Weird Shit: The Incredible Power of the Coronavirus Vaccine

I should have known when I wrote about quack remedies the other week I would find the subject of health misinformation coming back.

There are two simple facts about modern medicine and vaccines in particular that covidiots don't understand. One is that no treatment in scientific medicine is 100% effective. Not one. That's just the way it works, and if you see a treatment that claims to be 100% effective, it's a quack remedy and should be avoided. The other one is that if you have the Coronavirus vaccine you are not guaranteed not to get the virus. You are however significantly less likely to get it and to die from it.

However the vaccine seems to have other incredible powers which I couldn't have foreseen. I actually can't really put them better than the tweet which heads this post. The vaccine combined with a vaccine mandate also serves to clear out idiotic health professionals, teachers and scientists who will happily put the rest of the population at risk for the sake of their ignorance.

There is literally no disadvantage to this and I can't speak for education but in every place I've ever worked in healthcare you didn't work there unless you had the mandatory hepatitis B vaccine.

Shame, poor dears.

Borley Rectory again - The Banishing (2021)

There has been a rash of films in the past few years based on the Borley Rectory narrative. This is the first this year (and there's a second called The Ghosts of Borley Rectory later in the year) and I bought it because the online reviews were almost unanimously positive.

I have read nearly everything about Borley Rectory (ever since a copy of The Most Haunted House in England I found in our local library was my entry to weird shit years ago) but I have not kept au courant with this rush of films. 

The whole Borley mythology makes it difficult to turn into a film, because even if you just wrote a script giving the reported incidences as written, it would be like one of those overdone sixties Amicus films and frankly, nobody would believe it was true. Which, frankly, it probably wasn't.

This one takes an unusual tack by focusing on the relationship between Lionel (rector of Borley in the 1930s) and Marianne Foyster. It is an interesting tack because it brings to the fore the tension between a rather stuffy husband and his young and flighty wife. It also brings to the fore the true nightmare that marriage would be if the wife can't have children.

Another thing which is better than in most films is they have used a house which feels like the rectory - at least according to the pictures before it mysteriously burned down after the insurance was mysteriously dramatically increased. The film gets the isolation right.

It does depart from the narrative of the haunting and makes it actually rather more dramatic. It takes the classic horror film path of letting the tension build up. This is clearly a departure from the haunting and it's slightly naughty to describe it on the case as a true story when it is to my mind based on the said true story but not as close as implied.

I do quite see why though. There is a problem with the literature, which can be clearly split down the middle into the totally credulous and the totally disbelieving. None of the literature investigated the haunting in a sufficiently controlled way, and when you take into account the effects of local legend, stressed and isolated people, and the fact that many of the phenomena could have been explained by the building itself, you are left with very little. If you then account for investigators who were either credulous or have been shown to cheat at other times, you are left with very little indeed. My opinion is that the most likely phenomena to be supernatural would be the apports, and the noises in the church but not the noises in the rectory.

I can see that the story would provide a rather boring film except for the real fanatics. Films like a clear story arc and the film invents stuff to create that, which is fair enough. A story of rambling rectory, local gossip, rector who makes the mistake of involving a publicity mad paper salesman turned ghost Hunter, new rector with nymphomaniac bored wife, and the house being burned down in the most obvious insurance scam ever - frankly this isn't the arc the public wants.

So the thing to do is forget any Borley connection and enjoy this as the superlative horror it is.

The Haunting of Borley Rectory 2019

This is a review of the film of this name. The main reason I am reviewing it here is to counteract the many negative reviews it has accrued on the internet, because The Hound thinks it's rather good.
The story of the notorious haunting of Borley Rectory was one of the things on which I cut my weird shit teeth. In fact I have read virtually everything about it except for James Turner's My Life with Borley Rectory, but only because I have never been able to get my grubby little hands on it.
This film's negative reviews largely stem from historical purists. Set in 1944, it features an American serviceman, ordered to live in an Essex cottage and monitor the airwaves. Unfortunately the famous Rectory nun won't leave him alone and he enlists the help of Harry Price.
Probably I have said here before that while I have read both the for and against literature on Borley I have to come down on the side of the sceptic. The story is too incredible to be true, all of the characters too vaudeville, and frankly the level of hysteria would give Freud a fit.
This film is done no service by the way it is described online as the story of Borley Rectory. It is no such thing. It is a fantasy inspired by the already incredible legend of the haunting of Borley. The mere fact that it opens with Marianne Foyster (pictured) speaking in the ruins of the rectory should tell anyone who knows the story that this is not a historical account and some drama is about to happen. A fantastic story based on a fantastic story, this is not history.
But the aspect which makes this film really easy on the eye is that it stars the gorgeous Zach Clifford. I'm not going to go on, because I will embarrass myself!

The X-Files

I am back at work and after initially being absolutely ridiculous they are now being better about making adjustments for me. Unfortunately the assessment they arranged was useless so I have been obliged to tell them that and tell them what I actually need to work a computer - I swear I don't go around looking for trouble.
Meanwhile they have a member of admin staff sitting with me to do my computing, which has the great advantage that my colleague who has an undiagnosed personality disorder is sooo jealous! Never mind - she's handed her notice in but isn't telling anyone and I happen to know she will hate her new job even more than she hates this one.
Actually I could have done with more time off, simply because I still have some box sets I didn't get time to watch. So I am starting a mammoth rewatch of the X-Files. It dates me precisely of course that it was very formative on me on its first broadcast.
I am in the middle of season one and I love the way Mulder comes up with his paranormal explanations for things - versus Scully's cold rationality. The moment he began a sentence with the words, 'Specialists in alternative life designs...', I was in love.
In retrospect of course it seems quite cosy and reminiscent. I'm even finding myself coveting an Apple Powerbook Duo again. Now if anyone can tell me where I can find the index card program I found so useful in Windows 3, life would be perfect.

My Field Trip to the Pitt Rivers Museum

I have revisited the Pitt Rivers museum in Oxford after a gap of 20 years. Naturally it doesn't look to have changed much in that time, but has been the cause of my realisation that I have changed considerably. When I first visited, of course I was already a witch really: I just hadn't realised it. Now I am tending to see the collection rather differently, and what most strikes me is the small corner devoted to the paraphernalia of magic. The talismans and what have you in the section are obviously explicitly for magical use. But the collection (intentionally or not) gives the impression that the use of magic has ceased in the modern era. As a modern magician what also struck me about the rest of the collection was that virtually everything could be used for magic at a push - masks and various items of clothing, for example. As I say this means a marked change in my own mindset since I first visited the museum as a student.
The other thing which strikes me is the fact that much of the collection is either of offensive or defensive use, indicating that these are the true motivations of so much human behaviour.
The item which most struck me was a monkey's skull used by headhunters' children in Borneo as a play way of preparing for real head hunting in later life. I want one!

