Bless Me Father

Father Neil Boyd:
[noticing the disparity in the meal portions] Ah, you've got twice as much as me.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
That's very fittin', seein' I'm twice your age and I have double your brains.

Mrs. Pring:
He's only got little arms but a boarding house reach.

Dr. Daley:
That was a powerful marriage sermon you gave us this evening, Charles.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Did ya like it?

Dr. Daley:
Hm. So full of good sense, yeah - they'll never make you a bishop.

Richard Faber:
Are you in the habit of sending bridal couples away from your church unmarried?

Father Neil Boyd:
Very, very seldom.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
That pie's a bit like Mother Stephen herself, you know: crusty on the outside, but on the inside - hard and lumpy.

Father Abe:
Little Charlie, here, tells me that you are closer to him than his vest and pants.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[to Dr. Daley] I remember when I complained of insomnia to you, you told me not to lose any sleep over it.

Father Abe:
Listen, sinners, we're runnin' late. Father Boyd will hear those with very serious sins tonight. Those with only little sins can come back tomorrow.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[discomforted by Mrs. Pring's hot water bottle] This is much too hot.

Mrs Pring:
Oh, you might as well get used to the heat before you die.

Father Abe:
I'm NOT smoking while I'm praying. I'm praying while I'm smoking.

[Father Boyd and Mother Stephen find themselves trapped together in the church]

Father Neil Boyd:
ALL the doors are locked.

Mother Stephen:
Oh, sugar!

Father Neil Boyd:
We might have to stay here all night.

Mother Stephen:
I am not staying ANYWHERE all night with a curate.

Father Neil Boyd:
You're right, Mother. It'd RUIN my reputation.

Mother Stephen:
Help! Help! Help!

Father Neil Boyd:
I haven't laid a finger on you yet, Mother.

Mother Stephen:
You saucy young man!

[Father D awakens to find a figure dressed in black looming near his bed]

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Who're you? What're you doin' here?

Fireman:
Fire brigade, sir.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
The fire brigade? Oh, thank God for that. I thought you were the Angel o' Death.

Mrs Pring:
[about Father D] He's very good with money, Father Neil.

Father Neil Boyd:
He doesn't give it away, you mean.

Mrs Pring:
Um-um. He could sell ham sandwiches to the Jews.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
The Jews have this extraordinary idea that THEY are the chosen people.

Mother Stephen:
When it is quite clear WE are.

Mr. Goldman:
Oh, how's your wife?

Rabbi Emmanuel Rosen:
Alive and kicking.

Mr. Goldman:
Ah, that's too bad.

Rabbi Emmanuel Rosen:
But if there is no God, how come He sends the Jews so much sorrow?

Mrs Pring:
You did know there's trouble waiting in your study?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Give it to me on the chin.

Father Neil Boyd:
Which one, Father?

Mother Stephen:
Christine tells me that she is going to see the Anglican curate.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
So I believe.

Mother Stephen:
You have failed, Father Duddleswell.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
And you have not prayed hard enough, Mother.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
An Anglican curate is not qualified to bury a dead sausage!

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Look, eat your doughnut, lad, will you, while I tell you something about corpses.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Whoever heard of a Protestant with a name like Driscoll?

Pinkerton:
Could have been a convert.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Yeah, ya'd as soon convert a cock into a hen.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Fellow by the name of Driscoll. Now, I want some information about him.

Dr Daley:
[gesturing for a drink] I'm yours, Charles, if you can afford me.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
There's no liquor about this morning, Donald. The tides have gone out.

Dr Daley:
D'you know, the poor follow was dead for two drinks before I even noticed?

Dr Daley:
Another drink?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
No.

Dr Daley:
You know, sometimes, Charles, I think if you were a hen you'd lay hardboiled eggs.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[to the funeral director] Are you very busy these days, Freddie?

Freddie Williams:
Oh, much the same as usual, Father, I'm afraid. Not many laughs.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[at the service] You be comin' on the boat trip afterwards with us?

Father Neil Boyd:
No, Father.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Well, now, don't say I didn't ask ya before I made ya.

