Behold. Secret Diary of Pope Francis
Hello, it’s me. Pope Francis here. It’s okay to take another man’s first name, but never their surname. You may recognise me from previous hits—such as my role as Norris in Coronation Street, and previously as Uncle Junior in The Sopranos. No, not the creepy guy from The Devil Wears Prada. That’s Stanley Tucci.
Before I met you, God, Amalia was the love of my life. We used to play together in the street when we were younger. Well you would know, anyway. You know everything. I told her that if she didn’t marry me, I’d become a priest! I was so sure she felt the same. Did you tell her to say no? Was that your plan all along? Well, I sure showed her. Once a stubborn Catholic, always a stubborn Catholic.
Now, I’m not complaining, but it does take rather a lot of effort to get ready in the morning. First, my Vera Wang ivory wool skirt (empire waist, of course). Next, my vintage Dior gold lamé gown and three- foot House of Whoville hat, which would put Princess Beatrice to shame. Finally, my precious ruby slippers – gifted to Pope Benedict by Judy Garland upon completion of filming the Wizard of Oz. I have to be looking my best when I go out and tell the world it’s wrong to be gay. Some people seem a bit shocked by my shameless Catholicism. Well, I refer them to Ice-T’s Book of Psalms: “don’t hate the player, hate the game.” Preach.
Yesterday, I wore my glasses; all the better to see you with, my dear. Today, I chose not to. Voilà, the press goes ballistic. They say I’ve had a makeover. Ironically, I get a lot of attention for my unassuming habits. Went to pay my hotel bill; made the news. Wore black shoes; made the news.
I must confess. When I tripped over my gown, I thought, WWJD, Francis? What would Jennifer Lawrence do? Hail Jennifer. I mean, Mary.