A newly discovered birth relative of mine, a Catholic priest, is an exorcist, from County Cork. The Exorcist came to stay on Wednesday. The next evening he was doing what he called “a fairly straightforward overnight identify, isolate, subdue and expel job” in Angel. He wasn’t allowed to talk about it, and knows I’m an atheist, so avoids putting us in situations where we’d argue. The Exorcist displays a natural diplomacy my Brexit-voting relatives could learn from.
But with his boisterous sense of humour, four pints nightly Guinness habit, and lifelong addiction to Viz comic, my Exorcist cousin isn’t anyone’s idea of a spiritual warrior. I introduced him to Sandi Toksvig, who he loves, at a radio comedy recording, when he’d come straight from an especially distressing Solemn Exorcism. Toksvig took one look at the portly Irishman, assumed I was joking about his line of work, and let loose that hysterical laugh she does on Bake Off when a poor old man ruins his pie.
Continue reading...from The Guardian https://ift.tt/2Tr8q89
