Saturday 9th March 2013
by ChelseaScene: Michael and I in bed, pre-sleep. He’s playing a game on his phone and I’m pretending to read a Discworld novel. I make a snarky comment about his game, and he gives me a sidelong squinty-glance.
Me: Don’t glance at me!
Michael: I’ll glance at the pope if I want to.
Me: You can’t. There isn’t one.
Michael: …
Me: (singsong) You can’t look at the Poh-ope.
After which he, understandably, resumes ignoring me and goes back to the game on his phone.
One of Pat’s and my ongoing jokes is that he is in the running to be pope. He keeps saying he is waiting to get the call. Actually, this joke crops up any time there’s some impending election/appointment of an important public figure. He hasn’t quite been able to explain why he lost out to Benedict, a few years back. Differences in doctrine? Moral turpitude? Hmmm.