Yabast – God of Giving Your Cat a Pill

April 25, 2021April 25, 2021 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

As any cat lover knows, the merest suggestion of medication is enough to turn the sweetest pet kitty into a writhing ball of hate with a thousand claws. If the first labour assigned to Heracles had been to give a cat a tablet, his story would have been a lot shorter and would have ended with the Nemean Lion walking around wearing a Heracles-skin coat. Yabast first appears in the ancient pantheons shortly after the first cats decided to move in with humans, and things got a bit itchy and wormy. It is believed that he was spontaneously called into existence by ancient peoples shouting “Yabast!” as their cat attempted to flee its flea treatment, leaving a cat shaped hole in the wall of their mud hut.

The Temple of Yabast is home to a large clowder of sacred temple cats and their human servants. The temple doorway is guarded by a cat laid on its back as though it would like a belly rub. This is thought to be the most vicious booby trap ever installed in a temple. The temple interior always appears to have been the site of a dire catastrophe. Shredded curtains drape the windows, tendrils of gashed wallpaper flap forlornly on the walls and everything has a fine coating fur on it. The carpet is woven with an interesting pattern known as “Blood Splatter”. The space is illuminated with lightbulbs which are shaded by transparent plastic cones. When you visit, do not forget to bring an offering to place upon Yabast’s altar. This offering can be almost anything you would like to give, so long as it makes a satisfying smash when it gets pushed off the edge. Refreshments are served at the temple, but whilst the cats enjoy delicious meals of salmon mousse (whipped up by a specially dedicated team of priests known as the “Whiskers”) the most human diners can expect to receive is a scratch dinner. Do not expect to be able to sit down to dine. Literally every chair in the place will have a smug looking cat dozing on it.

The priesthood of Yabast train for many years, learning the cat wrestling martial art of Ju-Kit-Su. They must also learn first aid techniques for treating cat bites and lacerations (many extend their studies to become fully qualified Purramedics). Their vestments are comprised of whatever protective equipment they have to hand (e.g. welding gloves, cricket pads, hockey masks, leather aprons, or even a full suit of medieval armour). The priests of Yabast tend not to talk much before conducting a ritual. Despite all their diligent preparation, due to the sense of dread, they tend to become catatonic when they must give the cat a tonic. Some have been known to develop nervous disorders after too many years on the Frontline.

Contrary to popular belief, Yabast is rarely appealed to by professional Veterinarians. They have a cunning scheme running to ensure their hardly ever need to. To whit, any cat who requires a course of tablets will be given an injection during the vet’s consultation. This injection will mean that the tablets cannot be taken until the following day. Thereby removing any chance that the cat’s human will ask the vet to administer the first dose. This may sound a bit selfish, but the scheme has reduced workplace injuries amongst vets by a staggering 95%.

The main ritual of Yabast, known as “The Rite of Drontal” is held once every three months. The procedure is laid out in Yabast’s sacred text, “War and Puss”. It begins with a series of preliminary placatory prayers to the god before the priests attempt to administer a worming tablet to each of the temple cats in turn. When the proceedings are about to start, all the temple cats will mysteriously vanish and must be winkled out of their ingenious hiding spaces (such as the next-door neighbours airing cupboard). Once the felines are finally corralled, the priests will initially attempt to administer the tablets in the nicest way possible, ground up into the cats’ favourite foods. This food will be rejected out of hand. So, the priests move onto the next phase, where whole tablets are wrapped in a bit of squishy cheese and given to the cats. The cheese will be eaten, and the tablet spat out. The third stage involves the priests trying to pop the offending tablet directly into the cat’s mouth. Once they have retrieved the tablet from behind the sofa, coaxed the cat from on top of the kitchen cupboards and deployed the first aid kit, they are finally ready to proceed to the last stage of the ritual. In this last phase, all kind feelings towards the patient have evaporated and it is now all out war. The priest bodily grabs the cat, wrapping it in a blanket and ramming the pill as far down the ungrateful spitting maw as fast as they can, before cat knows what’s happening. Should this fail to work, the priest is now permitted to give up and go to hospital. The A&E staff learn to quickly spot priests of Yabast in their waiting room. They are the ones who look like they’ve been run over by a Turkish Van. Following treatment, it is traditional for the patched-up cleric to return to the temple to find that the cat has done a little protest “offering” of their own on the priest’s bed. If anyone is concerned that this ritual involves cruelty to animals, let me reassure you that all these actions are taken solely for the cat’s benefit and any cruelty involved is exacted upon the human race.

