These Boots Are Made For Satan.

I'm a gout guy. Yep, one of those dudes who has gout and keeps banging on about it. I've had gout in my big toe (standard), I've had gout in my hand (painful and lasted for fucking ages), and I've had gout, most recently, in my knee (painful but, luckily, fleeting). It's not nice. It's a condition that men fall foul of more than women but some women do get it. Women who have had gout and given birth have reported gout to be roughly as painful as child birth.

And you don't even get a cute baby at the end of it. Plus you can get gout a lot of times. The average amount of times a gout sufferer will have a gout attack is considerably more than 2.4. Thanks to the brilliant NHS staff at King's, and a daily dosage of allopurinol, it's now - mostly - under control but should I have suffered a gout attack in the 14th century there'd have been no allopurinol and there'd have been no NHS.

I may have found myself, especially if I lived in or near Buckinghamshire, visiting a certain John Schorn in North Marston because it is said he had a cure for gout. A cure for gout, it seems, that he'd channeled from God. Last night's London Fortean Society talk, John Schorn:the Rector Who Conjured the Devil Into A Boot, with archaeologist Wayne Perkins at The Bell in Whitechapel was all about Schorn, or Schorne - the spelling varies, his life, and his legacy.

It was quite a long talk and when you consider that not that much is known about Schorn that seems quite risky. Luckily, Perkins was an engaging and compelling speaker, his manner reminded me a little of Stewart Lee, and even when he went off an incredibly lengthy diversion about boots, shoes, and shoe lore he still managed to take most of the, admittedly modestly sized, audience with him.

Schorn was the rector of St Mary's Church in the Buckinghamshire village of North Marston. Studies that Perkins and others have made in and around the church have shown that, before Henry VIII's dissolution of the monasteries in the 1530s, this church would have been very in to superstition and fairy tales. Which, to be honest, is all religion is anyway. That and suppression.

Almost perfectly formed circles engraved into the south facing door were made in the church so that sunlight would seep in to the building at various times of days. Which, before any of us wore watches, was a good way of telling the time and making sure that the various masses took place when they were supposed to.

Schorn, supposedly both a pious and learned man who liked to dress all in red, seemed to lead something of a cult in one of the chapels of the church. It was more ornately decorated than the rest of the church. If you're a fan of Catholic tat you'll know the kind of thing. Best of all, there was a small alcove at ground level in which gout sufferers could poke their foot and be miraculously cured.

I'm a tad cynical about that and my suspicions about Schorn's powers were only heightened when I discovered he'd also claimed to be able to heel toothache and that he could make water appear at will just by banging his staff on the ground. There was a drought at the time so that would have been very useful. The fact that the water produced had miraculous healing powers, of course it did, would not have been sniffed at either.

But Schorn's biggest claim to fame is that, somehow, he managed to conjure the devil himself into a boot. It's not clear how he actually did that but there are plenty of images from the time and the following decades and centuries which show an almost jovial little Satan, sometimes with wings but sometimes not, poking his head out of the boot.

It's even said that Schorn's devil in a boot was the inspiration for the jack-in-a-box children's toy. Following Schorn's death it seems the miracles didn't stop happening. A skeptical view would be that the church needed money and that pilgrimage sites meant pilgrims which meant money. But plenty did believe and many pilgrims travelled from far and wide to visit St Mary's Church and be healed by the ghost of John Schorn.

After the shrine of Thomas a Becket in Canterbury and Our Lady of Walsingham in Norfolk, North Marston became the third most visited pilgrimage site in the whole country. Pubs in the area were opened and many of them were called either The Devil or The Boot. One was even called The Devil In The Boot Inn. The village water pump, to this day, has a carved devil that pops his head up when it fills up with water.

That's him at the top of this blog. Cheeky little chappie, isn't he? Despite never being canonised, Schorn came to be regarded as a saint. A popular, or populist, saint if you will. In the years following his death his remains were moved to St George's Chapel, Windsor and Henry VIII is said to have made a pilgrimage to visit him there.

Schorn was in exalted company in Windsor. Henry VIII himself ended up there as did many other monarchs (Charles I, Henry IV, Edward IV, Edward VII, George III, George IV, and William IV) and various other royal spouses and hangers-on. Elizabeth II is in there now but, alas, Schorn won't get to 'meet' her because at some point room was needed for a more celebrated grave and Schorn, as some "long-forgotten" country vicar, was moved out.

But, to some, Schorn is anything but long forgotten. Admittedly I'd never heard of him until the LFS announced this talk but with the help of imagery from the likes of Jan Brueghel the Elder and Nicolas Poussin, Wayne Perkins was able to bring John Schorn, or Schorne, to life for a couple of hours last night. Although looking at the state of the world now it seems the devil escaped that boot a long time ago.

Thanks to Wayne Perkins and thanks to the London Fortean Society for another fun evening. Thanks also to Dewi, Jade, Paula, and Tim for the devilish company although no thanks to Dewi for asking me to buy him a pint of Fruli strawberry beer which cost an eye watering £7.95! I did - and he can take it as a St David's Day gift. The devil, it seems, is in the details.