The Reverend John Flapps the ex-pat pastor in Oliva. Was walking down the paseo and he noticed a mature lady of his congregation sitting in a Magnums drinking beer.
The reverend wasn't happy. He walked through the open door of the pub and sat down next to the woman. "Mrs. Sitzgerald," he said sternly. "This is no place for a member of my congregation. Why don't you let me take you home?" "Sure," she said with a slur, obviously very drunk.
When Mrs. Sitzgerald stood up from the bar, she began to weave back and forth. The reverend realized that she'd had far too much to drink and grabbed her arms to steady her. When he did, they both lost their balance and tumbled to the floor.
After rolling around for a few moments, the reverend wound up on top of Mrs. Sitzgerald, her skirt hiked up to her waist.
Paul looked over and said, "Oi Mate, we won't have any of that carrying on in this pub." The reverend looked up at Paul and said, "But you don't understand, I'm Pastor Flapps."
Paul nodded and said, "Oh well, if you're that far in, you might as well finish."
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