In a small town in the south of Ireland, there were two churches, as there always are in small towns in the south of Ireland, a small, modest Protestant church and a large, fancy Catholic church. On a certain Saturday, the Catholic priest came down with the flu and he called and asked the Protestant pastor to substitute for him at Mass on the following Sunday. The pastor told the priest that he would like to help, but he knew nothing of the Catholic faith or the rituals of the Mass. The Priest responded that there were several alter boys and priests in training who would help him through the rough spots, but he really needed the pastor, because a rousing sermon was the thing his congregation needed the most. Somewhat reluctantly, the pastor agreed.

The priest then asked him to do the confession after the Mass. At this, the pastor drew the line and said that confession was the one thing he would not do, first, because it was in conflict with his own faith and, second, he was certain that he could not keep all of the various penances straight. The priest responded that he too sometimes had difficulty remembering all of the various penances, but he had written them all down in a small book, which he had hidden under the seat. If a person said: "Forgive me Father, I have sinned. I have done "this", "that" and "the other thing", he simply had to look them up and give the person his or her penances. Still feeling somewhat uneasy about it, the pastor finally agreed.

On the next day, the mass went surprisingly well. The helpers helped him at all of the right times and the congregation responded to his sermon very well. He had chosen "The 10 Commandments" because it always goes over well. With slightly sweating palms, he finished the Mass and slowly made his way into the confessional booth. The first person, a young woman, said: "Forgive me Father, I have sinned. I have sinned. I slept with the neighbour and his son and stole some money from their wallets. Sure enough, he found the sins and penances clearly written out in the priest’s neat handwriting.

It went the same way for each and every person that followed and he found that he rather enjoyed listening in to all of these people’s private lives. Up to the last person, that is. An older man came into the booth, sat down and began: "Forgive me Father, I have sinned. I know that I should not have done it but I have had anal intercourse once again." The pastor looked up "anal intercourse" in the book. It wasn’t there! He fervently tried "sodomy", "butt fucking", "rectal sex" and everything else he could think of but none of them were in the book! He excused himself and ran into the priest’s small office and called him on the telephone. When the priest answered, he said: "Quick, tell me, what do you give for "anal sex"?

The priest thought about it and responded, slowly: "Well, it all depends. Sometimes a candy bar. Sometimes an ice cream cone. But usually not money."