Monthly Archives: August 2015
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a tiny, little Dracula jumps on the hood of the car and hisses through the windshield.
“Quick, quick!” shouts Sister Catherine. “What shall we do?”
“Turn the windscreen wipers on. That will get rid of the abomination”, says Sister Helen.
Sister Catherine switches them on, knocking Dracula about, but he clings on and continues hissing at the nuns. “What shall I do now?” she shouts.
“Switch on the windscreen washer. I filled it up with Holy Water at the Vatican,” says Sister Helen.
Sister Catherine turns on the windscreen washer. Dracula screams as the water burns his skin, but he clings on and continues hissing at the nuns. “NOW what?” shouts Sister Catherine?
“Show him your cross,” says Sister Helen, quickly.
“Now you’re talking,” says Sister Catherine. She opens the window and shouts,
“Get the f*!# off the car, you f*!#ing little **** !”
She turns to Sister Helen, and asks “Was that cross enough?!”
In my first Charge, I had former Moderator of the GA, Dr Archie Craig, as a member. One Sunday, he seemed particularly interested in my sermon, looking at me intently. Thought I: “It must have been a cracker, what I preached this morning” When he left after the service, as we shook hands at the door, he peered at my face, and said – “Ah, I thought so… you ARE growing a moustache.”
My late wife was VERY English and loved the “bells and smells” of the C of E. We married when I was a Probationer Assistant. After attending her first service at the kirk where I was learning my trade, the congregation’s busy-body came up to her, and – in a condescending voice – asked, “And what did you think of our Church of Scotland style of worship?” Helen replied, “It’s a bit dull, isn’t it!”
“Yon service was far tae long – ah cannae stop; the broth will be biled tae nothing”
We once finished a particular service with a hymn in Common Metre (can’t remember which); I changed the tune to St James; the singing was awful & the comments at the door ranged from “that was terrible” to “where did you find that dreadful hymn” etc. Almost all negative (in fact, none positive).
Out of sheer bloody mindedness, I chose – as our opening hymn, the next Sunday: Thou art the Way…. They sang it with unrestrained gusto (oh, the tune is, of course, St James)
During my stint as a full time Healthcare Chaplain, part of my remit was to give talks to the likes of (Woman’s) Guilds; the talk was all ad libbed, including a few humorous anecdotes and serious stuff about spiritual care in an NHS environment.
After one evening talk (somewhere in the depths of Dumfries and Galloway), escorted to the door by Madam President, she said, “I wish I had your gift”
Embarrassed shrug of the shoulders….
“Aye, the gift of the gab!”