Weird shit: Catholic Euphemisms for Priest's Problems

In a true spirit of soothsaying it is high time we had another post pointing at the ridiculous danger in the world which is the RC Church's attitude to,  well, just about everything. I will never look on a particular dilemma in the same light after I have discovered the phrase is frequently used euphemistically in abusive priests' records by their superiors :
' Rather than any direct reference to sex or sexual behavior, even when it is clear that sexual behavior was involved, records of priest abusers often use some of the following code words:

·        MORAL IMPEDIMENT
·        DUBIOUS PERSONALITY,
·        INDISCRETION, IMPRUDENCE,
·        TROUBLESOME INVOLVEMENTS,
·        PARTICULAR DILEMMA,
·        UNFORTUNATE INCIDENTS,
·        UNCOMFORTABLE SITUATION,
·        EXCESSIVE STRESS,
·        MISUNDERSTANDINGS,
·        PROBLEM,
·        EFFEMINATE,
·        MISTAKES,
·        CHARACTER FLAW. (2008)'
' Nicknames of seminarians, priests, and bishops bandied around within clerical circles often offer an insight into problems and the sexual tone of the person in question and the institution. “Peaches”  (Bishop Larocque) “Bubbles”=(Cardinal Spellman) “Mother” & “Lola”= (specific superiors)  and “Lady Wakefield”=(Cardinal Baum) “Uncle Ted” =(Cardinal McCarrick) are all monikers that have been recorded within the clerical culture about superiors who priests cited as gay, sexually active, or permissive. Sometimes nicknames filter into the seminary records and are flags for deviant behaviors.'
In fact Cardinal Spellman is one of my favourite Catholic clerics:
'[Monsignor Eugene Clark of St Patrick's Cathedral in New York] dutifully worked as secretary for one of the most notorious, powerful and sexually voracious homosexuals in the American Catholic Church's history: the politically connected Francis Cardinal Spellman, known as "Franny" to assorted Broadway chorus boys and others, who was New York's cardinal from 1939 until his death in 1967.
' In the original bound galleys of former Wall Street Journal reporter John Cooney's Spellman biography, The American Pope?published in 1984 by Times Books, which was then owned by the New York Times Co.?Spellman's gay life was recounted in four pages that included interviews with several notable individuals who knew Spellman as a closeted homosexual. Among Cooney's interview subjects was C.A. Tripp, the noted researcher affiliated with Dr. Alfred C. Kinsey of the Institute for Sex Research, who shared information that he had on Spellman regarding the prelate's homosexuality. In a telephone interview with Tripp last week, he told me that his information came from a Broadway dancer in the show One Touch of Venus who had a relationship with Spellman back in the 1940s; the prelate would have his limousine pick up the dancer several nights a week and bring him back to his place. When the dancer once asked Spellman how he could get away with this, Tripp says Spellman answered, "Who would believe that?" The anecdote is also recounted in John Loughery's history of gay life in the 20th century, The Other Side of Silence.'
Sources: http://www.awrsipe.com/Click_and_Learn/2010-03-05-code_words_rev.html and http://www.nypress.com/cardinal-spellmans-dark-legacy/
Picture of Bubbles credit: http://cbrowder.blogspot.co.uk/2014/07/136-francis-j-spellman-controversial.html

John Baskerville's Peripatetic Corpse

John Baskerville (1706-1775) is probably best remembered nowadays for the typeface which bears his name, but his genius also extended to stone engraving, japanning, book production, and the first commercial use of wove paper. To my mind, he is very much the archetypal Brummie, despite being born in Wolverley in Worcestershire, but then the growth of Birmingham has usually meant that its inhabitants couldn't ever possibly all be born here. He also added the tradition of religious scepticism to his world-view, which seems to have been one of the things which attracted him to the town. By his own will, after his death his body was buried in unconsecrated ground in the grounds of his own house, Easy Hill – it was on the site of the present Baskerville House, next to the library of Birmingham. I am heavily indebted to F E Pardoe's John Baskerville of Birmingham (Frederick Muller Limited, London, 1975) for the facts here, since that book includes many contemporary sources, which are rare in the accounts of what happened to Baskerville's body.

His house was sold in 1788 to John Ryland, who lived there until the house was wrecked in the Birmingham riots of 1791. The grounds were gradually used for other purposes after this, and the conical building surmounting Baskerville's vault demolished, although his body remained in situ. It was imagined that it had been removed, until it was discovered in 1820:

'…some workmen, who were employed in getting gravel, discovered the leaden coffin. It was however immediately covered up, and remained untouched until a few days since, when, the spot having been recently let for a wharf, it became necessary to remove the coffin, and it was accordingly disinterred, and deposited in Messrs. Gibson and Son's warehouse, where a few individuals were allowed to inspect it. The body was in a singular state of preservation, considering that it had been under ground about 46 years. It was wrapt in a linen shroud, which was very perfect and white, and on the breast lay a branch of laurel, faded, but entire, and firm in texture. There were also leaves, and sprigs of bay and laurel in other parts of the coffin and on the body. The skin on the face was dry but perfect. The eyes were gone, but the eyebrows, eyelashes, lips and teeth remained. The skin on the abdomen and body generally was in the same state with that of the face. An exceedingly offensive and oppressive effluvia, strongly resembling decaying cheese, arose from the body, and rendered it necessary to close the coffin in a short time, and it has since been consigned to his surviving connexions for the purpose of re-interment.' (John Langford: A Century of Birmingham Life, or A Chronicle of Local Events from 1741 to 1841, Birmingham, 1868, volume 2, pp. 358-9, cited in Pardoe, op.cit., p. 149)

Baskerville's body actually remained in the Gibsons' warehouse in Cambridge Street for the next eight years, and they used to charge people 6d to see the body. In August 1829 Baskerville's remains were moved to John Marston's shop in Monmouth Street (near Snow Hill Station), where it was opened again. It was at this time that the sketch which illustrates this post was drawn by local artist Thomas Underwood, and the piece of the shroud taken. These are both preserved in the Library of Birmingham, may be seen on the website, which is where I owe the pictures. Underwood wrote an account of making the sketch:

