The Cliffs of Jesus

Not content with finding the Virgin Mary in a tree stump, they’ve now found Jesus in the Cliffs of Moher.

I kid you not.  According to an Irish Central report, an American visitor, Sandra Clifford, 42, claims to have seen the face of Jesus on the sheer rock wall.  Sandra’s picture shows a rock formation that, viewed from a certain angle, resembles a bearded man’s face.

Obviously, anything that looks like a bearded man must be Jesus.  It couldn’t be, for example, Charlie Manson, could it?

Or even George Harrison?


How about Rasputin?

Not even Jimmy Cliff.

Nope.  It has to be Jesus.  We know what he looks like from the 2,000 year-old photographs taken by the police at his trial.  And anyway, we have the testimony of Teresa O’Flaherty, who owns a local bar.  According to Irish Central,  Teresa describes her reaction to the picture thus:  I was like, wow.  This is a very common West Clare expression.  I’m like, so totally, wow?

Ms Clifford claims to be a sceptic and therefore tested her observation by showing the picture to some German men, who nodded, as you would when some maniac is screaming at you on the edge of a cliff.  But the absolutely conclusive evidence comes when you find out that she showed it to a young Asian girl who replied, inscrutably, Oh yeah, that’s cool.

Rock solid evidence, so to speak.

Jesus isn’t fussy about where he appears.  He once appeared on a dog’s arse, and that’s because he wants to speak to all of us in a way we’ll understand.

The apparition on the cliffs is there so that American pilots will spot it.  Yes, that’s right.  I did say “pilot”.  This woman flies aircraft, which, to me, is perhaps the most worrying part of the whole thing.  What’s going to happen if the seer is at the controls of your flight?

Look!  There’s Jesus in a cloud!  Down there!  Jesus in a field.  See?  Jesus in the ocean!  I have an idea.  Let’s all go to Jesus.

Excellent.  Can we please have the name of the airline Sandra works for?

(Personally, I think it’s Bjorn Borg).


All posts on apparitions


Some more random bearded men.


Medjugorje Visionary in Dublin

You know you’re definitely back in the 80s when the statues start moving, the sun begins to spin, people worship a tree stump and some con-artist turns up claiming to see the Virgin Mary.

Vicka Mijatovic was one of the photogenic children selected by the Franciscan monks in the Bosnian town of Medjugorje when their monastery was in danger of being closed by Rome because of the scams and criminality they were involved in.

What better way to save the business than to have the Virgin Mary show up?  And not only to save the business, but to bring endless floods of cash into the town.  The money-machine is so lucrative that Medjugorje was spared the horrors of the war in Bosnia, when local commanders of all three factions, Bosniak, Croat and Serb agreed to keep the peace there.  And why wouldn’t they, when they and the crooked monks were pocketing gigantic amounts of cash spent by the gullible Irish and others who swallowed the bullshit whole?  We’re good at swallowing bullshit here in Ireland, as a cursory glance over the last two or three years will show you.

We’re also good at ignoring historical reality, such as the involvement these same Franciscan friars had with the murderous Ustasha regime.  One of it’s most illustrious members was Father Petar Brzica, who, as a guard in the infamous Jasenovac concentration camp, boasted that he had killed the largest number of newly-arrived prisoners, using a knife. He claimed 1,360 killings but others have estimated that he personally murdered no more than 1,100 people.

The climate of the monastery in Medjugorje is one of extreme Catholic nationalism. It’s saintly friars were closely allied to the Croat forces who carried out a mass murder of more than 500 Serbs in a nearby town, and its grounds were used as a test area for rocket launchers sold by a local arms dealer.

Vicka Mijatovic is in Dublin because the Irish can’t afford to fly to Bosnia-Herzegovina any more and receipts are down.  The best thing to do is come here and see how much she can scam out of the true believers in spinning suns and Holy-Marys appearing in a cloud of smoke.

Poof!!  I’m the Virgin Mary.  Kneel down!!

Is it really you, Virgin Mary?

Do you doubt me? Shut your face or I’ll turn you into a frog in a blender and I’ll fuckin whizz you.

Sorry, Virgin Mary.

So you fuckin should be.  Where’s Jesus?


