A Day in the Life of Benny Pope - aged 85 and three quarters

(Note to readers: A copy of Benny Pope's diary came into my possession today and I have decided to publish an extract from 11 Feb 2013, deemed by yours truly to be of public interest. If you are easily offended, please leave this page immediately and log on to The Daily Mail for a watered-down version of this report)

Below is the relevant page of said diary in it's original format.

Translated from Vaticanish into English by:

Dr. Ivor Norfolk-Andchance  BA, PhD, DHsS, YmCA, CSi,  Aa,  RaC, UsA

"Dear Diary, what a fucking 'mare of a day! From the moment I slipped my feet into those Aladdin Ruby slippers this morning and felt something warm and squeegee between my toes, I knew it was going to be a an arse-wipe of a day. I had no intention of announcing my resignation, and wouldn't have done if it weren't for that cunt of a cat Borgia dumping in my slipper again. It's the third time this week that fucking flee-ridden shit-breath no-balls rat-fearing pussy of a puss craps in my slippers! If only I were 50 years younger I'd be able to catch that fuck-face-feline and wring his sorry neck. That bastard is defo going to cat hell.

Seriously Diary, I know I'm cursing unnecessarily but I've had it with this thankless-task of a job. I'll let some other old cunt carry the can for a change.

Talking of old cunts, I had the displeasure of meeting with some of them this afternoon, the pompous fat-assed cardinals, hovering about like vultures waiting for me to keel over. Bad enough having to listen to their sanctimonious crap for 2 hours, but the fucking arse-lickers insist on kissing my ring. Every. Fucking. Time!

What is it about priests obsessions with rings?

Then the old prick from Ireland, what's his name again?..Oh yeah, Sean...Sean something or other, came over to whisper in my ear and he fucking reeked of Jameson. Pissed as a fart he was, and twice as rank. Worst still was to come when old Turkeyneck what's-his-name from Ghana, decided to give a speech to promote his pious ass. Thinks he's gonna get my job when I throw in the towel, the sly mother-fucker. I had to ask the IT department to beam me in subtitles to my iPad just so I could understand some of what he was mumbling on about. Up and down that sorry-ass voice of his, reverberating around the hall, like a fucking elephant with a blocked nose;  bla BLA bla bla BLA BLA bla bla.

If I have anything to do with advising on my replacement I'll recommend the brazilian...Shearer, I think his name is, as in the footballer!? Why is it that all brazilians are good at footy? I reckon one of their teams of  water-tight-sealed-pussy nuns from Sao Paulo could beat the holy-shit out of the German national side. They would defo beat the Vatican football side, the fucking useless wooses in their colourful pantaloons. Anyway, shortly after that I made the announcement no one outside the church expected.

So, I've only gone and done it now. Announced my resignation and not one miserable tight-arsed cardinal objected. Not a single one, the ungrateful cocksuckers. And I appointed most of them cunts! I wish I hadn't now.

Anyway, I'd much rather go and live in Castel Gandolf than spend another minute in this gay-hornets nest.


PS. I said I was going to carry on working for the church, but I lied of course. No. Fucking. Way. Jose.

PPS. I also said I would dedicate the rest of my life to prayer. Like fuck I will. I'm through with prayer. Done more than enough praying and what have I got to show for it? Fuck all. I've got a fucking diamonte studded frock and a tall cock-shaped red hat. Wow! Ain't I a lucky boy! No more praying 'cause the boss ain't fucking listening anyway. Come to think of it, I haven't had a boss in years. Not since the University job.

PPPS. And just to rub salt into the wounds, I want my peasant flock to know that I am an atheist, and always have been. The reason I stayed in the job is that I didn't want to change profession and take a pay cut. And I was never into hard graft.

Arrivederci, suckers! Muahhahahahahahah

(...)

I, Dr I. Norfolk-Andchance, declare this translation to be accurate and error-free. Some of the slang  used may differ in meaning in certain overseas territories; tough shit, you should all speak "proper" English, you fucking language-assassin ingrates.

Dr. Ivor Norfolk-Andchance  BA, PhD, DHsS, YmCA, CSi,  Aa,  RaC, UsA 

:)