Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Bosom of the Church

If this is how you behave after half a bottle of Chablis, I'm not going to take you out for lunch again

Well.  Who'd 'a thought it. Not in six hundred years has a Supreme Pontiff declined to die in harness like a worn out cart-horse. Instead he’s going to totter off to a nicely refurbished closed monastery for a bit to get his head together. And so very unexpectedly. Apparently, the august cardinal body which heard his pronouncement were 'flabbergasted'. I doubt there's a Latin word for that. After all the really bad press over priests interfering inappropriately with the young, plonking remarks about condoms and AIDS, eight ladies belonging to a feminist organisation and wearing long coats slipped into Notre Dame today to have their own little celebration that HH was gonna henceforth be known as Joe again. I was going to make a bad joke about Prince here, but perhaps I won't. On removing their coats, it was noticed by more than one observant supplicant that they were bare-breasted, their bosoms decorated with a number of slogans, written in quite large letters. They rang a couple of bells - the newly minted ones getting ready for erection (do pardon the pun) - near the altar, presumably to draw attention to themselves, then began to chant some quite un-Catholic opinions, in particular about HH's attitude to gays and so forth. All frightfully inappropriate, of course, but I can't help wishing that I had been there to see it.


  1. I swear. If your pen gets any sharper, your blog posts will come pre-shredded like today's mega-expensive denims.

    I admit, however, that the irreverent thought of addressing that frail old man wearing 10,000 pounds of gold brocade and a Dagon-the-Fish-god beanie as "Joe" made me laugh out loud. He's likely to enter a monastery requiring a vow of silence just to avoid such Prince-like issues.

    The pun was very bad.

    1. I've sometimes thought, in more delusional moments that the Holy Father's actual job description could be scribbled down on the flyleaf of a prayer book. Lots of public reading in various languages, waving benignly at crowds of adoring acolytes and making cross-like symbols in the air wearing a beneficent smile. Yeah, I ought to be able to manage that. There's a hat for everyone, it is said, so why not a cardboard spire for me? Have to learn the script for Mass, I suppose, but the show lasts less than a half hour so I ought to be able to master the lines.
      Someone else had a similar idea, but I have a suspicion that his application won't make the final cut.

  2. Apparently, it's a monastery for girlies. Nuns in fact. Retirement surrounded by wimmin. H'm.


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