washing a priest's balls
Just for this week, every one of my stories is going to be absolutely true. It's up to you whether you believe them.

While living in Greece, I knew a semi-retired protestant priest who lived in relative poverty by the sea. He was not your average kind of priest: he had a box full of hard-core porn which he claimed a visitor had left there [I recall one called 'Ejacula' with Ron Jeremy as Quasimodo] and he liked a drink or two.

One night, he was returning from a party worse for wear and fell down the cliff near his shack. A French paraglider who lived with him at the time (don't ask) heard the screams and took him to hospital, where, three or four days later, I visited him.

He was badly bruised with a broken collar bone and some cracked ribs. He couldn't move his arms and - as is the standard in Greece - the nurses won't wash you or feed you unless you pay them directly. He hadn't washed since the fall and still had dried blood on him. He asked me to sponge him down.

I didn't mind doing this, but I avoided his holy genitals as you might expect. Unfortunately, he noticed and asked me if I would mind giving his tackle a once over. So it was that, without going into details, I soaped up a priest's knackers in an open ward and left him with a suspicious-looking smile on his face.

That's really my only claim to fame.
(frankspencer, Thu 29 Nov 2007, 15:01, Reply)