The Confessional Box

A GUY goes into the confessional box after years being away from the church. He pulls aside the curtain, enters and sits himself down. There’s a fully equipped bar with crystal glasses, the best vestry wine, Guinness on tap, cigars and liqueur chocolates nearby, and on the wall a fine photographic display of buxom ladies who appear to have mislaid their garments.

He hears a priest come in. “Father, forgive me for it’s been a very long time since I’ve been to confession, and I must admit, the confessional box is much more inviting than it used to be.”

“Get out, you idiot,” the priest says. “You’re on my side.”

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