Who says he doesn't smoke dope?

Not for the first time, I have to extend my sympathies to my non UK readers (a Mrs Trellis of North Wollongong) who have only had exposure to the information pouring from that veritable organ, The Telegraph, since the dawning of the electronic age. For over a hundred and fifty years readers of said organ have been able to absorb news from around, well, the Telegraph, as they break their fast each morning. Only those blessed with acute perspicacity are able to distinguish the current edition from the previous one, and, indeed, if the newsagent were to deliver a copy from 1873, then a mere handful of customers would notice.

It is this continuity that provided structure in the latter days of the empire, and leads to a feeling of contentment against a backdrop of a bewildering world in the breasts of the British gentry.

It is therefore strangely comforting to discover, due to the good graces of the writers of the Telegraph, that the current Pope, “Ratty” to his mates, does not indulge in a huge love of popular music. Apparently, he is also a Roman Catholic. I will return to this theme.

The article from which I learned these important lessons describes how Ratty, when he was a mere cardinal, attempted to intervene in a concert organised by the church in which the popular beat singer, Mr Robert Dylan, was due to perform. It appears that Ratty’s objection was not to Mr Dylan being “up himself”, which would have had some justification, but rather that he saw him as some sort of evangelical threat to the stability of the church. John Paul, on the other hand, adopted some of the words as performed by Mr Dylan as the basis of his sermon. Fortunately, or perhaps not, on this particular day Mr Dylan had chosen to perform “Blowin’ in the Wind” rather than “Lay, Lady, Lay” or “Positively 4^th Street”. I will desist from further comment on Mr Dylan as it upsets Mark so, and we can ill afford that.

What you have read so far is what the Telegraph would like you to believe. The head of the catholic church is a conservative, reactionary traditionalist with strong views about the need to keep things as they are. There is a lot to be said for keeping things as they are. This is the way God created the world, and woe betide anyone who queries the design.

However, I should let you know that in this report, as in many others, the Telegraph has crossed the boundary of accuracy, by some considerable distance. I telephoned Ratty this morning. He was a little annoyed that I called while “Wheel of Fortune” was on, but either because of his impeccable manners, or his desire not to lose me as an advisor, he managed to gloss over it. Within a few minutes we were chatting away and reminiscing about the many times that we spent together, prominent among which was the time that, high on mescaline, we tried to urinate on Leonard Cohen while he was singing “Suzanne” at the Isle of Wight festival in 1970. During our conversation, I was sure I could detect the beat to “Pinball Wizard” in the background. Ratty was famous for finishing mass with a very passable impersonation of Pete Townshend which would culminate in smashing a wooden guitar into the font. For several years I have been acting as an emissary to try to organise a tour for the Grateful Dead. It has been my ambition to have the pope as a replacement for Jerry Garcia, although we are both aware that God’s vicar on earth is not a sufficiently exalted position to fill that role. Things were going quite well, apart from the continued habit of drummers dying, and our not wanting to be seen to nominate someone for this apparently jinxed position. “No bastard would mind if we got Nancy Reagan to do it”, his holiness confided. I have my doubts however.

So, kids, you cannot, alas, believe all that you read in the media. While it may be some time before the church publicly embraces rock and roll, and we see Grace Slick appointed as Cardinal of San Francisco, do not be too surprised if the contents of your last confession feature in the lyrics on the new Kaiser Chiefs album.