Bin Dei – God of Temporal Confusion

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

Bin Dei is the God of those befuddled days between whichever great midwinter festival you celebrate and New Year’s Eve. The time of the chronic background hangover, when you are full to bursting with chocolate and fine fromage and haven’t got a clue what day it is. He is the deity who renders the words “weekday” and “weekend” meaningless. He is said to have originated in ancient Rome sometime between Dies Natalis Solis Invicti and Kalends.

Although there are regional variations, for many the great annual festival of Bin Dei or “Crimbo Limbo” commences on December the 27^th. During this period followers will consume only turkey curry, satsumas and cheese. Normal routines and rules of self-restraint are suspended, and a great deal of alcohol is often consumed. Throughout the period they will also harbour a nagging background anxiety about whether this was one of the days when they were meant to be at work. His festival ends at dawn on January 2^nd with a shrill alarm and a horrible reality shock.

Bin Dei is glad to take your unwanted items and receive them as precious offerings. Offerings are usually collected weekly by a team of Collections Priests. However, only the correct kinds of offerings will be accepted on each collection day, and even then they must be presented at the kerbside in the correctly coloured “Offering Bin”. Confusingly, the colours of the offering bins and what kind of offerings should be placed within them vary wildly by area. For example, your black lidded bin full of tin cans and glass will be gladly accepted in Rotherham, but would be rejected out of hand just a few miles away in Barnsley! Regardless of which part of the world you live in. The lid of the offering bin must close fully.

The sacred text or “Offering Collection Schedule” of Bin Dei is delivered to every household annually. However, by some malevolent magic, it always somehow vanishes before it becomes current. Even if you bloody well nailed it to the kitchen noticeboard. Fortunately, a Lay Brother of Bin Dei resides on almost every residential street in the country. They alone know on which day the offerings should be left out, which kinds of offerings should be made, and in which colour bin. Their principal sacred duty is to put their offering out early, so that everyone else can copy them.

The current High Priestess of Bin Dei is Miss Collette Shun. Her principal role is to handle complaints about the services that the priesthood deliver. Her standard response is tell callers to leave their offering out for an additional collection (which never happens) and she files their call in the paper recycling centre. In her eyes, sinners who miss leaving out their offering to Bin Dei at the correct time must do their proper penance by making a pilgrimage to “The Tip”. This is not, usually a pleasant experience and those who undergo this ritual cleansing often feel pretty down in the dumps about it. Followers of Bin Dei believe that they must complete this arduous journey or else in the afterlife they will be eternally suffocated under old wrapping paper, cardboard boxes, wine bottles, old turkey carcasses and left over sprouts. (Although, there is a rumour that one can wriggle out of this by making a small thoughtful gift (or even just a thank you card) to your noble team of Collections Priests in the run up to Bin Dei’s festival each year. This small gesture will mean you are a lot less likely to return home later in the year to find that your entire offering has been rejected due to a single stray piece of plastic in the glass bin – which has obviously been put there by a passer-by as you don’t use K-Y Jelly).

The temple of Bin Dei has huge imposing gates, through which a fleet of hundreds of offering collections trucks roll daily. Inside, the main buildings are carpeted with a thick layer of brown pine needles, walnut shells and satsuma peel. There a numerous temple cats who run around the place chasing discarded Ferrero Rocher wrappers. All the clocks within the temple have either stopped, or have no hands. All the calendars in the temple are for next year, this year’s calendars having been accidentally prematurely discarded.

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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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Butterman – God of Super Heros

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*That’s a loincloth to you.

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

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

Latrine – Goddess of Music Festivals

June 9, 2019October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Latrine is principally a summer Goddess. Many think she originated in the 1960s, but in fact she is much, much older. It is said she was formed from the wet earth churned by the feet and spilled beer of the first humans to gather and entertain each other with turns around the campfire. She has no permanent temple, all music festivals are her sacred spaces. Latrine has the power to maintain good spirits in any weather. No matter how much it rains, she’s never a stick in the mud.

