I was talking about the Missioners a while back.
This was the time that parishioners could renew their spiritual lives and people turned up in droves. A ‘fire and brimstone’ priest, usually from one of the Orders, like the Jesuits would be brought in to exhort people to turn away from the temptations of the flesh and dedicate their lives to God.
Very popular they were too. It was easier to tell your sins to a strange priest too, one who expected to hear grave and weighty matters.
Anyway it was the Missions week in Cullyhanna Church and people came in droves from miles around. They were surprised to find their own parish priest, and not the visitor, take to the pulpit.
‘I bought in a few tomatoes,’ he began enigmatically.
‘Aye, and a bit of ham.‘
Puzzled expressions all around.
‘A lettuce.‘ he went on.
Yes, a few loaves of bread from McNamees.’ He was in full flow now.
A Sunday roast.
Och aye, says he, all the provisions.’
People were exchanging curious glances with one another.
‘Anyway, then, says he, ‘I get the phone call.
He’s down with a bug.
The flu, apparantly.
Too late to save me all that expense’.
Suddenly he turned on his heels and left the pulpit.
By now people were openly staring.
Just as suddenly he reappeared on the pulpit.
‘Oh aye,’ says he, ‘and new sheets for the bed!’
He shrugged his shoulders as again he turned to leave.
‘What can you do?’
he concluded, before disappearing for good.
Perhaps they all should adjourn to Genie Macs?