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

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

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

Nacreosa – Goddess of Pearl Clutchers

April 11, 2021April 11, 2021 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Nacreosa is the goddess for people who turn the tiny motes of irritation in their lives into a load of shiny balls. Her worshippers tend to be people who have so few problems in their lives that they have to go looking for things to be offended by, often over their neighbour’s fence with a pair of binoculars. She appears in several mythologies around the world, most notably in the Ancient Norse pantheon as the goddess Prigg.

Nacreosa does not have a corporeal body in the normal sense, with buttocks, thighs or breasts. Her anatomy is composed entirely of Ha-Haas, Ta-Taas, Ya-Yaas and Fou-Foos. She refuses to have anything to do with any of the other Gods and Goddesses, because she has seen the kind of things they get up to. Her one association is with her consort Anprogynist, the God of Misogynistic Prudery, whoes followers believe it’s fine to do or say anything, no matter how offensive, as long as, “There are no ladies present.”

When someone joins the church of Nacreosa they must first train for years to develop a perpetually astonished and horrified countenance. This involves rigorous drills such as eyebrow weightlifting and arduous lip puckering exercises (used to develop the perfect “cats bum mouth”). During their training, the neophyte will have already been wearing their knickers with at least two twists in them. Once they are ready to be inducted, they can finally don the knitted twin set and ceremonial pearls of a full acolyte*. At the initiation ceremony the leading priestess will present them with a penny, which they must grip tightly between their knees for the rest of their natural existence (which explains their distinctive gait). Thus begins a lifetime of service attempting to uphold standards, whether folks want them held up or not. The priesthood of Nacreosa also have a mission to police peoples’ reactions to newsworthy events. Demanding that the appropriate level of mandatory mournfulness or merriment is displayed by everyone, with cattle prods if necessary.

The Temple of Nacreosa is an imposing structure of shining, pearlescent marble known as “The Mary Whitehouse” which sits atop the tallest peak of the Moral Highlands. The temple precinct is encircled by a white picket fence, because there is no better defence against moral turpitude than a white picket fence. Rising from the roof is an array of flagpoles, from which a variety of colour coded pennants are flown to signal the virtue of the occupants. Inside, the main hall you will find a large altar which is elegantly draped with a floor length cloth to decently cover the legs it stands on. Here you will also find the temple’s sacred flame, which is kept well fuelled by burning erotic publications, sex toys and liberal media. All the temple windows are dressed with gossamer like curtains. A priest or priestess stands on duty by each window, ritualistically twitching the net curtains every thirty seconds. The temple also houses a scriptorium where thousands of strongly worded letters of complaint are penned daily. As one leaves the temple, you will see a large sign above the exit which reads, “PARENTAL ADVISORY—Explicit Content Beyond This Point”.

The weekly Rite of Nacreosa begins when the Sunday newspapers drop through the temple letterbox. At this cue the worshippers will read the headlines, drop their toast and Marmite and splurt out their mouthful of tea. Then they form a circle, clutch their ceremonial pearls and loudly denounce whichever alternative lifestyle, colour-blind casting decision or leftie popular trend has upset them this time. When they cannot find a genuine justification for their own sense of outrage, they will transfer the perceived offence to any group of people not able to speak for themselves, such as “the children”, a practice known as “Cogita Filios”. The ritual ends with the congregation chorusing the mantra, “Disgusted! Tunbridge Wells”.

The beautiful irony is, that although followers of Nacreosa like to be perceived as pure and virtuous, a true innocent would never take offence like they do. After all, one has to have a dirty enough mind to get a joke before one can be offended by it.

*If they ever found out what “pearl necklace” is actually a euphemism for, they would probably faint.

Thanks to Janet Hudson for suggesting Nacreosa.

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.

