I am a priest living on an isolated island off the Irish coast
A while back I needed to raise some money to fix a hole in the roof of my house. I had the idea of holding a raffle, but that started to go wrong when the car I got from the bishop got smashed up in an amusing incident involving smoothing out a dent.

So I borrowed an identical car from a friend. However, as it was borrowed, I quickly came up with another cunning plan - the raffle would be rigged so that my curate (who we'll call Dougal) won, thus enabling us to return the car to its owner. After I tried to explain the plan to him (with hilarious consequences) the raffle began.

Soon after he almost didn't win (by looking at the number 11 upside down) it transpired that an elderly priest who was also living with me (let's call him Jack) had, in a drunken stupor, crashed it into two trucks (which he explained loudly with the help of several empty beer cans).

However, we then discovered that the car's owner had recently died of a dancing-induced heart attack. At least we didn't have to get him a new car, and we still had the money raised by the raffle.

But then I found that it had all been stolen by a bearded twat in a stupid jacket to pay for gambling debts which, ironically, had accumulated through buying a huge supply of tickets for the raffle.

And just to make it worse, someone went and televised the whole thing.
(The Worminator I have discovered that Quavers are nice, Sun 7 Aug 2005, 19:16, Reply)