Our story

That’s our story.  Those of us who think about stories at all prefer it to the one about Mohammed who went around conquering places and killing people.  There is a Muslim meme which goes something like, they don’t like us because they think we’re all terrorists and that’s obviously untrue and unfair, so aren’t they all just evil and prejudiced.  Well, we should be evil and prejudiced were all Muslim sexually normal lovers of freedom.  Lots of reasons people don’t like them. Endemic sexual sickness, whether at the gates of Birmingham schools or in the wider Muslim world.  Their enthusiasm for killing or imprisoning anyone who offends against their bloody religion, their bloody book, and their bloody Prophet, their complete lack of comprehension of the free world, so called because people are free, not thinking themselves subject to master with a club who will beat them if they perturb him, their assumption people are told what they may say.  The fact that they have come here, put their jackboots up on the table and decided that now we’re going to do things their way. That far from being 'strange', 'alien', 'foreign', Islam is basically that good ole hell-fire religion of the Old Testament, which people in the West have been bolloxing and mocking for centuries and Muslims refuse to learn about the society they now inhabit, hold it as given that some things may not be said, when people have been saying them for centuries.  But the perversion must dominate, evil is good when clothed in religion.  There can be no reason to find the dominant face of Islam repulsive.  Foreign: it's another meme, people don't like Islam because it's foreign.  Like the Buddha, you mean, whom we have embraced in droves, while not of course becoming orthodox Buddhists, because it is fundamental that holiness is non-violent. 
 
They must not be made to understand that they revolt us, repel, disgust.

Men fattened by our wealth shout, "Believe that an ass spoke, believe that a fish swallowed a man and spat him out good as new onto the shore three days later. Do not doubt that the God of the universe commanded a Jewish prophet to eat shit (Ezekiel) and another prophet to buy two sluts and make whores of them (these are the very words they make the God of truth and purity speak), believe a hundred things either evidently repulsive or mathematically impossible. If you don't, the God of mercy will burn you not just for hundreds of thousands of years but for the whole of eternity, whether you have a body or not.

These preposterous imbecilities repel equally the weak-minded and foolhardy and the strong and wise. They say: "Our masters depict God as the most deranged and barbaric of beings, therefore there is no God", but they ought to say, 'Our masters attribute to God their own absurdities and their own rage, therefore God is the opposite of what they say, as wise and good and they say he is mad and bad." Thus speak the wise. But if a fanatic overhears them, he denounces them to the magistrate who puts them to torture, believing he avenges and impersonates the divine majesty he outrages.

(My translation)   Full English text here et en français
 
Plus ça change...

Because it is in DNA of the Western world that holiness is non-violent, and all the sanctimonious filth whether of ayatollah or Sacranie is thus annulled.  There is nothing holy in this to be protected.   Thus the principle of the initiation of force, thus the reams on the subject of when and if war is justifiable.
 
A dilemma that has exercised Christians for 2000 years
You are perfectly at liberty to call Jesus a shit and indeed he could be distinctly rude.
However, you will find it quite hard going to prove it, since our definitions of
non-shittiness are largely derived from his teachings: by the time you have contemplated those blasted motes and beams, judged not that ye be not judged, let your yea be yea and your nay be nay, spake openly, and loved your neighbour as yourself, with bonus points for loving your enemy and praying for them who despitefully use you, you are being decidedly non-shitty, though you may also be dead, since your enemies will not necessarily have the courtesy to appreciate you.
 
Which gives politicians and clergy a major problem since well I mean you just can’t say some Muslims are simply shit, Sacranie for instance,  you can’t possibly say that.
 
And so now we have a filthy old savage called a Pope who says it’s OK to hit people who haven’t hit anyone. Mustn’t have Muslims thinking anyone thinks there’s anything wrong in hitting people in response to language.
 
