So there’s this poor woman, right?
Every Sunday her old man nods off in church like he’s been shearing sheep all night. She’s had a gutsful, so she goes to the priest and says, “Father, I can’t keep elbowing him, he just keeps snoring.”
The priest, being a practical sort, hands her a bloody great hat pin and says, “When I give you the nod, give him a wee poke.”
Sunday rolls around. Place is packed. Sure enough, the old fella’s out cold before the first hymn’s even finished.
The priest goes, “And who is our saviour?”
Gives her the nod.
She gives him a jab.
He bolts upright and yells, “JESUS CHRIST!” like he’s just stood on a Lego.
Priest smiles like, “Yep, that’ll do.”
Couple minutes later, he’s gone again — head back, mouth open, dreaming of smoko.
Priest goes, “And who is Jesus’ father?”
Another nod.
Another poke.
Old mate leaps up and bellows, “GOD!” loud enough to rattle the stained glass.
Priest’s thinking this is going great.
Then he gets all worked up in his sermon — waving his arms, nodding away like a dashboard dog on a gravel road. Mrs Jones thinks, “Right, that’s the signal.”
The priest says, “And what did Eve say to Adam after their ninety‑ninth child?”
She gives him a proper jab this time.
The old boy explodes out of the pew and roars:
“IF YOU STICK THAT BLOODY THING IN ME AGAIN, I’LL SNAP IT IN HALF AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR—!”
And half the congregation nearly dies trying not to laugh.
The priest, being a practical sort, hands her a bloody great hat pin and says, “When I give you the nod, give him a wee poke.”
Sunday rolls around. Place is packed. Sure enough, the old fella’s out cold before the first hymn’s even finished.
The priest goes, “And who is our saviour?”
Gives her the nod.
She gives him a jab.
He bolts upright and yells, “JESUS CHRIST!” like he’s just stood on a Lego.
Priest smiles like, “Yep, that’ll do.”
Couple minutes later, he’s gone again — head back, mouth open, dreaming of smoko.
Priest goes, “And who is Jesus’ father?”
Another nod.
Another poke.
Old mate leaps up and bellows, “GOD!” loud enough to rattle the stained glass.
Priest’s thinking this is going great.
Then he gets all worked up in his sermon — waving his arms, nodding away like a dashboard dog on a gravel road. Mrs Jones thinks, “Right, that’s the signal.”
The priest says, “And what did Eve say to Adam after their ninety‑ninth child?”
She gives him a proper jab this time.
The old boy explodes out of the pew and roars:
“IF YOU STICK THAT BLOODY THING IN ME AGAIN, I’LL SNAP IT IN HALF AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR—!”
And half the congregation nearly dies trying not to laugh.