Freddie Williams:
Well, I'll be off home to my Doris, now. If I'm late, she'll tell the neighbors I've drowned; when I turn up she'll blame me for ruining her story.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Mrs. Pring, a nice hot cup o' tea for Father Neil. And fresh tea leaves, don't forget - not them you was readin' in the bottom of last night's caldron.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Have you heard about Mrs. Pring's cookin'?

Father Neil Boyd:
No, Father.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Three cats we had and every one of 'em left home on account of her cookin'.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Women! They're almost as difficult to comprehend as nuns.

Mrs. Pring:
Slippery as an eel's tail, that one.

Father Neil Boyd:
Father Duddleswell?

Mrs. Pring:
He's really a very nice man until you get to know him.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Well, let that be a lesson to ya.

Father Neil Boyd:
What lesson?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
That any curate of mine who pinches me punch lines must expect to suffer.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[preparing Father Neil for his first confessionals] Now, I'm very sorry to have to tell you at the start, but because you're our newest attraction, you're likely to get the more hardened sinners.

Father Neil Boyd:
Not you and Mrs. Pring?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Oh, is that giddy woman walkin' up your sleeve again?

Father Neil Boyd:
So there ARE some benefits of age.

Dr Daley:
If you wait long enough, Father Neil, you don't have to turn your back on the Devil, the world and the flesh.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
They turn their back on you.

Mrs Pring:
Ah, well, I'm just off to bed.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Have you locked up?

Mrs Pring:
No. With a bit of luck, a thief might break in and leave us a few bob.

Father Neil Boyd:
There's no future in the past.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
There's no... I didn't know you could speak Irish.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
You don't know the Pope from Popeye the Sailor.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Well, in the Catholic faith, everything is forbidden until it's compulsory.

Tommy Turner:
Well, mind you, there's only one thing wrong with my marriage.

Father Neil Boyd:
That's encouraging, isn't it, Father?

Tommy Turner:
We don't get on.

Father Neil Boyd:
No meeting of minds.

Tommy Turner:
No meeting of anything.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Tell me, could you pinpoint the time when your troubles began?

Tommy Turner:
I'm tempted to say "When all the guests had left."

Tommy Turner:
I won't hear a word against him, but he was a real swine.

Tommy Turner:
If you meet a pretty widow at the graveside, you can hardly say to her "Do you come here often?"

Mother Stephen:
I gave Mrs. Jamison a relic of our holy mother foundress. This child will be our foundress's first miracle. Only two more and the Pope will be able to declare her a saint.

Mrs. Pring:
His brain is so fertile, it's a wonder there isn't a geranium growing out of his head.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
The miracle is no use to me unless I can have the exclusive rights of it.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Well, since it's your fault that I can not pick up the fifty pound, I expect you to do something to atone for it.

Dr. Daley:
Well, I'll scratch you out a check this very instant.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Ah. And write clear, mind. That's not a prescription.

Dr. Daley:
You know, when your back's to the wall, there's nothin' for it but turn and run.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Will you take a whiskey?

Canon Mahoney:
I never drink before 11:00 on principle.

Father Neil Boyd:
It's five past, Canon.

Canon Mahoney:
Then make it a quick large one.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Oh, I realize there's miracles all around us. Sunrise every morning, The stars at night. The trees comin' into leaf every springtime. Still, It's nice to think that God does special little favors for his friends from time to time.

Father Neil Boyd:
[to Father D] Did anyone ever tell you you're a sweet, darling, little man?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
If the rich insist on throwin' the money about like snuff at a wake, then it's essential that we have people of integrity around to pick it up.

Father Neil Boyd:
Like you and me.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Well, I can only speak for meself.

Mrs. Pring:
You do look miserable. Is Daddy Shortlegs getting you down?

Father Neil Boyd:
Father D? No.

Mrs. Pring:
Care to tell a prying female about it?

Father Neil Boyd:
Well, we were just speaking about women, Father.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Ah, they're all like brooms, all of 'em. Very useful but they can't stand up on their own.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
No, ya see, I was wise enough to know that I could never love anybody else but meself.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
There was one woman who couldn't take her eyes off me.

Father Neil Boyd:
Short-sighted.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Very.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
St. Paul bids us be fools for Christ's sake - but not blithering idiots.

Father Neil Boyd:
You know, this morning she gave me ten pounds for burying her pet tortoise that got run over.

