Two years ago this week the philosopher Alain de Botton unveiled his proposals for a giant gilded tower in central London at which atheists such as himself could indulge in a spot of self-worship. This edifice was to be 46 metres tall and a line of gold at the top would pick out the years on earth at which creatures almost as brilliant as Alain, i.e. human beings, have been kicking around. He wanted his tower to have majesty and mystery, ‘like you get from looking at Ely Cathedral’, and added: ‘You should feel small, but not in an intimidated way.’
I don’t know if this monumental Tower of Arse has got the go-ahead, or how long it will be after it is built before God smashes it in half and scatters its smug worshippers to the four corners of the earth, as detailed in the Sibylline oracles. Alain’s proposals were criticised by the High Priest of British Atheism, Richard Dawkins, causing a schism in their church from which they have yet to recover. De Botton’s suggestion that one should not feel intimidated by a temple built to himself reminded me a little of Dawkins’s rewriting of the Ten Commandments. Gone was all that tiresome thou-shalt-not stuff, and in its place we had encomiums on living a good life — get out a bit, see lots of people, make sure you put your rubbish in the correct recycling bags etc — the sort of thing you might find on a leaflet in the foyer of your local council, a leaflet for which you have paid good money through the council tax and which is unsurpassable in its irrelevance and presumption. Alain wouldn’t want you to feel intimidated by his fatuous tower, Richard doesn’t want you to be intimidated by his uncommanding commandments.

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