'This sketch was taken when the remains lay at Marston's the plumber in Monmouth Street (within a few doors of which I was then an apprentice with Mr Josiah Allen, the engraver), where they were on view for some days, and were seen by a number of persons, amongst others by Dr Male and his daughter, who lived at the top of Newhall Street. The effluvium made them ill, and I believe they were laid up for some time with fever. A surgeon in Newhall Street also went, who tore a piece from the shroud, which he incautiously put into his coat pocket and died in a few days. The only ill effect upon myself, who was there upwards of an hour, was a distaste for food for several days. The body was much decomposed, but the teeth were perfect; and the sketch shows correctly what I saw of the remains of the man who was an artist in every sense of the word, and will ever deservedly be famous as one of the worthies of our town, who spread its fame the wide world over.' (cited in Pardoe, op. cit., p. 150)

Mr Marston's request to inter the body in his vault in St Philip's (now Birmingham Cathedral) was refused because of Baskerville's atheism. At length a Mr Knott (or Nott), a bookseller, offered to inter the remains in his vault in Christ Church (in true Birmingham style, this church was where the floozie in the Jacuzzi now is). But there remained the problem of getting permission from Mr Barker, the churchwarden:

'On hearing the request, Mr Barker, with an unmistakeable twinkle of the eye, told Mr Marston it was impossible – "indeed, I keep the keys and at such time of the day they are on the hall table". Mr Marston was not slow to take the hint, and called. The door was opened by the butler, and there were the keys. Mr Marston asked if Mr Barker was at home; the servant said "No", faced about and walked off. Mr Marston took the keys, and the body in its reclosed lead coffin was carried "on a hand barrow covered with a green baize cloth", to its last resting place in Mr Nott's vault in Christ Church.' (W. J. Scofield, letter to the Birmingham Weekly Post, November 22nd, 1879, cited in Pardoe, op. cit., pp. 151-2)

A notice may have been placed in the local press at the time of the reinterment to say that Baskerville had been buried at Netherton, beyond Dudley; whether or not it was, this was the rumour that remained for a long period. The wanderings of the unfortunate Baskerville's corpse were still not over, however. In 1892 a churchwarden of Christ Church, found that there were 136 vaults under the church, but only 135 burials were recorded; under public pressure, the vault was opened. Baskerville's body was once again seen, and was cemented back up in the vault. The legality of this disturbance outraged Victorian propriety to such an extent that questions were asked about the matter in Parliament. Notwithstanding, a plaque to Baskerville, commemorating the identification of his remains, was erected on the wall of the church.

Baskerville's journey had one last step. Christ Church was demolished in 1897. The bodies from the catacombs were removed and since nobody claimed Baskerville's, it was reinterred in the catacombs in Warstone Lane cemetery, where it remains to this day. 

Film Review: Haunting at the Rectory

In common with many another weirdo, my way into the world of the Other was through the kind of things which were fashionable in my youth. There was a roaring trade (as always) in mediumship, ghosts, you name it. The real key to the weird for me, though, was when I eventually talked my mother into letting me have an 'adult' library card. Precocious brat that I was, there was nothing in the kiddies' library that interested me. As a result in my early teens I read my way – incredibly credulously – through Doris Stokes, various books about anything which could vaguely be described as paranormal, and ultimately discovered Harry Price's books about Borley Rectory. I read them as credulously as I did everything else, since at the time I didn't have the critical apparatus to hand to see through his apparently 'scientific' stance. It is interesting that, to this day, it is difficult to find an appraisal of the Borley events which is not either totally credulous or totally dismissive.

I'm looking forward to the film about Borley starring Reece Shearsmith. Mr Shearsmith can do no wrong in my eyes (apart from being heterosexual, of course), but while I'm waiting for that film I was interested to come across this film recently. I had already read the online reviews which tended to slate the film, but in my INFJ way of storing up information, perusing anything related to my one of my pet subjects, so that I can fit it into my mental spider diagram, is always welcome.

This film focuses solely on two of the characters in the Borley drama – admittedly two of the more colourful ones – Marianne Foyster and one of the random men who are supposed to have passed through her life at one time or another. This film turns her from the chronically bored, unstable, randy, rector's wife, into the neglected wife of a barely-sexed vicar, who is seduced by the randy gardener. This is, of course, to change the bare bones of the Foyster-d'Arles part of the Borley story into a great romance (I would recommend here as a calm account of the facts, minus some of the more hysterical accusations of murder, etc, which Marianne seems to attract). In fact the film would be great if you want a romance. If you're into that sort of thing there's quite a bit of straight sex, and in fact it's worth watching simply for the sight of Lee Bane smoking a pipe in the bath, which unfortunately wouldn't work as a screen capture so I'll choose his Mellors-esque appearance to illustrate this post. 

And of course this reframing of the Borley events into a great romance leading to tragedy is this film's downfall. The titles open with one of the classic pictures of the real Rectory, which implies, together with the statement on the box that it is based on true events, that the film will be about the Borley haunting. As an account of the haunting of Borley Rectory this film falls down on all fronts. The trouble is that the Borley story is actually such a rich mine of possible events for film-makers, and yet the makers of this film have both chosen one of the events which is marginal to the main story, and then messed it up by turning it into a scene of horror, with touches of horrific supernatural events. The Borley story is full of things like disembodied voices, wall writings, apports, skulls, nuns, coaches, tunnels, monasteries, bells ringing, doors locking, and so on, that it is a waste of an opportunity to miss them out. The film also ignores another simple fact at the heart of the story: it is about a huuuge house with almost no creature comforts in the middle of an English rural community, which instantly makes the story into one of loneliness and desperation. It is not about the comfortable yet apparently isolated existence lived by the Marianne in this film.

So in summary, this is not actually a film dealing with the Borley story in any great way. If you want a romance which turns into a tragedy, it may be just your thing.

Weird Shit: Tarot and Jacob Zuma's Lavatory

Normally I am unable to make that much of a connection between my periodic Weird Shit-themed posts, and the urban hedge witchcraft which is the main subject of this blog, in fact I have sometimes wondered whether my motivation in writing those posts is just to prove to myself that there are still weirder people than myself out there, but this one is a gift. In fact it's mainly a gift to demonstrate my own rather idiosyncratic way of reading the tarot.

I was astonished at the reaction the picture of Jacob Zuma's lavatory at his official (and hugely controversial) residence at Nkandla, had on me. This is actually the first time that some visual thing has caused immediate tarot references for me, which is an effect I have only read about. Leaving aside the most obvious impression from his 'throne', that the man has absolutely no taste, it is interesting to wonder whether tarot cards could conceivably be in the either his mind or the mind of the person who designed it. Wouldn't it be good if he read this and discovered the tarot energies he has accessed through his lavatory?

