Wednesday, 31 October 2007

Very Amusing For Gilbert & Sullivan Fans...

I am very tired today... however, a quick glance at the blogosphere revealed a very amusing parody over at the Curt Jester's place...


"I am the very model of a RomanCatholicWomanpriest™
I have no valid sacramental ordination in the least
I celebrate Diversity supremely superficially
Conjoining L-G-B-T couples controversially

"I’m very well acquainted, too, with Eco-Cycle-Mania
I generate more laughter than O-BER-on and Titania
I feel a Call To Action is required by the Spirit, now
As far as Modern Norms of Civil DisobediENCE Allow

"As far as Modern Norms of Civil DisobediENCE Allow
As far as Modern Norms of Civil DisobediENCE Allow
As far as Modern Norms of Civil DisobediENCE allow-alLOW-ALLOW-ALLOW-ALlow-allow"

You can read the rest (and it really is worth it!) HERE.

Then, no doubt to ensure my rapid demise through not being able to draw breath (I'm laughing too much), I saw this "Diet Prayer" over at Karen's place...

"Lord, My soul is ripped with riot
incited by my wicked diet.
'We Are What We Eat,' said a wise old man!
and, Lord, if that's true, I'm a garbage can.

"I want to rise on Judgment Day, that's plain!
but at my present weight, I'll need a crane.
So grant me strength, that I may not fall
into the clutches of cholesterol."

The fun continues HERE.

4 comments:

a thorn in the pew said...

I was a big G&S fan for years....that's darn funny.
Thanks for sharing.

Auricularius said...

Along the same lines. Here's one I made earlier ...


Summorum Pontificum

or

The Bishop of Portsmouth’s Nightmare

With apologies to W S Gilbert


When you’re studying hard,making notes by the yard, on the process of running the diocese

I conceive you may use any language you choose to describe your episcopal crisis

You’re merging your parishes and feel embarrassed to face what is glaringly obvious

That you can’t do without priests and basic esteem for the worth of the clerical office

So you try and believe that the work of the priest can be in the same way undertaken

By women and men, who might just as well then, not proceed through to their ordination

But the Pope disagrees, and that what is more, he is inclined to the Old Mass in Latin

You feel close to despair and that the time is now near for liberals to throw their hats in

You seek some relief in the form of a sleep, and its not long before you are dreaming

Of Justice and Peace on a lay-led retreat with Hans Küng and Romano Guardini

Then you find in your dream that you suddenly seem to be stuck on a ferry from Dover

You’ve a horrible fear that the end is now near, and that improvised liturgy’s over

And you turn up in France in the midst of this trance with the prospect of fine Gallic weather

And Bugnini is there, but he’s tearing his hair, and he now looks like Marcel Lefebvre

You seek consolation in ICEL translations of prayers in the Missale Romanum

But you find they’re not there and to your great despair you discover Summorum Pontificum

By now you’re quite dazed, then you’re simply amazed when you look up and see in the distance

That, with three mighty cheers, Richard Dawkins appears, and attempts to dispute your existence

You can’t stand any more and you fall to the floor in the hope of attaining nirvana

But instead things dissolve, and a stage now revolves, and you find yourself acting a drama

The drama includes scenes at Vatican II which take place on the set of Blue Peter

Vicky Cosstick is there as is Ratzinger, Blair, Martin Edwards, Bob Hope and Evita

And Valerie Singleton gets them to think that the Missal she’s made is fantastic,

Because its in English, with songs by Paul Inwood and covered in sticky-backed plastic.

Martin Edwards demurs, and Evita concurs, and suggests that the Missal’s inferior,

To a foxtrot that he danced at Oscott in front of a Premonstratensian superior.

At the mention of dance, Vicky Cosstick advances the theory that modern is better,

And proceeds to display a new pasa doblé with a chimpanzee in a biretta

You awake with a start, and you hope for your part, that the nightmare is finally over

But to your great dismay, it’s the start of the day and you really are sailing from Dover!

You realise at last that the modernist mask, has been torn from your face, and you know that your place in the Church of Pope Benedict isn’t so firmly fixed and that the future lies with those who realise that the transcendent should be pre-eminent, in Catholic Theology, and in the liturgy, and that the faith is no longer negotiable, not like you read in The Tablet. But the darkness has passed, and it’s daylight at last, and the night has been long – ditto, ditto my song – and thank goodness they’re both of them over!

Auricularius said...

Along the same lines. Here's one I made earlier ...