I came to say Hello to the ungrateful bastard.  He never phones.  Never emails.  After all I did for him, making dinners, polishing his sandals, sewing his loin-cloths.

And that, according to Vicka, was the start of it.  Every day now, at exactly the same time, like clockwork, the BVM turns up to say hello to Jesus.  It happens at precisely 4:40 pm Irish time. I don’t know why she can’t say hello to him where they live, up there in Heaven.  Perhaps he’s moved in with Vicka, which doesn’t say a great amount for his judgement, considering what happened to him last time he visited.  I don’t know if Mary adjusts the time of visits when the clock goes forward.

Vicka Mijatovic, Visionary

When she isn’t saying hello to Jesus, Mary is predicting tsunamis, pestilence, plagues of locusts, and fairly bad weather on the day of the match. Sometimes she predicts the result of a horse-race, but she’s not great on the Champions League.  Sometimes she just drops in for a nice cup of tea.

Howya Vicka.  Jesus, the feet are killing me.  Throw on the kettle there, would ya? I brought a nice box of communion wafers for us.

Vicka came to Ireland with the message that pain is a gift grom God.

We need to pray and thank God for this gift, for this pain, for this sorrow and pray to God for the strength to carry on with this gift, she told an adoring audience of whip-carrying sado-masochists, and in one spontaneous gesture of faith, the entire congregation tore off their gimp masks and roared Praise the Lord!

Isn’t faith a marvellous thing?


Bomb Threat In Lourdes

Who do you reckon was behind the Lourdes bomb scare?

I suppose it could have been Richard Dawkins, except he’d have made a bomb that worked.

It could have been ETA, finally getting sense and having a go at something worth blowing up.  Or PETA, getting militant and trying to wipe out 30,000 spiritual carnivores for eating the body of Christ.  The problem is, you can’t really make much of a bomb out of tofu.

For my money, though, the evidence points to a turf war, which means only one thing: the killer monks of Medjugorje, operators of the newest and most successful vision scam, who managed to keep their money-making operation going right through the vicious Yugoslavian civil war. Obviously, with the downturn in the world economy, people aren’t travelling as much, so the only answer is to take out the opposition, and these guys are good at that.  After all, they managed to outmanoeuvre their local bishop who wanted to close them down, and they managed to work profitably with all factions in the war, Croat, Bosnian and Serb.

Of course, it might have been the Venerable Keepers of the Rathkeale Stump, accepting no substitutes and laying down a marker as the custodians of the One True Our Lady.  Carpet bombing, so to speak.

Finally, it could have been the Blessed Virgin herself, sick and tired of all the bullshit, who finally turned to Satanism and decided to possess Joe Coleman.

Get over there to France, Joe, and blow up them feckers like a good lad, while I open a can and light up a spliff.



Blessed Virgins Popping Up Everywhere

The Power of Prayer


Virgin Mary Goes on the Net

I see Joe Coleman is back again, predicting apparitions of his favourite demi-god, the Virgin Mary, who was due to appear yesterday.

This time, however, the Knock Shrine people told him to get stuffed, so poor Joe had to kneel outside the church and grin at the sky with  his eyes closed.  Sensible old Joe.   Unlike the crowd of knackers he enticed to Mayo last time, Joe knows the sun blinds you.

He issued this appeal  to his followers, and not without good reason, considering the behaviour of the gang of pikeys he attracted the last time:

I would urge everyone who attends tomorrow to please show respect for the Knock Shrine and the people who run it. Not only in terms of the way people behave, including litter management, noise, and keeping safe at all times but I would also urge people to dress appropriately.

That, translated, means no boob-tubes, no mini-skirts, no stilettoes, no changing babies and throwing the shitty things on the ground, no getting drunk, no screaming your favourite Celine Dion songs in the church.  In fact, trying not to behave like the crowd of pikeys you are.

Joe says that he received yet another message from the virgin Mary, but if you want to see it, you’ll have to read it on his website.  I think this might be due to copyright issues with the BVM’s agents.  Apparently, IMRO have been calling on people who spoke the messages out loud, demanding royalties.

There you have it.  The virgin Mary has decided to abandon the old people and speak exclusively through the internet, probably because the young ‘uns have lost the faith.  There’s going to be a lot of stuff cooming down the line.  Already, the people at Apple have produced a BVM app for the iPhone.  iBelieve.