It most reminds me of the Emperor, King of Pentacles, and King of Cups. Naturally what they have in common is power and authority. Zuma's reputation would probably place him closest either to the energies of the Emperor or King of Pentacles, in terms of sheer worldly opulence and his 'foursquare' insistence on his own way. Yet his regime – notorious for corruption and cronyism - is so wrong for these cards, that I am reluctantly obliged to think of them as reversed. Opulence becomes grasping, and solidity becomes pig-headedness.

In appearance, his throne actually makes me think of the element of water, unsurprisingly, because of the tiles of which it is made. Yet the animals on his arm rests, which appear to me to be lions, I suppose would normally be associated with the element of fire, which would suggest that not only is the power symbology of the throne destroyed by the fact that he uses it to defecate, but also in referencing the contrary elements of fire and water he effectively cancels out the power of either. I think I can diagnose a very bad case of flatulence in Nkandla and the ANC!

Weird Shit: The Catholic Church Thinks its Priests Should be Masculine (but Obviously Doesn't Really)

I found the forum referenced here & the picture in very quick succession & was struck by what a ridiculous contrast they make. Obviously acres of lace, marble, & brocade are going to attract some very manly men into the priesthood!
'Says Fr. Mason: "Many bishops, seminary faculty and  priests...suffer under this vice [of effeminacy] and are therefore unwilling or unable  to recognize it as a vice and address it.... Does the seminary deal  with a seminarian that sways when he walks, who has limp wrists, who  acts like a drama queen or who lisps? It must."
'Says Fr. Mason: "This is not just distracting to other men but I  know my sisters will roll their eyes when a Liberace-like priest  celebrates himself while celebrating the Mass.... This may be one of  the reasons why the church has a difficult time attracting men to  Mass...."
'Fr. Mason says, "I remember in my first year of seminary how I was  shocked when I came across an ordained cleric in the seminary who was  wearing a gold ankle bracelet and matching gold earring."
'Says Fr. Mason: "Catholic seminarians scored as less masculine than any  other male group of their age. Right next to them...were the Protestant  male seminarians...." Fr. Mason says that "Most [Catholic] seminaries  breed an effeminate culture."' (http://www.fisheaters.com/forums/index.php?topic=1481200.0)
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Margaret Thatcher as Goddess Kali

...As depicted on the cover of New Civil Engineer in October 1979.
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House Hunting the Weird Way

I wouldn't like to think that only we witches have a monopoly on weird shit. In fact I like to think that weird shit (as opposed to the Law) is for all! It can even extend into all areas of life & lead one to some remarkably sensible decisions.
For a few hours earlier this week I thought I'd found my perfect apartment. Layout, size, even price, all perfect. But then my dad knocked some sense into me, since there was just the slight problem that there is a structural fault with building & the builders have gone out of business. He told me in no uncertain terms that I would be mad to get into that - that even if the problem was remediable there would always be spiralling costs. But Hound, you may say, how did he manage to tell you that, since he died thirty years ago? And that is kind of the purpose of this post, that when you're a witch, or even just weird, you have access to some strange sources of advice.
It also happens that this week was my mother's birthday & it's also approaching the anniversary of his death. It is not susceptible to solid empirical proof, but I just *know* he's still around. It makes me burst into tears when he communicates one of these very characteristic things to me. I don't see or hear anything, but the message comes across with the force of a slap.
These are also occasions for reminiscence. One of the reasons I want to live in the city centre is I felll in love with it as a small child. We would come to the theatre & stay in a hotel (the one that is now Crowne Plaza, although I think it was something else then), & I was fascinated by the way the city just carries on at night. Even as an adult I loved standing on the now-demolished bridge over Suffolk Street Queensway & watching the traffic go underneath me.
Some of the more normal things to be considered in house hunting are of less consequence to a witch. Trouble with the neighbours? - they'll move on quickly, for example. However dad's also talked sense into me in terms of a solid, sensible plan as to where & when to buy. When I panic that I may not be able to afford it he just slaps me with the fact that I'm relatively better off than he ever was.
It's a question of priorities: I damn well will live my dream. I can afford it, & will make sure I can if there's a shortfall. But I'm doing it the right way - by putting the needs of my poor old ginger tom cat (who if ever there was a witch's familiar, he's it) before rushing into my dream, I'm creating what I can only call credit in the universe. I don't know how muggles cope without dead relatives to talk to & the assurance that the universe will look after them!
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Weird Shit: Con-anonisation of the Cover-up Merchant Pope John Paul II.

There was no way I was ever going to be able to leave this one alone! Today in Rome Pope Francis is 'canonising' Popes John XXIII & John Paul II. What this means to Catholics, in the words of the Catechism of the Catholic Church is this:

'By canonizing some of the faithful, i.e., by solemnly proclaiming that they practiced heroic virtue and lived in fidelity to God's grace, the Church recognizes the power of the Spirit of holiness within her and sustains the hope of believers by proposing the saints to them as models and intercessors. "The saints have always been the source and origin of renewal in the most difficult moments in the Church's history." Indeed, "holiness is the hidden source and infallible measure of her apostolic activity and missionary zeal."' (Paragraph 828 http://www.vatican.va/archive/ccc_css/archive/catechism/p123a9p3.htm#828)

These saints are marked out as special exemplars of virtue & faithfulness to God's grace. I don't have a problem with that in the slightest. None. In times past it has been extraordinarily difficult to get canonised by the Catholic Church - even today they require two miracles at the person-to-be-canonised's intercession, as evidence that they are in heaven. This is the ultimate Catholic accolade, kids. Remember these people are at the summit of the practice of virtue & have not resisted the grace of God. These people must therefore say something about the Catholic church's idea of what constitutes virtue & the nature of what they believe to be the grace of God. The catechism again:

'The grace of Christ is the gratuitous gift that God makes to us of his own life, infused by the Holy Spirit into our soul to heal it of sin and to sanctify it. It is the sanctifying or deifying grace received in Baptism. It is in us the source of the work of sanctification[.]' (Paragraph 1999 http://www.vatican.va/archive/ccc_css/archive/catechism/p3s1c3a2.htm)