Who’d have thought that nice, avuncular old Pope Francis, of all people, would invoke the mini-skirt defence for violent abuse?
Apparently, if I’m understanding him correctly, Francis thinks that people who mock religion can expect violence, with the obvious corollary that the Charlie Hebdo victims were responsible for their own murders by provoking the passions of extremist Muslims.
In much the same way, one imagines, that women in skimpy clothes are responsible for provoking the passions of rapists, or, as Polly Toynbee observed in the Guardian, the same way mouthy wives are responsible for beatings by abusive husbands.
Religion, it seems, must be given a special place above mockery or lampooning, no matter how ludicrous its teachings, though the Pope didn’t specify which particular religions he had in mind.  He didn’t say it was wrong to wind up the Satanists.  Nor did he refer to the nutty Joseph Smith and his bonkers invention, Mormonism.  He was silent on Scientology and dumb on dharma.  He said nothing about Voodoo nor Wicca nor Druidry, but I think we get his meaning all the same.
Stay silent on the Big Five, the OPEC of obedience, and we’ll be all right.   Nobody dies.  Step away from the crozier.
Oddly enough, Judaism isn’t one of the Big Five, but I’m guessing he thinks Abraham is a good enough connection.  In fact, being a Pope, I suppose he’s hoping the Muslims and the Jews will eventually see the light and abandon their irrational superstitions in favour of his irrational superstitions.
In a bizarre illustration of his position, Pope Francis explained that if his good friend, Dr Gasparri, says a curse word against my mother, he can expect a punch.  It’s normal, he said. You cannot provoke. You cannot insult the faith of others. You cannot make fun of the faith of others.
So there you have it.  You cannot provoke. You cannot insult the faith of others, no matter how absurd that faith might happen to be.  If you do, you can expect violence.  And what is faith?  The blind acceptance of absurd propositions despite the complete absence of supporting evidence.  That’s what the Pope thinks we can’t ridicule, on pain of being murdered by people with a blind faith in absurd propositions without supporting evidence.  Otherwise known as extremists.
 
Oh has, ha, light laugh, men have been murdered, but well of course you respond with violence .  Just signal clearly that the Church has no problem with hitting people in response to words.  The Church has this problem:
 
8 Ye have heard that it hath been said, An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth:
39 But I say unto you, That ye resist not evil: but whosoever shall smite thee on thy right cheek, turn to him the other also.
40 And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also.
41 And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain.
42 Give to him that asketh thee, and from him that would borrow of thee turn not thou away.
43 Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy.
44 But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you;
Is some part of that unclear?  Nothing including Jesus they will not pollute in their lust to regain power.
 
And of course Catholics above all know that religion is made fun of and that mockery underpins the free world.  Voltaire had no problem with Jesus.  No-one mostly sane ever has had.  Even Marx had no problem with Jesus, taught his daughter the story of ‘the carpenter killed by the rich men’.  He didn’t found any church, having been murdered. Probably most people now, at least in England, separate him completely from the usual backward fascist and repulsive churches that claim to represent him, which is of course the one thing they can’t do.
 
[29] After enjoying some time in conversation with Socrates, he went forward with my guide into a grove situated above the thickets where all the sages of antiquity seemed to be tasting sweet repose.
[30] I saw a man of gentle, simple countenance, who seemed to me to be about thirty-five years old. From afar he cast compassionate glances on these piles of whitened bones, across which I had had to pass to reach the sages' abode. I was astonished to find his feet swollen and bleeding, his hands likewise, his side pierced, and his ribs flayed with whip cuts. " Good Heavens! " I said to him, " is it possible for a just man, a sage, to be in this state? I have just seen one who was treated in a very hateful way, but there is no comparison between his torture and yours. Wicked priests and wicked judges poisoned him; is it by priests anhd judges that you have been so cruelly assassinated? "
[31] He answered with much courtesy--"Yes."
[32] "And who were these monsters? "
[33] "They were hypocrites."
[34] "Ah! that says everything; I understand by this single word that they must have condemned you to death. Had you then proved to them, as Socrates did, that the Moon was not a goddess, and that Mercury was not a god? "
[35] "No, these planets were not in question. My compatriots did not know at all what a planet is; they were all arrogant ignoramuses. Their superstitions were quite different from those of the Greeks."
[36] "You wanted to teach them a new religion, then? "
[37] "Not at all; I said to them simply--' Love God with all your heart and your fellow-creature as yourself, for that is man's whole duty.' Judge if this precept is not as old as the universe; judge if I brought them a new religion. I did not stop telling them that I had come not to destroy the law butt to fulfill it; I had observed all their rites; circumcised as they all were, baptized as were the most zealous among them, like them I paid the Corban; I observed the Passover as they did, eating standing up a lamb cooked with lettuces. I and my friends went to pray in the temple; my friends even frequented this temple after my death; in a word, I fulfilled all their laws without a single exception."
[38] "What! these wretches could not even reproach you with serving from their laws? "
[39] "No, without a doubt."
[40] "Why then did they put you in the condition in which I now see you? "
[41] "What do you expect me to say! they were very arrogant and selfish. They saw that I knew them; they knew that I was making the citizens acquainted with them; they were the stronger; they took away my life: and people like them will always do as much, if they can, to whoever does them too much justice.'' . . .
[42] " You therefore contributed in no way by your speeches, badly reported, badly interpreted, to these frightful piles of bones which I saw on my road in coming to consult you? "
[43] "It is with horror only that I have seen those who have made themselves guilty of these murders."
[44] " And these monuments of power and wealth, of pride and avarice, these treasures, these ornaments, these signs of grandeur, which I have seen piled up on the road while I was seeking wisdom, do they come from you? "
[45] "That is impossible; I and my people lived in poverty and meanness: my grandeur was in virtue only."
[46] I was about to beg him to be so good as to tell me just who he was. My guide warned me to do nothing of the sort. He told me that I was not made to understand these sublime mysteries. Only did I conjure him to tell me in what true religion consisted. [47] "Have I not already told you? Love God and your fellow-creature as yourself."
[48] " What! if one loves God, one can eat meat on Friday? "
[49] "I always ate what was given me; for I was too poor to give anyone food."
[50] " In loving God, in being just, should one not be rather cautious not to confide all the adventures of one's life to an unknown man?"
[51] "That was always my practice."
[52] " Can I not, by doing good, dispense with making a pilgrimage to St. James of Compostella? "
[53] "I have never been in that country."
[54] " Is it necessary for me to imprison myself in a retreat with fools? "
[55] "As for me, I always made little journeys from town to town.''
[56]" Is it necessary for me to take sides either for the Greek Church or the Latin? "
[57] "When I was in the world I never made any difference between the Jew and the Samaritan."
[58] "Well, if that is so, I take you for my only master." Then he made me a sign with his head which filled me with consolation. The vision disappeared, and a clear conscience stayed with me.
 