Mrs. Pring:
Oh. What did Father D say to that?

Father Neil Boyd:
Well, he said that, after my success with the canary, it's a good thing for my reputation as a healer that the tortoise was killed beyond repair.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Ya see, lad, the rich, especially, are worthy of a priest's consideration. They can't take refuge in the ultimate human illusion that money is the answer to all life's problems.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Curates these days - they've no stomach for the job.

Mrs. Pring:
You know, the housekeeping money's not changed in six years.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Six and a half.

Mrs. Pring:
You wouldn't consider raising it?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Very well, if you insist.

[Holds money aloft]

Matron:
I want you to remain strictly within your province of caring for souls. Bodies belong to us...

Father Neil Boyd:
Yes, Matron.

Matron:
...while there is still life in them, that is - so work hard at keeping out of our way.

Nurse Owen:
Don't worry about Matron. She's got no favorites. She's nasty to everyone.

Nurse Owen:
Jesus went all over Palestine healing the sick, didn't he?

Father Neil Boyd:
Yes, well... Matron wasn't alive then.

Dr Spinks:
You are the only one who CAN help him.

Father Neil Boyd:
Well, why me?

Mr. Affram:
Because my grandfather told me that he thinks you're the white witch doctor.

Dr Spinks:
All you've got to do is put on your brightest vestments and utter a few spells over him.

Father Neil Boyd:
Oh, in Latin, I suppose.

Mr. Affram:
You may add incense, burnt feathers, chicken's blood - my grandfather would like that.

Mrs. Pring:
If you want more coffee, just call when I'm out of earshot.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Have you been able to help that black man, yet?

Father Neil Boyd:
Oh, the nurse and I are preying for him.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
And?

Father Neil Boyd:
He's getting worse every day.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Well, do him a favor - don't prey for him anymore.

Billy Buzzle:
You'd, uh, like me to help, then?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I would.

Billy Buzzle:
Then mind your manners and pretend you're a Christian.

Dr Spinks:
If Matron can't make Mr. Ofori's blood run cold, what chance did I have?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[describing Mother Stephen] She's a very formidable and severe woman. The rumor has it that the minute she was born she slapped the midwife on the back.

[front bell rings]

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Ah, that's me visitor, Fred Dobie. He's an expert.

Father Neil Boyd:
On nuns.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
On antiques.

Father Neil Boyd:
On antique nuns.

Father Neil Boyd:
Well, with the utmost respect, Father, I think you're bonkers.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Do I have to remind you that I still have the masterdom here?

Father Neil Boyd:
I apologize, Father, provided you realize it's totally insincere.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
And it's not for the likes of you to be callin' a holy nun an old crow.

Mrs. Pring:
That's what YOU call her.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
That's different. I'm a holy priest and it's me sacred privilege.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
What nuns wear under their veils is as mysterious as what scotsmen wear under their kilts.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
About, uh, the, uh, foundress's picture, Mother...

Mother Stephen:
We want it back, Father.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Y... I beg your holy pardon, Mother.

Mrs. Pring:
Hurray for Father Neil!

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[reproachfully] Empty bags make a big bang.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Now, I pray, my dear brethren, for you all to be chaste and holy so you do not fall into the Devil's black hands and be toasted worse than kippers or muffins.

Mrs. Rollings:
Father Duddleswell was preaching about fire and brimstone.

Father Neil Boyd:
Well, yes. Yes, I heard him. Yes, I agree, it was pretty inflammable.

Mrs. Rollings:
Where is this Hell place, anyway?

Father Neil Boyd:
Christians used to think that it was under the earth.

Mrs. Rollings:
Australia?

Father Neil Boyd:
[amused] No, somewhere between London and Sydney.

Mrs Pring:
[sniping with Father D at the dining table] I hope you find a bone just the right size for your throat.

Johnny:
Souls don't get buried, do they, Father?

Father Neil Boyd:
No, Johnny. Souls go straight home to God. Priests only bury bodies.

Johnny:
Only bodies? What do they do with their heads, then?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Ya see, the bishop doesn't understand that it's a waste of time talkin' to Protestants.

Mother Stephen:
Our holy mother foundress once had a vision of thousands and thousands of lost souls descending into the fiery pit.

Billy Buzzle:
Shame!