It is therefore the making holy work of God - it isn't that different from the way in which witches work in a less-defined separation of divine & human so that we cross over & interact with each other. So obviously we're talking one really holy God-like man here. What's wrong with this picture is the evidence is mounting up thick & fast that he could have intervened to prevent clerical child abuse but didn't (http://ncronline.org/news/accountability/records-show-john-paul-ii-could-have-intervened-abuse-crisis-didnt). By canonising him the church is clearly saying that the sanctifying grace of God enables the believer to be holy, which means not preventing abuse & covering it up. Even as I write this I feel physically sick - the man thoroughly deserves the title of Turd. No doubt it is not holy to consider omens & portents, but the suggestions that their God is well pissed off are heaping up - obviously since they're not bothered by child abuse they're not going to worry that they're supposed to believe in one seriously assertive God who has the power to fry for eternity. JP2 appeared in the flames of a bonfire, a crucifix erected to commemorate his visit collapsed, killing a pilgrim there. His relics were prevented from entering the basilica at Lourdes by flash flooding, & he allegedly appeared to a dying cancer patient telling him not to waste his time praying to him (See http://www.traditio.com/comment/com1405.htm - the strange terms used are because this is a sedevacantist website who think the present pope isn't pope, etc. I will admit to choosing some fairly anti sources for this information, but a search for 'Pope John Paul abuse' reveals the rest of the world remains unimpressed). The seriousness of the matter aside, this is a seriously bad publicity move, although given the size of the expected crowds, an interesting example of the willingness of people to be duped.

Of course this is a witchcraft blog, & questions of power, survival & being a target (I refuse to allow the v-word to pass my lips) are at the heart of witchcraft. My will for targets of abuse is that it will empower them to turn it on its head & become the person who says 'Enough'. This is what is meant by Aradia coming to give the power of poisoning great princes in their palaces to the poor - it is the power to end their oppression. Personally I don't want these people dead - I want them confronted by their actions & unable to escape. Their hiding places must be poisoned for them so that they can't go to them. The remainer of this post is a repost of the open letter from the Survivors' Network of Those Abused by Priests (SNAP):

Our hearts ache for each of you who were abused during and after John Paul II's long tenure as Pope. We know these days are difficult, even painful, for many of you, given the awful suffering so many still experience, suffering that is often made worse as the Catholic�hierarchy praises wrongdoers instead of punishing them.

Our hearts also ache for all of you who tried to protect children from clergy predators during John Paul II's tenure, yet were met with cold indifference or open hostility.

John Paul II is revered by many across the world, but as you know, during his rule, great harm was committed which endures to this day. At best, he turned a blind eye to clergy sexual crimes and cover-ups. At worst, he perpetuated and approved them. For him to now be given the highest honor in the church rubs even more salt into the already deep and still fresh wounds of thousands of struggling victims and millions of betrayed Catholics and victims.�

For all of you who are upset because of this callous sainthood decision and celebration, we want you to know that you are not alone, that you can heal, and that real justice, prevention and recovery � no matter how depressed or pessimistic you may feel right now � is possible.

While John Paul�s sainthood will soon be history, the courage and strength and perseverance of you and your brothers and sisters in this movement for children's safety is ongoing. That's where our hope lies.

There is no better example of courage and strength and perseverance than the dozens of brave Maciel survivors. Their persistence eventually exposed the world's most notorious predator priest. Survivors across the globe should take note: it's a long, tough battle, but by persisting, we CAN achieve what Maciel's victims have achieved � letting millions learn about child molesting clerics and their corrupt church supervisors. The eventual outcome of their lengthy ordeal proves our contention that for clergy sex abuse victims, justice, prevention and healing ARE possible. �

These men are an inspiring example - among thousands of similar examples - of survivors making life-saving changes. Years ago, all of us were alone, now we're not. Years ago, few of our predators were "outed" now many are. Years ago, few people knew the scope of the abuse and cover-up scandal. Now millions are. Years ago, few people believed that allegedly holy, celibate and trusted clergy were capable of heinous crimes and cover ups. Now millions are.

So we beg you to keep protecting kids by speaking up, exposing wrongdoers, calling police. We beg you to keep healing yourself so that the cycle of violence is broken by and with each one of us. We're extraordinarily grateful for all that you have done and are doing to prevent crimes, expose cover ups and demand justice.

Together, despite the horrific things we have seen and suffered, there are practical, proven steps we can take, and that thousands of victims are taking, to better protect the vulnerable and heal the wounded.

To each of the hundreds of thousands of clergy sex abuse victims, witnesses, and whistleblowers across the globe, we pledge that for the safety of children we will never give up. Despite horrific pain and continued setbacks, we know you won�t either.

(http://www.snapnetwork.org/open_letter_to_victims_witnesses_whistleblowers_on_eve_of_jpii_sainthood_from_snap)

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Weird Shit: 'Christian' Witch Hunters

These are the statistics for country of origin of visits to this blog in the past week: 74 hits from the United States, 20 from France, 13 from the United Kingdom, and 12 from Nigeria (the owner of the blog can see this information on the blogger dashboard). It is unusual for France to score this highly; normally the UK, USA & Nigeria are at least in first or second. What is interesting is it is very rare for a hit from another African country - certainly there have been none this week.

I have been wondering 'Why Nigeria' for some time. I tended to assume that it was some fundamentalist Christian who was praying for my salvation. I then thought perhaps it was someone wanting to read up about magic, I mean I'll deny it with every last breath in my body, but I would be gratified if I ended up unwittingly starting a 'tradition'. Who knows, the person or people in Nigeria reading this blog could even be 'witch hunters' of the sort that there have been calls to ban from Britain, because they only preach hate & child abuse (http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/call-to-ban-witch-hunter-helen-ukpabio-who-poses-risk-to-children-9259872.html).

In a way, I really hope that is the case. Any loony fringe 'Christian' is welcome here (note the exclamation marks - it's extraordinary but I've met few witches who were genuinely off their head, but loads of 'Christians' who were - you can tell real Christians by their firm Christ-like love, rather than causing or covering up abuse or hysterical ramblings). No, genuinely welcome. Witchcraft is a service industry, & if those dangerous 'witch' hunters (in fact psychopathic victim hunters) are on my blog looking for evidence of a satanic conspiracy to enslave children, hopefully those children are free from their attentions. If nothing else that is a service to those children in danger, in the names of she who says, 'You will be free from slavery'.

This is actually largely the point of our use of the word 'witch', a word which has so many conflicting meanings, historically many of them negative, that it would seem counterproductive. In fact it is part of the inversion motif of the modern witchcraft movement - we take on a name almost entirely 'bad' & make it 'good'. I'm using inverted commas because any witch worth her salt is not seeking to deny the bad (we are not 'white light-ers') but to balance. We seek both half empty & half full at the same time.

