Two days ago, I had my first face to face encounter with the other side of the Catholic Church, what you could call the spiritual, good side of the Church, as opposed to the clerical fudgers and paedophiles, liars, dissemblers, disinformation specialists, obfuscators, deviants and general no good arse holes that the Catholic Church throw up anytime there are questions asked which might undermine their position in the hearts and minds of people. Of course the people are getting fewer and fewer by the week and those fudgers are working overtime to bring the herd back into the shippon. Knowing this the Church, realising the said mission is not going to be as well attended as those in the past where people struggled with one another to reach a pew only to be called a bastard by the fire and brimstone spewing priest brought in specially for the purpose, have sent out gangs of woebegotten, in cuckoo land canvassers to try and drum up custom.
And so it was on Friday in the pouring rain these two holy women came knocking on my door. I was available and therefore answered. They wanted to know if I was excited by the coming mission and would I like a programme of events. Now it really was teeming down and one of these ladies, an old nun, sister someone or other was wilting under the weather, the other, a younger lady but not that young, was still sprightly. If I was any kind of a decent Catholic, which I am not, I would have invited them in for a reviving cup of tea. So I stood full square on the threshold, inviting a few drops on myself and answered their questions in as polite a manner as I thought possible.
You are a Catholic, the younger one said, querying my negativity. I was I said until November 2009, when I experienced my Damascene moment, when the Murphy Report was published into the goings on in the Archdiocese of Dublin of those people who call themselves celibate priests one minute and the next as they fill the arseholes of 12 year old kids, they become lovers. The old one took a step back from the partial shelter of the front elevation of the porch but the younger one persisted. I know she said, it was horrible but in every organisation you will get a few bad apples. I exploded, I said it would not matter to me if every priest in the Church was a paedophile and every nun was there helping in his dastardly deeds, at least you would know of them and do something about their tricks, like telling the local vigilantes or locking them all up for life. No, I said severely to the holy women, my grievance is that for 63 years of my life I was conned by the Catholic Church. They knew of the evil in their midst and chose to cover it up, chose to transfer the guilty paedophiles to another parish, another diocese, another country even, at the first hint of abuse. So that the same dirty fudgers could play their game over and again with a fresh set of victims. That ladies is what made me lose the cosiness of the Church, it was the biggest corporate cover up in history and you are saying it was just a few bad apples. They are all bad apples and what they all say and do and believe in is just a heap of rotting vegetation. Everybody who was in the know which includes all the religious should be locked up and the key thrown away.
The ladies were now stuttering and mildly farting as ladies tend to do but I had not finished, I thought they needed to know how regular Joes like me are thinking. I said once I had got my head round this cover up problem and because I was retired and had time to think, I started to dissect all the teaching the Church had ever given to me but now without the silver lining and parachute, and the more I dissected the more I realised it was the biggest load of old bollocks that any sane person could take in. They had us all brainwashed from birth, they had us all by our short and curleys with this threat of the fires of hell and how priests are a set above mankind, once removed from God. I do somehow think there is some prime mover but it ain’t the God we all loved but now despise.
The poor ladies, now soaking wet through came up with one final last thought. Well at least you still have your spirituality, the younger one said. I said no, I have nothing but my conscience and my conscience says have nowt to do with that Holy Roman Stinking Church of yours that you are asking me to attend.
We bade each other goodbye and dripping wet they wandered down the path in a daze. I think they should understand how the man in the street really thinks, don’t you? As so many people these days still fight shy of confronting the so called religious. They need to know. Also I hope they enjoy the mission they are on, these poor folk who have not had an original single thought in their heads for all their years on earth.