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.

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.

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.

Wing & Ding – Gods of Fonts

September 22, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ 1 Comment

These ancient deities originate in the Far East, as did the art of woodblock printing. They are found in variations in other pantheons, sometimes as a single being. For example, they were known in Ancient Greece as Σύμβολο. A version of them did eventually make it into the Roman Pantheon, but it was not until just before Christianisation, in times new. All in all they are said to be pretty cool deities, and they are known to rock well. However, they can become vengeful if angered and have been known to make terror strike-through hearts. Wing & Ding are said to have each been reincarnated three times before their apotheosis. These subtly different avatars are known as Wing & Ding One, Two and Three. Wing’s sacred animal is the Dingbat. Ding’s sacred animal is Webding the Spider.

The Temples of Wing & Ding are decorated with the mysterious holy symbols painted on every surface. Newer modern temples will usually be constructed with a slight slant to the architecture, known as the Italic style. Older temples will usually be built in a more traditional Gothic style. Within each temple is a giant stone bowl which houses the temple’s copies of the sacred texts. This is known as the “Font of All Knowledge”. The sacred texts, known collectively as “The Superscript” are written in a code comprised of 94 hieroglyphic symbols. They are only decipherable by the priesthood and theological scholars following many years of study. These divine words of Wing and Ding were said to have originally been delivered to mankind by Courier. The texts are never completely translated into the western alphabet. However, small excerpts are printed in Trebuchet font on launch materials for new church projects.

The heavenly consorts of Wing and Ding are the Eight Sisters of Lucida. As a result polygamy is permitted within this faith, and some followers prefer to practice this open type of relationship. Sadly, the faith is not always understood by outsiders, and followers of Wing & Ding sometimes experience discrimination. They go into business establishments only to be told “We don’t serve your type here”. The priests of Wing & Ding are dedicated typophiles known as “Serifs”. The priestesses are in charge of the punctuation (as only they have periods). In recent years the whole faith has been administered from near Mansfield in the UK. Therefore the highest ranking priest holds the title of “Serif of Nottingham”. The current incumbent is Sir Harrington Copperplate-Gothic-Bold (who I am told is Cambria educated). Tragically his predecessor, the Liverpudlian Ar Julian, was assassinated. To this day the crime was never solved and no one knows who shot the Serif. In return for a donation to the temple, the Serifs will supply you with an astrological reading, printed in Futura. If appealed to, the Serifs may also hold a court and dispense with legal matters. However, they only mete out punishment when it is fully justified. One traditional penance given is to live solely on Kern Flakes for a set period.

The nemesis of Wing and Ding is the trickster demon “Comic Sans”. Falling into the trap of Comic Sans is said to be the fate of the immoral and unimaginative. Followers of Wing & Ding believe that those who live an unimaginative life will go to the dark underworld called “Helvetica” when they die. Some mystics of the faith believe they know the secret to everlasting life and youth. They believe that the secret to eternal life is…

Thank you to Sarah Shepton for suggesting Wing and Ding.

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.

Shiva-Me-Timbers – God of Nautical Clichés

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

The philosophy of the faith of Shiva Me Timbers is to fill the void of taste, interests or design skill in one’s life with generic sea themed crap. The theory is that this will imply to others that you are an adventurous, salty sea dog with the wealth and time to explore the world (between your shifts at the call centre). Parrots, West Country accents and casual sexual morals are all encouraged. For worshippers of Shiva Me Timbers, every day is “Talk Like a Pirate Day”. Acolytes with at least one prosthetic limb are considered blessed, as they will always have a gruesome, ripping yarn to tell.

If you commit a serious transgression of the faith of Shiva-Me-Timbers, you may be sentenced to “roll the plank”. Shiva-Me-Timbers is an equal opportunities faith, and all their planks are wheelchair accessible.

There are many majestic temples to Shiva Me Timbers. They sail the seven seas to spread the word of the God. If you visit any port town, you will see one schooner or later. The temples are always immaculately maintained, as they like to keep things ship shape. Each one has a Shivan Temple Cat for vermin control, a rare breed with 9 tails. Inside they are decorated with canvas upholstery, rope-work storage baskets, driftwood, lifebelts and badly taxidermied seagulls. You can create the nautical temple look in your own home. Everything you need is available from “AYE IKEA”.

The clergy of Shiva-Me-Timbers can be recognised by their tattoos, blue trousers and stripy shirts (known as “Bristol Fashion”). Membership of the priesthood is open to both buoys and girls equally. There are often heated theological arguments amongst them about the merits of steam ships versus sail. (This schism is known as the Great Mast Debate.) The current High Priest is a permanently jovial man called Roger. He has lived his whole life in religious service. He started out as the cabin boy. As a money maker, the church of Shiva Me Timbers run a very popular sperm bank. They are renowned for their able semen.

The rituals of Shiva-Me-Timbers always begin with the weighing of the anchor on the ceremonial scales. Sadly, due to the traditional consumption of rum, they usually end with everyone keeling over, utterly wrecked with all souls lost.

