A dead cert

Paddy and Murphy are on holiday in Italy, driving around the outskirts of Rome in their hire car they see 2 big black limos blocking the road ahead - there is a body on the ground in a white robe, lots of men in suits around looking worried.

Paddy & Murphy saunter over "What's the problem" asks Paddy.

"OK" says one of the suits "That's the Pope there, he's dead ..... look, we can't just tell the world that the Pope is dead; we have to say that he is not well, getting worse, then dead ........... if I give you £10,000 each will you give me your words as members of the flock to keep it to yourselves? We'll make the announcement of his death at midday a week today.

"Er, sure" they both say in unison.

Driving away Paddy says to Murphy "God Murph, we're bloody rich"

"We could be richer still" says Murphy - "Here's what we do, we put a bet on, that at midday next Monday, it will be announced that the Pope is dead - we'll get fantastic odds"

"Great oidea" says Paddy, "But so's it's not too conspicous, you fly home to Dublin for your bet, I'll make mine in London and we'll meet the next day in Flanagan's bar"

So, the following Tuesday Paddy walks in to Flanagans and there is Murhpy absolutely shitfaced.

"Oi got a tousand to one Paddy - 10 million quid - what did you get?"

"Ah Feck, Oi lost the lot" says Paddy.

"How the Feck did ya do dat?" says Murhpy "Twas a dead cert to be sure ya eejit"

"Oi got a bit greedy" says Paddy "Troid a treble with George Bush and the Archbishop O' Canterbury"

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