At the local municipal golf course one day, a devout and pious priest turned up for a game. His usual partner, a like-minded fellow clergyman was unavailable, so he asked the manager to find him a partner for a round.
No problem. However the partner turned out to be a foul-mannered redneck who had a really choice selection of language! “Never mind”, thought the priest, “tolerance and understanding are my creed, I can put up with this for the length of the game”.
And so they started. Well, the redneck was a shocking player at the best of times, and he was having a bad day!
He sliced, he hooked, he tore divots from the ground and every drive, and his putting well, we just won’t talk about his putting! And the worse his game got, the worse the language got.
He cursed, blasphemed, and generally abused the course, the game of golf, the priest, and God himself!
Finally the priest, his tolerance exhausted at last, turned to the man and remonstrated with him.
Mind Your Language
“Please mind your language. Don’t take the Good Lords name in vain nor blame him for your problems. Settle down, enjoy the game, t’s a beautiful day”.
To which the redneck responded by rounding on the priest, “Get F*cked, you sanctimonious little prick!, it’s your fault I’m playing so badly anyway, having to put up with a bible-bashing little runt like you!”
The priest was aghast, his patience finally exhausted. He fell to his knees, clasped his hands together, and stared heavenwards.
“Oh Lord, please, help this poor sinner see the error of his ways, show him that blasphemy and foul-tempered behaviour is wrong”.
And the world grew quiet! A giant dark cloud gathered in the sky above, and from the cloud came a spectral fist with a pointing finger!
Whilst the priest gazed in wonder, and the redneck cowered in terror, a ghostly aura gathered around the fist and a mighty bolt of lightning flew earthwards, and hit the Priest!
And a mighty voice rumbled through the sky,
“Darn it, missed again!”