Thank you to Sarah Shepton for suggesting Shiva-Me-Timbers.

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.

Anachronistes – God of Historical Inaccuracy

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

Whenever a creative team try to recreate the past through the conjury of cinema, Anachronistes will be there. He is dreaded and feared by directors and producers. If he is not appeased with the appropriate rites and offerings before filming starts, he will make random items like plastic water bottles, Starbucks coffee cups or a flock of llamas magically appear in shot. The makers of Downton Abbey, Game of Thrones and Troy have learned to respect Anachronistes the hard way. To perform the ritual to appease Anachronistes you must first drape everything around you in hessian, lay your Artistic Licence Card on the altar and light some dribbley candles around it. Next, rend a roast chicken limb from limb with your bare hands whilst singing “Greensleeves”. Finally, sacrifice some cold hard cash to your local University History Faculty.

The priestesses of Anachronistes are known as the “Polyester Princesses” and the priests as the “Knylon Knights of Kni”. In addition to the usual duties of leading worship and caring for the temple, the priests of Anachronistes hire themselves out as movie extras. Some film buffs like to play a game where they watch the crowd scenes in historical movies and try to spot a priest of Anachronistes. How do you recognise them? Well, they will be the plebeian watching the gladiatorial games whilst chatting on their mobile phone, the medieval peasant wench hefting a tomato at someone in the stocks or the Spartan soldier sporting sunglasses*. The temple scribes of Anachronistes were also responsible for drawing all the “travelling map” animations for the Indiana Jones film trilogy.

When not involved in the magical world of the movies, the priesthood of Anachronistes like to infiltrate historical re-enactments as a kind of hobby. They stride out onto a battlefield draped in a tartan car rug and a smear of woad with a colander on their head. After the battle they will bed down in the living history camp in their authentic plastic yurt, complete with electrical camping hook up (just like the ancient nomads of the Steppes used to have). They revel in the seething rage they invoke in everyone who put hours of research and hand sewing into their attire and tentage. There are dark rumours that there have been actual murders. Only rumours mind. After all who’s going to notice one more skeleton buried under a battlefield?

There is a militant counter-sect that seek to thwart the acolytes of Anachronistes at every turn. “The Authenticity Police” are a learned, if somewhat anally retentive bunch. If you know one of their number, NEVER go to see a historical film with them. They are the kind of people who enjoy heckling the costume department. They rarely engage in direct conflict with the followers of Anachronistes. Their actions are usually restricted to online pedantry and snarking.

The Temple of Anachronistes is a distinctive 13th Century Neo-Tudor-Classical half-timbered, breeze block castle with polystyrene Doric columns and a thatched roof. This temple is truly a magnificent architectural gem, dear reader, and it is worth pausing here, for a moment, to admire it in your mind’s eye. The corners of the roof are ornamented with exquisitely carved gargoyles. Everyone’s favourite gargoyle is the one on the east side that looks like Alien. This gargoyle has been affectionately nicknamed “Paisley”. Through the temple’s Georgian sash windows you may be able to spot the elegant electric chandeliers that illuminate the interior. (Although, they are not always working as their support ropes tend to be vulnerable to swashbuckling heroes.)

The Temple of Anachronistes houses a cinema, where the priesthood can sit back and admire their handy work. Such a huge variety of historical films from all over the world are screened, that they rarely show repeats. However, once a year on the anniversary of the Battle of Stirling Bridge, the priests and priestesses gather en mass to enjoy the film Braveheart, which they consider to be their finest hour. At the appropriate moment of the film, the lead priest will chant, “Hold. Hold. Hold. NOW!” and the assembled priesthood will respond by chorusing,

“Where’s the f***ing bridge Mel?”

Thank you to Alex Smith, Clare Starkie, Rebecca Stothard who have all chipped in on this one.

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.

*The priesthood of Anachronistes would like me to make it explicitly clear that they had absolutely nothing to do with the film Teen Wolf.

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.

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.

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!

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.

Sue Doku – Goddess of Boring Journeys

August 11, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Some say it is better to travel hopefully than to arrive. That the journey is the reward. Followers of Sue Doku see the journey as a trial to be ameliorated with amusements and snacks. She is said to have originated during the long sea voyages of ancient history, but her appearance has changed and developed as much as our transportation habits have over the millennia. Sue Doku’s divine consort is Traffique D’Lay – God of Roadworks and Adverse Weather. Her best friend is the water nymph Sheewee. Her sacred animal is a spaniel who likes to ride along with its head out of the window and its tongue and ears flapping in the slipstream.

Her temples are housed in motorway rest stops (which is why they are called Motorway Services) and airports. (Attempts to also move into bus and rail stations were abandoned after they were vigorously resisted by the church of Cancelle, the Goddess of Public Transport). If you have travelled, you will almost certainly have unwittingly visited one. The outer compounds of the temples house exciting and convenient dining and shopping opportunities. The restaurants are exclusively staffed by chefs of short stature. The proceeds of these businesses fund the church. This is why their prices tend to be somewhere between “HOW MUCH!?” and “Quick! Get the defibrillator!” The “public service” work of this faith seems to be limited to providing free public conveniences.

