The Holy Father (HF), Archbishop of Canterbury (AoC), Mad Mullah (MM) and Richard Dawkins (RD) go into a pub, which is empty apart from a couple of Arab gentleman and an old bearded man sitting in the corner.
Landlord: What will you be having gents? I’ve a fine pint of Doom Bar on special.
MM: (loudly) Curse you and your alcoholic beverages infidel!
RD: That sounds good to me, mine’s a pint.
AoC: A pint of mild for me please.
MM: Alcohol is the work of the devil. He who sups it will spend the afterlife with fire burning their skins!
AoC: Well, just a half then.
Landlord: usual for you sir is it?
HF: Yes please. Pint of crème de menthe.
RD: Blimey father, you don’t mess about do you?
HF: Why do you think they have to carry me around in a chair! Ha, ha - I never tire of that one.
Landlord: That will be £15.75 gents
Stunned silence descends on the room.
HF: Well don’t look at me, it’s my leaving do. One of you has to pay.
More stunned silence. AoC fiddles with his cassock, RD finds a stray thread in a leather elbow patch and starts pulling it slowly.
MM: Well my welfare cheque hasn’t arrived yet. It’s not my fault if the godless British government can’t do anything on time!
AoC: Oh all right then. I’ll pay as usual. I was saving this money for the poor down at the homeless shelter. I’ve only got a tenner left for them now.
The Arab gentlemen leave the bar. MM sees them close the door.
MM: I’ll have that pint of Doom now please.
AoC: Oh dear. 7 quid left.
They sit around a table.
AoC: Well, I am rather surprised to see you here, Professor Dawkins. I didn’t think you believed in God.
RD: I don’t. I’ve proven he doesn’t exist with a very complicated formula. But that doesn’t mean I can’t pay respects to old Jerzy here, we’ve crossed swords many a time!
HF: And I always won, I’m infallible you know.
MM: Where’s the chief rabbi today?
AoC: He’s very busy. They’ve got a deal on – 2 circumcisions for £25
HF and MM: That’s a snip! (They high five)
MM: (Nudging AoC) Hey Bish, you couldn’t get us a packet of 10 from the machine could you? I can’t manage a pint without a fag.
AoC: Blody hell Abu, I thought you chaps didn’t smoke. I’m down to my last few quid, you’ll clean me out!
MM (gives him the puppy dog face, usually reserved for extradition judges and wavering suicide bombers): Oh Bish, for me, go on, I’ll tell the chaps down the East End to leave your lot alone for a while.
AoC: Oh I suppose so.
AoC goes to cigarette machine, as he is about to pass the packet to MM one of the Arab gentleman returns to fetch the coat he left behind.
MM: (shouting) Ach you pointy headed son of a goat! Do not offer me your evil western tobacco. May you burn in hellfire for all eternity! I demand an apology!
MM slams his fist down onto the table.
AoC: But... but you....
Just then the old bearded man in the corner, gets up. To their surprise he is fourteen feet tall and shrouded with an intense white light. There is a clap of thunder, the doors swing open and a host of angels enter carrying the Arc of the Covenant. The bearded man opens it and takes out some gold coins. He orders coke and crisps and turns to the four men.
GOD: Drink chaps?
RD collapses in a dead faint.
MM runs for it, but his steel claw is stuck in the table, so he takes that with him, spilling the drinks everywhere.
AoC: Fucking hell. I never thought you actually existed!
HF (standing up and draining his glass): You came! I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Another pint of crème de menthe please landlord! God’s buying.