Fun Stuff

As I walked down the busy footpath with my wife, knowing I was late for Mass, my eye fell upon one of those unfortunate, ragged creatures that are found in every city these days.

Some people turned to stare.

Others quickly looked away as if the sight would somehow contaminate them.

Recalling my old priest, Father O’Toole, who always admonished me to “care for the afflicted, visit the sick, feed the hungry and clothe the naked,” I was moved by some powerful inner urge to reach out to this unfortunate person.

Wearing what can only be described as rags, carrying her treasured worldly possessions in two plastic bags, my heart was touched by this person’s condition.

Yes, where some people saw only rags, I saw a true, hidden beauty.

A small voice inside my head called out, “Reach out, reach out and touch this person!”

My kindly intervention was violently rejected.

Indeed, to my shame, my wife of forty years joined the attack!

I won’t be at Mass next week.

Indeed, I am now alone in the world.

Would you visit the sick ?

Please ?

‘My aunt was a very nice person who often cooked meals for me’, admitted Nobu Taki when questioned about her murder.  ‘In fact she was a saint.  But our family business was badly strapped for cash and I had to do something!’

The family had an undertaking business and he naturally assumed his rich aunt would choose the family firm for her burial.  She had indicated this preference.  Unfortunately when she expired so suddenly, the choice was taken from her and her next-of-kin chose a rival firm.  Funerals in Japan can cost over $20,000, a sum sufficient to help rescue the family firm.

‘I broke into her house and beat her to death with a golf club.  I only did it to protect the honour of our family.  I thought that the suicide note that I faked would convince everyone.  I see now that I made a basic mistake by signing my own name at the end of it.’

The note fooled the police initially who put the death down to suicide [possibly the most extreme example of self-mutilation they had ever witnessed?].  It was only when some one noticed the Taki funeral service was on the point of bankruptcy that the note was checked again, and Nobu was taken in for questioning.

The UN debate on Tourist Industry development in member countries produced a few unusual offerings.  Abdi Jimale Osman of  Mogadishu opened. 

‘Somalia is full of wonderful tourist attractions that no one knows about.  The sun shines constantly on hundreds of miles of sandy beaches; you can dine on lobster on the roof of the Sharmo Hotel which commands a splendid view of the capital.  There hasn’t been a single official tourist kidnapped now for almost twenty years.  Most people are friendly.  Why don’t the tourists come?’

‘But how many tourists have you had since the Eighties?’

‘Well, none actually.  

Perhaps the kidnappings put them off!’ he admitted.

‘But tourists could still go and see the former beautiful sights, only they’re all totally destroyed. 

Except for the Cathedral.  What’s left of it is still very attractive.  But you must be careful not to step on a landmine. 

You could visit our national parks, though they’re in the hands of the rebels.  Unfortunately they’re not the attraction they used to be since we ate all the animals from them.

The Sharmo Hotel advises guests to hire at least ten armed guards to escort them from the airport. 

For extra protection you can buy hand grenades in the market for $10 or a howitzer for $20000,’ the minister for tourism concluded reassuringly.

He was interrupted by the tourist minister of Columbia, one Ms Ratina Curare.