Yes, I know some people who escape from sexually sick religious upbringings say they hate Jesus, but that’s a bit unfair because he never said a bloody word about being gay and though he was clear about fidelity he didn’t go on about it and on and on.  To listen to bloody priests you’d think he spent his whole life screaming about sex, the way they do.
 
And Jesus was a sailor
When he walked upon the water
And he spent a long time watching
From his lonely wooden tower
And when he knew for certain
Only drowning men could see him
He said "All men will be sailors then
Until the sea shall free them"
But he himself was broken
Long before the sky would open
Forsaken, almost human
He sank beneath your wisdom like a stone
And you want to travel with him
And you want to travel blind
And you think maybe you'll trust him
Because he's touched your perfect body with his mind.
Leonard Cohen
 
Ratzupthearse would of course have been solemnly informed by lying filth that I’m a Jew, which of course I’m not, but Nazi filth are not very bright. Elementary biology is too much for them and they are not able to work out that having Jewish relations by marriage does not make me a Jew: Sure, fockers, look into me big brown eyes, deep, deep, into me big brown eyes, and what you’re seeing is County Kerry.
 
What else has gone on in the last 2000 years, a great many people deciding Christianity is what Jesus taught, not what the Vatican teaches.  Of course I am such a freak, no-one has ever gone against the Church and you belong in a padded cell.
 
Anything to be Islam-friendly and they’re going to carve up the west between them, after all, they have so bloody much in common, drag us all back into the fucking Dark Ages.  Shall we not docilely receive what pervert monkeys dictate to us?
 
To this day the Catholic Catechism states
 
"The Magisterium of the Church
85 "The task of giving an authentic interpretation of the Word of God, whether in its written form or in the form of Tradition, has been entrusted to the living teaching office of the Church alone. Its authority in this matter is exercised in the name of Jesus Christ."47 This means that the task of interpretation has been entrusted to the bishops in communion with the successor of Peter, the Bishop of Rome.
86 "Yet this Magisterium is not superior to the Word of God, but is its servant. It teaches only what has been handed on to it. At the divine command and with the help of the Holy Spirit, it listens to this devotedly, guards it with dedication and expounds it faithfully. All that it proposes for belief as being divinely revealed is drawn from this single deposit of faith."48
87 Mindful of Christ's words to his apostles: "He who hears you, hears me",49 the faithful receive with docility the teachings and directives that their pastors give them in different forms.
100 The task of interpreting the Word of God authentically has been entrusted solely to the Magisterium of the Church, that is, to the Pope and to the bishops in communion with him
Catechism of the Catholic Church
In other words they are the only people who know what it means. It is not exactly surprising to the mostly normal that many disagree.
 
It’s really a very thin veneer of sanity; you do not have to dig deep to strip it away.
 
All of which is very obvious and like everything else in the great falsification of everything brushed under the carpet to make sure the English understand we are evil for not liking fucking Islam.