Attending a ritual of worship for Latrine can be a full on and taxing (at 20%), though worthwhile experience. Whilst there are many small and family friendly services around the country every year, the most famous are bewilderingly huge. She is such a widely loved deity that, in order to attend the most popular gatherings, one must first engage in either a multi million pound auction, have a top notch internet connection and the fastest “refresh key finger” in the west or be prepared to throw down in a vegan street-fight. Following this one must muster one’s survival equipment and journey to try and find a patch of field big enough for your tent within a miles walk of the main stage.

Latrine has been said to apparate at honoured music festivals. There is even a photograph of the crowd watching R.E.M. play “Losing My Religion” at Glastonbury 1999 which is said to have captured one of her visitations. If you look carefully, that’s her in the corner. She seems to be divinely illuminated by a heavenly spotlight. Latrine has been known to work miracles for the musicians, performers and crew who strive to stage her rites. One legendary tale, told in revered tones in green rooms around the world, is of how she came to the rescue of The Who. Their minibus ran out of petrol on the way to the Reading Festival in 1966 on a remote country road where they could see for miles and miles with no sign of civilization. The band were just thinking “We won’t get fuelled again!” when Latrine appeared to them with a full Gerry can. They asked “Who are you?” but she just smiled and kept her secrets behind blue eyes. Henceforth this blessed vehicle has become known as The Magic Bus.

The most holy sanctuary within the festival site is the Port-a-Loo. Visiting one is an essential necessity of the proper order of worship. Inside one will receive enlightenment into the full spectrum of the human condition. If Latrine is smiling upon you, your visit will be timed just after her angels in biohazard suits with the sludge-gulper have refreshed the cubicle. For the 0.0956 nanoseconds following their visit, there will be toilet paper and a slightly less pungent odour.

The priests and priestesses of Latrine can be identified by their “Crew” wristbands and AAA laminates. Each festival their role begins as one of organisation, transitions into damage limitation, and ends as a disaster area clean up operation. Worshippers who leave a mess are not considered to be the true faithful by the inner circle. Blessed are those who use a bin. Some clergy are trained specifically as healers to man the first aid tent. They are said to be highly skilled medics as they know the difference between Placebo and The Cure. The security priests have health and safety as their paramount concern. This is why they insist that everybody looks at their hands whilst dancing. Latrine’s greatest powers are her ability to open your mind to new experiences, to create happy memories and the feeling that it was all worth it. She is also known to the Romans as “Domum Stercore”.

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.

Euros – God of Money One Does Not Have

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you to Jen Titley for suggesting Euros.

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.

Gourdius – God of Pumpkins

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

Gourdius was thought to have originally been a deeply unpopular mortal tyrant. Myths tell us that he had a very high opinion of himself and was something of a big-head. Upon his death he was “accidentally” embalmed with Sunny Delight, which brought about his apocolocyntosis. Despite having been an unpopular human and ruler, Gourdius somehow became a very popular deity. At the peak of his prominence, millions of people around the world followed the Lord Gourd Almighty.

Temples of Gourdius are often located in the seedy part of their town. A new temple is made every year on the site. First the priests will plant the seeds of the sacred cultivar Cucurbita ingenti. This plant will be carefully tended until it has grown to its impressive full size. The flesh of the fruit will then be hollowed out and the remaining rind is consecrated (hallowed out). Typically the doors and windows will be carved out in such a way that, when the temple is illuminated inside with candles on a dark night, when viewed from the outside it has the appearance of Gourdius’ face. The removed flesh is not wasted. It has its diameter divided by its circumference to make Pumpkin Pi for the inaugural festivities. If they have a poor year for rain, the resultant temple may be quite small. It will still be used until a new one can be grown next year. Even though it may be a bit of a squash. The congregation can usually contort themselves to fit in, as they all practice pie-lates.

