'Bless me Father, for I have sinned. I have been wit a loose girl.'

The priest asks, 'Is that you, little Patrick Murphy?'

'Yes, Father, so it is.'

'And who was the girl you were with?'

'I can't tell you, Father. I don't want to ruin her reputation.'

"Well, Patrick, I'm sure to find out her name sooner or later so you may as well tell me now. Was it Moira McGinty?'

'I cannot say.'

'Was it Theresa McNally?'

'I'll never tell ...'

'Was it Concepta O'Flynn?'

'I'm sorry but I cannot name her.'

'Was it Kathleen O'Flaherty?'

'My lips are sealed.'

'Was it Marie Murphy, then?'

'Please, Father, I cannot tell you.'

The priest sighs in frustration. 'You're very tight lipped and I admire that. But you've sinned and have to atone. You cannot be an altar boy now for 4 months. Now you go and behave yourself.'

Patrick walks back to his pew, and his friend Shamus slides over and whispers, 'What'd you get?'

'Four months holiday and five good leads.'
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