So here we are in London in the C21st.  You can tell it’s London because if you look out of the window there are lots of the world-famous big red buses and something called a calendar tells you it’s the C21st not the C1st.
 
But that doesn’t matter.  Only freaks matter.  The delusional and psychotic matter.  Any filthy animal who thinks the world revolves it and its delusional beliefs whether of its ability and probity or that which it calls its religion, who assumes it has the right to dictate to others, any dirty smelly squirming bag of filth and sickness like the foul brute Boden, look at the foul old mong. Who d’you think you are, mong bitch, the fucking KGB.  You give orders that can’t be questioned. 
 
Rip the ape boy Jackson open, who the hell do you think you are,  you dirty little freak, sick little monkey, you’re so fucking perfect are you, everyone must fall at your feet in awe and wonder because you are without flaw, the fucking world revolves around your glory, does it, ape, everyone must be respectful of you, and share your conviction of your own perfection, and of coure feeyone must obey you.  The little brute thinks it has a commanding manner.
 
If the little ape had a brain it would have quietly gone away and studied English grammar, but all that’s inside is a morass of delusion and ego and it conspires to destroy me instead.
 
And they all take the fuckwit head-case seriously, Of course they don’t, it’s just a tool in the war on civilization, on reason.  The last thing creatures like Yong and Linch want is literacy, people able to express themselves, able to argue with them.
 
It is absolutely mandatory that sick shit be kept sick shit, soothed, cultivated, nurtured, assured there’s nothing wrong in being sick shit, that right is on their side.
 
It’s what they all want, Blair, Mandelson Clarke, a fake professional class of the intellectually helpless whom they can manipulate, who won’t argue because they can’t argue, they have cunt for brains, have never been taught to think, they can’t express themselves, they can’t analyse ideas.
 
It is of course also the forging of a weapon that has turned and bit the Left on the arse, for fascist-cunt-for-brains illiterate ignoramuses, unless in a fully totalitarian system, such as North Korea, can commit the ultimate sin of being on the wrong side.  Thus the alt-right, which could not have been spawned without the destruction of education.
 
Thus to the entity, can’t call a walking corpse a lifeform, that screams I’m a witch.
Ignore
Ignore
Ignore
Ignore the rabid ravings of a mad animal.
Oh, you won’t be ignored, you’re too important for that, your opinions are far too important, critical to the future of the country, 
Some people choose to be mad and evil.  Others are brought up so to be.  Either way you are something corrupt, criminal, insane and indeed even unacceptable: you are a raving lunatic who believes it has the right to destroy other human beings.   
 
And of course they are using you.  I don’t take you seriously.  Blair,Linch, Whelan, Khwaja, none of the filth who cluck and coo over you and commiserate that it’s such a pity that we’re all in C21st England and you can’t have me taken out into the public square, flogged and burned at the stake - but of course they’ll do their very best to help you destroy me.  They don’t give a fuck about you, any  more than I do, but at all cost you must be kept mad, disgusting and evil. They know perfectly well most of what makes you scream I’m a witch, scream your hate and fear is because I’m a normal educated upper class Englishwoman with an enquiring mind in full working order.  You have been stopped from developing, intellectually or emotionally, stunted, kept in a mental cage, kept at a mental age of about three, me, me, me, no-one else matters, no-one else has any rights, as of course has the Pol Pot mong boy Jackson, throwing a tantrum, inconceivable to the dirty brute I have a right to my own opinions. 
 
This is of course Rushdie all over again, Catholic-syle, the cartoonists, the creatures lose all credibility by being intent on murder BUT THAT DOESN’T MATTER.
 
Indeed, there are many ways of dealing with it, as it has been dealt with over the centuries.  This is one of them: chill out, guys, chill out.  Take a cold shower.   I am still waiting, for Corbyn, McDonnell, Abbott, Momentum to carry it out.

They really didn’t like my poem.  Tell you what, Jackson, write a couple of poems that rhyme and scan, show you understand how language works.

Go away and read Oscar Wilde, freaks.  You are in England.  Oscar had a lot of problems with the Establishment, but this was not one of them.
Pan: a Double Villanelle  Oscar Wilde (1913)  
I

O goat-foot God of Arcady!
This modern world is grey and old,
And what remains to us of thee?

No more the shepherd lads in glee
Throw apples at thy wattled fold,
O goat-foot God of Arcady!

Nor through the laurels can one see
Thy soft brown limbs, thy beard of gold,
And what remains to us of thee?

And dull and dead our Thames would be,
For here the winds are chill and cold,
O goat-foot God of Arcady!

