“Oh pooh pooh pooooooooooooh pooh”, said Father Blotto as he drank the last of his life juice before staggering off to the off licence for some more. ”Bless you my son if you can help me”, he said as he entered. “I will see to it that you get a heavenly reward if you help me to stay plastered. Got any more barrels of whiskey?”He staggered up to the counter and dropped the money which he had raided from the Baptist Church collection box, onto it. ”Get the bishop to bring them round to me within the hour”, he continued in a slurred voice, before a thunderous belch irrupted seconds later. The stench of a thousand pubs filled the small off licence as it did so. The poor man behind the counter turned away in disgust. with a face like he was sucking on a lemon, was almost sick. ”Get out of my shop smelly vic!” he finally roared at him. “I will see to it that you get your drink! Now get you and your robes out of here, before I throw you out!” The drunk vicar slowly turned then tried to find his steps. He started walking but his left foot caught the bottom of his cassock and he tripped. The drunk vicar went flying into a shelf filled with expensive wines, smashing the whole lot in the process. Now, he stunk of two thousand pubs. As the smelly liquid rolled across the floor like a river, the shop owner jumped up and down in fits of anger, throwing his fists at the air and finding what ever he could to throw at the vicar, who was now laying on the floor, in the midst of broken glass and wine. ”You clumsy twit! You stupid moron! You lame excuse for a person! You complete and utter utter utter utter utter, well, I just don’t know what to call you, drunken jerk!” Despite all the shouting and the various hard objects that were bouncing off his body, the vicar just laid there. He was there for the night because he had started snoring. Frustrated, the shop owner shut up the off licence and left the vicar to his wet and sticky sleep. ”Bless Him”, he said sarcastically. Then, he left the shop.