The Priests rarely leave the temple and will spend much of their time in meditative skulking in its darker corners. Their motto is, “If you’ve got it, haunt it”. Do be careful to mind your language at the temple and generally around his followers. Exclaiming “Gourdon Bennet!”, even in a moment of great pain, is considered to be a terrible blasphemy. You are likely to be arrested, given a summary trial in their Squash Court, and turned into a fairy-tale carriage at midnight if found guilty. The current High Priest is Benedict Cucumberpatch VI. He was chosen for office because of his extreme pie-ty.

Every year, Gourdius’ main festival is held at the end of October. This festival celebrates Gourdius’ aspect of annual death and rebirth. The key ethos of the festival is to enjoy life while you have it. During these days his followers will eat, drink and be scary. It is also customary for them to “Trick or treat yo’ self” at this time.

The second coming of Gourdius has been predicted many times, but he has never materialised. His Prophets have now come to the conclusion that The Great Pumpkin is just fashionably latte.

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.

Dodocanese – God of Ornithologists

April 8, 2019May 11, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Dodocanese is a winged deity who watches over those who love all things avian. Like all gods, his blood is ichor-ous. When he was born, his father Crownus feared one day being usurped by him. He had the infant god exposed on a mountainside to be eaten by his crows. However, only a single corvid came. Therefore it was only an attempted murder. The crow pecked him free, and he was adopted and nursed to adulthood by a nice pair of Tits. Dodocanese now battles against the demons of habitat destruction. In this he uses his mythic weapon, a pair of mighty fat balls in a net which he swings at his enemies.

Dodocanese was said to be the divine father of the half mortal hero Oddiepus. The most notable event in the tales of the labours of Oddiepus was when he met the Sphinx at the top of a cliff and tossed it off. Due to the unfortunate events in his later life, Oddiepus is perceived by some as a villain. In truth he was originally one of the goodies.

The Shrines of Dodocanese are humble wooden huts nestled within extensive grounds of stunning protected, wild countryside. Each has a row of wooden pews in front of narrow horizontal shuttered windows. These allow worshippers to meditate upon nature without disturbing the creatures around them. There may be numerous shrines on any one site, supported by a more substantial Temple building housing workspace for the priesthood, a gift shop and tea room. (It is customary to end a visit to a Temple of Dodocanese with a slice of seed cake.) Silence must be observed at all times whist in the shrines. The temple has a more convivial atmosphere, but even so the conversation volume is rarely above a murmuration. The principle Temple of Dodocanese (in Swansea) houses an amazing water clock. This timepiece is driven by the flow of water from a natural artesian well, and is known as the “Spring Watch”.

Anyone may visit a Shrine of Dodocanese for a small fee, and full members of the faith have unlimited access. The faith is hugely popular and at services they regularly Packham in. You can also claim sanctuary from persecution in a Shrine of Dodocanese. If you ever find yourself in trouble, they are a good place to hide. Should you ever receive a special invitation to an event at a Temple of Dodocanese, don’t forget to RSPB.

The Priesthood of Dodocanese can be identified by the symbolic binocular medallions which they wear around their necks, their buffalo check shirts and green wellies. They train rigorously until they can sit in absolute stillness for hours on end so that no one will ever call them twitchers. The rest of their time is spent watching over and caring for their flock. Some priests practice falconry. It is a little known fact that eating meat caught by hunting birds can make you extremely flatulant. The resultant emissions are known as “Hawkwind”. (If it causes you to follow through, this occurrence is known as a “Turdus”.)

The High Priestess of Dodocanese is Jennifer Wren. She was recently implicated in the “Waterfowlgate Scandal” when she was found en flagrante delicto with a pair of Gallinula Chloropus. In her defence she said “That moorhenage a trois was the best night of my life. Je ne egret rein.” She is now derided by the rest of the faith as a dirty old coot. This is a little unfair as, in truth, she is dedicated to sea bird conservation. She adores Boobies and will do anything for a Shag.

Thank you to Alex Smith for collaborating with me on Dodocanese.

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