QUAERITUR: Should I wake the priest?

Dear Father E, when I make Confession I often find that the priest starts yawning. Sometimes, he even asks me to repeat some of my sins - the enumeration of them, that is - on the grounds that he "dropped off for a moment". I am terrified that one day he will fall into a deep sleep. If this happens, what should I do?

... and I've put more details on my blog, Father.

Father E replies: Sleep is a gift from God, and, given that you sometimes doze off during the priest's homily, it is only natural that he in turn should grab a much-needed forty winks while you are telling him how you spent the week. I have seen your written account of the incident in question, and I am not sure that it was necessary to give the full details of how A insulted you on Twitter so that you screen-capped her words, and then B got involved and wrote a nasty post on his own tedious blog, and then C joined in and started stalking you, and then, ... zzzzz... sorry, where was I?

Do you get excommunicated if you nudge a pope?

Now, if your confessor falls asleep, there are several things you might do:

1. Stop talking, and wait patiently until he wakes up again. Of course, this might not be for eight hours or so...
2. Tiptoe out quietly, so as not to wake him. However, experts would say that you had not fully completed your confession.
3. Cough loudly, bang on the confessional, shout "WAKE UP, FATHER!" Probably best, but a little discourteous.

The sins of a parrot are not usually very interesting.

Frankly, the best way to avoid such a situation is to invent some interesting sins, as recommended by certain bishops. You could, for example, walk in covered with blood and pretend that you have just murdered your grandmother. Then, having got the priest's attention, you say, "It's all right. Only joking. It was only the deacon." This is probably more interesting than seeking absolution for the sin of wearing liturgically-incorrect socks at the Church Fayre. The priest may even stay awake.

Not the best place to make your confession.

Bird watchin

My Anti Moly, who is a keen reader of dis blogg, said to me, "Eccles, dear, why doesnt you tell your faithfull public about me bein a keen birdwatcher, wot can tell a koot from a cookaburrer even when I has been drinkin? I fink it will stop dem from mockin me all de time. I is a twitcher, you know."

"I has notticed," I repplied. "Maybe you should lay off de gin a bit, Anti?"

She hit me wiv a fryin pan at dat point, I fink she been watchin too many Tom and Jerry cartons. So I went off to look at some old phottos dat Anti Moly has kept.

Dat's a photto of my dere Ant as a young girl in de 1930s (she's de one on de right), starin at a bird and sayin confiddently, "Um, dat's a rare speceis of albbatross, but dem traddy Cathlics likes to prettend dat it aint." Dat's in de days before Goggle and Wikkipedia, so she cuoldn't be omnicsient, like she is now. But even in dem days she had a wide knowlegde of our fevvered freinds.

Here is anuvver photto of my Anti as a young girl, watchin a bird. She says it may be a very big duck.

De bird watchin habit she got explanes de followin photto, which she has by de side of her bed for senttimental reasons.

She tells me dat it is Cradinal Pell, as a yuong man, trying to win Moly's affectoin by gettin her a Norwegain Blue parrott as a birfday present. I fink de parrott must have died.

I asked my Anti Moly wot was her favuorite bird, and she said, "Dey all tastes nice if you cooks em properly. When I was yuong my Mom used to give us stewed doddos, but den dey became extinct so we had to stop eatin em." She did confess a waekness for vulltures, cos dey picks over de remanes of corpses. Dat's a bit like what Anti Moly does when she comes to Damain Thopmson's blog and she replies to debates when everryone else went home six months ago.

Of course when I asked Bosco wot his favuorite bird was, he explaned dat to be saved you has to worhsip cemment doves like we does at de Calumny Chappell.

Dat's my dere bruvver Bosco wiv what he says is a real dove. But Anti Moly, de expert orthinologist, is sure dat it's a barn owl, so I dunno what to fink. Has Bosco and me been kissin cemment owls by mistake? If so, can we still be saved?

Bite me!

Well, Bosco spent most of Saturday evenin phonin round de local Cathlic preists and leavin insultin messages on dere ansa-phons explainin dat all Cathlic preists is pevrets. Dis is a necesarry part of savin dere soles. Sometimes de preists anwsered de phon demselves, for example, de Achbishop of Lost Angels was in when Bosco telehponed. Dis is what Bosco told me about de conservation dey had.

