Father O'Malley rose from his bed. It was a fine spring day in his new Ottawa parish. He walked to the window of his bedroom to get a deep breath of the beautiful day outside. He then noticed there was a jackass lying dead in the middle of his front lawn. He promptly called the Prime Minister for assistance.
The conversation went like this: "Bon Jour. Jean Chretien, How might I help you?" And the best of the day te yerself. This is Father O'Malley at your favourite Parish. There's a jackass lying dead in me front lawn. Wouldye be so kind as to send a couple o' yer lads to take care of the matter?"
The Prime Minister, considering himself to be quite a wit, replied with a smirk, "Well now father, it was always my impression that you people took care of last rites!" There was dead silence on the line for a long moment. Father O'Malley then replied: "Aye, that's certainly true, but we are also obliged to notify the next of kin."
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"The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his."
The conversation went like this: "Bon Jour. Jean Chretien, How might I help you?" And the best of the day te yerself. This is Father O'Malley at your favourite Parish. There's a jackass lying dead in me front lawn. Wouldye be so kind as to send a couple o' yer lads to take care of the matter?"
The Prime Minister, considering himself to be quite a wit, replied with a smirk, "Well now father, it was always my impression that you people took care of last rites!" There was dead silence on the line for a long moment. Father O'Malley then replied: "Aye, that's certainly true, but we are also obliged to notify the next of kin."
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"The object of war is not to die for your country but to make the other bastard die for his."
