be in your life, whether you like it or not. So, don’t stop believing.

Thank you to Robin Lawrence for suggesting Mana Mana.

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.

(To anyone who feels that I may have trespassed on a timeless and beloved puppet character: Please allow me to assure you that Mana Mana is only a little bit of an animal.)

Afrodite – Goddess of Fabulous Hair

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

Afrodite is a goddess who knows how to work what her mother gave her. Legend has it that she stepped naked from a sea shell (Although when I tried this I was asked not to come back to the Sealife Centre. Double bloody standards if you ask me).

Afrodite has several different sects that worship her. The Pantenes, The Tresemmes, The Wellas, The Herbalessences and the oldest sect, The Vosenes (who consider themselves head and shoulders above the rest). Regardless of their affiliation, the priests and priestesses wear distinctive long black nylon robes, tied at the neck, which completely cover their other garments. This is topped off with a towel draped around the neck and secured with a plastic hair clip.

You may know her most popular hymn:

She is D divine
She is I incredible
She is S straightening
She is C curling
She is O oh, oh, oh

Key to the observances of all the different sects are the hours spent in meticulous ritual grooming. It is believed that a meditative state of a higher altered consciousness is achieved in the hairdresser’s chair. At her temples one can purchase meditation CDs of hairstylist conversation. Such as the classic “Have you had your holiday yet this year?” or “What did you think of last week’s Strictly?” to help you achieve this state of nirvana.

At the initiation ceremony into the faith Afrodite, the postulate will be anointed with warm sacred oil, and wrapped in a heated towel for fifteen minutes before being leaned backwards and ritually lathered and rinsed in the font (the last two steps will be repeated as needed). Then a priest or priestess will hold a mirror up behind them to scare away any demons they may be facing. At this juncture the neophyte will speak the words, “Great, cheers, thanks. What do I owe you?”.

Followers of Afrodite believe that when they curl up and dye they will climb the hair-way to heaven, provided they have been pious. The unkempt and unvirtuous will be condemned to Hairdes where they will be forced to forever style their Barnet with hair styx.

Afrodite’s sacred text is called “The Little Book of Clam”.

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

October 6, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ 1 Comment

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.

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.

Semolina – Goddess of School Dinners

September 29, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Semolina watches over all forms of institutional food whether in schools, workplaces, hospitals or prisons. Basically, anywhere that barely non-toxic dull grey slop is doled out onto plastic trays. Semolina ensures a place in paradise for those who clear their own table. Fryday is her holy day, when eating chips is permitted. Usually depicted as a lady of middle years, with a slightly frazzled demeanour. Pink custard flows through her veins.

Her temple is furnished with long tables, dented metal water jugs and stackable plastic chairs. The high altar resembles a long counter. It may well be the only altar to feature a sneeze guard. Her priestesses stand behind the altar to deliver the service. Above the altar the acronym S.U.A.E.I.* is inscribed in chalk on a blackboard, along with the two choices for that day’s fare; Take-It or Leave-It. A typical rite lasts around half an hour and involves 25 minutes of queuing and 5 minutes to scoff down a sacrament.

Behind the scenes the signature “barely non-toxic dull grey slop” is created by processing vast quantities of fungus. This takes place in the mush room. This mess is supposedly specifically formulated to build healthy bodies whilst dulling excitable urges. In a modern bid for healthier eating, salads are now also served (the only other vegetable on offer is ketchup). It is considered very auspicious to find a caterpillar in your salad (as it shows that it’s real). It is considered a very bad omen to find half a caterpillar in your salad.

Though the entree may be a penance, the dessert is always divine. The closely guarded sacred texts of Semolina house the secret recipes for childhood delights such as Chocolate Concrete and Gypsy Tart (these dishes were named to downplay their deliciousness to those not initiated into the religion). The recipes are, in fact, all very similar. They mostly involve using evaporated milk to glue sugar together.

Priestesses of Semolina can be recognised by the wearing of the Holy Hair-Net of Cantina. They undergo rigorous training before their ordination, including learning to make ice cream in little plastic pots at sundae school and how to inject jam into a donut. One should always treat the priests and priestesses of Semolina with great deference and respect as they will be touching your food and deciding your portion. They are renowned for strictly enforcing proper behaviour inside their temple. They are a fearsome foe to the rowdy. People who transgress from correct behaviour will be sent to the back of the line. A food fight is considered to be a holy war. The current High Priestess is Marie Bain.

Many high profile professional chefs have attempted to reform the faith of Semolina by improving their culinary skills of the priesthood. Though some seemed to make initial headway, all ultimately failed. They are however, warmly respected for at least trying. The faith was perilously threatened some business investors who attempted to take over and run Semolina’s temples for monetary gain. These people were eventually cast out and are now derided as false profits.