In addition, especially for Joe and his followers, there will be a number of other apps.  i’mAFuckingEejit.  iSwallowAnyOldShit and i’MBlind.

Joe’s grasp of theology is somewhat tenuous.  I don’t know if the Blessed Virgin actually designed his website or just provided consultancy, but even the most rabid Catholic Marian-cultist doesn’t claim that the BVM is divine.  Yet here we have on Joe’s celestial website, a section called Divine Messages.

Now look.  I’m not a believer, but I know a bit about Catholic teaching, and they do not say that Mary is a god.

What could this be?  Is it just a mistake, or is the BVM planning a takeover using Joe as a stalking horse?  Is that it?

Maybe the Virgin Mary isn’t so innocent after all.  It seems to me that the old girl has already started to think like the real boss:

I am sad for my priests at the Holy Shrine of Knock. You must inform my people to pray for them on Tuesday 11 May next. You must request that my Most Holy Rosary be said for all my priests at Knock.

Get that?  My priests?  My priests!

I think Joe is actually a Bond-movie henchman and I think this could make the best Bond movie of all time, as the Virgin Mary tries to take over the world and overthrow God.  From Galilee With Love.

If Bond isn’t interested, I’ll have to take on the fight myself.  I can’t wait to hear the Virgin Mary saying Very clever Mr Bock, but not clever enough, mwoohahaha, as she sits in a swivel chair stroking her pet.



The rise of the idiot classes

Knock apparition

Virgin discovered in Rathkeale

Knock Virgin Mary Appparition

Favourites Religion

Jedi Virgin Mary Appears In Limerick And Becomes a Protestant

You have to love this stuff.  You really do.

Here’s the latest in the travels of the BVM,  fresh from blinding people in Knock having previously lived for a while in a tree stump in Rathkeale.

The strange thing about this one is the fact that St Mary’s is an Anglican cathedral, and normally they don’t do apparitions.  I can only guess that the poor girl is so pissed off with the RC bishops, she decided to join the Church of Ireland.  If you look  closely, you’ll notice she also became a Jedi knight, thus combining two great traditions.


More from the BVM here


Virgin Mary Attacks and Blinds Pilgrims

It turns out that the Virgin Mary isn’t such a pushover after all.

According to reports from eye-surgeons, there has been a huge increase in the incidence of eye-damage among people who went to Knock to see apparitions of the  Holy Mother in the sky.

University Hospital Galway has already seen five cases of burnt-out retinas directly as a result of the Knock apparitions, when normally they wouldn’t even see one a year, and this is only one of many hospitals treating people blinded at Knock by the Virgin Mary.

Staring at the sun, it turns out, isn’t good for you.

Who knew?

True believers haven’t yet explained what message the Holy Mother was sending to the world by blinding so many people, but I have to tell you, I’m starting to like the Virgin Mary, who clearly has as little time for idiots as I do.

Take that, you bastard!  Zap!

My kind of demigod.

I like it.



The rise of the idiot classes

Knock apparition

Virgin discovered in Rathkeale

Favourites Religion

Knock Virgin Mary Apparition

They’re at it again.

Just when we thought the Holy Tree Stump had faded away, there’s a big crowd of mumbling gobshites standing out in a field in Knock staring at the sun.

Staring at the sun.  And these people expect to be taken seriously.  What do they do when they’re not praying to the sun – do they stand in a field pointing at aeroplanes?  Do they hold vigils for condemned prisoners?  Does their family tree branch?

Get up there, John-Joe and have a good long stare at the sun.  Burn out your little retinas, why don’t you?  That’s a great lad.  Now what do you see?

I see flashin’ lights Mama.

Well, that’ll be the Blessed Holy Virgin, Our Lady of the Tree Stump, up there in the sky like a great big holy chair-o-plane, whirlin’ around just the same as at the seaside.  Can ya see that?

No, Mama.  All I can see is flashin’ lights, an’ I’m not even lookin’ at the sky no more.  I has my jumper over my head Mama. There’s flashin’ lights in here too Mama.

Ah well, that’ll be Our Blessed Lady ticklin’ yer brain, John-Joe.  It’s the Miracle of the Brain-Ticklin’ Virgin.