Oxymoron – God of Military Intelligence

March 28, 2021 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Oxymoron is the god of military intelligence, and watches over all spies, agents and analysts who play the espionage game. He is the perfect deity for anyone who was born yesterday, but thinks they were Bourne yesterday. The ethos of the faith is that, if we all know each other’s secrets but pretend that we don’t, an uneasy peace on earth can be maintained. Despite all their efforts, the devotees of Oxymoron have experienced many embarrassing failures in their missions over the years. Such as the time the Australian sect were resoundingly outwitted by a herd of emus, or all the time that the American branch watched too many Wile E Coyote cartoons and tried to assassinate Fidel Castro with an ACME exploding cigar. (However, Oxymoron’s followers cannot really be blamed for the “Bush Shoe Throwing Incident”. After all, the assailant was inclognito.)

Oxymorons believe that the first time they die they will be reincarnated. Just the one time though, as you only live twice (or so they say). Upon their second death they believe that their souls will go to Double O Heaven (which is just like normal heaven, but at a scale of 1:76.2). It is said that the faith was founded by Agent Ian Flemming, a theological operative who was so stealthy that, to this day, most people think he discovered penicillin. Oxymoron’s sacred animal is the mole.

Each country has its own sect or “Agency” of Oxymoron. These separate organisations rarely officially interact and are deeply suspicious of one another. In reality, some agents of Oxymoron work for more than one country’s sect. It is very hard to discourage people from becoming double agents. Mainly because anyone opting for this route ends up getting twice the pay for half the work.

The British agency of Oxymoron is known as MI6 (they decided not to number the agencies with roman numerals after it was pointed out that MI6 would then be easily confused with a popular strawberry ice cream lolly). It is led by a high priest who holds the title of “Premium Bond”. Their temple is located somewhere near the remote upland village of Dalton Moore. The main entrance to the temple is vigilantly guarded by a heavily armed punk agent with a plethora of body modifications. Anyone trying to invade of infiltrate the temple will have to get passed Pierced Brosnan. Therefore, you will not be surprised to hear that very little is known about the inside of the temple. The one thing I can tell you, is that in the centre of the temple stands a beautiful Aspydistra, which was a gift from a visiting ambassador. It is known by the members of the faith as “The Obvious Plant”. The temple upkeep is paid for with money raised by manufacturing and selling dried pasta quills, which they call “Money Penne”.

Potential new priests or “Agents” of Oxymoron are usually recruited over a quiet glass of sherry and must then undergo years of rigorous training. The first lesson they must attend is Camouflage and Disguise 101 (anyone marked as present on the register automatically fails). Then they must decode the sacred texts of Oxymoron, memorise the contents and then eat them. Teamwork is essential, so throughout their instruction, the novices get regular nights out together at casinos and cocktail bars (these Bonding moments are so important). Once they have passed the initial basic training, each agent will receive a plain white suit. The neophyte agent will be surprised by this, as the regulation garb of an agent of Oxymoron is a plain black suit. The confused trainee often asks, “Do you expect me to wear a white suit?” The response to which to which is always, “No. We expect you to dye.” The agent then usually asks if this needs to be done today, only to be told, “No. Dye another day.” Once they have graduated to full agents, it is common for priests of Oxymoron to travel around their target country in the guise of a company of actors, dancers or musicians on tour. This tactic popular tactic is known as “thespionage”.

Even less is known about the churches of Oxymoron in other countries. However, I can tell you that the Russian branch of the church is said to be headed by Cardi B’s sister Cagey. Also, I have heard chatter that the American priests of Oxymoron have spent the last eight years focusing their attention on an allotment in North Wales. I think they are hoping to track down source of the Snowden Leeks.

With thanks to @ladysixa for bringing it to my attention that IdolScribblings.blog has been blocked on US defense servers and to Kat Collier and Alex Smith for subsequently requesting a deity of military intelligence and generally egging me on.

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.

Wigan – God of Pi and Pie

March 14, 2021 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Wigan, the deity of Pie and Pi, is without pier amongst the gods. He, and his divine consort Ashet exist in a pattypantheon of their own. Beloved by mathematicians, bakers and gourmets alike, who see him as the sauce of all goodness (mint sauce to be precise). He is the only god who has managed to calculate the circumference, surface area and volume of the celestial spheres. His followers have no time for other religions, they believe that only their god is pukka. They believe that Wigan created the first man from pastry dough, and then crafted the first woman from one of the man’s kidneys. Later in the tale, the woman is tempted to eat the Apple Pie of Knowledge by a serpent. This is known as the Snake and Kidney theory of creation.