The ethos of the faith of Semolina is that all within an institution will be united in solidarity by the hatred of the food. From the pupils, through the IT department who drop in for a quick byte, to the Maths teachers who come for
a meal². They are all bonded in a universal loathing and so community spirit is fostered. Some say that following the way of Semolina is a piece of cake…
…but only if you’ve finished your vegetables.

Thank you to Xander Kennard for suggesting Semolina.

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.

* Shut up and eat it.

Dicenysis – God of Board Games

September 8, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Dicenysis is the God of Board Games and a psychopomp. You may think that the phrase “dicing with death” is just a saying.

It isn’t.

Until 1957 Dicenysis was just a standard skeletal psychopomp, helping shuffle hapless souls to the underworld. Everything changed with the release of the classic film “The Seventh Seal”. Suddenly everyone wanted to gamble on a game for another chance at life. In a very short time Dicenysis became familiar with, and supremely skilled at, all known table top games from around the world. The world of gaming became his Dominion. Well, we can’t have the mortals getting away with that kind of thing.

Worshippers believe that, upon death, Dicenysis appears to us all. If you are not a worshipper of Dicenysis, you have to challenge him to a board game for your life. Therefore, Dicenysis gets to choose the game. He is said to favour an unusual form of Kerplunk! where he will impale himself through the rib cage with a bundle of skewers and then drink several of gallons of marbles. When in a mischievous mood, he will challenge you to a round of Twister (being able to disassemble and rearticulate your own bones as required is a bit of an unfair advantage). If you lived a particularly amoral life, he will make you play an extremely gory version of Operation where you are the playing board (if your nose lights up, it’s all over). If you lose, no matter how often you say sorry, Dicenysis will give you a ticket to ride to the afterlife.

If you are a devout and devoted follower, Dicenysis will extend the honour of challenging you to a game. This gives you the advantage of choosing the board of battle. This doesn’t really help most people, but it’s nice to get to choose your last game. (It is a bit of a risk to go for a strategic game though.) There are a few of the holy mystics of Dicenysis who appear to be incredibly ancient. The way they achieve this longevity is a closely guarded secret, but I will reveal it to you now. When you are almost dead, and Dicenysis appears to you and offers you the challenge of a game, the game you should choose is Mousetrap. As this game is infuriatingly, engagingly impossible to complete, Dicenysis will get fed up, give up and allow you safe passage back to the corporeal realm. Actually. That is all lies. The game that Dicenysis is really playing is “The Game”, and you just lost it.

Despite accepting that they will ultimately be defeated, worshippers of Dicenysis will spend their entire lives honing their board gaming skills. They see life as a journey of spiritual preparation and practice for the “One Great Game” that they will play when their mortal thread is about to be severed. To this end, they will gather to perform the ritual of playing together, often late into the night.

A rite commences with the ritualistic laying out of the board upon the altar and “the gathering of the snacks”. The cards and pieces are ceremonially checked to be all present and correct. Each ritual is usually officiated by 2-6 Priests (Ages 8-80). At the climax of the rite, some sheep will be burned on a ritual pyre in sacrifice to Dicenysis. At the end of the rite the game board and the altar are ceremonially flipped over. The pieces are scattered everywhere, and the priests scrabble to pick them up. The temple’s sacrifice stores are always kept well stocked these days. No one wants a repeat of the incident when they ran out of fuel for the pyre. This left a massively embarrassed Priest running around, asking all the congregation whether they had wood for his sheep. Another time they couldn’t get any sheep and ended up trying to stick cotton wool on some porkers. This attempt to pass the pigs off did not succeed.

Dicenysis’ faith is a popular one. There are temples all over the world and the largest of them is located in Carcassonne. The roofs of Dicenysis’ temples are all tiled with letters. Sadly, like the lead flashing on the roofs of other religious buildings, these letter tiles are prone to theft. Z and Q are stolen the most often. Another notable feature of Dicenysis’ temples are their doorbells. They are comprised of a clear Perspex dome containing a pair of dice. When you press the doorbell, it makes a satisfying click, and the dice dance with. If you want do look inside or attend a rite, you must roll a six to enter. Inside, Temples of Dicenysis are pleasant and welcoming places, furnished with large tables and comfortable chairs. The walls will be lined with an impressive library of board games. The priesthood will be in attendance to counsel you and help you negotiate the rules of this game of life. The way of Dicenysis is said to be excellent for teaching conflict resolution and fair play. For example, when two Dicenysians bump into one another trying to get through the same doorway, they will throw a dice to see who gets to go first. However, sadly, they are not very tolerant of other religions. The priesthood of Dicenysis like to have the monopoly. The current leader of the faith is High Priestess Kathryn Anne (known as Kat). She was not the first choice when the previous incumbent left the post, but they settled for her.

The faith of Dicenysis contains small parts and is not suitable for children under 3.

Thank you to Clare Starkie and Rebecca Stothard for suggesting a deity of board games, and to Clare Starkie for coming up with the name Dicenysis.

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