There’s no end to it, is there?

All these fucking idiots staring at the sky, making themselves blind, burning out their video cameras and calling it an apparition.  There are better ways to go blind.

Did you hear this astral plank, Joe Coleman, who calls himself a clairvoyant?  Worse, Joe is described as a clairvoyant by our national broadcaster RTÉ without the slightest irony.  A broadcaster that has no difficulty accepting as fact the existence of clairvoyants and other charlatans. The same broadcaster in this secular society whose news presenters  refer casually to an entity known as Our Lady.

Joe is the guy who recalled I was in hospital having an operation – I broke my ankle – and I died under anaesthetic. I left my body and I went to heaven, where I saw my father who had passed away, and my son, and Our Lady and Jesus and Archangel Michael.

Ah, right, Joe.  Well, look, just leave your number and we’ll keep it on file.  Thanks.

Joe is whipping up the frenzy by predicting appearances of the Blessed Light-Refraction.  Joe, incidentally, charges requests a voluntary €60 donation for a reading where he tells you a load of things he saw when he visited your astral plane and spoke to your guardian angel.  Readings last about an hour, which isn’t bad, is it?  €60 an hour for talking shite to people who want to believe you.

If I took up that line of work, I estimate I could make about €350,000 a year  just by talking shite 16 hours a day, but Joe occasionally takes a break from talking shite, and just talks plain nonsense instead, as he did when he told the Mayo News : I have seen her twice in recent months in the Gable chapel at Knock. The statue comes alive, she opens her arms, a lovely pink cloak comes around her, there are stars above her head, she turned into Jesus, then to Padre Pio and then back to herself. While the vision is happening, I can see nothing else in the chapel.

So the statue comes alive, does it?  And it turns into Jesus?  And then it turns into Padre Pio, with an option on Mother Teresa and a selection of Popes including a Coptic one.

Animation3Great.  It’s worse than we thought, Cap’n.  We used to have moving statues, and crying statues, but now we have shape-shifters.  What next – will the statue turn into a chest-burster? Or a Terminator?

You put your left leg in.  Your left leg out.

Where is this going to stop?  Will it turn into fucking Bono singing a selection of Johnny Cash favourites?  Or maybe it will become Brian O’Driscoll and dive over the line for a great last-minute try.  Or Usain Bolt.  Maybe it will turn into Usain Bolt and race around the church, with one hand holding its robes around its waist, in three seconds flat.  The Miracle of the Holy Hundred Metres.  Jesus, that was rough, says the statue as it slowly morphs into Bob Marley, chilling with a spliff.  The Miracle of the Blessed Doobie.

I hear Louis Walsh’s people are negotiating with the Virgin Mary about a European tour, and it’s rumoured that she’s going to appear as a guest panellist on the X-Factor, but that’s not confirmed yet, given her other commitments.

As her spokesman, Padre Pio, commented, You can’t be in two places at once. Well, all right, I can, but you know what I mean.

Actually, Pio is only half right, but he doesn’t speak for all the Our Ladies – only Our Lady of Knock.  We also have to remember Our Lady of Lourdes, Our Lady of Fatima, Our Lady of Guadelupe, Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, Our Lady of Czestochowa, Our Lady of The Roses, Our Lady of Siluva, Our Lady of Sorrows, Our Lady of Medjugorje.  Our Lady of Weight Loss.

Jesus, they’re like the Nolan Sisters. I’m in the mood for trancing …

Imagine if they all turned up at the same time, demanding separate dressing rooms and limos.  Booking them all for a gig would cost a fortune though and anyway, one of them is enough for a good show.  Our Lady of the Declining Balance.

For fucksake, what’s wrong with these people?

Staring at the sun.  You know what?  I’m going to call myself a clairvoyant like Joe Coleman, and I’m going to tell them you’ll see the Virgin Mary if you eat forty magic mushrooms, fried with bacon and eggs, and a nice bit of toast.  The Miracle of the Fungal Fry-Up.

Give me strength!  For once, I find myself entirely in agreement with an archbishop, Michael Neary, who said This is a load of bollocks, or words to that effect.

