Hatt Mancock – God of Ministerial Affairs

June 27, 2021 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Of all the mysteries of the cosmos, perhaps the most baffling is: When power is almost exclusively held by minging middle-aged white guys, how the hell does it still manage to be an aphrodisiac‽

Membership of the cult of Hatt Mancock is restricted those who hold the highest positions in government. The philosophy of this sect is, “If we make the rules, we don’t have to follow them.” They are renowned for their rampant hypocrisy. Its members are fond of imposing strict moral judgements on everyone else*. Whist other religions may appeal to their deity on a variety of subjects, every prayer to Hatt Mancock is, in essence, the same. “Please don’t let me get caught.” Who can forget their moving psalm, “Yay though I snog my aide in the shadow of a hat stand, shall I fear not Paparazzi, for though art with me, and with my rod in my staff I’m going to get busy.”

The temple of Hatt Mancock is housed in a collection of hidden rooms in Whitehall, known as the Profumo Suite. If you wish to enter, you must first gain permission from Cecil Parkinson, the keeper of the Keyes. Inside you will find the altar, an majestic, mahogany ministerial desk. If you look closely, you will see the faint imprint of buttocks on its highly polished surface. If, during your visit, you hear that the “Party Whip” is being brought out, don’t panic. It’s just a novelty one with fluffy tassels and a glittery handle.

The priests of Hatt Mancock are known as “Ministers”, and they are divided into ranks such as Junior Ministers and Under Secretaries. Ministers can be recognised by their ill-fitting suits, rosettes, and spread-legged power-pose stances. The Ministers work closely (much closer than two meters) with “Aides” who assist them. Apparently, an important aspect of the role of an Aide is sleeping with your Secretary (this is why they are always lay-members of the church). This has led to the creation of posts with titles like, “Secretary Under the Under Secretary”. Ministers can recruit new Aides, either from amongst their old university pals, or by using the discrete “MPHarmony” dating website and app. The Ministers are led by the “Minister Primus”, who holds the privilege of committing sexual impropriety without consequences. In fact, whenever the Minister Primus finds they are a little strapped for cash due to all their child support payments, they will get divorced and marry yet another wealthy mistress, a practice known as, “Cash & Carrie”.

In order to become a Minister of Hatt Mancock, one must first be a member of their youth organisation, the Bullshittingdon Club. In their distinctive uniform of navy tailcoats, these noble young bast… …ions of the faith, led by their “Flout Master”, will earn badges in skills such as Awkward Groping, Dirty Research Trip Planning, and “Badger Watching”. Just in case they are ever caught in flagrante delicto during their future Ministerial careers, the neophytes are also taught to weave elaborate excuses such as, “My Aide and I were near the coat stand when we heard a strange noise. She went to investigate when a host of biting ants flooded out of the coats, (attracted by a forgotten complimentary hotel biscuit in one of the pockets). They swarmed all over her, particularly the in area of the buttocks and some of them even entering her mouth. Naturally, I attempted to brush them off. As she had been repeatedly bitten around the lips, in an attempt to administer first aid, I tried to suck out the poison.” Or the simpler, “I was eating out to help out.”

It is a hard life being a Minister of Hatt Mancock. Excellent time management skills are essential so that you can simultaneously bugger up the response to a national crisis, award your mates juicy contracts, have a family and still have a bit on the side. Maintaining a work / double-life balance is so important.

From time to time, not even the protection of the god is enough to defend one of his Ministers from the public outcry over their transgressions. Many of those who are exposed are the mortal victims of the long running feud between Hatt Mancock and Paparazzi the God of Sleaze (whose followers like to hang around in the bushes outside Hatt Mancock’s temples with telephoto lenses or make friends with the security team who watch the CCTV). However, sometimes they are simply betrayed by the old-fashioned lipstick on the collar and lingering scent of her hand sanitiser. Once such a story hits the headlines, the Minister affected will initially attempt to maintain his position, but inevitably finds that his hip is giving out, so he can’t do it without a truss (and Liz has said she’s not touching that).

Next follows one of the most famous rituals of Hatt Mancock, “The Sack Race”. This is a rather different version from the old school sports day favourite. In this rite the disgraced Minister must rush Number 10 Downing Street to tender their resignation (for £37 billion, to a company run by their sibling’s spouse) before public pressure forces the Minister Primus to dismiss them (despite having previously declared the matter closed). So, ironically, betraying their family usually leads to a Minister spending a lot more time with them. It’s not forever though, the prize for winning the Sack Race is that you get to have another go at being a Minister again once the dust has settled.

* Who can forget their “Back to Basics” campaign in the 1990s? No one was quite sure at the time what these “basics” were, but we have since found out they probably included pegging.

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Twometer – Goddess of Social Distancing

June 7, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Until 2020 Twometer was a minor deity of car park height barriers and low bridges. Before the Covid-19 pandemic, only the people of Finland had considered her aspect as a deity of social distancing. You can read the full story of her origins in the book of “Hygenesis”.

Twometer is always depicted wearing a gargantuan crinoline gown with a four-meter diameter. The bold yellow and back colours of her dress serve as a warning not to get too close. That voluminous skirt is hemmed with 5000V electric fence ribbon. If this proves to be an insufficient deterrent, she also carries a six-foot barge pole with a spear tip that you do not want her to be able to touch you with. Anyone managing to evade electrocution and impalement then comes into range of her deadly hairdo. This incorporates elements of elaborate braiding and the medieval chain mace. This style of unique coiffure is known as the “Pompadon’t”

Worshippers of Twometer mainly worship at home, but very occasionally it is absolutely essential to go out to the temple. These temples have a strict occupancy limit. At busy times they enact a “one in – one out policy”. (There is priority praying for keyworkers between 8am and 9am daily.) One can see the patiently waiting faithful lined up outside, safely spaced apart by the handy guide makers painted on the pavement. Everyone politely abides by this system (even the temple cats). When it is their turn to enter the temple, each worshipper will ritually sanitise their hands as they pass through the vaulted vestibule. A priest will also check their temperature, that they are wearing the mandatory face mask correctly. Anyone heard to have that distinctive dry cough known as the “Fur Cough” will be asked to leave immediately and self isolate.

