Fr Dennis McDade had what his mother once termed “an appealing kink in your hair”. Another, less so, hovered approximately two inches below his skull.
He had made a request to the bishop if “His Most Reverend Excellency” would hear his confession.
And the following week, esconced in the confessional, the penitent priest shook a wayward curl from his eye and began tentatively, “I appreciate that priests – indeed, you yourself also – would have had a ‘calling’. “
The bishop hmmed. “Er, yes. Go on.”
“I never had a sensation like that,” admitted Fr McDade. “But I do have … urges.”
He had made a request to the bishop if “His Most Reverend Excellency” would hear his confession.
And the following week, esconced in the confessional, the penitent priest shook a wayward curl from his eye and began tentatively, “I appreciate that priests – indeed, you yourself also – would have had a ‘calling’. “
The bishop hmmed. “Er, yes. Go on.”
“I never had a sensation like that,” admitted Fr McDade. “But I do have … urges.”
