Hippopotholemess – The Pot Hole Dragon

January 19, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Hippopotholemess sits in the ambiguous territory between bestial deity and mythical beast. In the celestial pecking order they rank somewhere between Gods and Gremlins.

Many historians will try to tell you that the Romans never really made it into Scotland. They are not quite correct. The Romans made one ill-fated attempt to build a road across Scotland. They selected a typically straight route from east to west coast. During the construction, some poor hapless civil engineer disturbed the rest of a great primordial snake lying dormant beneath the green glen floor. Hippopotholemess awoke, and thrashed in ire. Destroying the engineer, the foundations of the road and the Legio IX Hispania. The writhing also gouged out great cavities in the earth which were filled by the ample rains to form a line of lochs. Then the great dragon sank beneath the waters and vowed eternal vengeance on all road makers everywhere.

When all was still once more, the terrified locals crept out to survey the destruction. Lost for words, they could only exclaim “Och! Mess!” Over time this became corrupted to the present day Loch Ness. Loch Ness is, in truth, the largest, longest, deepest and oldest pot hole of all, and Hippopotholemess is today known by a corruption of their original nick name “Messy”.

In pursuit of their vendetta against road builders, Hippopotholemess began to reproduce asexually. Dividing again and again to produce trillions of identical clones. Each one journeyed out to find its own spot under a busy carriageway somewhere. Here they burrow around and around as they grow and divide, until the road surface above collapses. Then the Hippopotholemess are released to move on to another spot. With the right climate conditions exponential reproduction could occur. Soon all the Ancient Britons were left with was some dangerous stretches of road surface between the abyssal deeps. Some think that the Romans left Britain as a result of rebellion and the actions of Constantine III. In fact they just couldn’t keep up with the repairs. As the occupation receded, the scourge of Hippopotholemess spread into mainland Europe and beyond.

Hippopotholemess is still very much with us today. Perhaps more so than ever. Whilst most sects associated with a deity praise, laud and promote their god, the only official cult associated with Hippopotholemess seeks to either bind or destroy them. The priest hood of the “Via Imperium Propellente” are very important priests. They watch over the highways and seek to thwart Hippopotholemess at every turn of their coils. They may be the only directly government funded religious order. Sadly, they number too few and are woefully ill equipped with just a rusty shovel and a bucket of tepid asphalt between them. The sigil of the Via Imperium Propellente is a black silhouette of a man opening an umbrella on a white back ground, framed by a red triangle. They always erect a sign baring this sacred sigil when they are out and about in the community undertaking their holy works. The priesthood can be recognised by their fluorescent orange weatherproof robes and cranial protection birettas.

A ritual to neutralise a Hippopotholemess goes as follows;
– On arrival at the site where a Hippopotholemess has been discovered, the first priest to arrive will bless the earth by scattering many blessed orange and white plastic cones all around the area.
– Then he or she will erect metal signs baring ancient spells to bind the wyrm. These are written in mysterious arcane tongues, such as “When thee reed lyte shineth, tarry herre”, “Clausit Viam” and “Die Version”.
– The senior priest will then arrive to ignite the sacred lamps at the north and south sides of the circle. Each of these lamps contains a red candle, an amber candle and a green candle. The lamps contain an automatic shutter mechanism to reveal the colours in turn. (This mechanism usually breaks down – so no change there then).
– Next the protective inner circle is cast to bind Hippopotholemess. This is done by erecting yellow plastic barriers which are specially designed to fall down at the first breath of wind.
– At the climax of the rite all the priests present will form a circle, leaning on the barriers. They will watch one lone priest attempt to dig out and destroy the serpent within. There various methods employed, but the most common is to give the beast a neuralgia with a numinous pneumatic drill before digging it out and drowning it with bitumen.
– The hole is then filled and lightly patted down with the rusty shovel.
– When the priests finally depart, they always leave behind a few stray signs and cones. This is so that when the tarmac blows out again a week later, you can reassure yourself that you were not imagining the whole thing. The priests really were there.

A visitation by the Via Imperium Propellente can never be predicted reliably. You might logically assume that they would target the worst Hippopotholemess infested streets first. However, somehow it always seems to be the streets with the houses in the highest tax band. Even though the terrace lined streets are literally holier than the tree lined avenues. Another reason to be slightly suspicious of this cult, is that they also run a chain of auto body shops called “Wreck Amended Repairers”. They may, in fact, have a vested interest in never completely vanquishing Hippopotholemess. On the plus side, they have produced an online guide to help pedestrians avoid pot holes in pavements. It’s called Trip Advisor.

In remote areas which the Via Imperium Propellente never get to, people have had to learn to love their long standing gaping chasms, and have even found creative uses for them. For example, there is a marvellous new Wetlands Reserve, right in the middle of the fast lane of the A630. Bitterns have even been sighted in the reed-beds on the pot hole shores. In Whipsnade, a particularly deep pothole has been pressed into service as a giraffe habitat. A pot hole which opened up on Her Majesty’s private golf course at the Balmoral Estate has been turned into a private gin palace called “The Hole in One”. Meanwhile, in Tunisia, an particularly spectacular ancient pot hole was preserved as a tourist attraction after it was used as the filming location for the Great Pit of Carkoon in Return of the Jedi.

There are whispers of a lost, water filled, “Schrödinger’s Pothole”. This apparent puddle is simultaneously two inches and four hundred meters deep. You cannot know until you drive through it.

There are some informal and superstitious attempts to appease Hippopotholemess by the lay population. Such as a distinctive weaving folk driving style, thought to guard against vehicular damage (but not against getting pulled for a breath test). A common act of sacrifice to Hippopotholemess is to pour a pint of beer over a road surface whilst consuming one for yourself. This is the origin of the old saying, “An ale please Landlord, and one more for the road!”

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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.

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.