Summorum Pontificum

or

The Bishop of Portsmouth’s Nightmare

With apologies to W S Gilbert


When you’re studying hard,making notes by the yard, on the process of running the diocese

I conceive you may use any language you choose to describe your episcopal crisis

You’re merging your parishes and feel embarrassed to face what is glaringly obvious

That you can’t do without priests and basic esteem for the worth of the clerical office

So you try and believe that the work of the priest can be in the same way undertaken

By women and men, who might just as well then, not proceed through to their ordination

But the Pope disagrees, and that what is more, he is inclined to the Old Mass in Latin

You feel close to despair and that the time is now near for liberals to throw their hats in

You seek some relief in the form of a sleep, and its not long before you are dreaming

Of Justice and Peace on a lay-led retreat with Hans Küng and Romano Guardini

Then you find in your dream that you suddenly seem to be stuck on a ferry from Dover

You’ve a horrible fear that the end is now near, and that improvised liturgy’s over

And you turn up in France in the midst of this trance with the prospect of fine Gallic weather

And Bugnini is there, but he’s tearing his hair, and he now looks like Marcel Lefebvre

You seek consolation in ICEL translations of prayers in the Missale Romanum

But you find they’re not there and to your great despair you discover Summorum Pontificum

By now you’re quite dazed, then you’re simply amazed when you look up and see in the distance

That, with three mighty cheers, Richard Dawkins appears, and attempts to dispute your existence

You can’t stand any more and you fall to the floor in the hope of attaining nirvana

But instead things dissolve, and a stage now revolves, and you find yourself acting a drama

The drama includes scenes at Vatican II which take place on the set of Blue Peter

Vicky Cosstick is there as is Ratzinger, Blair, Martin Edwards, Bob Hope and Evita

And Valerie Singleton gets them to think that the Missal she’s made is fantastic,

Because its in English, with songs by Paul Inwood and covered in sticky-backed plastic.

Martin Edwards demurs, and Evita concurs, and suggests that the Missal’s inferior,

To a foxtrot that he danced at Oscott in front of a Premonstratensian superior.

At the mention of dance, Vicky Cosstick advances the theory that modern is better,

And proceeds to display a new pasa doblé with a chimpanzee in a biretta

You awake with a start, and you hope for your part, that the nightmare is finally over

But to your great dismay, it’s the start of the day and you really are sailing from Dover!

You realise at last that the modernist mask, has been torn from your face, and you know that your place in the Church of Pope Benedict isn’t so firmly fixed and that the future lies with those who realise that the transcendent should be pre-eminent, in Catholic Theology, and in the liturgy, and that the faith is no longer negotiable, not like you read in The Tablet. But the darkness has passed, and it’s daylight at last, and the night has been long – ditto, ditto my song – and thank goodness they’re both of them over!

Auricularius said...

Along the same lines. Here's one I made earlier ...


Summorum Pontificum

or

The Bishop of Portsmouth’s Nightmare

With apologies to W S Gilbert


When you’re studying hard,making notes by the yard, on the process of running the diocese

I conceive you may use any language you choose to describe your episcopal crisis

You’re merging your parishes and feel embarrassed to face what is glaringly obvious

That you can’t do without priests and basic esteem for the worth of the clerical office

So you try and believe that the work of the priest can be in the same way undertaken

By women and men, who might just as well then, not proceed through to their ordination

But the Pope disagrees, and that what is more, he is inclined to the Old Mass in Latin

You feel close to despair and that the time is now near for liberals to throw their hats in

You seek some relief in the form of a sleep, and its not long before you are dreaming

Of Justice and Peace on a lay-led retreat with Hans Küng and Romano Guardini

Then you find in your dream that you suddenly seem to be stuck on a ferry from Dover

You’ve a horrible fear that the end is now near, and that improvised liturgy’s over

And you turn up in France in the midst of this trance with the prospect of fine Gallic weather

And Bugnini is there, but he’s tearing his hair, and he now looks like Marcel Lefebvre

You seek consolation in ICEL translations of prayers in the Missale Romanum

But you find they’re not there and to your great despair you discover Summorum Pontificum

By now you’re quite dazed, then you’re simply amazed when you look up and see in the distance

That, with three mighty cheers, Richard Dawkins appears, and attempts to dispute your existence

You can’t stand any more and you fall to the floor in the hope of attaining nirvana

But instead things dissolve, and a stage now revolves, and you find yourself acting a drama

The drama includes scenes at Vatican II which take place on the set of Blue Peter

Vicky Cosstick is there as is Ratzinger, Blair, Martin Edwards, Bob Hope and Evita

And Valerie Singleton gets them to think that the Missal she’s made is fantastic,

Because its in English, with songs by Paul Inwood and covered in sticky-backed plastic.

Martin Edwards demurs, and Evita concurs, and suggests that the Missal’s inferior,

To a foxtrot that he danced at Oscott in front of a Premonstratensian superior.

At the mention of dance, Vicky Cosstick advances the theory that modern is better,

And proceeds to display a new pasa doblé with a chimpanzee in a biretta

You awake with a start, and you hope for your part, that the nightmare is finally over

But to your great dismay, it’s the start of the day and you really are sailing from Dover!

You realise at last that the modernist mask, has been torn from your face, and you know that your place in the Church of Pope Benedict isn’t so firmly fixed and that the future lies with those who realise that the transcendent should be pre-eminent, in Catholic Theology, and in the liturgy, and that the faith is no longer negotiable, not like you read in The Tablet. But the darkness has passed, and it’s daylight at last, and the night has been long – ditto, ditto my song – and thank goodness they’re both of them over!

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