A CANTERBURY TALE
She entered the church and made straight for the confessional. On the other side of the grille she could see the priest's silhouette.
'Now, listen to me,' she said. 'I'm going to be Margaret Thatcher, and you're the Archbishop of Canterbury.'
'I can't be the Archbishop of Canterbury - I'm a Catholic, for Christ's sake!'
'If I say you're the Archbishop of Canterbury, you're the Archbishop of fucking Canterbury! Now, get on with it!'
'How long since your last confession?'
'I'm not here to confess! I'm here to convince you of something.'
'What's that, then?'
'That you're the sodding Archbishop of Canterbury, and I'm Margaret Thatcher!'
'All right - you're Margaret Thatcher...'
'Good. Now make me the Queen!'
'Make me the effing Queen, I said!'
'Tell me you're joking...'
'I'm not bloody joking!'
'Have you been drinking?'
'Are you drunk?'
'Have you got a hangover?'
'I've never been sober enough to have a hangover.'
'Being constantly drunk is not good for you.'
'And you call yourself a Catholic!'
'I don't approve of the drinking culture.'
'Whatever you think about a culture, it's not long before you appreciate the opposite. I'm Margaret Thatcher, and I'm the Iron Lady made of steel. The facts of life are Conservative and, as God said: 'Join the Church of sodding England!'
On hearing these words in his confessional, the priest immediately had a massive heart attack and died. Would he find Margaret Thatcher in Heaven?