A bit of Irish Catholic humour

The first full week of 2016 has not been pleasant or funny. Muslims invading not just Europe but America, stock markets in meltdown around the world, crazy North Koreans threatening to blow us to Kingdom Come... and of course the weather. We need something to make us smile, and what better than a couple of stories about priests from the Ould Sod. Walt sends these out with a smile for Agent 9.

The Roman Catholic parish priest of a Belfast church was amazed to find two bigoted and drunken Orangemen outside his window at 2 a.m. "What do you want?" he called.
"Well, we wanted ye to tell us if it was tha Pope that called the Ecumenical council?"
"Look, come back in the morning and I'll discuss it when you're sober."
"Sure when we're sober, we don't give a damn about the Pope!"

Father Slevin stopped Mick on his way into the church. "Mick, could you come back tomorrow night for confession? We have hundreds in the church at the moment. You haven't committed a murder since the last time, have you?"
"Indeed I haven't, Father. I'll come back tomorrow night."
On his way out he met Declan. "Go home, Declan, and come back tomorrow. They're only hearing the murderers tonight."

Father O'Leary had given a long sermon to his congregation and he was apologizing to Padraig Corcoran.
"Don't apologize at all, Father," said Padraig with a grin. "Sure you've done a lot to shorten to winter."

The Protestant minister was impressed when he was shown over Father Quinn's new residence. "You know," he said, "this is far better than what my wife and I have at the parsonage."
"That's logical," replied Father Quinn. "Protestant ministers have better halves and Catholic priests have better quarters."

The little boy had been sitting close to the confession box door for a long time before Father Casey noticed him.
"Have you been listening to confessions all evening?" thundered the priest.
"Oh no, Father! I'm only here since the woman who slept with the sailor came out!"

And one more, not involving a priest, just an ordinary Irishman.

With two ingots of lead, one under each arm, Connor came down the gangplank of the cargo ship. Suddenly he slipped and fell into the water. As he came up for the first time, he called for a rope. Then he went down and came up again.
"Throw me a rope in the name of the seven saints of Aran," he yelled, and then went down once more.
He was about to sink once more when he made a final plea. "If yiz don't throw me a rope, I'll let go the lead!"

How an Irishman, rather than an Italian, became Pope

Walt had a rare E2E [eyeball-to-eyeball] with Agent 5 yesterday, and came away with this little bit of Catholic humour...

There were two Catholic boys, Timothy Murphy and Antonio Secola,whose lives paralleled each other in amazing ways. In the same year Timothy was born in Ireland, Antonio was born in Italy.

Faithfully they attended parochial school from kindergarten through their senior year in high school. They took their vows to enter the priesthood early in college, and upon graduation, became priests. Their careers came to amaze the world, but it was generally acknowledged that Antonio Secola was just a wee cut above Timothy Murphy in all respects.

Their rise through the ranks of Bishop, Archbishop and finally Cardinal was swift to say the least and the Catholic world knew that when the present Pope died, it would be one of the two who would become the next Pope. In time the Pope did die, and the College of Cardinals went to work. In less time than anyone had expected, white smoke rose from the chimney and the world waited to see whom they had chosen.

The world, Catholic, Protestant and secular, was surprised to learn that Timothy Murphy had been elected Pope!

Antonio Secola was beyond surprise. He was devastated, because even with all of Timothy's gifts, Antonio knew he was better qualified. With gall that shocked the Cardinals, Antonio Secola asked for a private session with them in which he candidly asked, "Why Timothy?"

After a long silence, an old Cardinal took pity on the bewildered man and rose to reply. "We knew you were the better of the two, but we just could not bear the thought of the leader of the Roman Catholic Church being called POPE SE-COLA!"

The Irish brothel

Ed. here. Walt has been a little under the weather (geddit?) thus too cold to compose. Fortunately Agent 9 has sent us a little story from the auld sod.

Three Irishmen are sitting in the pub window seat, watching the front door of the brothel over the road.

The local Methodist pastor appears, and quickly goes inside.
"Would you look at that!" says the first Irishman. "Didn't I always say what a bunch of hypocrites they are ?"

No sooner are the words out of his mouth than a Rabbi appears at the door, knocks, and goes inside.
Says the second Irishman, "Dere's another one! Trying to fool everyone with pious preaching and a stupid hat!"

They continue drinking their Guinness roundly condemning the vicar and the rabbi when they see their own parish priest knock on the door.
"Ah, now dat's sad." says the third Irishman. "One of the girls must be dying..."

How a priest got a hair dryer through customs

In Catholic schools, students were taught that lying is a sin. At least that's the way it used to be. Nowadays, who knows? But I digress... Instruction was also given that to avoid the sin of lying, one could be -- shall we say -- a bit creative with the truth. Here's an example of how a priest might have done so.

An attractive young woman on a flight from Ireland asked the Priest beside her, "Father, may I ask a favour?'"
"Of course child, said Father O'Malley. "What may I do for you?"

"Well," said the girl, "I bought my mother an expensive hair dryer for her birthday. It is unopened but well over the Customs limits and I'm afraid they'll confiscate it. Is there any way you could carry it through customs for me? Hide it under your cassock perhaps?"

"I would love to help you," said the priest, "but I must warn you, I will not lie."
"With your honest face, Father, no one will question you," replied the damsel.

When they got to Customs, she let the priest go first. The officer asked, "Father, do you have anything to declare?"
Answered the priest, "From the top of my head down to my waist, I have nothing to declare."

The customs inspector thought this answer strange, so asked, "And what do you have to declare from your waist down to the floor?"
"I have a marvellous instrument designed to be used on a woman, but which is, to date, unused."
Roaring with laughter, the officer said, "Go ahead, Father. Next!"

Thanks and a tip o' me hat to Agent 6.