A drunk Irishman who smelled of beer sat down on a Dublin tramcar next
to a Catholic priest.
The man's tie was stained, his face was plastered with red lipstick, and
a half-empty bottle of gin was sticking out of his torn coat pocket.
He opened his newspaper and began reading. After a few minutes he turned
to the priest and asked, "Say, Father, what causes arthritis?".
The priest replied, "My son, it's caused by loose living, being with
cheap, wicked women, too much alcohol, contempt for your fellow man,
sleeping around with prostitutes - and lack of a bath."
The drunk muttered, "Well, I'll be damned," and returned to his paper.
The priest, thinking about what he had said, nudged the man and
apologized.
"I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to come on so strong. How long have you
had arthritis?"
The drunk answered, "I don't have it, Father. But I was just reading
here that the Pope does..."
