Pope Vincent I

Fr. Twomey has been very quiet of late. I had almost come to the conclusion that he had finally thrown in the towel. And then it struck me. It all came together.

Pope Benedict XVI's resignation is part of a planned two-step. He is deftly handing over the baton to his former pupil and greatest fan, Fr. Vincent.

I should have seen it coming. Fr. Vincent was not made a bishop so he remained untainted by the current whiff of sulphur surrounding the hierarchy. He was not made Nuncio. That was given to Ratzinger's Rottweiler, Charlie Brown, who would continue to be around to whip the Irish church into shape at the coalface.

He has been held in waiting, all this while, to be produced like a rabbit out of the hat when the conclave finally hangs.

All those qualities that I had listed as qualifying him for the lesser offices. I should have seen it. They all add up to one big thing - papabile.

Unfortunately I don't expect an invitation to the coronation. Burned my boats I have. Ah well.

To the rescue

In these troubled times the world clearly needs a superhero to come to its rescue.

Forget Superman, Batman, or the Incredible Hulk. Divine help is at hand.

And it comes with an almost blanket guarantee, or health warning, as you prefer.

And it's been around for at least as long as the European Union itself.

St. Joseph is your man and he has a reference from the then Bishop of Limerick.

What more could you need?