I was passing through Knock a few years ago on the way to Donegal and I stopped for a look at the basilica, and the thousands of stalls selling little Virgin Mary statues and underwear and kinky stuff.

I thought maybe they might miracle up an old apparition or something.

Do you know what I reckon they have in the Basilica, now that I think about it? I’d say they have a Stargate. I’d say they go to planets with names like P5C-768 where they meet and converse with new and interesting people. And kill them.

In real life, the SG-1 team are constantly finding themselves in caves where fuckers pop up out of tables and stone walls and the like to deliver some sort of Hail Stranger speech, and after a while they realise it’s a hologram put there by the Ancients, or some other crowd. So I think these people who saw the Virgin Mary were either

1. Very drunk
2. Very stoned
3. Both of the above
4. Members of SG-1.

I have to admit, I wasn’t entirely up to speed on the Knock story, and I had to look up the details, so let me just bring you up to date, in case maybe you’re a little hazy on the subject, like me. The apparition took place on the evening of August 21, 1879. Two women, going home in the rain, passed by the back of the town church, where, against the wall, stood Mary, St. Joseph, St. John the Evangelist, and an altar with a lamb and a cross on it. The women called more people who all saw various things. One boy even saw angels flying around the altar. Interestingly, the figures didn’t speak to the people, gave no message, and didn’t identify themselves.

Here’s the photo the villagers took:

Knock shrine

OK. Where are we going here? This kind of thing happens in just about every Irish town in the middle of the night to an increasing number of people. It’s happened to me. Twenty years ago I saw the Red Army’s tanks hiding behind a ditch after a wedding. I saw bouncers in the disco made of wax! I saw nuclear fallout on the pavement outside the chip-shop.

What I’m trying to say is, don’t tell me hallucination, already. I KNOW hallucination!! What I don’t know, however, is how the fuck anyone could identify St John the Evangelist. Did they have his  passport photograph?

Look Mary – there’s an apparition at the back wall of the church.

– Well, Mary, so it is. And that beautiful European-looking woman in the blue rig-out must be the Queen of Heaven.

– It must surely, Mary. And that European-looking fellow with the spokeshave and the gimlet must surely be St Joseph.

– That’s right, Mary, and look at the lovely coffee table he’s making. But who’s the other European-looking chap?

– Oh, Mary, don’t you know by the gimp of him he has to be someone important. ‘Twouldn’t surprise me if he was the man who wrote the very Bible itself.

– Do you mean deValera, Mary?

– No, Mary. He isn’t born yet.  I’d say ’tis the beloved apostle himself. And can’t you see ’tis tattooed on his forehead for all the faithful to behold? Saint John the Evangelist, it says, clear as day.

– Well, Mary, isn’t that a caution, entirely?

‘- Tis, Mary. Run up to the pub now and call down all the people till they get a good look at this. Its like won’t be here again.

– That’s a grand European-looking goat they have up there on that European-looking altar, Mary.

– Oh, Mary, that’s a little European-looking lamb, what ails you at all at all?

Experts have pointed out that Knock is so important because it’s the only place the Lamb of God has appeared to ignorant peasants.  Normally, when ignorant peasants or hysterical children witness something, it’s a woman who just happens to look exactly like a figure in a stylised picture on their kitchen wall, but not this time.

No indeed. This time, the ignorant peasants in a century without public lighting, in a downpour of rain, saw a fucking sheep.  The Sheep of God.  It’s just as well they didn’t see the Hounds of God, or the Cattle of God.  We’d never hear the end of it, though now that I reflect, we don’t ever hear the end of it anyway.

Look.  It’s the Duck of God!


As I said at the time, fuck it, let’s leave Knock behind where it belongs.  Good luck to them if they think they’ll find a miracle cure there. I spoke to a man that year who fought back against a major illness, and he didn’t need to see Saint John the Evangelist. He only needed to see his son achieving wonders on the field of sport, and feel as proud as a man can be.

So what exactly is a miracle, and since when did the Catholics take it over?

Actually, let’s take that a step further.

Are these people Catholics, or are they obeying the primitive urges of a deeper, atavistic, cave-dwelling superstition?  Are they reverting to a primal form?

It’s not that I’m defending Catholicism.  It’s just that, by any standards, what we’re witnessing in Knock is primitive idolatry, and a kind of behaviour that the same people would sneer at if they saw it on National Geographic.

