Monday, 11 February 2013

My Grandmother Was a Pope

I mention this because she was ('twas her family name) and the job of Pope appears to be going, and I thought, as the granddaughter of a Pope I might apply.

Several things could preclude my application. They are:

a) I am not a Catholic, but I am thinking that in this world of equality, this shouldn't matter.

b) I am a girlie, although this didn't stop Pope Joan. If you don't know the story of Pope Joan, she was a girlie, too, who, by various acts of fate i.e she was mistaken for a boy, was made Pope, and wasn't discovered to be non-Pope material aka a girlie until she gave birth to a baby boy during a ceremonial procession, which was a bit of a giveaway (the giving birth, not the taking part in a procession). And to stop such mistakes recurring, the papal throne had a hole drilled in the seat so officials could peep up the Pope's robes to check his tackle was all present and correct in a sausage and meatballs kind of way. It doesn't sound like very seemly behaviour to me. There will be no such malarkey if I get to be Pope. People will know I am a girlie because I shall make cakes and cuddle a kitten.

c) I can't speak Latin. But then who does these days?

d) I can't wear white. Ever since my hair lost its colour, white makes me look washed out. Perhaps the Papal robes can be changed to a nice burgundy maybe. Or purple. Or turquoise for the summer. But not green or yellow. Unless I am to look like a daffodil.

e) I don't do hats. I have a tried to do hats, but hats and I don't get on. My head is too wrong for hats. I remember going on a hat shopping trip with my sister years ago. We went into a department store - I was around 18, she was around 13, and we scooted around the hat department taking hats off stands and trying them on, and then putting them back on the stands. And hot on our heels was a shop assistant who made a point of rearranging the hats we had just tried on by moving them literally half an inch from the position from where we had replaced them on their stands. We cottoned on pretty quickly to her fussing and stalking malarkey and finished our trip by just moving the hats without even TRYING THEM ON! Such renegades!

f) I might cause a few ructions by endorsing birth control.

g) Incense makes me cough. I'd use a lavender bags.

That's all I think. So shall I apply? Hmmmm....I'll need to find out the salary, of course, and make sure I get Sundays off, but other than that I think it'd be a great job. God would like a female Pope.

I know she would.




2 comments:

rusty duck said...

The chickens might not want to go...

Denise said...

Well, I have to say, Jessica, that in a Denise versus Chicken wrestling contest, I generally come off better, so they won't have any choice.

The only chicken that could out-wrestle me was a mad Speckledy we had called Mrs Slocombe, who would, regularly go for my ankles. Gone to chicken heaven now, bless her,where no doubt she is terrorising all previous Popes, including my grandmother.