Then keep the tomb of Helice,
Thine olive-woods, thy vine-clad wold,
And what remains to us of thee?

Though many an unsung elegy
Sleeps in the reeds our rivers hold,
O goat-foot Glod of Arcady!
Ah, what remains to us of thee?


II

Ah, leave the hills of Arcady,
Thy satyrs and their wanton play,
This modern world hath need of thee.

No nymph or Faun indeed have we,
For Faun and nymph are old and grey,
Ah, leave the hills of Arcady!

This is the land where liberty
Lit grave-browed Milton on his way,
This modern world hath need of thee!

A land of ancient chivalry
Where gentle Sidney saw the day,
Ah, leave the hills of Arcady!

This fierce sea-lion of the sea,
This England lacks some stronger lay,
This modern world hath need of thee!

Then blow some trumpet loud and free,
And give thine oaten pipe away,
Ah, leave the hills of Arcady!
This modern world hath need of thee!
Yes, Oscar.  Indeed.
Don’t really think you can call  Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde, born in Dublin, an English poet.  He read Classics at TCD.  They did that sort of pernicious thing in Dublin 150 years ago, little bog-monkeys. 
Wilde left Portora with a royal scholarship to read classics at Trinity College, Dublin, from 1871 to 1874,[14] sharing rooms with his older brother Willie Wilde. Trinity, one of the leading classical schools, placed him with scholars such as R. Y. Tyrell, Arthur Palmer, Edward Dowden and his tutor, Professor J. P. Mahaffy, who inspired his interest in Greek literature. As a student Wilde worked with Mahaffy on the latter's book Social Life in Greece.[15] Wilde, despite later reservations, called Mahaffy "my first and best teacher" and "the scholar who showed me how to love Greek things".[16] For his part, Mahaffy boasted of having created Wilde; later, he said Wilde was "the only blot on my tutorship".[17]
The University Philosophical Society also provided an education, as members discussed intellectual and artistic subjects such as Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Algernon Charles Swinburne weekly. Wilde quickly became an established member – the members' suggestion book for 1874 contains two pages of banter (sportingly) mocking Wilde's emergent aestheticism. He presented a paper titled "Aesthetic Morality".[18] At Trinity, Wilde established himself as an outstanding student: he came first in his class in his first year, won a scholarship by competitive examination in his second and, in his finals, won the Berkeley Gold Medal in Greek, the University's highest academic award.[19] He was encouraged to compete for a demyship to Magdalen College, Oxford – which he won easily, having already studied Greek for over nine years.[citation needed]
Magdalen College, Oxford[edit]
At Magdalen, he read Greats from 1874 to 1878, and from there he applied to join the Oxford Union, but failed to be elected.
Highly intelligent though he was, I don’t think he would have been able to take on board that a classical education would become cause to be prosecuted – let alone that gays, now enjoying full legal equality, would be prominent among the witch-burners or that it was a capital offence to call a slum-boy illiterate.
Being myself the victim of the greatest slander campaign in history, I have a soft spot for Dez. My name is Pan, Pan, got that, not Satan, not Lucifer, Pan. Sure, I really like the girls. If you have even a tenth of a brain you can work out that if (f))rollicking with me had led to a death-mask of terror, the nymphs would have given me kind of a wide berth. In fact they teased me. You can really tell how   petrified they were.    I am the god of nymphs and shepherds.    I protected    flocks.
How freaking domesticated can you get! Yes, I like wide open spaces. Yes, I like the wilds. Yes, I like making the straights jump. I'm a muso, man! Causeless terrors, got it. Ancient Greece was full of wild beasts, lions, wolves, bears. I protected the freaking flocks from them, not freaking was them!
Do you know, I have never killed a human in my life!  You want a killer?  Try Artemis. She's the goddess of wild animals and ruthless with it. Guess that doesn't fit with the phallic imperative, right? If you want rip, tear, rend, think Actaeon. If ever a guy had blood on his hands, it's Zeus, but I get the shite. It pisses me.  You have no idea how much I appreciate the modern world and its rejection of judging by appearances. Not that I even look like Satan. Satan has three faces and three pairs of black leathery wings.
The animals sacred to me are goats (of course) and tortoises.  How murderous can you get.
If you want my secret shame, I keep a few tortoises.
All the same, having had my life ruined by both Christians and pagans talking through what's between their legs instead of what's between their ears,  I currently manifest in human form, as a rock star, to be precise, hence my use of English. It amuses me. I live on Richmond Hill, London's Arcadia. That amuses me too. I get music.  I get chicks.  I get a reasonably wide-open space and to crown it all, at least when I arrived, I got a few sheep to protect (it's just cows these days). We all have a pad there. You know they got chucked off Olympus. I guess I'd better qualify the word 'live'. There's a row of Georgian properties. We occupy the top storey of all of them knocked into one, except as far as humans are concerned the top storey isn't actually there. It may not be Olympus but once you get inside it's not much different. The metaphysics is Athena's stuff. She's a Professor of Philosophy. Zeus is CEO Megabytes Unlimited. Aphrodite's a designer. When we miss the sun, it's handy for Heathrow. Joke: the sun is of course ever-present.  As god of medicine and healing, Apollo takes a personal interest in all this, but he does see that sending a plague to exterminate every doctor and nurse in London is not the best solution. I think he does. If buboes appear, you'll know why. Then he gets really creative and that could be worse, mutters the Apollo landings haven't happened yet.
Professor Pal is pretty pissed off about what's happened to Dez.  OK, OK, Athens was a boys' club.  Pal has pretty strong views on that.  They would have got there!  They had reason! They had, says Pal, loudly, role models.  Not like the fuck-ups who followed.  They had reason. This society is currently running as fast as its fat little legs will carry it back to the primeval swamp. The fucktards screwing Dezzi have about as much reason as a freaking amoeba.
Screwing Dezzi, now there's a thought. Down, boy! This is business. I think I need to make some straights jump real high.
If you want to be boringly linear about this, the agents of the fascist bourgeois imperialist state talked to the Vice-Chancellor and he talked to the Faculty of Arts. Medicine has always been a problem-child.
Look, I am not Satan, OK. I'm actually quite a nice guy. But I do admit – when there's real freako psycho clerical turd to handle I do not object to pretending to be Satan.  Nice but amoral.
Satan is immoral. Different.
Pal is one cool chick. You know she's the goddess of war, of course, but that's not really exact. She's the goddess of strategy, of tactics.  Blind rage is Ares' stuff.  We're trying to keep him out of this for the moment. I expect you're wondering how he fits into C21st London. The short answer is he doesn't. When I say we have a pad, I mean a base.  It suits some of us to be permanently resident, others not.  Poseidon of course.  Ares is in Afghanistan.   Artemis in Richmond Park – it's a bit like one of those ascetics who surround themselves with naked women to prove they have self-control..  Fortunately they do a cull.  She spends a lot of time in Central Europe. The one thing that really freaks Pal is that situation we have here, a rational educated female being treated like a naughty child.  She keeps her head.  That could be a problem, because it's a rather good one and I get the feeling the natives want to decide the tactics.
“I'm sure they won't be sexist,” I said. If looks could kill.