The cult of Wigan is divided into two sects. The high church for the upper crust, and the low church (affectionately known as Greggs) for everyone else. What all followers of Wigan agree on is their violent opposition to anyone calling some stew with a little puff pastry hat a “pie”. According to them, this dish should more correctly be called an “Anathema”. They also strive to reject and thwart the upstart false idol “Tau” at every turn. (Tau thinks he’s twice as good as the God of Pi).

The priesthood of Wigan are renowned for their great pie-ety. A neophyte must study baking and mathematics for many years before being accepted into this circle. Their final assessment hinges on writing a scholarly paper about pies with sweet fillings, known as a “dessertation”. Many lay folk think that someone must be irrational to want to train as a priest of Wigan. In truth, they are just really turned on by geometry or, as the Wiganites describe, it “pisexual”. The priesthood are led by a triumvirate, currently these leaders are Sir Cumference (also known as Number 3), Ms Di Ameter (Number 1) and Mr Ray Deus (Number 4). They are the three significant figures of the faith. Other important figures in the cult are Pontius Pielot (whose job it is to make sure worshippers wash their hands before breaking a crust together), Magnum Pi (who is their head of temple security or “crustodian”), the Pied Piper (head of music) and Crustifex Maximus (the chef de cuisine). In their quest to push the boundaries of human knowledge, the priesthood of Wigan divided the circumference of the moon by its diameter, and the circumference of the earth by its diameter. They were disappointed to discover that there was absolutely no difference between Earth Pi and Moon Pi.

Circus clowns are considered to be paladins of the faith, and a custard pie fight is a holy war. Many famous painters have been inspired to depict the devastation that ensues. So at least it puts t’art on t’walls.

The temple of Wigan is similar in shape to the Royal Albert Hall. Unlike the Albert Hall, an elegant ceramic chimney pot rises from the centre of its roof which is styled to look like a singing bird. When the priests are baking, the smoke of their ovens rises from its upstretched beak. The architecture is decorated throughout with little fleur de lys motifs. As you enter you will see a sign by the door that says, “No Pies Are Left in This Temple Overnight”. Once inside you will see that the interior is dominated by a large statue of Wigan which urinates hot, rich gravy. This holy work of art is known as the “Mannequin Pi”. In front of this fountain stands the altar. A two legged stone table, with one leg straight and the other elegantly curved. If you plan to visit the temple, be advised that all worshippers are required to leave an offering on the altar in a small disposable foil tray. You are also strongly advised to wear a wipe clean hat as the temple is also home to Wigan’s flock of four and twenty sacred blackbirds.

The great festival of Wigan is celebrated on the 14^th of March every year. This involves a rite where many pies are brought forth to be shared by the congregation. Before they are eaten, the officiating priest chops 1 and 1/3 of the pies into square chunks (in other words, 4/3 Pie are cubed). This is all done to the accompaniment of a choir singing the holy number (a performance which never ends). The ritual ends with the priest declaring, “Rejoice! Crust is risen! Go in mushy peas.”

Happy Pi Day everyone!

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.

Percy – God of Landers, Rovers and Probes

February 28, 2021 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

It surprises many people to learn that there is still a place for religion in the normally rational minds of the scientists and engineers who explore the universe. It turns out that when you are attempting to land equipment worth $2.7 billion on a hostile lump of rock 33.9 million miles away which is hurtling through space at five and a half thousand miles an hour, even the most hardened atheist REALLY needs someone to pray to. Percy is universally worshipped by the members of space programmes all around the world, and as a result has many different names such as Chang’e in China. Percy is believed to have first originated in the former Soviet countries in 1957 where he was known as ‘Nik. In those early days there wasn’t so much a “word of god” as a “pattern of bleeps of god”. This could be detected for three weeks until the batteries ran out. Kind of like an orbiting celestial smoke alarm.