Mother Stephen:
A great shame.

Billy Buzzle:
Did the doctor give her something for it?

Billy Buzzle:
I rather like the idea of a Hell, myself.

Mr. Probble:
Oh, that's very interesting.

Billy Buzzle:
Yeah, I mean, think of all the good company.

Mr Pinkerton:
Father Duddleswell, do you honestly believe that God will be so cruel as to punish forever an evil deed that's over and done with in a minute?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
And do you expect to be rewarded forever for a good deed that's over and done with in a minute?

Billy Buzzle:
Father Duddleswell, since my dog wasn't allowed in, can I ask a silly question?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[indicating Mr. Pinkerton] It can't be any sillier than his.

Mother Stephen:
The bishop does not approve of silly questions.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
No, certainly not, Mr. Buzzle. You... you can't ask a... a silly question.

Billy Buzzle:
You mean because I don't have a clerical collar on I can't ask a silly question.

Mother Stephen:
You are not a clergyman, sir.

Billy Buzzle:
Neither are you, sir.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Will you have the good manners not to insult Mother Stephen while she's still in the room.

Father Neil Boyd:
[to Father Duddleswell] I see. So you don't really believe that God will roast people forever and ever.

Mother Stephen:
Father Boyd, the church bids every Catholic believe without question in the reality of the everlasting flames.

Father Neil Boyd:
Yes. Yes, of course, Mother.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
And who - who but a ravin' lunatic - would ever believe that there was anybody there?

Father Neil Boyd:
Our Lord said we should love our neighbor.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Our Lord did not have to live next door to Billy Buzzle.

Father Neil Boyd:
I've left a scum mark round the bath especially for you.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[about Billy] He needs animals, having no wife or kiddies.

Father Neil Boyd:
Like you.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
And no real friends.

[Father Boyd smiles back rather than respond]

Father Neil Boyd:
Your honesty in court this afternoon, Father, amazed me.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Ah, Mrs. Pring told me you fainted three times.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
You see, I already have Billy Buzzle's pigeons to content with in the afternoon.

Father Neil Boyd:
Our next door neighbor, you mean?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Listen.

[pigeons coo]

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Now, is that not a bronchial racket?

Mrs. Pring:
[referring to Father Duddleswell] You know, Father Neil, that one'll never go to Hell.

Father Neil Boyd:
Of course not.

Mrs. Pring:
No, the Devil would NEVER let him in.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I have at last found a way of getting his pigeons out of me church tower.

Mrs. Pring:
And how how are you going to do that? Preach them one of your sermons?

[the new church bell rests inside he church]

Mrs. Pring:
What's it doing there? I thought bells were supposed to hang high up.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Well, the bishop finds it easier to bless it down here than fifty foot up in the tower.

Mrs. Pring:
Oh, I forgot. He's got little legs, too.

Bishop O'Reilly:
So, Dr. Daley, you are the personal physician to our two fathers here?

Dr Daley:
[obviously tipsy] I, uh, I am, my Lord, uh... I... I make sure they drink plenty... of the juice of the cow.

Dr Daley:
May the luck stick to Your Lordship like a beggar from the bog.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Don't play puppies with an old dog.

Fred Bowlby:
[describing the most unusual feature of his honeymoon in Rome] And in St. Peter's Basilicate there's this great big horrible statue of St. Peter with his foot worn smooth from kisses.

Father Neil Boyd:
Well, the Italians ARE very passionate.

Fred Bowlby:
And Ilene said to me "For my sake, Fred, give it a kiss."

Fred Bowlby:
[telling the tale of the chair's third victim] Charlie Skinner, a regular, yeah. Folks used to say if they ever do a post mortem on him they'd be lucky to find any blood in his alcohol. Anyway, there he is, soakin' his back teeth for a couple of hours - you know, one double scotch chasin' another down the old tunnel - and he must have sat down there without realizing. Well, then none of his mates would give him a hand, so he gets up, staggers out, gets into his car and drives straight into the river. Only three foot deep and Charlie six foot two. Drowned.

Father Neil Boyd:
Ironic.

Fred Bowlby:
Very. Normally he never took water with his whiskey.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
It's time that I rooted out this wretched superstition of that doomsday chair once and for all, even if it kills me.