The Church of the Blessed Virgin in Haringey is troubled. Very troubled. It lies in carefully tended grounds on which the marks of a cloven hoof keep appearing. Curly horns lie atop the bad C19th portrait of Leo XII. After that I get naughty. When Father O'Leary launches into his diatribe against rising secularism, he smiles suddenly and welcomes gay Catholics into the bosom of the Church. I can be quite subtle, you know. At first it sounds as if he is asking them to repent and become celibate. Later, when he is emphasizing the really important, the only important thing is for people to love each other for better or for worse, and to stay faithful to each other, that is less clear.
Possession!  We must call the Bishop!  Another small job successfully completed.
Pal laments the segregation of medical students from the rest of the University, describes it as intellectual apartheid, apartheid always being a word to get the twitched twitching. Should they not,, she enquires, learn something of our intellectual heritage. She stops just short of saying should they not learn to reason. The Deans of the Medical Schools prevaricate, timetables already overloaded.  They stop just short of saying, not like you free-loaders.  Ten hours of lectures a week!
Aphrodite took advantage of the spring collection to lay into the emaciation of some models big-time. She said she designs to celebrate women's bodies not to distort or annul them. She could be an absolute bitch when she was younger but it's just that she's a bit highly-strung. Being a full- time god(dess) is a pressurized job, never mind being the goddess of love. Darling, she says now, it was total Hades! You can imagine, can't you, every spotty love-sick adolescent, every cuckolded husband, every besotted maiden. Great Aphrodite, you gotta help me! 24/7. Glad I stuck with the sheep.
Hermes grumbles at the extra work.  When you are Messenger of the Gods and the gods retire from divine duties, you have time on your hands.  Now he's been pulled out of a life of leisure, as ever Zeus's right-hand man.  Zeus digs.  As any good Leninist will tell you, you can really hurt the rich by stripping them of their assets and stringing them up from lamp-posts. There are other ways. One is finding out where their money comes from and finding out where it goes to and telling everyone. Of course it does help to be a god, no sudden death in mysterious accident, but all the same when I look at the so-called Left I find them as much of a farce as Dez does.  What they ought to be doing is tracking capital, but that's dangerous, so much safer to demand an apology from some hapless Christian who said God bless you! to a sneezing atheist.
None of us has a problem with Jesus. He's a good bloke. He says what he thinks and no faffing around. I've had a lot of talks with him. Sheep and shepherds, rather a lot in common really. You see, I'm the Bad Shepherd. Thank you, no, it doesn't mean I'm ultimate evil. It just means I didn't and don't love the sheep and the sheep really want to be loved. Of course I protected the flocks. When I remembered. When I wasn't otherwise engaged. The straights' word is  negligent.
Diligent, I wasn't terribly diligent. I sure as Hades did not sacrifice and would not have sacrificed myself to save the sheep, in any sense.  I asked Jesus once was it worth it?  He said yes.  Yes, if even one person got the point. I don't think I'm being completely fair to myself.  I'm not omnipresent. How can I put this? Yes, of course I rescued Portly! Only because I happened to be around at the time. Millions of other utterly cute and helpless otter-cubs die. What humans don't understand – this is really Pal's stuff, but I'll give it my best shot – all the hi Telemachus, I've come down from Olympus to sort your life out for you – we exist in a different layer of reality. You see a god either because you are seeing the reality where the god is or because the god has entered your reality and wants you to see him OK, her.
In a minute or ten, I'm going to lecture on morality, so I guess I Pan, who am not, repeat not, Satan, but sure am not ultimate good either, had better say what I mean by that. How it begins is people do not fuck other people around. Only gods can fuck people around, as in personal intervention. People do not fuck other people around because they claim a god told them to, even if the god did tell them to. We're gods. We can do our own dirty work.  Now, we've been around a  long time. Most of us have learned to play nicely in the playground with the other kids, human and divine. Not wanting to snub Jesus and a few other genuinely good guys, this isn't so much because we've learned from them as because we are not thick. What did that Cats guy write, 'Israel in 4 BC had no mass communication!'  Right.  Nor did Classical Athens!  OK, we really thought we were it,

