Although a fifth-generation American, Father Dennis Sweeny was a good deal
more Irish than most of Erin's natives.  He spoke with an Irish brogue which
had mysteriously appeared sometime during his nineteenth year; he sang Irish
songs, and he hated the English.

This would seem unlikely in a man of the cloth, but Father Sweeny managed to
live with it...except for his proclivity to belabor the British from his
pulpit.  Complaints to his superiors were not infrequent, given that he would
blame anything evil, sad or inconvenient on the English people.  If there was
an act of terrorism somewhere in the world, Father Sweeny would promptly lay
responsibility at the feet of the Brits.  If there was a natural disaster,
undoubtedly the English government was an accessory to the fact, if not
outrightly culpable.

More than once, his superiors had called him on the carpet for such behavior,
with the effect that the problem would go away...for a few months.  After a
particularly vituperative anti-British broadside, the Bishop instructed Father
Sweeny to come straight to the Bishop's office; do not pass GO; do not collect
two hundred dollars.

After delivering a humiliating and soul-marking chewing out, the Bishop ended
with: "Now, we both know next week is Saint Patrick's Day.  You can talk about
him all you want to, but if you so much as MENTION the British, it's the last
sermon you'll preach in this parish!"

Father Sweeny agreed not to talk about the British.

The following Sunday, Father Sweeny spoke lovingly and eloquently about the
history of Saint Patrick, and he made a reference to the last Passover
celebrated by Christ and His disciples.

"Sure, an' you're all familiar with the tale.  You know that Our Lord sat at
the table and told his disciples that one among them would betray Him.

"As He looked around the table, He stopped at Peter, the Rock, who said, `Not
I, Lord!'  He looked at Thomas, who doubted, and Thomas said, `I could never
do such a thing!'  Then the Lord looked long and hard at Judas Iscariot, who
said, `Cor, bloimy, Guv'na, you couldn't main may!'"