"Ullo, dere, Achbishop Gómez speekin. Did ya wanna buy an indullgence? I'se sorry but we aint doin dem no more. And de iddle shop is closed until Monday."
"BITE ME, José, you stupid Mexxican Cathlic! Watch it dat I doesnt put ya on my wonderfool blogg, ya pevret!"
"Ah, Bosco, my son, how nice to hear from you. Is dem Weirdozol tabblets helpin your delussions?"

But Bosco slamed down de reciever, we aint gonna cast our purls before swines. I got de Achbishop's pitcher here, see he's wearin a Babble-onion fish hat, dat proves he aint saved. He looks like a really viscous truoble-maker, don't he?

On Sunday we went to de local Cathlic church to save dem sinners. In de end Bosco didnt go dressed as a pirate, cos de parrot on his shuolder kept sayin "I bin saved! Bite me! I bin saved! Bite me!" I can't imaggine where he gits dat from. So Bosco went dressed in some clothes dat he borrowed from Mrs Riddle, de Angle of Death. We slipped in quietly, blendin unnotissed wiv de congreggation.

Father Xavier O' Cise was givin a sermmon on de feedin of de five million wiv bread and fish and dat how dis meant dat de Cathlics should buy all de iddles which was on sale at de back of the churhc. He puased for a moment, and so Bosco and me got up and sang dis fammous Calumny Chappel hynm.

BITE ME, O Thou great Redeemer,
Clowning frew dis barren land.
I bin saved, but no-one else is;
Thanks to Thy almighty hand.
Bread and Pizza, wiv Pastrami,
Feed me till I wants no more;
Feed me till I wants no more.

Well dem Cathlics didnt hang aruond waitin to be saved, dey sent in an army of nuns to beet us up (de Little Sisters of St Rambo). Dey frew Bosco and me out into de street. See, I gotta photo which proves de truth of what I sez.

Well, Bosco, how is we ever goin to save des wikced poeple?

Bosco on de atack

Well Bosco had a narrow escape from de Angle of Death. But she is an old friend of Anti Moly's, and she have offerred our Grate-Ant a part-time job. De idea is dat Anti Moly's gonna go rouond scarring poeple to Death. She said, "Dat suonds good. Is I allowed to screem at dem too?" De Angle of Death said, "Yup, we has got a vacancy in de Banshee divvision." I will report on a futture blogg how my belloved Anti gets on wiv dis new career oporttunity which is gonna make de most of her tallents.

Bosco have realised dat we gotta get more vigoruos in our persecuttion of de Cathlics. I found dis photo showin Cathlics doin a crazy rittual where dey bow down to iddles. Dey even calls it Pillates cos in de Cathlic Bibble dey says dat Pontuis Pillate did it. What lies dey tell.

What's more, dey is makin iddles of de Pops, which Cathlics gonna be asked to kiss if dey wants to escape 1000000000000000 years in Purgattory. I read all about it on a website dat Bosco found, so it must be true.

Bein horified by dis wickedness, Bosco and me has develloped a cunning plan. On Sunday we is gonna go into de Cathlic church incoggnito. De preist will preach his herettical sermon, sayin dat all Cathlics gotta kiss more iddles and venerate beads (we knows dis is true as Bosco found an article on de internet about Venerable Beads), and on no account must dey read de Bibble. When we hears dis we shall pounce, and stand up and sing a Calumny Chappel hynm very luodly. Maybe dis one, which is very poppular.

De Lord's my shehperd, I's de sheep,
He dresses me like a clown.
Lord Jessus have saved me from de flood
And left all de rest to drown. Ha ha.

(We doesn't sing "Ha ha", we just gives a big chuckle as we finks of dem Cathlics in de lake of fire.)

Dis is de costume dat Bosco is gonna wear for church, he says dat Father Xavier Pell de Mons will never guess dat it is him.

Dat's a real parrot... it's de one dats been tryin to teach Bosco to say a few simple prhases.

So Sunday will be de day of reckonin for de Cathlics, we gonna save lots of dem. Since no Cathlics reads dis blogg, I fink it is safe to put our plans here, Bosco, my dere bruvver.