"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I've had Polyfilla yoghurts for the last two days. And I enjoyed them."
"I'm sorry, my child, but that is simply unforgivable. But make a donation of a few thousand pounds to the church's wine fund and I'll put in a good word for you with the man upstairs. Oh, and you might as well say a few Hail Marys too."
That, I'm thinking, is what would happen if I went to confess my yoghurty sins to a priest this evening.
The church where yesterday evening's Future Stars of The Premiership were having a kickabout might be a better bet, actually - they seem to tolerate a lot less acceptable behaviour.
Incidentally, it's been decided that the Pope (or, at least, the last one) is (was) a knob. A poll of several thousand people (read "split personalities") was taken and 87% of them agreed that His Holiness talks (used to talk) through his holiness.
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