Paddy:
Can I buy ya a drink, Father?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
No, not now, Paddy, no-no-no. Why have I not seen you at Mass these past few Sundays?

Paddy:
Well, you didn't see me because... probably I was prayin' with me eyes closed, Father.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Promise me something, dear Mrs. Pring.

Mrs. Pring:
What, Father?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Promise me you won't prey for me. Things are bad enough as it tis.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[having put an end to the doomsday chair] Your turn now, Father Neil.

Father Neil Boyd:
I've no stomach for beer, Father.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Oh, you don't have to drink anything, lad, just put your bum on that chair like a good Christian.

Johnny Downes:
My Bonnie - long fair hair, eyes of Heavenly blue, two of them. In fact all of the essentials and two of the luxuries.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I tell you, Father Neil is not at all well.

Mrs. Pring:
I know. I've seen him wince from time to time even when YOU'RE not around,

Mrs. Pring:
Oh! Heavens, I've got a crick in my neck from having to look up to ya.

Dr Daley:
Strange thing the appendix, you know. It often gives people terrible trouble but nobody knows quite what its function is - a bit like our revered parish priest.

Dr Daley:
Ah, Mrs. Pring! What luck you just happened to be in the vicinity of the keyhole.

Father Neil Boyd:
I'll pray from you too, Mother.

Mother Stephen:
I will appreciate that IF and when you get to Heaven.

Father Neil Boyd:
And what if I get to the other place?

Mother Stephen:
Don't bother.

Mother Stephen:
[handing over a locket] Now, in here is a piece of bone. It is part of the tibia of our mother foundress. If you place this relic upon your wound and it heals it immediately, we will know our mother foundress is a saint.

Father Neil Boyd:
And what if it doesn't heal immediately?

Mother Stephen:
We will find other ways of proving she is a saint.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Well, he's led a very sheltered life, Donald, and for a young man lyin' on his bed there, he could very easily be swept off his feet.

Dr Daley:
Have you been at the bottle before I arrived?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I do not want to lose the best curate I ever had to a woman.

Father Neil Boyd:
I'll be honest with you, doctor...

Dr Daley:
Well, that's a rare thing in a Roman priest, Father Neil.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
And I've asked Mother Stephen to come visit you again later this afternoon.

Father Neil Boyd:
Oh, Father, don't you want me to get better?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Get back to your kitchen, and may you see nothin' brighter than coal.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
When I was a young man, I went into hospital to have me appendix out, and I, too, met a pretty nurse. It, eh... it's very painful.

Father Neil Boyd:
Oh, yes. Having your appendix out is no joke.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I meant, Father Neil, that the nurse was the cause of the pain.

Father Neil Boyd:
Oh. She take it out, then?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
What would I do without that woman, ay? Where else would I learn patience, humility and self-sacrifice?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Gas, gas, gas! I tell ya, this woman could commit suicide just by puttin' her head in her mouth.

Father Neil Boyd:
I would just like to say that I agree wholeheartedly with your stand, Father.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Oh, you do? Whatcha tryin' to do, Father Neil, make me think I've done the wrong thing?

Dr Daley:
Your pulse is perfectly normal for a man in your shocking condition.

Father Neil Boyd:
Um, I was thinking, Father...

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
That's very daring of you, Father Neil.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[gazing at a picture of Winston Churchill] An astonishing man, Churchill, Father Neil.

Father Neil Boyd:
Yes, Father.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
He had sufficient brains to lick the hun but not enough to become a Catholic.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[to Father Neil] Your sins are a deal more entertaining than your sermons.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[seeing Father Neil's pamphlet] What's this?

Father Neil Boyd:
Uh, they've got a new battery-operated neck microphone. It's light and you only need one for the whole mass.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
And the price of it?

Father Neil Boyd:
The whole system? Uh, a hundred pounds.

[Father Duddleswell winces]

Father Neil Boyd:
BUT, the congregation WIll be able to hear your appeals to pay for it.

Mrs. Rollings:
If a murderer or a crook confess their sins, are they forgiven?

[Father Neil nods]

Mrs. Rollings:
And if they die, they go to Heaven?

Father Neil Boyd:
God is merciful.

Mrs. Rollings:
May be, but Heaven doesn't sound very safe for children.

