THE PRIESTS I’VE LIVED WITH.

I have worked in ONE PARISH as a DEACON and SIX PARISHES as a curate.

In those places I have worked alongside 14 PRIESTS.

So, I think I can speak from EXPERIENCE.

In my first parish in Wales – LLANRUMNEY, the only day the PP and curate went out anywhere was on their day off. They stayed in their sitting rooms all day. The PP was a nice man and very good to me.

In my first parish as a priest, BRIDGEND, my PP, who was a total alcoholic, Irish hating bastardo, only came out for his meals and drank the rest of the time.

In my second parish in Wales, BRITON FERRY, my PP, who was also an alcoholic,was very nice until I displeased his live in “housekeeper” and they both left the parish suddenly as a result of admiratio. His replacement and housekeeper were very nice but I was moved away weeks after he took over.

In my third parish in Wales, WHITCHURCH the PP was an angry and aggressive Tipperary bastardo, and I refused to stay with him.

In 1978 I arrived in ST PETER’S CATHEDRAL BELFAST and lived with 5 other priests.

VINCENT MC KINLEY, was the administrator and was very friendly with me until the senior curate got jealous. He then changed and was brutal for my last 4 years there. He was totally focused on money and was addicted to gambling and perving on young women and girls. He was banned from our girls secondary school by the famous Sister Genevieve. He said a private Mass in Latin everyday except Sunday.

JOE MC GURNAGHAN,was the jealous senior curate. He spent all day every day, listening to classical music and only left the house on Thursdays, his day off. He was cynical and bullied me. Later in life, in Lourdes, he admitted this and said he regretted it.

JIMMY MC CABE was a very traditional and pious man, visited the homes of the elderly everyday. He and Vincent McKinley, in spite of having three meals together everyday, had not spoken for 14 years.

PETER DONNELLY was an everyday golfer and party goer. He was later charged with sexual abuse and aquitted.

SEAN CRUMMEY was a Salesian who visited certain old ladies everyday who plied him with whiskey and money.

KILKEEL where my PP was the dreaded Canon Walter Larkin, former president of St Malachy’s Belfast. All curates feared they would be sent to Walter.

Cahal Daly deliberately sent me to Walter.

This was our first conversation:

W = Walter

P = Pat

W. Well Buckley, what do you think of me.

P. Walter, I don’t know you but I have heard that you are nasty and difficult to work for.

W. Have you now? Well I’ve heard that your are very disobedient and rebellious!

W. Do you know that all the priests are waiting for me and you to go to war?

P. I didnt actually know that but I fear it could be possible.

W. Right then (says Walter holding out his hand) lets fool them and be friends.

And friends we were. He sent for me on his death bed..

He spent the latter part of his life thinking he would go to hell 😢

DENIS NEWBERRY was my fellow curate in Kilkeel. He was grossly obese but friendly. Very soon he was transferred to be chaplain in a Belfast hospital. He died very young.

GEORGE MC CLAFFFERTY was Denis’ replacement in Kilkeel. When I met George, he had one foot firmly in nuerosis and the other dangling in psychosis. He was very mean with money and had the ability to be a bully if you allowed him. He immediately fell in love with the youngest nun in the local convent. He had a dog called Cora with home he shared his medication – diazepam. He was a good house visitor. He ended up sadly, with the two feet in psychosis.

PADDY MC VEIGH

My PP in Larne. Former rebel himself. Nice man. No hassle. The day Daly sacked ne Paddy came to my door and said: “I wish I had your balls”.

GERRY MC ALEER – fellow curate in Larne. Religious order priests – Marist I think. Aggressive and sadistic. Liked to ask very young children about sex in the confessional. Slapped the hands of anyone looking Communion on the hand. Finally banished to Rathlin Island.

SEAN ROGAN – one of the worst priests I ever worked with. Company man. Sneaky. Tale carrier. Sent in by Daly to watch me in my last year.

A story. An old lady was dying in Larne hospital. Family rang Rogan for Last Rites. He said he couldnt cone because he was having lunch with friends. The family panicked and rang me. I went immediately and anointed the dying woman and gave her Communion. Someone told Rogan I was there. He burst into the room and said loudly: “Don’t worry folks. You have a real priest here now”.

Rogan proceeded to put his finger in the dying woman’s mouth, removed the host I had placed there, which was dripping in saliva and swallowed it himself and then gave her a new host. He said some prayers and said goodbye in a high putched voice.

I stood silently in the window and said nothing. The woman’s daughters burst into tears and apologised to me.

FINAL WORD

That’s a potted history of my experiences of working with RC priests.

Everything I have said is 100% truthful.

Of course there will be the usual clerical comments today accusing me of pretending to be perfect and all other priests bad. Of course I do not claim that and never have.

In fact all my “warts” are on Google 🙃

I am simply telling the very unwelcome truth.

OUR BORIS

If (Eton College version)

By Brian Bilston

If you can keep your job when all around you
Lies ravaged from what it is you’ve done;
If intellect and common sense confound you
And if integrity you have but none;
If you can lie and not be tired by lying,
And pretend you act for the public good,
But then leave the people to their dying
And say you did, sadly, all you could:

If you can dream – of nothing more than power;
If you can think – but only of yourself;
If you believe this country’s finest hour
Is when the chosen few can gain more wealth;
If you can flout the law with bluff and bluster
And not care whether you are believed,
Or deny with scorn every single blunder
And not care how many you may deceive:

If you can stir up hatred, fear and violence
To create division to suit your ends;
And answer cries for help with silence,
And then laugh about it with your friends:
If you can stretch this country to its limit
Or until it is you’ve had your fun,
Yours is this land and everything that’s in it,
And—as you wished—you’ll be PM, my son