Once inside a temple of Twometer, one must move around the building in a set pattern, following the guide arrows on the floor. It is a dreadful sin to go the wrong way or try to hurry others ahead of you. An attempt to push past another worshipper will earn you a sharp rebuke along the lines of, “Your hurry to get to the sacramental wine section is not more important than everyone else’s health,” or the earthier, “Do you want to stay six feet away or be six feet under Pal?”

The seating area of the temple has rows of pews, positioned much as they would be in any church or temple. However, most of these seats are blocked from use by stern signs and yellow tape, to ensure no one can be so rude as to sit directly next to anyone else. Prominent signs displayed in the temple read, “Please leave room between you for her Holy Spirit”.

It’s not all prayer and solitary contemplation being a worshipper of Twometer. Computer gaming is an especially popular pastime. The favourite game of most Twometerians is the retro classic “Personal Space Invaders”. The temples usually have spacious grounds which are marked out with a “picnic grid”. Worshippers can use an available square to catch a little sun or dine alfresco whilst being assured of sufficient elbowroom. (This is provided, of course that they take their rubbish home with them. Litterbuggers will be excommunicated.) For those that like something a bit more active, Zorbing is one of the few permitted social sports. Music lovers are catered for too, Twometer has many popular hymns including, “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” and “From a Distance”. However, all music is performed solo, or by a series of musicians taking it in turn to sing via video-link*.

One of the rules of the faith of Twometer is the observance of family planning. No one is allowed a family unit of more than 6. If they exceed this, they will be forbidden to leave the house together. Children in Twometerian families are often home-schooled for at least a portion of their education, and the sect provides a handy list of recommended reading and forbidden texts. The Famous Five books are fine, Secret Seven books are considered unholy.

Incidentally, Twometer has a sister called “Yoo”. In the past (when Twometer wasn’t watching over bent roof racks and dented double-deckers) they occasionally operated together as Goddesses of Removals People and Predictable Slapstick Children’s Entertainers. Their double act “Twometer – Yoo” hope to be back to their old light-hearted shenanigans when all this is over.

* These “pass the brush” recording of popular songs are the only known example in the universe of a whole being less than the sum of its parts.

The Goddess of Social Distancing has been suggested by just about every member of the Hive Mind (in some form or other) over the last 8 weeks. So, this one is for all of you.

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Sloth – God of Staying In

March 29, 2020October 15, 2020 ~ Hannah ~ Leave a comment

Idleatry is the new Idolatry!

Sloth is a deadly sin to some, but is a pandemic stemming virtue to the rest of us. Under normal circumstances, Sloth is the deity of folks who have just had a really long week at work. He is casually worshipped by most of us at some point in our lives. Usually on Fridays nights, with a take away and a box set. However, at certain times in history, Sloth has taken on a much more vital role.

In those unusual times the most virtuous course of action really is inaction. To sit on your cartouche and wait for all this to blow over. The path to righteousness is the one you do not walk down.

Sloth themself will never manifest in person. They have never left “Stayincyde”, their celestial crib. In fact, they rarely leave the celestial sofa. In modern times Sloth occasionally communicates with their followers via baffling online videos. The latest involves sitting in the bath and performing a song where any semblance of a consistent key signature is imaginary. Sloth was particularly important to the famous ancient tribes, the Amazons, the Ocado and the Justeats. These tribes would bring many offerings, attempting to keep Sloth happy by supplying everything they really needed. Mainly gin and loo roll.

A devout follower of Sloth will take a vow of self-isolation. After this point they will only leave their abode for essential supplies, essential work and care duties, or for a brief daily exercise within 2 km (considered optional). When they do leave their house, they must stay at least two metres from others at all times. On their return they immediately conduct a ritual cleansing with sanctified sanitising soap and warm water. Worshippers will wear the ceremonial fluffy bath robe at all times whilst under their vow. In their hand they will clasp that most holy and potent of religious artefacts, The Telly Remote. A worshipper of Sloth will flick through all 999 television channels like a Catholic prays their way around the rosary.

On taking their vow of isolation, many followers will simultaneously take a vow of creative productivity. However, as experienced worshippers will tell you, commitment to this secondary pledge rarely survives the “Onanistic Phase”. Nearly all neophytes experience this. With no one to play with, one starts to play with oneself. One sub-sect joyfully embrace and celebrate this period of self love. They are known as the Happy Fappies.

The most devoted worshippers of Sloth have a somewhat haphazard approach to personal grooming. All routine body hair depilation is abandoned. Head hair may go unbrushed for several days, but then be plaited eight different ways in an afternoon. Home haircuts are usually only ever attempted once.

Sloth has a secret penchant for Ska music. This may be because they have the head of a Two Toned Sloth. This is why worshipping Sloth for too long can lead to Madness. His followers have adapted several popular Ska hits as hymns. Including, Ghost Town, Our House and (Talking to) The Mirror in My Bathroom.

Some evidence has been uncovered that the famous William Mompesson, vicar of the self isolating plague village of Eyam, got in a bit of bother with his bishops. Although it is not clear whether this was about the secret altar to Sloth hidden in his cellar, or over that scandalous business with Mrs Home.

Sloth’s nemesis is another bestial deity called the Slow Boris. A primate headed god, with a distinctive dry cough, that is incapable of responding in a timely manner in a crisis.

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