Mrs. Rollings:
[to Father Neil] How can you tell married people they mustn't divorce, for instance, if you don't practice marriage?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
You may go.

Mrs. Pring:
Where to?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Oh, do not tempt me, woman!

Mrs. Pring:
May the Lord in his mercy stretch forth his hand and strike you down, Father D.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I am now, more than ever, determined to save up and send you to America.

Mrs. Pring:
I've just been to the 8:00 mass.

Father Neil Boyd:
How did the new loudspeakers sound?

Mrs. Pring:
Terrible.

Father Neil Boyd:
Terrible?

Mrs. Pring:
For the first time in years I heard every word of his sermon.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I don't take bets in the House of God. Let's shake on it outside.

Mrs. Pring:
Every year, just before Christmas, Father D makes a resolution to be good. Heaven knows: when he's bad he's hard to live with, but when he's good he's awful.

Father Neil Boyd:
I can imagine.

Mrs. Pring:
No, you can't. When you see him trying to be charitable, he'll make your eyes pop out.

Father Neil Boyd:
I'll take your word for it.

Mrs. Pring:
He's so polite you'd think the Pope was in the cupboard listening.

Mrs. Pring:
This is the season of goodwill.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
If it wasn't, I'd tell you there's only three things that a man can't tame, and that's: a pig, a mule and a housekeeper.

Father Neil Boyd:
But in the spirit of the season, you WON'T say it.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Correct.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
...Father Neil, you got a funeral in the morning at 10 o'clock.

Father Neil Boyd:
Ah, yes.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Mm.

Mrs. Pring:
Has somebody died?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
No, no, no, not at all, no, no. No, I like burying 'em alive, ya know, sometime.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
"Goodwill to all" does NOT include sabertooth tigers.

Dr. Daley:
So Pontius, uh, put the mark of the beast on your bumper?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
He did, indeed, but I'll get me revenge.

Dr. Daley:
Good Catholic sentiments, Charles.

Father Neil Boyd:
Remember, it's Christmastime, Father.

Dr. Daley:
I don't suppose you'd, uh, let me examine the site of the excavations?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
It's in a spot that nature forbids even let ME to look at.

[Father Duddleswell tries on his freshly mended robe for midnight mass]

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
What do I look like, Mrs. Pring?

Mrs. Pring:
Arsenic and old lace.

[the collection plates are found empty and Father D searches the nativity scene for the missing Christmas donations]

Father Neil Boyd:
What're you doing, Father?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I'm seein' if the infant Jesus is sittin' on me money.

Father Neil Boyd:
Do you have a complaint against me, Father?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Well, it's not a complaint against you personally, you understand. It's... it's, uh, it's about your preachin'. Now, what is wrong with your preachin'?

Father Neil Boyd:
Everything, Father?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Well, now, would I put it that way, exactly? Yes. Yes, I suppose I would. For instance, you've a very bad habit of mumblin' instead of openin' your mouth wide - so wide that the congregation can see the inside of your socks.

Father Neil Boyd:
Well, I do my darnedest.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
You don't have to have anything to say to go on preachin', lad. That's the whole art of it.

Father Neil Boyd:
Father D must have quite a lot to iron out with Mr. Appleby. What's he like?

Mrs. Pring:
Impossible creature.

Father Neil Boyd:
Oh? Why was he elected mayor, then?

Mrs. Pring:
Oh, I thought you meant Father D.

Albert Appleby:
[about Mrs. Pring] Fine woman, that.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
D'ya think so? Well, I trust her with me life - but not with anything important.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[showing off his new tennis outfit] And, Mrs. Pring - seriously now, without prejudice - what do I look like?

Mrs. Pring:
The abominable snowman.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
The mayor tells me, Mr. Biggins, that you're a non-believer.

Biggins:
No, I'm an honest man.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Mr. Biggins, everyone who meets me believes in Hell.

Pinkerton:
That Duddleswell's a Roman, eh?

Father Neil Boyd:
You think so?

Pinkerton:
When I see him, I thank God for not making me a Catholic.

Father Neil Boyd:
Oh, you do!

Pinkerton:
Well, don't you?

Father Neil Boyd:
Yes, I, too, thank God for not making you a Catholic.

