The Pope - My Fake Diary
Tuesday, 10 March 2009
Woke at 6 as usual, and got up and got dressed. May have to get another purple dress to wear with lots of gold trimmings, might borrow my sister's one, though, to save money.
Opened the mail and couldn't believe it - yet another German priest denying the Holocaust ever happened, and asking for his ex-communication to be rescinded, or reversed, or whatever the word is. It's hard being both head of the Church and allowing all these Nazis back into their jobs, but somebody's got to do it, I suppose.
Saw a spot of dust on one of my Cannaletto paintings, must tell the Holy Priceless Painting Cleaners to do a better job.
Went to see my opticians in Verona, after an 8-course lunch with wine - I need a new pair of sunglasses, to shield my eyes from the glare from the millions of Euros' worth of gold in St. Peter's.
After that I had to try and tell the press why women are not allowed to be priests, without saying anything too dodgy. You know, an all-male priesthood, dressing up as women and hanging around lots of little boys in uniforms might not sound the healthiest sort of thing for a religion to be!
After a 14-course dinner with licqueurs and cigars, had some fun on my Playstation 2. My favourite game is 'German Anti-Aircraft Gunner 4', I love firing the flak at the British bombers, the schweinhund terrorflugen vermen! Just like the old days, though of course I was only obeying orders then, along with 30 million other Germans that had no choice but to support Youknowwho. Funny how other countries chose not to, and fought to the death not to, very strange. Oh well ...
Saw that English clown the Archbishop of Canterbury on the TV news. Who does you think he is, dressing up like me and telling people what they should be doing? That's my job!
Had a late supper of bratwurst and black bread and schnapps, with a few dozen litres of bier to wash it all down, then decided to read a book for a bit. Thought of looking at one of the Gospels but decided not to, I mean, I've never actually read any of them. Just too complicated for me, prefer skimming through those letters by Paul. He was great, bits of those letters can mean anything you want them to mean, kinda handy for me!
Found it difficult to get to sleep, as the noise of hundreds of Vatican clerks counting bank notes through the night kept me awake, it's scary just how much we rake in. And from the poorest people in the world, no wonder the Protestants keep complaining about us. Probably envious, I mean who'd want to be as miserable and depressing as they are, Norwegians and Scots are about as much fun as a Latin mass on a Sunday morning in County Kildare.
Signing off now - I need to be up early tomorrow, as it's seventeenth day after St. Rumplestiltkin's Evemas and there may be lots of outbreaks of weeping statues and miracles, all of them only witnessed by adolescent girls on their own, of course.
Auf wiedersehen, Diary, and Heil ... oops, I mean Ave Hitler. I mean Ave Eva. Ave Maria! Jeez ...
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