We eavesdropped on the Synod

Nothing can keep down an ace reporter. I gatecrashed the 2013 conclave by borrowing a cardinal's robes (without permission, in fact), and today I was in the Synod of Synodiocy disguised as Sister Lesbia Nosebucket, the feminist nun and professor of transgender hermeneutics.

All reporting was forbidden: Pope Francis doesn't want it to be known what the views of the participants were, because he has already written the final report. Still, here are some of the snippets I managed to catch:

"When's the big hairy giant going to turn up?"

"Why don't we..."

"That's immoral! Let's do it."

"Austen, would you like some cushions so that you can reach the table?"

"Who's nicked my my Pachamama doll?"

"Haven't we met on Grindr?"

"These Team Rupnik tee-shirts really give us a sense of unity."

"I see your 'ordain donkeys' and raise you to 'bless people who marry donkeys'."

"Tucho just made an improper suggestion to me! Still, I'll think about it."

"Arthur, that food was for the whole table!"

"Give us a kiss."

"If you haven't read my book about Lazarus's LGBT orgies you've missed out."

"How did you do it with a melon?"

"I'm a deaconess. Do your own washing up."

"You're a Jesuit? There's a coincidence - I'm a weirdo too."

"Austen, you've licked my boots enough now."

"You're trans? What does the diocese think?"

"There's only insect pie for dinner, Arthur. Read my new essay 'Loada Te-dium'."