Ironic, really, that the very thing these witch hunters are seeking out, is against their abuse, in the name of childrens' safety. So here is a little spell: it is at the end of this post, because the action of reading this post causes witch hunters to fall into their own harm & be unable to harm anyone else.

You who would seek to hunt 'witches' - the judgement of the witch is upon you. It is so.

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Urban Grimoire: How Tintin Found Me & What I Did To Him When He Found Me (Almost)

I have commented at length on the - to say the least - unusual associations that one develops as a witch. This is more traditionally viewed in the literature of the modern witchcraft movement than I will delineate it here, but surely the kind of experiences I am going to describe here are almost definitive of the ability to 'tell the maze & cross the Lethe'. I don't really think the kind of experiences the older-school writers - Gardner, Valiente, Cochrane - describe are materially different from the scene in Grant Morrison's Invisibles where the Invisibles invoke John Lennon as a god. The permeable, indistinct line between humanity & divinity that we find in witchcraft is merely turned into a screen that can be placed at will in chaos magic.

Thoughts are things, & it has recently been my experience that cartoon characters in addition to pop stars can take on a life of their own. Herge depicted Tintin standing over him with a whip, & he has certainly made a remarkable entry into the lives of me & a friend recently. He must be an incredibly strong egregore, becuase it's not like we really did anything to invoke him, except try to see the Tintin film at the cinema. As it happens we'd missed it. My personal love of Tintin came relatively late, in my teens - much younger Snowy annoyed me by talking. Then when I went to France, the Tintin thing just seemed to fall into place for me. In film terms my preference is for the two non-canonical films made in the 1960s, with Jean-Pierre Talbot as Tintin. He has the particular French accent that I like the best to listen to - also being Belgian I imagine Tintin sounding like that himself. I have since seen the Spielburg film on DVD & am glad I didn't see it then as - what an incredible misjudgement - I am not impressed with Captain Haddock being Scottish. I can only presume Tintin isn't either, & is keen to protect us from this misinterpretation of his friend, because he now just keeps popping up.

The first was the actual day we went to see the film: disappointed, we went to a pub. His manifestation was in the shape of the barman - I'll grant you that Tintin-style hair is in fashion, but it's really unnecessary to wear tan trousers & a light blue jumper. We were frankly incredulous that we were sitting there looking at Tintin, & kept looking for the little white dog.

Then we met another two men in a short space of time who both bore a passing resemblance to Tintin - not as close as he who has become known as the original Tintin, but within spitting distance. One of them was quite attractive strangely - not interested needless to say but it made me realise there's a whole world of Tintin slash fiction hidden down the back of t'internet (tint'internet?), in addition to the endless speculation about Tintin's sexuality & whether he & Haddock are lovers. I feel myself that of course this is to read our post-1960s hyper-sexualised thinking onto an earlier world.

Then it happened. A friend fell in love with someone. After some months of her crush, she didn't find out his real name but found out his nickname. She hasn't even seen his hair, because he happens to wear a hat every time she sees him. I'll bet you anything you like it's ginger & sticks up at the front, but I won't insult my readership by saying what his nickname actually turned out to be...

The upshot is that since she's unwittingly found herself a Tintin, we're going to get a Haddock for me. The strange thing was that after we merely talked about this I went out on the town & actually hooked up with a man who bore a passing resemblance to my ideal Haddock - I'm developing a serious respect for the sheer power of the Tintin egregore. Actually I thought he was straight at first, the only thing wrong with him is he's got a high voice, but twenty years of pipe smoking would make him nice & gruff. As it happens I'm not going to get the chance to prove this & so have found a little incantation to get me a Captain Haddock of my own. Were you wondering when the urban grimoire element of this post was going to appear? Here it is, I would urge all magical people to chant this together at least daily, visualising me with this huge bluff bearded hunk of man:

'Mille millions de mille milliards de mille sabords de tonnerre de Brest.'

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Ghost Walk round Birmingham

This is the clearest image I have seen of light anomalies caught on film. These huge orbs are obvious evidence of supernatural activity.

This evening a walk round the haunted sites of Birmingham city centre, with the group I go to on a Tuesday evening.

We started off at the Wellington on Bristol Street, which unbeknown to us is rumoured to have about five ghosts, one of whom tidies up. Then via Hurst Street to the Old Rep, then the Alex. This bit was interrupted by reminiscences of the olf Midland Red bus station there, with its associated cottage. I had no idea that New Street station is rumoured to have so many ghosts, mainly of people who have died in variously tragic circumstances.

Whatever you do, don't live in Brindley Place or the general environs of Broad Street: this area is plagued by unhappy spirits, mainly seen on Friday & Saturday nights. Actually they are poltergeists, notorious for their apports of vomit on the pavement.

A funny thing happens when you do something as a group in a city, you attract other people. There were only four of us, for heaven's sake, but we still managed to attract two other people interested in doing a ghost walk!

I have mixed feelings about the Trocadero. The instant we got in the back room one of my companions felt he could sense Henry, but I had the slight problem that the last time I sat at that same table with another friend my dad wandered through. This evening I sensed absolutely nothing of the rumoured supernatural personages, including Henry, but will admit that the room felt colder in places. It was also interesting that everyone in the pub was at the front of the building, when on paper the room we were in was more attractive.

I brought up the subject of Borley Rectory at one point, in which I was once a passionate believer, but am now of the opinion that there is certainly something weird about the place but also a lot of hype. You only sense these things in moments when you're receptive & for me that always means alone. I have never sensed a ghost that I had already been told was there.

Oh, we were lucky in having a marvellous guide, who should certainly do it professionally: if he can cope with the audience he had tonight he can cope with anyone.

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Weird shit: Sedevacantist Catholicism

The illustration is a cuff belonging to Pope Pius XII. Now there was a man who knew how to dress for church.

This was going to be one of my weird shit posts, about the Holy Prepuce, but I see that speaking or writing about it is now punishable by excommunication & I can't risk that! In fact it would seem very similar to my post at St Valentine's about the number of St Valentine's heads, which Jesus seems to have trumped by having something like thirteen foreskins at one point.

I have posted repeatedly on here about the abuse scandal in the Catholic Church; amongst the reasons I think can be adduced for it is that these people plainly do not believe their own religion. I have a lot of time for orthodox (I.e. Right-teaching) Christians. I expect them not to accept me, & similarly I would expect real Christians not to protect child abusers.