Whilst any space enthusiast may worship Percy, achieving entry into the high echelons of the faith is tough. Other than a scientific mind, the three character traits that you are required display are curiosity, seizing opportunity and perseverance. These senior members are the ones who design, build and guide the missions, lead by their High Priest, J. Peal. Worshippers of Percy consider the first probe sent to any planet to be a sacrifice. It’s first purpose is to appease the god and secondly to send back just enough data before it’s hard landing to enable his followers to build a second probe which is able to survive. It took many sacrifices before mankind was able to come in peace rather than coming in pieces.

Despite their intrepid nature, there are some corners of the solar system which followers of Percy fear to explore. The planet of Venus was considered cursed after its acidic atmosphere, high temperatures and atmospheric pressure destroyed mission after mission. When potential chemical signs of life were eventually discovered there, excitement had to be tempered, as scientists realised that these organisms may well have been carried from earth on the first failed probes. From this we can infer two things. Firstly that some bacteria are evidently more resilient that our early space engineering, and secondly that humanity may have inadvertently created a completely new kind of venereal disease. The other planet in our solar system that the worshippers of Percy have never sent a probe to is Uranus. The sole reason for this is that they know the world’s press would be unable to resist calling the project an “Anal Probe”, and no one feels like giving them the satisfaction.

One of the driving ambitions of the followers of Percy is to find evidence of life elsewhere in the universe. To this end the priests of Percy inscribed a gold disc with sacred sigils which, if decoded, will guide the reader to earth. Then they sent it forth on a voyage through the universe. It may be a very long time before any alien race gets in touch as a result of the information on that disc. Partly because of the astronomical distances involved and partly because it will take even the most intelligent species about a millennia to decode it*. When, finally, we do find evidence of other life in the universe, we may need to broaden our definition of a living thing. Who knows? Maybe some of the bodies we thought were just lumps of rock flying through space are actually living entities! If so, let me be the first to raise my voice to campaign for meteor rights.

The priests of Percy don’t have much truck with the idea of an afterlife. They believe that when they die, their papers will be secured by the government and kept secret for thirty years.

*If they manage to listen to what’s on the other side, they may arrive on Earth saying, “Take us to your leader, Johnny B. Goode”.

Idol Scribblings Volume One

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

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

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.

Chilly Sanders – God of the Nesh

January 31, 2021January 31, 2021 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Everyone knows at least one person who is always complaining that they feel cold. These folk are known as, “The Nesh*”. Chilly Sanders is the god who watches over these perpetually parky people. You don’t have to be cool to worship him, but it helps. If, whilst on the beach on a scorching summers day, you spy someone bundled up in a duffle coat and tartan travel rug, they are very likely to be a disciple of Chilly Sanders. If you were to say, “Winter is Coming” to his acolytes they would look at you askance. For them, winter is already here. Despite their sensitivity to the slightest chill, you will still find his followers out and about at all the big events. They like to feel the freeze and do it anyway.

Chilly Sanders’ mythology is said to originate all the way back in the last ice age, which his sacred texts refer to as “The Age of Shivery”. He is said to be the progeny of the Arthrites the God of Aches and Stiffness and Zephbrrrr the Goddess of Cold Drafts. Sadly, his parents’ relationship did not last long following Chilly’s conception. The deal breaker was that Zephbrrrr kept putting her cold feet on Arthrites whilst they were in bed. Statues of Chilly Sanders always show him to be (like Theseus) hypolispos, or “buttockless”. This is said to symbolically represent the fact that he is always freezing his arse off.

The temple of Chilly Sanders is in Burrrrrrrlington, Vermont. When a non-believer enters the temple of Chilly Sanders their face will instantly melt. This is not due to any Indiana Jones style ancient curse. It is simply because the temple is always maintained at a toasty 38^oC by the gargantuan five jet Robinson-Willey gas fire, in which burns their sacred eternal flame. On entering the temple, each worshipper is greeted by the priests with a rousing chorus of, “Put the wood in the hole! Were you born in a barn?” The worshipper will then hang their cap on one of the impressive temple hat pegs. The priesthood can be recognised by the sacred giant knitted mittens which they must wear at all times. The church undertakes lots of good works in the community. These include supplying hot meals daily to the vulnerable. They fund this endeavour by manufacturing much sought after t-shirts bearing the image of the god.

