Father Nick Christmas, a Roman Catholic priest, of St Dustbin's in Todmorden, West Yorkshire was recovering quietly at home today after shitting his pants assisting a colleague in an exorcism.
Father Christmas had expressed doubts about the ritual, going on the record to describe it as "a dirty, dangerous business."
Which it turned out to be, as Christmas flooded his pants with a vile smelling mess at a crucial juncture in the ritual.
"The soft bastard lost it, and shit himself," Father Jack Jacket, who conducted the ritual told us. "I told him to take it easy, that the demon would try to trick us, that it would adopt multiple personas, that it would be desperate. But the bastard shit his pants. You can't get the staff these days."
Christmas's housekeeper, Lillian Ironing-Board told us:
"It was terrible. His pants were completely pappered, and boy did it stink! I don't know what he had for dinner the previous day because it was my day off. But from the stink, I can only assume he had a really hot curry and pints of stout. He was fucking MINGING I tell you. Jeezus! It was fucking HORRIBLE!"
We managed to speak to Father Nick Christmas this morning. He looked a little bit pale and exhibited signs of mild distress, but otherwise okay. He told us:
"I was fine. I'd seen the head spinning, the projectile vomiting, the spider-walking, the levitating, heard the deep man's voice in a little girl. But...
"...what really got me was when she started talking like Jimmy Savile, saying 'Ow's about that then guys n gals OOooOOooOOoo' That just freaked me out and I shit my pants. I'm feeling better now though. Now I've had a bath."
We felt that was a suitable way to conclude a 666 story.
More as we get it.