What is not trumpeted so loudly is that there are a number of faithful Catholics, who while they are Catholics themselves, essentially take exactly the same position as I've just taken on paedophile-protecting clerics, amongst other issues, that they are not the real thing at all. Take, for example, this reporting of the Anglican-Rite liturgy recently approved for Anglican Ordinariate Catholics:

'Francis-Bergoglio's New Order sect has rolled out a new version of the Novus Ordo Protestant-Masonic-Pagan service, this one based directly upon the invalid service of Thomas Cranmer, Heretic Archbishop of Canterbury, who colluded with English King Henry VIII in the imposition of an invalid Protestant service on the English Catholic people and in the murder of St. Thomas More, Catholic Chancellor of England.

'The newly-approved invalid rite, used for the first time on October 11, 2013, contains sections of the Protestant Church of England service. Originally fabricated for use by Benedict-Ratzinger's "ordinariate" for Anglicans, Newmonsignor Andrew Burnham, a senior cleric in the ordinariate at the inaugural Novissima Ordo service, admitted that something that was until now "merely Anglican" had become part of the Newchurch of the New Order. The inaugural Mess was accompanied by music in the English vulgar tongue. This "ordinariate" was similar to the one proposed for Bernie Fellay and his Neo-SSPX.

'The new invalid and heretical service was given the Novus Ordo seal of approval by Newvatican's Congregation for the Doctrine of the [Non-Catholic] Faith and the Congregation for [New Order] Divine Worship and fully approved by Newchurch. Newmonsignor Burnham specifically praised the Arch-heretic, who composed the Protestant Book of Common Prayer to replace the Roman Missal. After the accession of the Catholic Queen Mary, Cranmer was finally put on trial for treason and heresy and, after several cowardly vacillations and recantations, was hismelf executed after the fashion of St. Thomas More, whose execution he helped engineer just a few decades before.' (http://www.traditio.com/comment/com1310.htm)

The sometimes strange phrasing (mess means Mass & newchurch means what most people would recognise as the Catholic church) is because this is written from a sedevacantist point of view. I can't do better in defining sedevacantism than wikipedia:

'Sedevacantism is the position, held by a minority of Traditionalist Catholics,[1][2] that the present occupant of the papal see is not truly pope and that, for lack of a valid pope, the see has been vacant since the death of Pope Pius XII in 1958.

[...]

'Sedevacantism owes its origins to the rejection of the theological and disciplinary changes implemented following the Second Vatican Council (1962�65).[8] Sedevacantists reject this Council, on the basis of its documents on ecumenism and religious liberty, among others, which they see as contradicting the traditional teachings of the Catholic Church and as denying the unique mission of Catholicism as the one true religion, outside of which there is no salvation.[citation needed] They also say that new disciplinary norms, such as the Mass of Paul VI, promulgated on April 3, 1969, undermine or conflict with the historical Catholic faith and are deemed heresies.[9] They conclude, on the basis of their rejection of the revised Mass rite and of postconciliar Church teaching as false, that the popes involved are false also.[1]

[...]

'Traditionalist Catholics other than sedevacantists recognize as legitimate the line of Popes leading to Pope Francis.[11] Some of them hold that one or more of the most recent popes have held and taught unorthodox beliefs, but do not go so far as to say that they have been formal heretics or have been widely and publicly judged to be heretics. Sedevacantists, on the other hand, claim that the infallible Magisterium of the Catholic Church could not have decreed the changes made in the name of the Second Vatican Council, and conclude that those who issued these changes could not have been acting with the authority of the Catholic Church.[12] Accordingly, they hold that Pope Paul VI and his successors left the true Catholic Church and thus lost legitimate authority in the Church. A formal heretic, they say, cannot be the Catholic pope.[13]

'Sedevacantists defend their position using numerous arguments, including that particular provisions of canon law prevent a heretic from being elected or remaining as pope. Paul IV's 1559 bull, Cum ex apostolatus officio, stipulated that a heretic cannot be elected pope, while Canon 188.4 of the 1917 Code of Canon Law provides that a cleric who publicly defects from the Catholic faith automatically loses any office he had held in the Church.' (http://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sedevacantism)

Now of course it will immediately be obvious that this is bang up my street. This is exactly the sort of thing I love. It's also not difficult to work out who my sympathies are with, since the opposing argument to that of the sedevacantists' always boils down to: ubi papa, ibi ecclesia - the pope would always have to be the locus for the church. I have a terrible confession to make, that I'm a bit of a closet Thomist, that is I loooove the theology of Thomas Aquinas. And here is the thing about real traditional Catholics - they have been nourished by the true greatness of the Catholic faith. This is why for centuries Catholicism was the religion of the intelligentsia: Thomism is such a satisfying system. Also because we Witches are not a missionary religion we can forget the sense of urgency that Christians get because they are. I am posting this as weird shit (because it is) but the protagonists are deadly serious about what is at stake. The sedevacantist position again:

'Communion in the Catholic Church is always based first upon unity in the Catholic and Apostolic Faith.  That is why, in the history of the Church, we see not only popes but also bishops, priests, and laypeople refusing to be in communion with those who no longer have, or are suspected of no longer having, the immemorial Catholic Faith transmitted by the Apostles.

'Indeed, the pope has "the fullness of power over all the churches" (St. Bernard, Epistulae 131), but this power is limited to confirming and defending the faith of Peter, not for altering it or encouraging those who would alter it.  This is the limit, set from on high and proclaimed dogmatically by the First Vatican Council (Pastor Aeternus, cap. 4):  "For the Holy Ghost was promised to the successors of Peter not so that they might, by His revelation, make known some new doctrine, but that, by His assistance, they might religiously guard and faithfully expound the revelation or Deposit of Faith transmitted by the Apostles."' (http://traditio.com/tradlib/faq09.txt)

In fact for traditional Catholics these matters are important because they depend on Vincent of Lerins's test of what actually is Catholic:

'Moreover, in the Catholic Church itself, all possible care must be taken, that we hold that faith which has been believed everywhere, always, by all. For that is truly and in the strictest sense Catholic, which, as the name itself and the reason of the thing declare, comprehends all universally. This rule we shall observe if we follow universality, antiquity, consent. We shall follow universality if we confess that one faith to be true, which the whole Church throughout the world confesses; antiquity, if we in no wise depart from those interpretations which it is manifest were notoriously held by our holy ancestors and fathers; consent, in like manner, if in antiquity itself we adhere to the consentient definitions and determinations of all, or at the least of almost all priests and doctors.

'What then will a Catholic Christian do, if a small portion of the Church have cut itself off from the communion of the universal faith? What, surely, but prefer the soundness of the whole body to the unsoundness of a pestilent and corrupt member? What, if some novel contagion seek to infect not merely an insignificant portion of the Church, but the whole? Then it will be his care to cleave to antiquity, which at this day cannot possibly be seduced by any fraud of novelty.