[Father Duddleswell wants a Doctor's certificate to get out of his tennis match; the already inebriated Dr. Daley wants a drink]

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I'll pour you a drink when you've done the necessary.

Dr Daley:
Ha-ha, why keep me suffering in purgatory when I should be happy in Heaven.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
[ready to pour] Donald, I am not a fit man.

Dr Daley:
You look healthy to me, Charles.

[Duddleswell sets down the bottle]

Dr Daley:
Course I could be wrong, naturally.

[Duddleswell pours a drink]

Dr Daley:
On the other hand...

[Duddleswell covers drink with his free hand]

Dr Daley:
Oh... Oh, I can see that if you don't take care of yourself, you'll soon be stretched in the big box.

[Duddleswell hands over the glass]

Dr Daley:
[raising glass in a toast] Your bad health, Charles.

[drinks]

Dr Daley:
[raising a glass] You know, I'm never happier than when I'm seein' double, except when I'm seein' triple.

[the tennis match begins]

Biggins:
Fifteen-Love.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Over the line, I think.

Biggins:
I would remind you, MISTER Duddleswell, that in the absence of the Pope, I say what's what on this court. Fifteen-Love.

Father Neil Boyd:
Bad news, I'm afraid.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Oh, dear-dear-dear. Have you lost your dummy or your train set?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
And, anyway, takin' somethin' that you desperately need is not stealin'. Takin' somethin' that someone ELSE desperately needs, that IS stealin'.

Father Neil Boyd:
Oh.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Now that's good Catholic teachin', boy.

Mrs Pring:
So sorry to waken you up.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I'm preparin' my sermon.

Mrs Pring:
Usually the congregation that sleeps through your sermons, not you.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Where've you been?

Father Neil Boyd:
To the dogs, Father.

Molly Downes:
He gets letters, too.

Father Neil Boyd:
Ah, does he?

Molly Downes:
I came across one. It began "My dearest Johnny" and ended "with fondest love, Bella."

Father Neil Boyd:
You didn't read the rest?

Molly Downes:
Oh, well, I couldn't do that, could I, Father?

Father Neil Boyd:
Oh, no-no-no-no, of course not.

Molly Downes:
Besides, he came in at that moment.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I trust Father Neil as I trust meself.

Mrs Pring:
Oh, come, he's not as unreliable as all that.

Father Neil Boyd:
Well, is there anything I can do to help?

Johnny Downes:
Yes. Stop playing around with my wife!

Mother Stephen:
It's about your curate. I have received three anonymous letters...

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
From Mrs. Jones, Pervis and O'Hare.

Mother Stephen:
And how do you know that?

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
'Tis common knowledge. They're the only three ladies in the parish who write anonymous letters.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I bought you a present.

Father Neil Boyd:
Oh, Father, you shouldn't be throwing your five bobs around like this.

Mrs. Pring:
Coward!

Father Neil Boyd:
Guilty and proud of it.

Father Neil Boyd:
Women!

Mrs. Pring:
I hope that doesn't include me.

Father Neil Boyd:
Of course not.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Back to your kitchen, woman.

Mrs. Pring:
Did you enjoy your siesta.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Yes, it gives me the strength to deal with the likes of you.

[Mrs. Pring hugs Father Neil]

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Put me curate down.

Mrs. Pring:
It's all right. You're not next.

Helen:
Hey, you've put on weight.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
Ah, it's your mother's cookin'. It'd sink a battle ship.

Father Charles Clement Duddleswell:
I'm sorry, but, uh, I can't have a nun showin' her leg in MY church.

Mrs Rollings:
Why can't women say mass?

Father Neil Boyd:
Because the church didn't ordain women as priests.

Mrs Rollings:
But why not?

Father Neil Boyd:
Well, our Lord, himself, only chose men priests.

Mrs Rollings:
But he only chose Jews, didn't he?

Father Neil Boyd:
So?

Mrs Rollings:
You Jewish?

Father Neil Boyd:
[staring back at her] I'm thinking about it.

Father Neil Boyd:
Oh, Father, I'm surprised at you, having our dirty linen washed in public.

Mother Stephen:
I am sure Father Duddleswell's buttons are not as tasty as my apple pie.

Father Neil Boyd:
Can I dip my soldiers in your egg, Father?