The Fish
The Fish
A priest hooks a huge fish. Helping him reel it in, a sailor says
“Whoa, look at the size of that f*cker!”
“Hey, mind your language!” says the priest. Embarrassed, the
sailor thinks quickly and blurts out, “Sorry father, but that’s
what this fish is called - it’s a F*cker fish”. Accepting the
explanation, the priest forgives the sailor and takes the fish
back to church.
“Look at this huge f*cker” says the priest, spotting the bishop.
Language, please! this is God’s house,” replies the bishop.
“No, no - that’s what this fish is called, ” says the priest.
“Oh,” says the bishop, scratching his chin “I could clean that
f*cker and we could have it for dinner”.
So the bishop takes the fish, cleans it, and brings it to the
mother superior.
“Could you cook this f*cker for dinner tonight?” he asks her.
“My, what language!” she exclaims, clearly shocked.
“No, sister that’s what the fish is called - a f*cker, ” says the
bishop. Satisfied with the explanation, the Mother Superior says,
“wonderful, I’ll cook that f*cker tonight, The Pope is coming for
dinner!”
The fish tastes just great and The Pope asks where they got it.
“Well, I caught the f*cker!” says the priest.
“And I cleaned the f*cker!” says the bishop.
“And I cooked the f*cker!” says the Mother Superior.
The Pope stares at them for a minute with a steely glaze, leans
back on his chair, takes off his cap, puts his feet up on the
table, Pours himself a whiskey and says
“You know what?, You c*nts are alright.”