The Fish


Out fishing with a sailor friend, a priest hooks a huge fish. Helping
him reel it in, the sailor says,
"Whoah, look at the size of that f*cker!".
"Hey, mind your language!" says the priest.
Embarrassed, the sailor thinks on his feet and blurts out,
"Sorry Father, but that's what the 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.
"No, no - that's what the fish is called", says the priest
"Oh," says the Bishop, scratching his chin.
"I could clean that f*cker and have it for dinner."
So the Bishop takes the fish, cleans it and gives it to the Mother
"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 great and the Pope asks where they got it.
"Well, I caught the f*cker!", says the priest. "And I gutted 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 gaze, leans back on his chair, takes off his cap, puts his feet up on the table, pours himself a large whiskey and says, "You know what? You c*nts are alright."