the sine qua non. We needed to get out more. But humans! What would you do with them! Just because they thought a god said something in 4000 BC, he can't move on? To get back to the fucking about, that is actually true, we did give a helping hand to humans we took a liking to and screwed the ones we didn't.
After all, they were worshipping us.  Couldn't completely ignore them.  As you know, we  got really embroiled in some of the mega human-messes, like that business at Troy. Later events forced a re-think, I think you could say that.  We  had a really good fit of pique first!  Rejected!  After all we've done for you! But none of us loves them, loves them because they're human. It wasn't just that and it wasn't just that they didn't believe in us any more – half of Classical Athens didn't believe in us. The total rejection of everything. The Olympus crowd did rather pride themselves on keeping up with the latest developments in philosophy, you know! Analysing the reasons for our non-existence! Even me, country boy outside all the time, we had music, singers, travelling players, recitals, I like to think I was always au fait with the performing arts. After all, Apollo only beat me at music because he cheated. I have to laugh. I mean, which symphony orchestra in the world wouldn't hail Apollo as its patron, but  me?  You cannot be serious!  We had  to really think about what these human animals are.  Two  things stood out.  They hadn't all   decided to love one another. What they had decided to do was reject all reason, all thought. We  were really quite shocked. Why had they done this to themselves? We  had to find somewhere to  live that was at least slightly civilized. One of the reasons they came to England, because Christianity was relatively sane here. They thought of France BUT the Church. I only came after industrialization took off.  Besides, I was invited!
 
This is the land where liberty
Lit grave-browed Milton on his way, This modern world hath need of thee!
 
A land of ancient chivalry
Where gentle Sidney saw the day, Ah, leave the hills of Arcady!
 
This fierce sea-lion of the sea,
This England lacks some stronger lay, This modern world hath need of thee!
 
Then blow some trumpet loud and free, And give thine oaten pipe away,
Ah, leave the hills of Arcady!
This modern world hath need of thee!
 
-Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)
 
Looks like I'm going to have to do my bit, huh? They're doing it again!  Now the bloody Vatican  has muscled in, it's getting as mad as the Muslims. Mad as those farts who evicted us. We have lo- o-ong memories. We're Ancient Greeks. We do reason. And of course democracy. Some guys are going to have remember Marathon.
 
