A priest hooks a huge fish. Helping him reel it in, a sailor says "Whoa,
look at the size of that f*cker!" "Hey, mind your language!" says the
priest.
Embarrassed, the sailor thinks quickly and blurts out, "Sorry father but
that's what this 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.
"Language, please! this is Gods house," replies the bishop. "No, no -
that's what this fish is called, " says the priest.
"Oh," says the bishop, scratching his chin "I could clean that f*cker
and we could have it for dinner".
So the bishop takes the fish, cleans it, and brings it to the mother
superior. "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 just great and The Pope asks where they got it.
"Well, I caught the f*cker!" says the priest. "And I cleaned 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 glaze, leans back on
his chair, takes off his cap, puts his feet up on the table, pours
himself a whiskey and says "You know what?, You c*nts are alright."
look at the size of that f*cker!" "Hey, mind your language!" says the
priest.
Embarrassed, the sailor thinks quickly and blurts out, "Sorry father but
that's what this 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.
"Language, please! this is Gods house," replies the bishop. "No, no -
that's what this fish is called, " says the priest.
"Oh," says the bishop, scratching his chin "I could clean that f*cker
and we could have it for dinner".
So the bishop takes the fish, cleans it, and brings it to the mother
superior. "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 just great and The Pope asks where they got it.
"Well, I caught the f*cker!" says the priest. "And I cleaned 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 glaze, leans back on
his chair, takes off his cap, puts his feet up on the table, pours
himself a whiskey and says "You know what?, You c*nts are alright."
