I’m thinking of sending a condolence note to Mario the bum-pincher, my old circus buddy. Like most of his countrymen he’d been hoping the new Pope would be Italian, which explains the collective gasp of disappointment in St Peter’s square when the result of the holy ballot was announced.
According to Mario, things were much better in medieval times when all the Popes were from Italy. Thanks to the good example set by these santi padri, no one made a fuss when priests had carnal relations with prostitutes, peasant girls and the occasional nun. As a result, the Catholic clergy attracted red-blooded men rather than the sodomites and paedophiles who now occupy its ranks.
“We Italians know which rules are for keeping and which rules are for breaking,” explained Mario. “You gotta have judgement in life.”
“But didn’t the Popes kill people in those days?” I asked.
“Hey, you never heard of the Mafia?” retorted Mario.
He seemed to have a point, even though I wasn’t sure what it was.
Nevertheless, I think the new guy deserves a chance to prove himself. Argentina is a country full of big-balled men and Pope Franny looks as if he means business. He’s already made a good impression by paying for his hotel room instead of telling them to send the bill to God. And I like his idea of a new humble papacy based on home cooking, taking the bus to work and regular flagellation. Give the man a fair crack of the whip is what I say.
He is aged 76, though, which means he’s unlikely to last until the end of the Brazilian waxing era. Looking ahead, it’s as clear as daylight that the next High Pontiff should be a woman of striking appearance, who could wear the papal frock with dignity. How else will the Catholic Church compete with all the new age pagan faiths with their priestesses and witches? There's no point issuing papal bulls when the public want papal cows.
My preferred candidate for the job would be Tatyana Kozhevnikova, the Russian gymnast with the world’s strongest vagina. In a recent demonstration, she suspended a weight of 6 kg from a wooden egg clenched tightly inside her coochie. This vice-like grip is not a natural talent, but the outcome of years of training by squeezing spherical objects inside her snatch. She recommends this type of exercise for women who need to strengthen their intimate muscles for reasons other than weightlifting:
"It's enough to exercise your vagina five minutes a day, ladies, and in just one week you'll be able to give yourself and your man unforgettable pleasure in bed," she says.
Has a more persuasive sales pitch ever passed from a pair of human lips? If I were a woman, I wouldn’t hesitate to get with the pussy programme. What a motherly figure Tatyana would be at the Vatican, giving the faithful a safe place to put their Easter eggs. It’s the kind of sacrament that would make kissing the papal ring a forgotten relic of the past.
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