…
 
Good afternoon. My name is Phoebus Apollo. It is said that when I enter a room it is as though the sun has come out on a dark cold winter's day. That is as it should be. Of course the sun also scorches, withers, desiccates, destroys.
I am Apollo. I burn.

This Bleagh creature, a Catholic monkey, an offence to Oxford, to England, to humanity, a barbarian.
As Pan has so touchingly said, we did not love the sheep. It was not necessary to love the sheep to attempt to save those who still worshipped us from the fires and racks of the 'apostles of Love'. We found them despicable. We still do. We have never ceased so to do.
By the way, I did not 'cheat'. I merely displayed superior intelligence.
I think some sort of Mark of Apollo in order. Skin cancer?
A lyre, I think, shot through with an Α
There is of course temporarily branding them. The marks should appear slowly on the most public and embarrassing of occasions. The appearance should not cause pain, better the victim does not know until others around him or her react. Excruciating pain is to be experienced only if there is attempt to remove the brand with soap and water. They believe, do they not, in power, arbitrary unaccountable power.
To delineate what we oppose is to see how to oppose it. Are criminality, psychosis, irrationality, cowardice, ignorance, irrationality, bestiality, the human ape triumphant, not 'the will of God'. Let us see what else may be dismissed as the will of a god.
The phantasm of the minds of male baboons, Yahweh-Allah-Jehovah, does not of course exist. The Mind of the universe exists. Call it what you will, the notion it requires propitiation,
worship is faintly ludicrous, but then of course the human baboon is more than faintly ludicrous. So they think other humans their property, their toys to do with as they wish. Let us see how they respond to being playthings of the gods.
Ah, Mr Bleagh, shall that flight you expect to take to address, extremely lucratively address, a conference of fellow-perverts in Vienna be grounded by a freak sand-storm apparently centred on what is laughingly called Brighton Beach.
I shall begin with confusion to the enemy! An act of pure benevolence, a miracle, such as might be attributed to Jesus himself. After all, are they not my faithful?
Every case of skin cancer in London was instantly cured. Something in the water! Naturally sufferers from the rest of the country and then the rest of the world flocked to London. It was rumoured the healing springs spouted forth in Trafalgar Square.
Dermato-oncologists were not only confused but forced to find a new career direction, usually working for Thames Water.
“Poseidon?” asked Britannia. “He could really mess it up!"
“I don't understand the target,” said Oberon. “They don't exactly love the Church, do they.”
“That's what I said! I don't follow. How does making Trafalgar Square into Lourdes - ?” “Those whom the gods wish to destroy?”
“They''re mad already.” Britannia considered.
“So far it doesn't show enough to get people to act.” “So?”
“Not sure.”
“Should we make the first approach?”
 
How does any politician bloody dare let us be bored and molecsted by these primities?
 
I think I have a clear idea where we are.  Screen goes whooshy.  It is Berchtesgaden, 1935.  See the glittering chandelier, the excellent stables, the fine wine. Such lovely people, completely charming. Load of grotesque nonsense.  The absolutely appalling things that have been said about Herr Himmler.  I mean really.  A more erudite and charming man one can hardly hope to meet.  Far far from the broken bodies and wrecked lives. 
 
Do we not all move in the best circles?  A bent ugly old crone such as I cannot break the spell.  Words could break the spell, fact could break the spell, therefore language, fact reason are to be ignored, suppressed.  What was it, murder-machines, programmed to destroy.  Rage against the machine.  These are not human beings.
 
The Aristocrat by G. K. Chesterton
The Devil is a gentleman and askes you down to stay
At his little place at What'sitsname (it isn't far away).
They say the sport is splendid; there is always something new,
And fairy scenes, and fearful feats that none but he can do;
He can shoot the feathered cherubs if they fly on the estate,
Or fish for Father Neptune with the mermaids for a bait;
He scaled amid the staggering stars that precipice the sky,
And blew his trumpet above heaven, and got by mastery
The starry crown of God Himself and shoved it on the shelf;
But the devil is a gentleman, and doesn't brag himself.

O blind your eyes and break your heart and hack your hand away,
And lose your love and shave your head; but do not go to stay
At the little place in What'hitsname where folks are rich and clever;
The golden and the goodly house, where things grow worse forever;
There are things you need not know of, though you live and die in vain,
There are souls more sick of pleasure than you are sick of pain;
There is a game of April Fool that's played behind its door,
Where the fool remains forever and April comes no more,
Where the splendor of the daylight grows drearier than the dark,
And life droops like a vulture that once was such a lark:
And that is the Blue Devil, that once was the Blue Bird;
For the Devil is a gentleman, and doesn't keep his word