Amongst the unique products you can purchase at a Temple of Sue Doku are the Consecrated Chewable Toothbrushes, perfect if you have the triple curse of halitosis, hunger and heresy. They are available in vending machines in the toilets, so you can hide your shame as you make your discrete purchase. Some temples sell Black Toblerones (considered to be the food of the Gods). They are doubly rare, as the Airport Temples are the only places where one can buy these delicious plane chocolates. One can also purchase CDs of Sue Doku’s sacred music, such as the famous compilation “Now That’s What I Call Songs That Will Get On Your Nerves”. This includes the ever popular “As I Wonder Through the Valley of the Shadows of Death, I Wonder Whether We Are Nearly There Yet?”, the uplifting sing-along track “Halt This Conveyance. I Need a Wee Wee”, the haunting “Ego Sentio Vomitum Satiata”, and the breakaway hit “Don’t Let Jesus Take the Wheel, He Lived in the 1^st Century CE, Never Passed His Test and I’m Not Sure Whether the Fluid in His Sports Bottle is Still Water”.

The last notable products I will mention, which can be purchased from Sue Doku’s temples, are her sacred texts. If you wish to search for the word, this is where you would do well to look. These texts are always in paperback form, and come with a free pencil and the chance to win an Italian family holiday in Depressa. They contain collections of philosophical conundrums to stimulate a person’s spiritual side, and help maintain cognitive function during times when one fears one’s brain might atrophy from sheer ennui.

In the inner sanctum where “Services” are held, the seating provided for the congregation is in the form of 81 box pews in a 9×9 formation, subdivided into 9 squares of 9 boxes with narrow aisles running between them. Exactly 405 worshippers must attend each service. Before the service can start, they must seat themselves so that in each sub square of 9 box pews, one box contains one worshipper, another contains two, another contains three, and so on up to the last box which seats 9. Not only that, but they believe that if, in the full grid of the seating, any line contains more than one box with the same number of people in it, the world will end. In the early days of the faith, it would take hours of shuffling and seat switching before a service could commence. Nowadays, a few of the priesthood will already be seated when the congregation start to arrive, to give them some clues. This reduces the time taken to seat the congregation to roughly the duration of the average coffee break. Once they are seated, the officiating priest will don holy orange lifejacket and oxygen mask, point out the emergency exits here, here and here, and demonstrate how to use the ceremonial emergency whistle. During the service, each congregation member will be given a complimentary boiled sweet. Although in more health conscious modern times, these Barley Sugars are being replaced with Barely Sugars. Each service traditionally ends with dancing, when the priest finally belts up, and the worshippers take their partners by the hand for the “Inertia Reel”.

It is not all work for the Priesthood. They also practice an unusual and unique martial art for discipline, entertainment and sport. This is a form of wrestling where the winner is the one who makes their opponent hit themselves the most times. The wrestling ring is modelled on the back seat of a family car. The most infamous bouts in the history have always been fought between siblings. Perhaps the most notoriously bloody of these was the 1987 “Pagga in the Peugeot”, which was fought between 9 year old twins just outside Newport Pagnell. It began with the singing of the national anthem, and ended with a trip to A&E and suspension of pocket money.

If you wish to be initiated into the priesthood of Sue Doku, you will first be thoroughly interviewed to ensure your suitability. First they will demand to know whether you identify as an animal, vegetable or mineral. Then you will be asked a series of 20 probing questions, to which you can only answer yes or no. If the interviewing priest can correctly divine your true nature from this process, then you are accepted into the clergy. You may find the church leadership to be quite argumentative and confrontational, they are always having cross words. The current head of Sue Doku’s church is The Very Tedious Ian Spye. He is chauffer driven around the country to perform his duties in a yellow car. Have fun looking out for his distinctive vehicle when you are on the roads yourself. If you see him, be sure to shout out “Yellow Car!”

You will never hear a priest of Sue Doku on BBC Radio’s “Thought for the Day”. This is because they get their own slot for a couple of minutes, twice an hour. This broadcast does its best to warn Sue Dokuites of potential perils in the day’s journey ahead of them. The church also evangelises through inspirational religious slogans, like “Melior quam foris interius”, printed on those complimentary aeroplane sick bags you find in your seat pocket.

I will leave you with a few lines from one of Sue Doku’s well known prayers for air travellers.

“May the runway fall away beneath you,
May the wind always be at your back,
May the person in the seat next to you be pleasant,
And may you be upgraded to first class,
May your pilot be sober,
And may your baggage arrive at your destination,
May the volcanic ash clouds not ground your flight,
And may security not pull you aside for a full cavity search,
And until we meet again,
May the Goddess hold you in the palm of her hand,
And not squeeze too tight during air turbulence.”

(Author’s note: If you zoom in on the picture, both the Sudoku puzzle and the word search are proper puzzles. Have fun.)

Thank you to Adam Broadhurst for suggesting Sue Doku. He has just come back from a holiday in the Scottish Isles, so I can’t think where he got the idea from.

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.