'But what, if in antiquity itself there be found error on the part of two or three men, or at any rate of a city or even of a province? Then it will be his care by all means, to prefer the decrees, if such there be, of an ancient General Council to the rashness and ignorance of a few. But what, if some error should spring up on which no such decree is found to bear? Then he must collate and consult and interrogate the opinions of the ancients, of those, namely, who, though living in various times and places, yet continuing in the communion and faith of the one Catholic Church, stand forth acknowledged and approved authorities: and whatsoever he shall ascertain to have been held, written, taught, not by one or two of these only, but by all, equally, with one consent, openly, frequently, persistently, that he must understand that he himself also is to believe without any doubt or hesitation.' (http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3506.htm)

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The reputedly haunted Queen's Arms

Yesterday I had a gathering with another witch. We ate at the new Lost & Found bar - overpriced & trying way too hard but the food was nice, even though it wasn't very obvious that there was gin in my cocktail. Having spent time playing houses in House of Fraser we ended up in the Queen's Arms on Newhall Street.
I like the jewellery quarter, although I think I liked it better before the return of people to live there. Prior to that it had a strange Avengers-esque feel of almost abandonment.
The Queen's Arms is reputed to be haunted by a bottom-pinching ghost (http://metro.co.uk/2012/04/17/ghostbusters-called-in-to-investigate-bum-pinching-ghoul-392085/) which was what made me want to go there in the first place. I pictured a sort of ethereal Leslie Phillips or Terry Thomas ('Ding dong!'), but I really don't think it is haunted. It certainly doesn't need any publicity either, being packed out, which could also explain the bottom-pinching.
Rather the evening was an interesting lesson in how much simpler non-sexual relationships were. My friend, a woman, & I are obviously not having sex & get on perfectly well but it seemed literally everyone else in the pub was in the throes & pains of some passion.
There was a woman who clearly only wanted the man she was with to take her home & ravish her, which he was clearly going to do but was doing it in his own good time.
There was the gay man with a straight male friend, who also only clearly wanted to be ravished, but the straight friend apparently couldn't even see this, let alone do it.
There was the young lad visibly bursting to get off with the girl he was with, who clearly wanted to but was giving him mixed messages & he didn't seem able to move it forward. It transpired he was just trying his luck with her while they were waiting for a group of friends. Clearly a bounder, & exactly the sort of spirit I expected to find there.
There was a mean & moody-looking man on his own, although we couldn't decide whether that explained his look. In case you read this: yes, we were talking about you & there was no need to be alone, either of us would happily have solved that for you!
I'm not sure what the moral is, but doesn't it become so much more complicated when sex is involved? Perhaps that's the actual source of the ghost: an underlying atmosphere of conflicting passions!
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Weird shit: St Valentine

To mark Valentine's Day (a scrummy romp to all you lovers out there), one of my occasional weird shit postings, this time on the subject of the relics of the Saint himself. Those in the stalls will already know that the relics Roman Catholics have are authenticated by the Church, to prove they're the real thing. You would think they'd keep a not of what they've agreed to so that the situation that's arisen with St Valentine doesn't keep occurring. There are at least three full bodies of St Valentine venerated by the - somewhat credulous - faithful.
In keeping with the Hedge theme of this blog there's one right here in Birmingham:

Cardinal Newman who brought the body of St Valentine back from Rome where he found it in a catacombe but had difficulties with customs. At Verona they wanted to open the box containing the relics and at the Custom House it was recorded as a "mummy". It appears they wanted to charge duty on it. It is now found in a shrine at the Birmingham Oratory. At least it is genuine.There are it seems two other "bodies" claiming the name of Valentine enshrined. One is in the Carmelite Church in Dublin sent as a gift from Pope Gregory 16th in 1835 while a trip to Glasgow and a visit to the Church of Blessed Duns Scotus you will discover Valentine No 3 this time the gift of a French family in 1868.
(Source)

 The picture is of his altar in the Birmingham Oratory. This also accounts for the body in Glasgow. It can come as no surprise that families could give his bodies away, & surely customs officials must be used to him being carted through by priests. There is a contradictory story about the relics in Dublin, which is what makes me think more than one body has been authenticated, since it resembles the Newman story in having the ring of simple truth:

Saint Valentine was a priest in ancient Rome, executed in the third century for performing Christian marriages, and buried there. But in 1835 an Irish Carmelite priest, John Spratt, so impressed and charmed Pope Gregory XVI that he was allowed to take Saint Valentine's remains home as a gift for his home parish.
(Source)

He seems to have a body in Athens as well:

After the martyrdom some Christians salvaged the body of the Saint and put a bit of his blood in a vile. The body of the martyr was moved and buried in the Catacombs of St. Priscilla, a burial place of most of the martyrs. Over the years somehow he was "forgotten" since almost every day there were buried in these catacombs new martyrs for several decades. The memory of Valentine's martyrdom however remained robust, particularly in the local Church of Rome. Officially the memory of St. Valentine was established in 496 by Pope St. Gelasius. Fifteen centuries pass and we arrive at 1815, at which time the divine intention was to "disturb" the eternal repose of the Saint. Then the relics were donated by the Pope to a gentle Italian priest (according to the custom of the time). After this the relics are "lost" again until 1907 where we find them in Mytilene in the Roman Catholic Church of Our Lady. It seems that after the death of the priest that a descendant of his had inherited the relics who had migrated to Mytilene, which was then a thriving community of West-European Catholic Christians. There they remained until 1990 when they were moved to Athens in the Church of Saints Francis and Clara's Italian community, where they are today.
(Source)

He also has a skull in Madrid. Despite all this one of his heads appears never to have left Rome since the picture of a skull is his head in the church of Santa Maria in Cosmodin. On the other hand he seems to have been everywhere & been careless enough to leave parts of his skull in Chelmno in Poland.
The long & the short of this? It's got nothing to do with religion, it's a racket pandering to people's worries & loneliness.
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Can't begin to think of a title for this

I can't believe anyone gave that pub that name! And it's on Powke Road. I may pop in for a shampoo & set later.

Overheard in a charity shop in Blackheath today:
'Can yow measure a shower curtin? Ah dow know how.'
'Ah dow know either.'
'Moyne's 200 by 200.'
[How can you manage not to know how to measure something when you know it needs to be square?]
'So that's 200 metres by 200 metres. I'll get the tape measure & see.'
That's some shower.
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