Whilst worshippers of Chilly Sanders may be of any age. However, the majority of the flock are either of the venerable persuasion or hail from warmer climes. The only people excluded from the faith are teenagers who whinge about being cold but won’t put a sweater on. People from Newcastle-upon-Tyne are technically welcome to join. It’s just that none of them ever have.

Members of the faith who are still of working age are afflicted by a terrible curse which follows them throughout their careers. In any office where they are employed, they will always somehow end up sat at the desk next to someone who is menopausal. The most common cause of premature death amongst Sanderians is touching the thermostat.

The faith of Chilly Sanders has many famous philosophical proverbs. Perhaps the best known is, “Cast ne’er a clout. Period.”

* Nesh = A norther dialect word meaning someone who is susceptible to feeling cold. There is no other synonym for this word in English! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nesh

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Solobrate – Goddess of Lockdown Birthdays

January 17, 2021 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Solobrate is the celestial guardian of anyone celebrating their birthday under quarantine conditions. Her followers are sensible, ordinary folk who make small personal sacrifices for the protection of their loved ones and community. This may sound dour, but in fact the faith encourages it’s worshippers to enjoy their special day in any way they safely can. Solobratians have a saying, “Don’t go out. Go all out!” Naturally, this deity has no temples or shrines. Her faithful never gather together. The rite to praise her is always practiced alone (or with your bubble) and at home.

In order to carry out the Solobrate Birthday Ritual you will need a little forward planning. You are going to need to purchase some fizzy wine for the libation. Make sure you order this to be delivered well in advance as a frivolous last minute trip to the shops could get you proseccocuted. Be sure to select a good vintage, aged to perfection, like yourself. Many people decorate the sacred space for the rite with balloons, cards and flowers sent by long distance loved ones. (However, if you are lucky enough to be locked down with a significant other, you may want to suggest that instead of spending their breath blowing balloons, they blow you instead.)

On the day of your birthday, don the fluffy ceremonial robe and seat yourself comfortably in your favourite spot with the “Sceptre of Ultimate Power” (a.k.a. The Remote Control) grasped firmly in your hand. Alternatively, one can wear one’s Birthday Suit (this is probably the only year since the age of three that you are going to be able to get away with it). Some of the most devout followers will paint their faces for the ritual using a special deep cleansing paint made of Dead Sea Mud and kumquat extract*. Next it is time to order your favourite take-away and feast like a really peckish Roman. Make sure your food order is over £20 to ensure you receive the free poppadoms or prawn crackers. You can use these unsolicited sundries as an offering to the goddess. The feast should conclude with a luscious cake consumed entirely to oneself. This cake is sanctified by lighting the sacred flame of Solobrate atop it for a few moments whilst singing “Happy Birthday to Me”. (Traditionalists will bake and eat a cake shaped like a clock for their birthday. I am told this is a fun and time consuming activity.) Now open the wine you ordered earlier and toast yourself until you could melt cheese on your forehead. At this stage of the proceedings, many worshippers get a little emotional. Missing absent friends and loved ones. Remember, it’s okay to not to be okay. This is your ritual and you can cry if you want to. The ritual concludes when you pass out in a satiated soggy heap.

This year, don’t worry about whether getting older makes you wiser. If you have the sense to stay at home for your pandemic birthday, you are already very, very wise.

*Rinse off with clean, fresh water after 15 minutes. Then apply moisturiser .

Solobrate is dedicated to everyone who has and will have a lockdown birthday. Especially my wonderful Mum, proof reader and all round saint, Teresa. Happy Birthday, love to you all and stay safe. Xxx

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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.

Hog Man Nay – God of Safe New Year Celebrations

December 31, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Thinking of going out revelling this New Years Eve? Hog Man says, “NAY!” If you think a New Years at home is going to be a bit of a bore, Hog Man Nay helps make sure it’s a wild bore!

Whilst most deities are eternal immortals, for a few their existence is mayfly brief. Like Dicken’s Spirit of Christmas Present, Hog Man Nay the mystical essence of a single and unique day. He will exist on 31st December for precisely 24 hours, (except in Scotland, where he will last for an additional bonus day). He will be worshipped in almost every country around the world tonight, except in the USA (and international opinion is that they are really dropping the ball on that one.)

