Father Michael Seeds is one of those many catholic priests who have spent too much time with the high and mighty and too little with the poor and needy. It is therefore hardly surprising that his little stories involve a spate of names dropping packed into mostly amusing little anecdotes involving the recognisable power brokers of the realm. And quite obviously, power corrupts.

He manages to show up the sheer lunacy of religious people quite well when relating to the dying days of Cardinal Hume. Basil Hume when announcing his coming death due to terminal cancer received the answer: ‘Congratulations! That’s brilliant news. I wish I was coming with you.’ from the Abbot of Ampleforth. But as ecumenical advisor to the cardinals at Westminster, lunacy is the least of his problems. Eccentrics, hobgoblins, and sleazes abound in his tales.

There was one Ann Widdecombe who made a major publicity stunt out of her conversion to Catholicism by hiding paparazzi in the crypt. She topped that feat by organising an exorcism at the Home Office to rid the rooms of the evil aura of Michael Howard, who had ‘something of the night’ about him, after he left office.

Tony Blair was more circumspect with his sneaking conversion, demanding of Seed to enter through one of the ground floor windows at No 10 to read mass to the Blairs in corpore.  Alan Clark treated him as his personal priest, telling him that after having talked to God he now felt completely at ease; then showing him his collection of Nazi memorabilia.

Mother Theresa of Calcutta would descend upon London and demand a 30 room mansion for her down-and-outs; and would get it; as Hume said: ‘She always wants things and I always give them to her.’ Hume himself is described by him as childish, petulant and immature, throwing tantrums when missing a football match due to his duties. And driving past No 10 he would shout ‘Maggie out!’ But Hume was known to never give anybody any lifts: ‘My car is not a taxi.’ So, how does Seed know this?

There are numerous funny stories in between the plain names dropping, so the book is quite a good and amusing read. All of it obviously has to be taken with a pinch of salt, to put it mildly. Or as my grand-mother used to say: ‘Si non è vero, è ben trovato.’ (If it is not the truth, at least it’s well invented.)

More power broking:

Blair Affair Nightmare

Blair Affair, The Lies Continue