THE FORM BOOK SUGGESTED THAT A FIELD DAY would be had by those who wished to diss Pope Benedict XVI; a gruff, grumbling, intellectual, stand-offish leader surrounded by a general staff of brass-hearts, one of whom had likened England to a “third world country” on the night before arrival (not, in fact, in England – but some ignorant foreigners call the whole nation England, when not ‘London’).
THUS AND AS PERMITTED OUR KNOXISTS and Wesleyans may have dusted off their kilts and beards, waxed their knees and perhaps even brushed their teeth to be prepared to repeat the howling at the Pope as was dished out to the Catholic sovereigns afore their banning from Scottish field, furrow, plain and strand. Benedict, the general feeling went, would crumple under the weight of the importance of this visit.
YET OUR NOW FAVOURITE GERMAN has surpassed anything ever seen by the dour Scots on St Ninian’s day. Pope Benedict waltzed smoothly into British life in his Edinburgh reception, he toned down his accent, went on walkabout without protection, spoke in Alban and kissed babies. The effect of all this, preceded by apologies made onboard as he flew into Scots skies about the fact that he was unable to stop or even report widespread buggery between and among priests, raping of choir-boys and young girls, child abuse on a scale never seen in any civilised society since Rome under Nero, was endearing. What a wonderful man. And what a lovely mass in Bellahouston. Now what will the papers say?
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