Militant atheists

Gosh, all these prominent public figures lining up to defend Christianity against "militant atheists" and "militant secularists" who according to them are putting the very existence of Christianity in doubt.

They're kidding, right? They don't really mean that Vatican City, thousands of churches, thousands of faith schools and millions of Holy Bibles are going to vanish overnight in a puff of smoke? And that the evil atheists can achieve this simply by saying "I don't believe in God"?

Well, not exactly that. An atheist got a court ruling that prayers before a council meeting were illegal. That's all it took to get one of the most powerful religions on earth quaking in its boots and predicting Doomsday.

Not only that, but uncovering a huge unsuspected conspiracy of militant atheists and non-believers, rattling their sceptical sabres and loading their cynical shotguns.

Well, holy haddock, I've never been remotely militant about my atheism. I've just quietly pooh-poohed the idea of a supreme being for most of my 65 years, ever since I realised what a chaotic mess the world was in.

But now suddenly I feel inadequate. I'm letting the side down, not pulling my weight. All those militant atheists out there, working their arses off, and all I'm doing is not believing in God. Pathetic, isn't it? Utterly shameful.

I should be doing my fair share. Burning prayer books. Assaulting vicars. Blowing up churches. There's so much to organise. It's a daunting task, but with so much militancy out there, I'm sure we can manage it. Onward non-Christian soldiers!

The crack of doom

I really do wonder how outwardly sensible, rational people could have believed the absurd Doomsday prophecies of some 89-year-old Bible-basher from Oakland, California.

A belief so passionate that some of them spent their life savings, sold their homes and gave up their jobs to publicise the prophecy and prepare for imminent Armageddon at 6pm on May 21.

Could they seriously have expected that on the appointed day they would be wafted up to heaven in a state of rapture while non-believers were wiped out and sent to hell by the wrath of God?

What were these devotees taking? Some potent hallucinogenic? Or were they just so desperate for someone to give their lives a meaning they latched on to the strident certainties of this grey-haired old nutter and his bizarre mathematical calculations?

Were they not aware of the umpteen Doomsday prophecies that have sunk like a stone while everyday life continues unaffected? Did it not occur to them that the avuncular Harold Camping was getting an impressive income out of his loopy prophecies, prophecies no more credible than the trite ramblings of the local palm-reader?

Had it not struck them that if God wanted to end the world, He or She would probably do it whenever the impulse arose and not at some deadline calculated by an elderly preacher in California?

It was painful to watch these misguided souls trying to reorient themselves after the witching hour came and went and absolutely nothing happened except a thousand more Big Macs and Chevrolets.

They were gob-smacked by the anti-climax, frantically groping for an explanation. Maybe it was another test from God to persevere in their faith? Maybe they misunderstood something? Maybe they were using the wrong calendar? Maybe they'd been swindled? No no, that last possibility was foul-mouthed blasphemy.

The omniscient Harold Camping was not on hand with the definitive explanation however. He went missing as soon as the Apocalypse went missing and hasn't been seen since. Perhaps he was the only one raptured up to heaven?

And if you think it's all just a hilarious con trick, think again. Lyn Benedetto from Antelope Valley, California, was arrested for attempted murder-suicide after slitting the throats and wrists of her two daughters, because she was convinced the world was ending.

PS: Mr Camping has re-emerged to say how embarrassed he is that he got it wrong, and that the correct date for Doomsday is in fact October 21. Sure, and ferrets can play chess.

Pic: Harold Camping

Here be aliens

The tiny village of Bugarach in southern France used to be a quiet, tranquil spot. Not any more. It's being overrun by UFO watchers who think extraterrestrials are living under the nearby mountain.

They think that come Doomsday on December 21, 2012 the aliens will emerge and take a handful of surviving humans to another planet. Naturally they want to be one of the lucky few.

Now the 189 locals, instead of enjoying calm country walks, are being confronted by New Agers meditating and praying, taking courses in mysticism and planting sacred objects on the mountainside.

The visitors are also buying up houses at inflated prices the villagers themselves can't afford. They want to be first in the queue when the rescue craft flee Armageddon.

It's amazing how an utterly dotty idea, tossed out by some nutcase in an obscure corner of cyberspace or the media, is taken up by thousands of people to become a bona fide belief that displaces sober reality.

One man claims he "heard the humming of their spacecraft under the mountain." There again, it might just have been an acute case of tinnitus. Or too many recreational drugs. Or the local choir rehearsing.

Perhaps the villagers should invent some stories of their own to take the heat off Bugarach. Extraterrestrials in Bugarach? Whatever gave you that idea? No no, they all live at Campradón, 50 miles to the south. Mind you, I heard they'd already gone back to Planet Zog, they thought Doomsday was too scary.

If you repeat a bit of gobbledegook often enough, people will start to believe it, however outlandish or nonsensical. Didn't you know the moon is made of green cheese? I had a piece the other day, totally delicious, like camembert with a hint of toenail and a trace of woodworm....

Pic: The mayor of Bugarach, Jean-Pierre Delord, on the outskirts of the village