THIS COLUMN GETS filed on a Thursday afternoon. A Thursday afternoon, okay?

So when Elon Musk decides to explode his relationship with Donald Trump over the President’s landmark legislation and takes to Twitter to accuse Trump of being “in the Epstein files”, it raises many profoundly troubling questions. 

What does it mean when the world’s richest man implicates the world’s most powerful man in a sex crime investigation? How has the world come to this? Couldn’t you guys have done this on Wednesday?

It is impossible to ignore the unprecedented feud that has emerged between these erstwhile besties on Thursday night, which saw Trump threaten to cut the government subsidies relied on by Musk’s companies, SpaceX and Tesla. Musk fired back by threatening to decommission the SpaceX Dragon craft, which the US relies on to supply the International Space Station. Longtime Trump associate Steve Bannon took it even further still by publicly calling for the Trump administration to investigate Musk’s immigration status.

There is certainly a catharsis in watching two of the world’s most detestable men tear strips off each other. It is especially satisfying in this instance, where both parties have so much capacity to humiliate and undermine the other. Tesla stock is down 19% in the past five days, and Donald Trump has now made an enemy of a man whose businesses are pivotal to key US infrastructure. Who knew that the rules about dancing with the devil still apply even if you’re a devil yourself?

And of course, we must all do what we can to keep the devil at bay…

Why, just this week, the organisers of Mayo Pride apologised after a certain cohort took issue with a photo posted on the Mayo Pride Facebook page, depicting the well-known religious figure dressed in the pink, white and blue of the trans pride flag, and wearing drag makeup. The artist’s name for the creation was ‘The Child of Drag,’ and as the author of a weekly column titled ‘Surrealing in the Years,’ I empathise keenly with doing something just because you thought of a really good name for it. 

Image of the artwork, created by a local artist, which was posted by the event.

The last time there was this much talk about the Child of Prague, he had just featured in a 2019 episode of Derry Girls, suffering the indignity of decapitation, having his head glued back on, and being described by one character as a “creepy wee fucker”. 

In the years that followed, the disfigured Child of Prague from the show was put on display at the Derry Girls Experience at the Tower Museum in Derry, where it can still be seen now. At no point were there any protests, formal apologies, or condemnation from sitting TDs. How times have changed.

This time around, the picture of the figurine was removed from social media after it received a barrage of abuse, shortly before Independent Ireland TD Ken O’Flynn weighed in on the matter. “This isn’t about being conservative or reactionary. It’s about recognising that symbols of faith matter. They are not just artistic props,” he said, calling the depiction “insensitive”. 

The protection of traditions and symbols from even the most mild subversion is, by definition, a conservative position, and this was as mild as mild gets. So they changed the colours of his vestments. So what? Have you seen what he looks like the rest of the time? Virtually every Child of Prague figurine I’ve ever seen looks like what would happen if all of the Elfs on the Shelfs got together and elected a Pope. Like if a witch turned an archbishop into a Thunderbird. There’s also very little way of getting around it: calling it ‘the Child of Prague’ absolutely makes it sound like there was a version of the Baby Jesus who was based out of the Czech Republic. 

Perhaps the weirdest thing about the original Child of Prague is the same problem inherent to almost all popular depictions of Christ. That issue is, of course, the decision to depict a Middle Eastern historical figure as a Scandinavian cherub. If anything, the elevation of idols like the Child of Prague is the real evidence that Christianity has been prop-ified.

An organisation called the Irish Society for Christian Civilisation organised what they called ‘Rosary Rally’ to take place in Westport in response, arguing that “public sins need public reparation,” which is the kind of thing guys say on stag-dos and 12 Pubs when someone spills a drink or something. 

An online crowdfunding page set up by the society asked like-minded individuals to donate to the rally in various suggested amounts. €18 to cover one meal for a volunteer, for example, or €26 to cover… two meals for a volunteer, which a) doesn’t add up and b) if I donate €26 does the same volunteer get two meals before any of the other volunteers get one?

One Facebook comment advertising the Rosary Rally referred to the “indecent use of the statue of the Child of Prague by perverts”. A blog post about the rally argued that the statue had been “desecrated”. At the event itself, one of the speakers said: “Today, people have attempted to do what, even in Sodom and Gomorrah, was never attempted”. It’s starting to feel like this isn’t really about the figurine after all.

Are we to understand, after all, that the Christian Civilisation people would have been fine with the Pride parade had they simply left the Child of Prague out of it? Other pages on their website bear titles like: ‘Petition Dublin Archdiocese to Cancel Pro-Homosexual Choir Service’ and ‘Protest! Catholic Church Hosts “Ecumenical LGBT Prayer Service’”. It is precisely these attitudes which are being mocked when religious iconography is repurposed, as in the case of the Child of Drag.

In the end, Mayo Pride graciously apologised for the offence caused, noting that they had been in direct contact with members of the local religious community and expressing appreciation for the “respectful and thoughtful conversations” that were had. “They have, in true Christian spirit, fully accepted our apology,” the statement from Mayo Pride said of the local religious community with whom they engaged. Whether the organisers of the Rosary Rally were local is unclear, though it is perhaps worth noting that they were seeking a donation of €80 to pay for their diesel to get to Westport. 

Doubtlessly, there are many who despair at the iconoclasm that we must suffer at the behest of these sacrilegious times, but it is a small price to pay for the conveniences of the modern age. For example, this week Deliveroo announced a partnership with drone delivery service Manna to provide drone takeaways to the people of Dublin 15, where Manna has already been operating for over a year. 

Green Party leader Roderic O’Gorman called for an urgent meeting of authorities to discuss regulations around drone use for commercial deliveries. Certainly, there are legitimate concerns to be raised when it comes to handing over our addresses to remote-control robots that can just as easily be fitted with cameras, weapons, or whatever other dystopian fantasy you can conjure. 

It is comforting to know that Blanchardstown has not yet turned into a Terminator 2-style wasteland, but scale also seems like a problem. Is the intention to expand this scheme to other parts of Dublin, other parts of Ireland? Spicebags are good, sure, but if our reliance on the humble takeaway continues apace even as drones replace delivery drivers, we’ll soon have to adjust to the sun being blotted out every Sunday evening while drones buzz like enormous and abominable cicadas. 

And even if such a prospect doesn’t concern you, some of us are simply purists who believe that drones should be used for one purpose and one purpose only: to cause chaos at Dublin Airport. Anything else would really just be sacrilege.