We’re looking at pure superstition here, stripped of all trappings of theology and it just goes to prove that the caveman is never far below the surface.

These fuckers will believe anything.

Cowen and Lenihan must be delighted.


I shot my own video of the sun and uploaded it as a miracle to Youtube  HERE.

The abuse has started already.  Check out the comments.


Also: The Rise of the Idiots


Ballyhaunis Blogs


Rathkeale Stump — Limerick Trees Respond


Virgin Discovered in Rathkeale


Whack-a-Mary — A Game For All the Blessed Virgins Popping Up Around the World

With the Virgin Mary popping up all over the place these days, Bock was starting to get worried.

Jesus, Geek, he said, they’re everywhere.  Medugorje.  Fatima.  Lourdes.  Knock.  And now the latest thing is the Virgin Mary appearing in a fucking Rathkeale tree stump.  I don’t like it, I tell you.  You can’t turn around without another Virgin Mary jumping up and biting you on the arse.

Bock can get very excited sometimes.

Calm down, I tried to tell him.  Calm down there Boss and toughen.

Bock was having none of it.

What the fuck are you talkin about? he screamed at me.  Don’t you realise this is going to make us all rich, and that mostly means you.


You, he shouted. Get down to our vast  underground workshop and develop a game suitable for Virgin Marys popping up everywhere.  Don’t come back till you have it.

That was why I spent the next week working on my latest project, the Whack-A-Mary, appearing soon at a carnival near you.

The Coin operated Arcade Version

Bock is a generous employer and he paid me handsomely for my work, but not richly enough for my other invention.  I’m going to sell this out of the back of a van.  The Whack-A-Mary USB version. You can play it on the netbook next  time you’re on a plane.  I think it’s going to be huge.

The USB Desktop Version of the new game

Favourites Religion

Virgin Discovered in Rathkeale — Our Lady of the Tree Stump

You know the recession is definitely here when they’re praying to a tree.

A tree, for fucksake. They’re all out praying to a fucking tree.

Somebody cut down a tree in the church grounds and another gobshite said Look! It’s the Virgin fucking Mary! so now, all the travellers in Rathkeale are flocking to the Holy Tree Stump, praying to Our Lady of the Growth Rings.

our lady of the tree stump

Not only that, but 2,000 fools have signed a petition to prevent the tree stump from being uprooted. Meanwhile, the local priest has urged people to be calm.

It’s only a tree, says Father Willie Russell. You can’t worship a tree.

As a man who worships a biscuit, Father Willie seemed unaware of the irony in this statement. Meanwhile, his bishop warned against superstition, also apparently unaware of the irony, given that he himself believes God has a mother, that a man can rise from the dead, and that he can wave his hands and turn a biscuit into Jesus.

There won’t be a tree safe in the whole of Limerick once the Pavees get chopping. They’ll be out in the markets selling pieces of the One True Tree. They’ll be telling you this is where Saint Patrick planted his personal relic of the True Cross, and this is where it sprouted Holy Mary’s Shrub.

D’ya want a piece of the Virgin’s Bush, Boss? It’ll keep your gutters clean and it can tarmac your drive. Go on. I’ll say a prayer for ya. It’s from a virgin forest.

We’re back in the silly season, I’m afraid. Back in the land of moving statues and crying Baby Jesi. Apparitions everywhere you look.

On dogs’ arseholes.


On slices of toast.

There was even a Virgin Mary on the cover of Playboy’s Mexican edition.


Whatever next? I ask myself.

But then I stop, and remind myself that I’m not immune from believing insane things either. For instance, I once believed that bankers were sober, conservative, essentially honest people, and now look at us!

If I was prepared to swallow that, I’m hardly qualified to laugh at a bunch of Pavees worshipping a fuckin old tree stump, now am I?




Already we’re getting pingbacks of the This could only happen in Ireland variety.

Give me fucking strength!

Medugorje isn’t in Ireland, and neither is Lourdes, or Fatima, nor the lunatic American bible belt.


Elsewhere, a suggestion that the apparition might not be what it seems


Also on Bock:

Limerick Trees Issue Statement


Knock Virgin Mary Apparition