Tuesday, 17 March 2009

Happy St Patrick’s Day

Father Jack is my favourite bad lad.
From the sacred pit of his cigarette-burnt arm chair, he is his own man. He knows what he wants and announces it in forthright monosyllables ‘drink…women…arse’, peppered with the occasional ‘feck’. He loves a drink, smokes for Ireland, and doesn’t agree with healthy eating or exercise (apart from the occasional rampage when he gets a bit over excited). He is every doctor’s nightmare patient; a paragon of unhealthy behaviour. You would not catch Father Jack being a snark; he tells it how it is to people’s faces.
He is the antithesis of everything a good priest should be. He is blasphemous, egocentric and parasitic. He is always imprudent. Nevertheless, the endearing old rascal manages to get away with this catalogue of bad behaviour.


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