Cardinal Dolittle at the Pearly Gates

The date: about 2050. St Peter (at the Gates of Heaven) is reading some old posts from Eccles's blog. Enter the late Cardinal Timothy Dolittle of New York.

The Laughing Cardinal, by Franz Hals.

Dolittle: You must be St Peter. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

Peter: Ah, yes, Cardinal Dolittle. We've been expecting you.

Dolittle: Straight into Heaven, then? I hope you've got a good solid double portion of steak and fries waiting for me. I know what I expect from Heaven! Ha ha ha ha!

Peter: Actually, it's not quite as simple as that. For cardinals our usual procedure is that a committee of three saints will take a preliminary look at your case. Exit.

Enter Saints Fulton, Daniel and Patrick.

St Fulton Sheen discovers that laughter is infectious.

Fulton: Yes, well there are certain problems about admitting you to Heaven, Timothy my boy. I seem to remember you put your considerable weight against me about thirty-five years ago, when the Catholic Church was trying to canonize me. Some nonsense about whether my body could be moved. Hmmph, it wouldn't have needed a giant crane, unlike some people's bodies...

Holy Innocents Church, New York.

Daniel: Hi, Timmy! I was one of the Holy Innocents massacred by Herod.

Dolittle: Ha ha ha! You don't look as if you were under 2 years old.

Daniel: No, but nobody wants to spend eternity in diapers (nappies), so when we got up here they let us grow up. Now, Timmy, what's all this about your trying to close down our church in New York?

St Patrick sends the snakes off to work for the National Catholic Reporter.

Patrick: I'm afraid I'm also dissatisfied with your conduct, Timothy, my lad. If Irish people in New York want to celebrate my day with a parade, that's all well and good, to be sure it is. You should be there leading it - waddle, waddle, waddle. But why are you joining with the "gay pride" people in this event? Another failure on your part, Timothy. Ochone!

Re-enter St Peter.

Peter: Have you told him the bad news?

Dolittle (disconcerted): What, no automatic place in Heaven?

Peter: No, son, it'll be 999 years in Purgatory on a bread-and-water diet. Remember, that it is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle, than for you to get through the gates of Heaven. A very tight squeeze...

He was certainly the life and soul of funerals.

Dolittle: Ha ha ha ha ha!

St Peter (whispers): Do you think we should tell him he'll be sharing a room with Cormac Murphy-O'Connor?