Jock was returning home from the pub, smelling like a distillery.
He flopped on a bus seat next to a priest. His tie was stained, his face was plastered with red lipstick, and a half empty bottle of whiskey was sticking out of his torn coat pocket.
He opened his newspaper and began reading. Then he asked the priest, " Father, what causes arthritis?"
"Well my son, it's the result of loose living, being with cheap, wicked women, too much whisky and a contempt for your fellow man."
"Well I'll be damned!" Jock muttered, returning to his paper.
The priest, feeling a little guilty, said, "I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. How long have you had arthritis?"
"I don't, Father. But I was just reading here that the Pope does.