Hog Man Nay’s chief divine duty is to ensure that the year 2020 promptly departs at midnight. In his mythology, the old year and the new year do battle and twenty twenty one. Hog Man Nay then drags this defeated and accursed annum to the lowest level of the underworld, shreds it, kills it with fire then and shoots it six times with poison darts to make sure. (There are also some people also believe that at the same time he will also magically detach the UK from its continental mooring and cast it off into the middle of the Atlantic.) Despite his dark tasks, Hog Man Nay is a benevolent god towards most mortals, helping us celebrate at home or celebrate alone. He blesses all those who rejoice safely and with simple pleasures. To the righteous, he awards the power to consume a 24 piece samosa party selection pack and a prawn ring all by yourself. So there is no need to miss out on the festive food for fear of wasting it.

Those who risk spreading pestilence by revelling in the streets or attending gatherings incur the wrath of Hog Man Nay. He is said to raise a “dark hunt” to chase down these unclean heathens. As the tradition of “First Footing” will not be able to go ahead as normal this year, Hog Man Nay has commandeered all the lumps of coal and will be using them as carboniferous projectiles to smite roving sinners. If you witness an apparition of Hog Man Nay, do not be alarmed if he appears to be blurry. This is not due to your alcohol consumption, but because of a rather low new years resolution.

Hog Man Nay’s cult is very hierarchical. There are four tiers of priesthood. Each rank taking a more strict vow of isolation than the one below. (The Scottish branch of the cult has an additional fifth tier). As this is a religion which prizes solitude, they do not have any churches, temples or meeting places. Instead, the church have invested in hiring advertising bill boards to spread the word of Hog Man Nay. (Graphic design and printing by Auld Lang Signs.) This campaign is co-ordinated by the High Priestess Eve Saint-Sylvestre.

One ritual that will be practiced by his followers tonight is “Sainitisation”. This is quite similar to the Gaelic tradition of Saining. The devotee’s house is fumigated with aerosol disinfectant spray in place of the wood smoke and the customary juniper branches are substituted for lashings and lashings of gin. So it’s pretty much the same really. Sadly, not all annual traditions can take place. This the year when the Uppies will stay up and the Doonies stay doon.

Hog Man Nay also showers his blessings on couples who will propose to one another and get engaged on New Years Eve. As non essential shops are shut, and many lovers will have to pop the question via video chat, “Ring in the New Year” will take on extra meaning.

A very Happy New Year from Idol Scribblings. May the pantheon bless you all in 2021!

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Jolly Saint Prick – God of Vaccination

December 13, 2020December 13, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

The great midwinter festival is a time when ancient beliefs take on a modern incarnation, and Jolly Saint Prick is a prime example of this phenomenon. He is a genial spirit who protects mankind from the ravages of disease, especially during those dark pestilent months. Jolly Saint Prick is said to reside the South Pole where he has a celestial pharmaceutical lab staffed by a dedicated team of research elves. This location provides the perfect conditions to keep the phials of sacred vaccines that they produce below the required -70^oC. (Also, it’s actually on a solid continental land mass, so he got a much better real estate deal than Santa). He files across the world in his magical medical sleigh to deliver vaccines to all the good and bad children alike (Jolly Saint Prick does not judge). The reindeer who pull his sleigh are all kept fully up to date on their shots to ensure herd immunity. Unfortunately, Jolly Saint Prick does not have the power to deliver his gift to everyone in the world in just one night. This is partly because two doses are required a few weeks apart.

Jolly Saint Prick has a dedicated team of medically trained priests who administer his blessings and protection to the masses. Whenever this blessing is bestowed the priest will recite a short prayer. The modern version of this prayer is, “You’ll feel a sharp scratch.” Traditionalists are still campaigning for a return to the original version, “You’re going to feel a little prick.” Their chief argument is that the polite, modern version deprives a nervous patient of the little dose of double entendre that can help get them through the experience.

They say you should never look a gift reindeer in the mouth, but despite all the evidence to the contrary, some people are sceptical of, and even violently hostile towards, the good works of Jolly Saint Prick (usually worshippers of Teflonata). One concern voiced, is that modern vaccines may be being used to insert microchips into people. All I can say, is that it is a big improvement on vaccines in the 1980’s when there was a whole 5¹/₄inch floppy disc in every tetanus shot. I jest, of course. Jolly Saint Prick’s rigorous safety procedures ensure that the only chips inside us this winter are the ones we’re filling our faces with over the holiday. Fortunately, Mr William Shakespeare of Warwick bravely set an example by becoming the first person in England to receive the new vaccine. He knows that uneasy likes the head that wears the corona. In Northern Ireland, when they were selecting the first person to receive the vaccine, they chose a keen ‘un.

I will leave you with a short extract from the famous sacred psalm “A Visit from Saint Prick”.

Now Astra! Now Zeneca! Now Oxford and Pfizer!
On Moderna! On BioNTech! On Janssen and Sputnik!
So hopefully we won’t get the bloody bug after all,
Vaccinate! Vaccinate! Vaccinate all!

I would like to thank Larry Brennan for kindly agreeing to be my model for Jolly Saint Prick. Thank you for lending your awesome Santa energy to this deity!

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Karenken – Blond Bobbed Abyssal Beast

November 30, 2020November 30, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

The Karenken – A Blond Bobbed Abyssal Beast.
© H. Hudson-Lee 2020

The Karenken is a hyper-privileged abyssal beast that wants to speak to everyone’s manager. It takes the form of a tangle of seething, entitled tentacles, lurking in the depths of ocean trenches. The Karenken can be distinguished from other marine behemoths by its celebrated asymmetrical blond coiffure (a style known to the French as the “bob a feté”) and the flushed pink hue of its skin. If this wasn’t recognisable enough, you can be in no doubt that you are in the presence of the Karenken once you hear its distinctive call. This sounds a lot like, “DOYOUKNOWWHOIAM!” It is not clear exactly how much sway the Karenken has over hearts and minds of mankind, but they certainly consider themselves to be an influencer.

The cult of Karenken is an extremely dark religion, known to regularly practice human sacrifice. They find a ready supply of victims by regularly advertising minimum wage retail jobs. When a rite to appease the Karenken takes place, the unfortunate victim is taken out to sea on a temple ship, where they will first cast some material offerings into the waves to try and appease the Karenken. The Karenken will then erupt from beneath the spume with boiling ire, expressing violent displeasure about the quality of the material offerings, how long they took to be delivered and the general attitude of the assembled priests. At this point, the High Priest or “Manager” comes forward and performs the sacrifice by firing the victim. Very, very literally. The Karenken then retreats beneath the brine, sated for now. This ritual is known as “The Customer Service”. Students of comparative religion have concluded that this just goes to prove that what the Karenken truly feeds on is drama, attention, and the souls of junior workers who just want to earn enough to eat today. (The victim is not always doomed, very occasionally one manages to escape by hiding in the toilets and crying.)

The acolytes of the Karenken have a wider holy mission, making sure the online presence of the Karenken can always be felt via the ethernet. Much of their time online is spent writing scathing reviews and comments about innocent businesses. Preferably companies small enough that they wont have the spare capital to sue for libel and defamation. The church have a helpful website to teach neophytes how to take down a social media manager in one easy comment, known as “Rip Advisor”. Using the religious guidance on this website enables a new member of the religion to learn how to make people in ecommerce yell and yelp in a few easy steps. When not incinerating “menial employees” or leaving negative feedback, worshippers of Karenken have a tendency to support dubious political movements. A recent example being their backing of the insidious “Make Atlantis Great Again” campaign. To fund the upkeep of their temples and their works, worshippers of Karenken hold an annual amateur variety show called “The One Star Revue”. This may be the only known theatrical event where all the critics are on the stage.

Throughout history, followers of other deities have been known to attempt to summon and channel the power of the Karenken to do their bidding. Most recently, the priests of Tantrump who sought to harness the power to overturn an election result. This course of action is very unwise, as the Karenken only ever serves the Karenken. What they think will be an awesome force of nature on their side always turns out to be a damp squid.

If you encounter the Karenken, it is possible to banish it. Just tell it you ARE the manager, and repeatedly chant the ancient protective mantra, “Fou Kovf.”

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

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

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.